Sledgehammer Shortages

Keeping up with the mutations, scattered and spiked.  Peek-A-Boo, here's Johnny.  Virtually and figuratively.  Laugh in your beer, it's nice and foamy.  Ferment your mind.

Exclusive sequencing, like a fingerprint, like an eyeball iris.  Distinctive and unique, confirmed by the vitamin industry.  A mist is being developed.  All will be cured, even the well.  Prevention is the new mandate.

Walls crumbling, people are done climbing.  Sledgehammer shortages, make a face while you throw rocks, keep a personal pocketknife for personal protection.  Walk on the sidewalk, run in the streets.  Be slick, be stealth, be unseen.  Chant.


Drunk On Day Dreaming

Constantly reminding, the Z's have it.  Out of wits, a boring shell shock game.  Open this door, around that corner, in full retreat.  Take a number, another year.  Dissed the respect.

No rut on this road, it's slick and smooth.  Done and gone.  Vanished.  Drunk on day dreaming.  Fooled.

Outside, in the cold.  Without fire, without fur.  Shaking, chattering, uncomfortably numb.  Right, but dying.  Quick dimmer, like dusk, like a fade.


Simmering With Freedom

Recalling nothing, no plans, no excitement, no spice.  A vacant lot.  Intentional abandonment, punitive and vindictive.  Complete.  Net zero.

Fresh new virus, fresh new boogie germ, fresh new spooky.  Cut bait, take your losses, live to cry another day.  Run, hide, shake in your boots.  Worry, the fraidy cats are first in line.  Lecture.

Apathy is your friend, healthy and clean.  Don't hear, don't listen.  They are yanking, they yank and yank and yank.  They think we are understanding what they are putting down, but we are full of liberty.  We are simmering with freedom.


Liberty Overalls



Pappy was a big man, whose love was bigger than life.

Slim was an out of towner in town working for a time. 

Slim started sniffing after Pappys daughter, Pappy saw they were having fun. 

The days go on and two became one, making Slim, Pappy's only son.  

Pappy lead with a spiritual tone, inspiring slim to develop his own.

Slim watched taking notes as they went, trials ensued, but they weren't alone. 

Building barns, moving beds, and traveling some, Slim  was left to carry on.

The shoes were big and Slim felt small, but Pappy was there even though  he was gone.

White willow from his past, an ancestral plant that barely lasts.

Slims cultivated that plant, long time after Pappy passed. 

First bloom came the summer after Pappy went home from here.  

The coveted plant is treated with care as slim gives it the upmost care.

Pappy was a good man, he was strong as an Ox.

He spent his days preaching the Word of the cross

He loved to look at  flowers, His mother passed that love on,  

Favorite of all was Liberty Overalls, and his precious darling, Dot.

*Written by Kent Deville.


Lights Of Texarkana

Lifted by the wind 3500 hundred feet.
Going bout 165, above the crowded streets.
Headed to Magnolia, suspended in flight.
The lights of Texarkana to my left and to my right.

Sun disappeared into a blazing red horizon.
Dusk of the west leave a grown man crying.
Buckle your seat belts, pull 'em on real tight.
The lights of Texarkana to my left and to my right.

In the dark was Arkansas several miles away.
Getting excited, Dodger's bout to play.
Then we started our decent from the sky.
The lights of Texarkana to my left and to my right.

Coming in from the south, the runway lit up.
Landed soft and smooth, without any fuss.
Saddle up, y'all!!  Was the Mulerider's night.

Now the lights of Texarkana to my left and to my right.



They Lie Big


This debunking is merely creating doubt.  It's a tactic, likely means there's some truth to the debunked.  Otherwise, why bother debunking?  They got fact checkers for that, and fact suckers, and fact makers.  When hoaxes become reality, they're at optimal operating efficiency.

These propaganda pros are slick, they stick to the plan.  They lie big.  And often, and again and again.  They operate with rigor, words words words, jam em with words.  They got the goods on the right folks. 

