Prelim

Everything you need
Can be ground out of greed
If you make haste and make others bleed
And are sensitive and have a sophisticated shiv to suit any situation.

The committee cops, bought, keeping the guile going and the top on
They don't care what's right or wrong
Whether you're brunette or blond
Long as you're capable of deforming your faint hearted fantasies into hell fiery fixations.

Eluded guys slurping on sluices of power , ( surrounded by A types getting ripe and rowdier by the hour.)
Getting excited by reports from the agencies
Then there's the wound up and ready-to-return-to-the-wombers getting wanton, looking sweet and sour.
Flipping thru albums of trophy atrocities
A few taking the detour du jour but nobody knows what they wore,
Somebody put the scissors to their accessories.


The world seems dirty,
Life shorter than a ditty
So better pick out the right gear
If you wanna be inured to the cool of the coroner.

History mugging like rats in the rain
Making it hard to tell who slipped and who was slain
And how ice can be maintained in your veins.
But be wary if you're a foreigner

There's always the chance of a tip off
Or a ripoff
Making things tough
So just offer yourself up until the ice melts.

Or get up earlier than usual and bypass the wallow you have to swallow every morning
To beat the floating forlorning
And the crown of thorns thing.
Lots of us have been beaten by a belt.


Outside of the potential for annihilation
We enjoy the fruits of the nation
And give credit to the Creation,
While the wasteland brand is brutal.

The alarms awaken
To true truths forsaken
And belongings have been taken
By schemers raunchy for stock launchings and riot squadings that keep the future bootless and futile.

Looking for a river to dip in
Where the elements run like elephants over assassins.
Even if the integrity is thin,
There's word of a tunnel or a funnel.

Glory's got a reputation for being gory
Its always a worry
Whether in a traffic distracted scurry
Or trapped in a place like Iraq getting chunked into charnel.

Fear's overrated, the work of hangman zealots
Weighs on you heavier than midnight eyelids,
The reason for the riot after the quiet.
Using these moments to motorize some maxim.

After roller coaster rides your equilibrium is such that the tendency is to walk right by the hideouts of the ogres,
Delaying the show-down with the flippers of dollars
But no reason to be mean and meagre.
This is only the prelim.

Halloween Antenna

Free thought , free breath
A free person
And then there's the Macbeths
And everything worsens

Trying to make it through the day
Under clouds of suspicion
Cloaked in the Halloween way
Driving to ambition.

Paranoid as Freud
Walking the dim lit streets of Vienna
Feeling the vicissitudes of the void
Hitting his antenna.

Another day another dollar
Itching in between the bitter cold bipolar.

Let Sanity Shine Through

They did the medium mash til the minds went to mush.
Then the indiscriminate bombing seemed just
Then the disparities didn't jar , didn't even register til the refugees started making a scene,
Since sooner or later time will turn to dust anyway.

Curious thinking patterns of the plug and play people of the westernized section wrecked on something that makes egos blush
Proud of full bellies , hearing for whom the polls indicate victory, and for whom the experience of shopping is a work in progress blossoming.
Knowing the the rules and regulations of trolling through the huddled masses who have crashed due to their coordinates being out of order
Trolling for diamonds amongst the trash
Knowing that after the killing comes the consumer confidence,
After the framing and blaming have been plotted and project managed and mind mapped for implementation.

Through the windows the ambulances sit idle and await their cue.
Let the twinkle in the eye not die, nor the smile wither into a fear.
May the storm troopers be stuck by lightning and go blind and learn to play the piano.
May the misery makers beg for mercy, telecommunicating it across the universe.
Let sanity shine through

Through the windows the ambulances sit idle and await their cue.
Let the reflexes be quick enough to avoid the helicopter launched rockets into the open air market.
May the pumping heart pound and pulsate through the eyes of the angry young men and the bitter old ones with a grudge growing grievances in the mold between their toes.
Let sanity shine through.

Through the windows the ambulances sit idle and await their cue.
Let the weddings be free from satellite synchronization and every day vultures who sell mortgages.
Let births be quick and the babies tough.
May the old folks sit in the shade of trees remembering nothing but the rush of love.
Let sanity shine through.

Swinging into the Sun's Direction

Compassion, both the conservative variety and the kind that reacts to the loony bastard syndrome,
Firewalled behind monologues carelessly coded to keep the action detached.
Keeping the killing fields separate from the playing fields, at least for the first half.
Eyes shifting like a petty criminal's on a train in an Alfred Hitchcock flick.

An unconscious action.
Its all about the alpha game plan.
All about coming out smelling like roses despite the blood on hands heaving a heavy imagination.

Performing a function analogous to an earth worm , but nobody can say what it is or if its being done right.
Stymied by the information hollowmen at home in their head of heads.