Look away from where they point to look.  In the opposite direction, see in 20/20 Gonzo vision.  Clear, unconfused, where things add up.  Like an iceberg, really, the tip is all we need to know.  The ommission media is on another mission, they are blindfolders.


Burned By The Roach

OK, OK, OK, lemme get this straight.  The OK sign is a White superiority thing now.  The raised 3 of the NBA long distance bombers, and other basketball players, guys and gals.  The joint smoking sign, rolled and passed.  Don't get burned by the roach.

Not buying it, a pile of dummy dung.  The racers are desperate, the people aren't experiencing what they describe.  The news hacks don't journalism anymore, Geraldo ruined them all.  They are heads.  Back in 3, 2, 1.

Keep the OK sign in tact.  Either hand, or both.  Fold the pinky and ring finger down.  That's about right, that's about right.  Finger chicken good.


Evasive By Nature


Think it's fact, most likely it's true.  Supression is evasive by nature, it was born to hide.  Cheer up, Francis.  This is the time of your life.  This is it.

Our baggage is not yours, our pettiness will die with us, unresolved.  Stuck in our ways and means, frozen in our generation.  Conditioned.  Wisdom is aware.  Stay tuned, always stay tuned.

Give Freud the slip, he was obsessed with his own business.  An egomaniac.  Get over the hump.  Coasting time, the beach says it all, waves of waves, coming in waves.  They all break somewhere.


God Bless Everything

Works like a transaction.  All the promising, all the winking, all the links, structured just right.  These bills are paid in full.  Now for services rendered, accounts receivables is satisfied.  With elections coming up, working on the next round of funding.

Push the mandering, Gerry.  Lock it in unless we need a tuck, or a duck.  Don't leave it to luck.  Get used to the razor wire fencing, blockade out the tourists, much less trash around.  You are talking to no one, fill out a form to suggest, encourage, or comment. 

We are tied up, busy.  Make sure we get some good angles, our makeup goes runny in the lights.  Ribbons and pins, they speak to people, ribbons and pins say it all.  Call everyone friend.  God bless everything. 


Creamy Notes

The guitar player was gulping wine between tunes, overdressed for the occasion.  Italian chords and nylon strings.  Chick singer sang creamy notes.  Straight rows of vines, umbrellas shading the sun.  Bluest sky of the year, perfectly cool breeze.

Texas Hill Country vibe with complex, simple tastes.  Tannins, fruits, aromatic stimulation.  Balance.  Set your pace in the middle.  Keep the mood light, keep the lights dim.

Watch for deer and smokies on the way back from Austin.  Especially at 1 am.  The Saxon Pub on Monday night should not be missed.  Then Donn's Depot, where that sweet keys player who played with Glen Campbell plays 'til midnight.  Name droppers all over that town.


The Ballad Of V.B. Owen



-The day he found out Molly Ringwald turned down the movie Ghost.
-When the circuits got all realigned and the circuit boards were toast.
-Had to make another entrance, had to make another showing.
-At it again with all his friends, the final quarter for V.B. Owen.

-Well old V.B. stayed up late at night writing words and picking tunes.
-Moved his body around the court, mostly wore old tennis shoes.
-Had this super looking Visor, was green and see through.
-Nobody would ever know it, but the leaving leaves him blue.

-The work's just getting started, V.B.'s got bills to pay.
-Prolly live to a hundred or more, before he hits the grave.
-Those Owen folks live long if you check their family tree.
-Must be something in the wine they drink, makes them seem so free.

---cowritten by Griff.

House Of Bribes


Built on a house of bribes.  Got to follow through to keep your integrity, grifters move on to another town.  These are high class criminals in Washington DC, legitimized by titles and words.  Meeting in lobbies, meeting with lobbies, depositing lobbies.  Rats eventually point fingers at other rats, and the other rats point back.

And it continues like this, two rats pointing at each other, for years, for terms, for decades.  These must be important rats, able to avoid the rat traps, able to sniff out the rat poison, able to keep their rat claws off the rat glueboard, able to thrive and grow old and grey.  Like cockroaches, they scatter in light.  They die in light.

Take the 75 mile trip up to space, past the skin of our atmosphere.  Suspend your insecurity and envy for a moment.  Float with the gravity of rationality, see the world in its delicate condition.  As it is.  We're all just spinning, even the rats.



Liberty Will Swirl

Look past the masses, get to the point of sleep, good sleep.  Fresh minds can think it out better, clear the visions, calmly.  Panic is almost always a bad idea.  Determine your own thought process, develop it over time.  Talk yourself out of things, go against the instincts, ignore the gut.

As we slip into isolation and justification, remember the free flow of the ocean, back and forth, swaying.  Harmony already ingrained, swirling and swirling.  To resist is madness, to resist is doom.  It cannot be harnessed, liberty will not comply.  Liberty will swirl.

Lock your doors and rot in your rooms.  Not my kind of place, not my scene.  Exclusion is not exclusive, the secret's out.  Stand with your kind, I'll sit with mine, free thinkers, in the thinking hot tub, with thinking jets, and thinking bubbles.  Thinking tanks are so last decade.


Woken Dreams (Watch Me Flitter)

Watch me flitter, like a bug.
Don't get bitter, still in love.
Take these shambles, stack them high.
Damn the vandals, suck you dry.

Stars still glitter, like they do.
Full of tricksters, playing clues.
Bound for glory, moving feet.
Tells the story, from the streets.

Mop up hitter, clear the trash.
Stand up, Mister. Just a rash.
Quit your creeping, off my screen.
Keep on sleeping, woken dreams.


The Crease Grease


Took a pass on obvious election fraud, they'll pass on freedom of religion, speech, self-protection, and Gulag mandates.  And other liberties, depending on pigment.  Prolly ban the F word, considering its recent publicity.  Oh, and the Declaration Of Independence, along with Jefferson, has got to go.  God Save The Queen!

These nine'll do nothing, a broken branch for sure.  At least it's a solid industry, paid by the hour, crank it slow, new litigation opportunities on the horizon, slanders, larcenies, confinments.  Lawyers are brilliant digital paper pushers, the best in the land, the crack hunters.  The crease grease, they'll find it.  Most politicians are lawyers for a reason.

The flashlight burns bright, perhaps brighter than ever, the dark rooms are lit.  Good to know who your friends are, but critical to know where the enemy lurks.  Once uncovered, they got nothing to lose. The swarmy meddling becomes indignant orders, the fear of exposure becomes intentional division, the superiority complex becomes homicidal justification.  The way it's gone throughout human history.


You're Just Sucking

"No, no, I'm a lobbyist, I lobby."  But then I questioned their meaningless word, set it right.  Perhaps you're a bribist, giving bribes.  For favorable returns, of course.  For lucrative pursuits of noble conclusions.

"I resent that implication, I'm a professional."  Sure, the professional government class, heard all about it, you're the reason we don't have term limits for congress.  Heard it from a Senator himself, Cornball was his name, he's against any term limits because of the professional government class.  Might cramp his style, might expose his digital trail, might mess up his personal balance sheet.  Keep it quiet, everyone goes through the lobby to enter.

"How dare you claim I'm bribing the US Congress!"  Settle down, pumpkin spice.  Tough to realize, but it's true.  It's an organized crime, you're just a sucker.  You're just sucking.


Everyone Woke Up

Everyone woke up.  Some were alert, bright-eyes, rationality and reason.  Some were zoned out, still wired, frantic and numb.  We see you there, you scoundrels, you snakes, we're ready for you now.  We got more turf.