Some facts can be established.
A baby at birth is as wise as any microorganism that eats up the earth and transforms its texture.
But its purpose after years of morning breakfasts and nights of dreams of sometimes flying, sometimes falling,
becomes a blurred eyed broken winged bird , aware as Sid Vicious that something is missing.

The reasons for the deformities have been picked over with the fine tooth combs,
preludes to the pretexts for down the road detonating that occupies so many waking hours.
The reasons for the rest of it , undefined and aching for some awe if only we could get our paws on it,
Hip to the mental precipitation letting go over this ball of organic fallout ; with its limited amount of chill control over the savage priests.
Even Hitler liked music and could tell a joke but his mind went to mush when bitten by a cold hate of an adult hell that his civilized surroundings couldn't sooth away.
He's just the extreme of a long line of virus attacked progenies or perhaps its just a problem that hasn't yet been debugged from since when genesis packaged the genes with some defective DNA, gumming up the conatus access of the species.

And jumping for the danger being marketed from the end of a string.
Aware of lyrics in ears and swinging into the Sun's direction
And suddenly a realization that simplicity has been under estimated.

The sounds of banging a gong.

Peace. Its a long line to get your ticket.
Peace. Its a dirty word for the dirty people with the dirty jobs that someone has to do it.
IT has to be refined by philosophers, dickered with by the psychologists.
Spooky people who brought science fiction to a fine science.
Hyperlinks help if you happen to be reading them.
I prefer science fiction building charges for the soul.
But that's spooky too considering the territory you've got to travel through.
The extremes on the loose.

So say Peace, and you'll feel your feet on the ground.
Feel the primary causes blow off the blahs.
Get a divorce from the melancholy and the anxiety rattling off statistics that don't quite come into focus and find what has to be fixed
Divine , unfortunately, has been taken over by a nefarious group of malefactors , going on a long time now.
In its purest sense the Divine can be sensed by all but its hard to tell if its the real thing or being made a fool of by opportunists.
But Peace that's a real opportunity to let the organic and the inorganic fill you up with the sounds of banging a gong into the linguistic hollows of the head.

god by another name

The decay has set in helped along by honchos who have lost their heads and don't want you to forget it.
Paying for luxury by lap dancing to the tune of the too loud rock and roll coming through the devil's amplifiers.
Skilled at deep consumption and living hand to hedge fund.

Priceless experiences of Lamborghini fantasies.
Pumping the senses with appropriate stimulants and nutrients.
Dressed in loose fitting evil.
Eaten on the inside by off-the-radar locusts, but in their ears they hear the August crickets.

Except for the humbug unleashed on a perfectly good species, things wouldn't be so bad.
In the labs they're working out what's the most effective means of containment---bone biting biological or its psychological sidekick,
dogmatized for convenience and an integral part of the market godhead.
But it's the hypocrisy that's the killer as far keeping down your dinner.

Have faith and the Secret will sweep you off your feet like the tornado taking Charlie Parker out of Kansas.
Faith and a little behind the scenes fixing.

The poor will always be needed to mill the Mercedes grace of the full-of-shit shakers.
Greed by another name will always glitter as the kleptocracy innovates and gets better and better.
The bands keep playing while the band-aids are applied to the hemorrhaging suppliers of labour.
The castle building continues on the backs of of the billions hustling to keep on eating.
The chemically imbalanced and the psychologically challenged enjoy the panoptic view.
There's occasional rushes of euphoria that they attribute to being voluntarily deranged all in a good cause.

Its a little bitty psyche thing.
Motivation gone off the deep end.
The vulgarity between the ears of a minority got the majority retching.

In the midst of this moonlessness the moon makes its move into the underground atoms.
You can hear pinging , by passing the godheads and the golden calf crew.
A god by another name retouching yesterdays.
And todays where the sun swallows the greys.

Face to Face

With such a good choice of god images, responses vary.
From the lazy cloud god to the thunder and lightning thug god.
From the test tube trial and error god to the boobed-tubed brain-dead god.
From the god hunting hound dog to the god whispering congregation trying to have their cake and eat their guilty conscience.

Will power and the will of god speeding along, statistically ready for a head-on.
Kingdoms of illusions don't do you any soothing.
Whatever the facts it's the interpretation that's telling and will either take you down a garden path or perhaps to an exit where the churches have all crumbled,
to where the apparitions in your eye come out and have a face to face for the very first time.

Lots of LucK

any which way the the fascists manifest there's sure to be lack of tact and
biting at your back
sure to be bats in their belfries and unidentifiable body parts in their deep freezers
sure to be sucking on gothic coughdrops by the policy crew who will not waver in the presence of sunny sidebars outlining possible scenarios without the option to crush ordinary ear hearing
and eye seeing everyday people following patterns of reasoning looking for something to cherish rather than something to vanquish , life without dust-ups.