Take credit for something, your leadership is a hungry rodent, it must eat.  Deep down, it's a cannibal, it enjoys its own taste.  The fixers, the kiss of assers, and the fawning handlers, handling who knows what.  No one will catch them when they fall, they've earned their humbling, they should not trust others.  They will decay alone.

The re-emergence will be swift, liberty will not be denied, cannot be denied.  It's liberty.  The oppressors will be banished, the emperors will fade away, they will be exiled and ignored.  Banished to the past.  Stuck in time.


Say No And Sue


Say No and Sue.
Nothing else to do.
Reds are worthless.
Worse than the Blues.

Say No and Sue.
No need to be rude.
Call up the lawyer.
Give them the Blues.

Say No and Sue.
Found out what to do.
Tell em the news in a lawsuit.
That'll change their mood.


Our Covering Of Blue

Our covering of blue.  So thin, you're through it in an instant.  You're into the black.  Light left behind, space is larger than little green men and colorful orbs.  The jeopardy, the vulnerability, the air is a sliver.

Mars doesn't have it, to dirty earth is a whole 'nuther matter.  It's death out there.  Experience it in 3D.  Delay and gitters, the simulation doesn't capture it, the G Forces can be survived.  No one cares what the billionaires say, Captain Kirk laid it out.

A rocket ride for now, it's the way of the future.  Like bicycles, like cars, like planes, like eBikes.  Novelty luxury items at first.  West Texas is lit, the center of space.  Like a modern day spectator sport, the race is on, rocket riders 62 miles up. 


Spy Swatter


With all the snitching going on, it's important to have the proper tools around.  Nuisances should be smacked, we all agree.  Nothing more irritating than a spy, we all agree.  Introducing the Spy Swatter.  Just a swipe away.

It's mostly wrist, not an arm motion.  Know their end is quick and justified.  A block, a mute, a bird, or two.  Sign me up for the Fuck Joe Biden movement, always wanna align with the rational young folks of the country.  As a general rule. 

Dig up the past, search, search, search.  Like grave shovelers, mixing in the organic fertilizer to make the colors pop.  Smelling of gasoline and animal poison.  Sounding like digital clippers, staring oddly into their snitching screens.  Hacking, turning, twisting, without soul, without intelligence, artificial or otherwise.


The Frito Chili Cheese Flood

All beware of the chip shortage.  Supply chains are whacked, the Fritos came in hot with the chili cheese, completely misreading the market, now there's no shelf space for the new line up of baked products.  The Frito Chili Cheese Flood as the street is calling it, they flooded the damn market with Chili Cheese Fritos.  Now, family bags are going for $1.25, Frito and Lay are getting crunched, everyone is demanding the baked products.

Next month it'll be natural gas and, of course, national toilet paper panic day, my favorite worry of the year.  Lots of meat, lettuce, cheese, and coconuts.  Anticipating.  Eating up the worries, taking action.  Been popping fish oil pills.

Inflammation busters, smooth out the spikes.  Circulate and circulate.  Move, keep moving, like the really old say, keep moving.  Summon the thoughts and think them through, let the trivial pass on by.  We got no time for trivial.


Pages Of Goo

The Rat Rags of Times and Posts and New Yorkers.  Pages of goo.  Nothing to learn, pretentious and bland, shameless and simple, boring and thought numbing.  Write words better, write better words.  Your perspectives come from the rat nest.

Get the lighting right on those photos, they must be like replicas, we'll all live in basements eventually.  They're in under their heads, a sorry condition.  Incompetence is sad to watch, but usually the incompetent had it coming.  They are usually pricks.  It's a defense mechanism for insecurity.

This think tank got together and made up slogans, they chanted all afternoon, they kissed each other and gave one another Wet Willie's as they skipped around the think tank complex.  They ate dinner, guzzling wine and shots.  Then they talked about what they thought, if front of the tank.  The tank smelled horrible, it reeked of reek, it was foul, foul as it gets.  They all ignored it, they just ignored the shit, like the shit wasn't even there, like the shit didn't exist.


Red River Shootout At Franconia Brewery 10/9/21

>>>Amos Mashed Set.

1.  Friend Of The Devil.  Grateful Dead.
2.  Three Little Birds.  Bob Marley.
3.  Me And Bobby McGee.  Kristofferson/Joplin.
4.  Tulsa Time.  Don Williams.
5.  That Hat From Mexico.  PG.
6.  The Joker.  Steve Miller Band.
7.  Don't Lose My Koozie.  PG.
8.  Ripple.  Grateful Dead
9.  Buckets Of Rain.  Dylan.


>>>The Russ Solo Set.

>>>Weird Ear Set.

1.  Slow Living.
2.  Audience Eyes.
3.  Pocket Player.
4.  High Heeling.
5.  Private Noises.
6.  On The Fringe.
7.  Here's When You're Gonna Blink.
8.  The Protest Blues.
9.  Corporate Maxed.
10.  Tijuana Taxi
11.  The Okie Sixty Nine.
12.  Wet Cigarette Butts.


Getting Off On The Licks

Everyone, panic!  We need more caring.  Care, dangit, care!  Hear me, hear me, hear me whisper.  You will care.

This irrelevant person kept right on, losing his thought train, blabbering about, indecently.  Creepily.  Gropingly.  Hovering like a frustrated schoolmaster gone bad, with a ruler and an eyeball.  Getting off on the licks.

Dark seasons and rooms with scary ceilings, thoughts of woe and tragedy, sleepy, sleepy now.  Find your own hut, Mister.  Your dignity is homeless, its got needles in its veins, junked out, wired.  We should all care a bit less, that's all.  Care a bit less.


Here's When You're Gonna Blink


You can't say that.
What?  What?
You can't do that.
What?  What?
We can't have that.
What?  What?
Like a cat in the hat.
What?  What?

And all the words we humming.
All the chords we been strumming.
Good Lord ain't it really something.
What?  What?  What?  What?

You best walk the line.
Where's the line?
You best find the line.
Where's the line?
You best toe line.
Where's the line?
Probably blow your mind.
Where's the line?

Go on step right up to it.
Remember last time when you drew it.
Guess that's when we really knew it.
Where's the line?  Where's the line?

Here's what you're gonna think.
Why?  Why?
Here's what you're gonna drink.
Why?  Why?
Here's when you're gonna blink.
Why?  Why?
Told you not to think.
Why?  Why?

When you think, bad things will appear.
Start thinking bout new things to fear.
There's no way to make it any clear.
Why?  Why?  Why?  Why?



Only The Blockheads Are Real

One topic at a time, click, click, click.  Stories on a story board, stacked like blocks.  Of anything, of views and reviews, of fluffs and duffs, enough, enough.  Squeals and fires, shots and liars.  Only the blockheads are real, they'll sing anything.

Keeping the motor running, sending some oil your way.  These are mechanical devices, everything can't be in the clouds.  Chips and conductors and semi conductors.  We are the grid, make us all light up.  Make us all glow.

On next month's story board, a dark winter figure will appear, dressed for cold, checking in on the WiFi.  Then after that, some terrorism or invasion or other calamity.  Sit tight, stay tuned, get your rest.  Many worries to ignore, many fools to avoid, many casters casting and casting.  Trying to hook a fish.


Waterfall Ride


Shipwreck stuck on some rocks and trees.
Hadn't moved an inch in a year I believe.
Til one day when the water did its thing.
Headed for the falls gonna drop to the deep.

Wonder if we oughta jump right off.
We could make it to shore with a bit of luck.
Current is rough and there's an undertow.
Whitewater splashing on the rocks below.

But it's our only chance to tell you the truth.
The falls gonna give us more than a bruise.
Just can't see no way we could survive.
Staying on this shipwreck for a waterfall ride.