The preference is for traffic engineers who have had their perspective educated out of them
which results in a lot of highways to here, there and nowhere you want to go without a hit of irony as they rearrange the lay of the land according to a long drawn out law of physics.
The boys who suppress the blues taking swings at any axioms suspected of being infected with touches of evil.
The sciences that fool with consciousness require diligent regulation to subdue combative theorems that get people thinking about what to do about what gets outside, and  on the wrong side of, pandora's box.

meanwhile research and developement biotech department have come up with an organism that has all the signs of developing into a kind of a tree,
first visualized upon reading Tolkien ,
that bears a kind of forbidden fruit that cannot be resisted by wishful thinkers.
The guys and gals in the sales department are blissful thinking about the commissions.
And in the optics department the human resources are ready to test run an anti hallucination projector that disappears the problems that cause revolutions.

They got the technology if you got the time to terrorize yourself with self doubt configured into the psyches of mere commoners by the readily available conmen, 
or rather the options contractors with advanced degrees in selling the sizzle.

they got their whole world in a humvee they hope is resistant to IEDs.
Machine minds that hope never to die 
grinding out a hope to catch a viral wave and ride the expanding universe.
Going faster than the speed of hell
A Lots of Luck logo pinned to their lapels.

it stays unpredictable and beautiful

There's no lock on the Napoleon syndromish gnomes guarding the gold and wearing Freudian wardrobes.
They rock and roll in the the astral planes of power.
In the media they come across as ghosts disobeying the laws of linguistics.
They rely heavily on clerks in the dark to keep the infrastructure shaking with the early signs of Parkinson's.

The pollsters in play to massage the the numbers with the message that its all about to crumble if the depraved are not punished with poverty.
And finally the structural stranglers(brought in from Boston) appear like axmen of old,
as the ugly evil necessary to maintain the integrity of the pleasant gathering places where gorging on cornucopia is kept within a rigid statistical percentage.

Into this biopolar world( getting more bi and more polar by the minute)
are entered (usually online) mythical agendas and
and mind-boggling logical propositions to mop up the mess.
Everybody spouting various cultural interpretations of Amen.

From time to time the leaders, on make shift stages like the gallows you might see on a Clint Eastwood set,
ask the gathered extras, You understand?
But what is understood is not the issue.
The crucial variant is whether the gathered are half full or half empty ---of fear.
The most educated have picked at it with scientific method for umpteen generations,
devising applications with tough love components based upon the early research on your basic caveman club.

None the less there is reason for some optimism.
Like wild and beautiful weeds, energy seeps out of this system.
Despite the defoliants and the fact bashing technocrats,
from the deeps of the Earth and the ends of the universe it stays unpredictable and beautiful.

lungs full of springtime

The anwers cannot be found when explosives are used to re mold artifacts of the petrified past
and terrorize peasants of the present.
Wars of the 20th century seen on tv
ghosts murdering ghosts
wondering what it is , what the is is that assembles masses of humans with minds set on murder-one.
Righteous from the get go to the lowering into the hole with full honors for the donors of blood sacrifices.

Staggering in the smoke for a glimmer of hope in hell in the battlefield brought
to you by the folks with that certain something that brougt you the Battle of the Somme
All in the cause of picking plums in the battle of business as usual.

some blue book or red book or maybe just flyers pinned to the trees in paradise by the devil on patrol,
with instructions on havoc for the hell of it
the code imprinted on brains and digested by DNAs.

More and more murder does not a human make
that's the fake end of the spectrum of where what's human freezes.
Holding breath with lungs full of springtime
eyes full of seasons tender to the touch
the gore for gold fever quivering in a vision neck deep in it's own disasters.

little slivers of daylight

The words had an alien lilt to them , alien from off earth , not from across the border
Which was good he thought, earthlings tend to get physical , where as the off-earthers approach is all mental, which could give him a headache, but he liked his mood when they were around ---all summed up on the bumper sticker of his SUV-- the No Fear one you could read sometimes  when stuck in traffic.
He got the gift of bossing around bullies.
Leaves the policy for those with  shit in their heads and faces in the monitors.
But as long as they knew how to use their elbows when they got shoved into corners,
taking the mean bastard route that they tried , but never succeeding in keeping from the kids .
But the headaches were becoming more frequent and more severe.
He considered it a hangover from original sin or something someone once said from the altar at church,
Although the congregation forced themselves and the kids to be quiet,
the heads were buzzing and easiy distracted ,
especially when it got mixed up with television and other serious bullshit,

He always went along to get along , when you have a bouncer learning-style you have no choice in what you got to lose,
and you get progressively uglier until no one wants to be in the same room with you,
Even thinking about such a state of mind can give you the creeps, head flashing with a vision of a robotic sewer rats.

when the gears shift,
the aliens like us, you'll find, are getting low on raw materials( a distant cousin of stardust)
The stuff that produces the nano-technology , or its upgrade , that allows nerds  evil to the nth all over the universe, to travel such long distances and stick to your winshield.
So yes, the market's in for a major shift.