Jump, jump, hurry now jump.
Let the waterfall have this dump.
Smash the ship to smithereens.
Get another one, all new and clean.





Infrastructure Of Crust

We'll eat pizza all night, we'll do whatever it takes.  Statespeople of the highest integrity.  Hopefully we can get there, we can't let down the American people, we can't get away with scarfing down thin crust, we gotta stuff the crust with stuff.  We'll eat pizza all night if we have too, ain't wasting our eating capacity on salads and soda pops.  This is how the pizza gets made!

The infrastructure of crust is important, we got it down, just takes some tossing and stretching, you, you know the thing.  Some tomato paste with Italian spices, spread around.  No square pizzas allowed in this pizzeria, Mammamia.  Then the cheese, then the pepperoni, or beef, or whatever, even chicken.  Artichokes and onions, yummy and delicious.

This Statesperson kept on talking.  Red pepper packets, marinara sauce, strombolis, cannellonis, cannolis, calzones.  It was making me hungry and it was just past noon.  What a gig, I thought, paid to eat pizza all night.  Hope they have plenty of Rolaids available, and 7-Up can help settle an upset tummy.


The Protest Blues


Walked out of class to join the band.
March for justice in this land.
No lack of shelter, no lack of food.
Down at the bottom of the protest blues.
Down at the bottom of the protest blues.

Got my music and I got my glow.
Can watch replays of every single show.
Can't help it though, I'm in the mood.
Fix something quick for my protest blues.
Fix something quick for my protest blues.

Don't you dare look at me thataway.
Take my suspension like a runaway.
Didn't have to be so mean and rude.
Just had a case of the protest blues.
Just had a case of the protest blues.

The T-shirt says it all I guess.
Shrunk up, but the it's still the best.
Raise our fist and stomp our shoes.
Nothing can cure my protest blues.
Nothing can cure my protest blues.



The Glitter Spitters

Run for the office, waste your time on another's gold.  Mercenaries.  Fighting for a compensation line item.  Holding on so the judgment turns out right, so the evaluation is enough, just enough to be exceptional.  Get a few more bites.

Respectability to others and the loss of dignity, you tell me what to say.  Alignment of the simple kind, the only kind that works.  Some sort of brilliant trinity-- excellent, expedient, and exquisite.  The E's have it.  Can't touch this.

Then the story tellers, the twisters of yawns, the glitter spitters.  Utopia is nice and lush, green and full of money.  Flattery and support.  Watch for the lease and chain gang, the dotted liners, the small printers.  Move slow, knock holes, take it to the skeptics, talk yourself out.


Citizens Of The 3rd Degree

America's not gone for good, the drawing back, the coiling, the snap will snap, we still got bills.  This is cover-up work, these are skeleton graves, these are skunky undertakers.  Shoveling hound dogs.  Their followers are imaginary, they don't exist.  Shout them down in the 1st degree.

Goon scene down under, the Quarantine Resorts.  Try that here, the 2nd degree kicks in, armed and protected.  They'll move the soldiers in next, take their quarters, kick out the citizens of the 3rd degree.  Proximity.  Then the search and seizure of the 4th degree, goons don't need a warrant, evidently.

Guilty until proven innocent, the 5th and 6th degrees of the often accused, but the never convicted.  No speedy trials around D.C. anymore, 7th degree of the horned helmets and capital tour participants.  Bail out the crooks of the 8th degree with a bailout fund for crooks of the 8th degree.  Not to mention the 9th degree, but get the fuck out of my space.  Get out of my state, your 10th degree is meaningless here, obviously.


Galactic Traffic Jam

Travelling through our life and times, and we're too deep into this galactic traffic jam.  Held up by bone headed drivers.  You know the type, purely in it for themselves, this is about them getting through, this is about their appointments, their more important appointments.  The go-get-it crowd, the gone-and-got-it crowd, the tell-you-all-about-it crowd, the kind that cut in lines, cheats.  They are #1, dangit.

Nothing is the way, remove certain emotions, remove certain habits, remove encounters of the third and fourth kinds.  Juke and jive, sit in the back, react, flow with life.  These plans are a sham.  Cut your bait, give it to the sea, let the waves work, they rock, like earthquakes, like aftershocks.  Forever hungry.

Bleed on, in the head, in the eyes.  The squinting, bleeding eyes.  Legacy of a rat, sluring, snipping, slinking the tail.  Undignified, uncivilized, a true rodent.  Do anything for a little cheese.  Anything at all. 


JingleHut: Elbow Grease

All's it take's a little elbow grease.
Help you find some performance peace.
Routines you do every single day.
The work required to earn your pay.


Get This Thing Humming


Localized and prioritized, it must be an intense effort.  Can't get lost in America, traveling around, observing and considering.  Telling you so.  Looking back has no future, remember the happy scenes, think of next time, when ideas become reality.  When we glow neon.

Keep your senses, keep your wits, keep it to yourself.  Tell me more.  About spirits and dignity and humility.  Sleep on it, peace will find its way through.  Late at night, or early in the morning, or both.

Resourceful and content, phasing the rituals, loosening up the habituals.  Imaginations on fire, the boiler room is steaming.  Get this thing running in no time, get this thing humming.  Words is all, all it is is words.  Just free talking. 


The Vote Joke

Chain yank day.  A lister and his mass mooning.  Water is a slow mover, like ozone, and glaciers, and acid rain.  Ignore the rules all around, mosquitos must die.  They must be demoralized, isolated, and suffocated.

Trials and courtrooms. Accused, but never convicted, the gonzo life.  This seems like a gulag experiment, and America seems cool with it.  Time for some new days, some new ways, and a new phase.  Ruler rules, the easiest of all rules to break.

Send this poll back, make it indicate something else, need it by Sunday.  The tabulators are fine, they tabulate in perfect math, decimal here, ratio there.  Code, code, checker board.  The vote joke.  It's on you.


On This Day


Ain't no smiles around here no more.  Despondency and resolution, the quiet skies.  Mysterious brown vans and evacuations, cheering in the Arab streets.  Grounded at zero, the liberty show must go on, music must prevail.  Taps.

Tyrants always denounce tyranny with their forked tounges.  Deception is a virtue in their twisted heads, they slur hollow, self-righteous words.  They wrap themselves in false glory.  It always ends the same, without exception.  Ugly.

Quit talking during God Bless America, Max Headroom.  Shut your face, quiet!  The politicians sully the day, the racial spoon must stir something always, they should be muted on this day.  Let America reflect on its own, let America remember in peace, with righteous rage, leave America alone.  On this day.


That Little Devil Whispering


Toss out the independent minds, things can't be thought.  Thinking could take us off the path, rationality has already been considered.  That letter won't do nothing.  Mash it in a boiling pot of potatoes, the scum floats to the top, this is Harvard's doing.  Empty are your degrees, lame are your decrees.

Research in the name of hatred, enabled by envy and greed.  Dividing tools of hell.  That little devil whispering in your ear, freedom is an old idea, freedom is not your choice.  A new freedom list will be updated every Friday.  No time for questions today.

The Shame Of Kabul.  Dusty brain rot, the skin greaser.  Color yourself pale grey, plug the head follicles with modern plugs.  Get some new teeth, you can't chew up America with those gums.  We won't hear you.  Freedom Of Mute shall never be denied, as the old saying goes.


Paper Skin


Economic access is double edged.  Drink this poison of leverage and speculation, the slow killer.  Captured addictions and routines, expectations and equity.  Invest in it all, stay busy.  Project, influence, hustle.

Squash the privileged, they are privileged, dangit!  How easy they breathe, how luxurious they eat, how much fun they have, how they are adorned.  We've seen the ads.  They are smiling.  How dare those little devils smile.