The call of revolution inversely proportional to this caw cawing all along the pecking line.
Better back-up the bird brains and forget about flying.
And more importantly, lying to one's self , for a hell of a lot of good it does you.
The fog is rolling off, even little slivers of daylight are a sign of life.

the next feast

take the the last airliner out of this latest hot spot with a revolution and a hurricane coming
back to the peace and quiet where there's no getting away from the hum of convenience
the neighbors have all been trained and the ones that haven't got the flame thrower breath of the law to contend with.

Some of them let their emotions carry them away
which has the effect of people opening their eyes and seeing the hell all around them
minefields with heaven in the background.
its a condition that's spreading, that's got the commissars manufacturing laws they say the surly surely deserve , getting what they got coming to them.

And the corollary also holds:
the weasels of war and oppression and their support systems-- because its always worked so well before--- stand before the flags saluting before the next big advance,
their hearts emitting a vibe like what happens during the wave at the big game,
cherishing the sense of belonging,
in the pocket of security
but all the same keeping an eye on the exits and
ocassionally fiddling for their car keys.

Paranoia of the fittest with the ringside tickets ,where it all looks like a circus where every patsy must be picked apart
the mistakes and what seemed unavoidable reactions at the time
come back to haunt ,
invisible tragedies blowing around like autumn leaves

Hearts breaking out of the hell hotel , who could tell,
Who in their right mind would have bet on peace without that code of deception clouding the faces of the sound-bitten ubiquitous persons ?
The colors of the rainbow outside sending an effortless message
The stock market witch-doctors hold onto their pharmaceutical stocks
The tempature of the planets remains within an acceptable range , for this morning anyway,
The control centres dying of ignorance in the midst of data
and during the break there's clearing off the inevitability of fate for the next feast.

Doing Immitations of John Travolta

Unable to put together the logic of Solomon with the incertitude of the bug eyed-mothers wondering what this son of Bathsheba---doing well despite the blood splattered background he came from---was likely to do
The real mother having heard stories and so knowing he wouldn't think twice about a dissection of exibit one .
Still she couldn't tell if he was bluffing.
And wondering what he would have done had the two of them not been living in a sand blasted hut.
Wondering what he got out of it.
Wondering why sitting on a throne , high and mighty, wasn't enough .


But that's the discretion of kings and presidents insulated by selected constitutional tissue paper,
with the confidence of knowing any cock and bull homily can be turned into policy by switch and bait practitioners ,
mule skinning since they were seven,
floating cerebrally in the deprivation tanks of their own making.
Its interesting how the words squeezed out of the languishing linguistic links in the heads of a few crooning men and delusional women , and vice versa,
have been able to get war cries harmonizing with the nickle and diming of war crime-ing , coming out the front door of the bank.
 

The reconciliation is gone when you sit down at a table with well dressed believers in fables,
and the agenda that will bend you is put on power point
and you got to sign on the dotted line that all your problems are gone,
leaving you hanging expendable if you lack enough flex in your genuflect.

And one look in their eyes and you know that the group-think shrinks have got to them.
And so you wander the earth's circuses for fixes,
for a room to rest free from the fumes of wisdom learned in the dark
as taught by idolaters doing imitations of John Travolta.

the parsing of magic

Take the darkness away--- those words in eyes 
desperate for light to hit aching irises.
Terrified of degeneration into nightmare before scanning the span of dawn.
Seeking some reasoning for the chill up the spine .

the war parades continue. Only the armour and the caliber have changed
The fangs remain the same.


there's My PM who spent many long hours in the attic studying portraits of Napoleon,
practicing that look , combining sourness and innocense--- a young curmudgeon who only came down from the attic to sneak bites of his mother's fudge.

A moralistic perfectionist , sometimes called bitch behind his back, but he likes it like that,
all the better to boil you in the self righteousness held in by his skin.
Nastier than the gnats attracked to your sweat.
Protective of the glass in his jaw and chin.

His leadership proves that the aliens have prevailed ,
the too soft and creamy ones --- exposing their nervous systems at a certain angle so they can pick up the inter- galactic instructions
on how to devolve and love the alligator inside.


the 50's horror flick prophesies have come to pass
the human nuance bit off and spit at the gods deep-linked to emotions without a cause
except maybe holocaust for the hell of it as a way to get Jesus back here quick
And practice pride after renaming it; keeping it civilized and reeking with rationales.


meanwhile the chimes of other dimensions emitting light, coming thru canyons where whimsy changes into wind,
the parsing of magic , the start-up logic out of the box,
labours of love putting together the bricks to  be used after the flop of the apocolypse.