Smirkers are not allowed around here, the smirked can't take it.  Dishers, whiney dishers.  They got no take.  They got paper skin, thin and brittle.  The weakest kind of skin.


The Quarantine Bar


Hung out at the Quarantine Bar last night.  Lots of weary, bored travelers.  All wrapped in bubble wrap.  Keep everything wrapped up tight, for protection of the wrapped, and others.  Couldn't really hear much, but it was good nodding and waving, gesturing, pointing.  Better that the Quarantine Box.

Nothing but WiFi and four walls.  A makeshift toilet next to a makeshift sink.  Small refrigerator, a mini microwave, and a little portable camping burner.  Food items delivered every other day by the Quarantine Security Officers (QSOs).  Their mission, they keep telling us, is to protect, feed, and release clean.

Slipped one of them a hundred to bring me an extra sleeve of soda crackers and a jar of Vegemite.  Amazing how easily a QSO can be bribed.  I was flush with vacation cash.  Dumb Suckers.  They'll miss me when I test out. 


That Marble Drip

Writing the truth in the middle of the messy show.  Books of the shadows, within the words, in form, the equal and greater reaction to the cheap illusions.  Bought for nothing, they sought it out, they craved.  Through boredom, through envy, through greed.  It doesn't matter, they took the bait.

And the literal bullshit is coming, cows must be done away with, their slaughter must end.  We got almonds for milk, we got the beef cooked up in the labratory.  According to sources, it's a bit rubbery, but tasty.  I'll trust what sources say, my grandparents were ranchers, gotta have that ribeye texture, gotta have that marble drip.

Days of hot sun and motorcycle jumps, huge noon lunches with gravy on the side, cold soda pops in the afternoons, sweets late at night.  Orchards and gardens that produced.  Burn outs and skids, workshops and barns.  Big fields and woods and mesquite trees. Tanks.


His Standard Rate

Declare victory from the scenes of treason.  The dirty dog, who leaves the war dogs behind.  Along with the women and children, along with the guns, along with the choppers, along with the hummers.  This demoralization is complete, we are demoralized no longer.  We are lit.

The incompetent move aside, these 13 should be alive.  Roll your eyes, bastard.  Laugh it off, slime.  You are not courageous, you are not a hero, but you got serious nerve.  Seriously, you got some sick nerve.

Shuffle on, groper.  Slur some more.  Drool on your mask, comb the oily strands of hair back.  Ten percent of the buck stops with the big guy.  His standard rate.


Little Peace



Come over here, but I know that you won't.
Could beg you to love me, but I know that you don't.
When I say it don't matter to me.
It ain't you, just trying to find a little peace.


We can drive this road, go on and on.
Til we die like we said when we were young.
Through the night, no need to get a room.
Keep driving, we'll be home real soon.

Late that morning, when August got hot.
With little warning, we thickened the plot.  
Change of plans, I know what I need.
It ain't you, just trying to find a little peace. 

Marching To Cell Block 9

Pay the tuition, inject the juice, zip it shut, mask over those noses please.  Quiet in the back!  Single file now, six feet apart, don't go down that way, it's closed over there, cell block 9, we're marching to cell block 9.  Might get hurt down that way, we all understand.  Don't want a warning, a citation, or a reprimand, got to get a degree, must get a degree.

The outside world, the free, live in a different way.  Ideas of their own, reasoning.  Eyes aren't glazed and sure of everything, the outsiders are skeptical, they are curious.  They ask, they talk, they go and do.  They laugh and giggle and crack up.

Let the risk be rewarded, step out into the open.  Gasp some air way down deep in the lungs, muffle out the exhaust.  Confinement is like hazardous waste, it glows in the dark, it's radioactive material.  Hear the motor sounds, hear them hum.  Hear them move.


A Full Memory Card


Political criminals of all kinds, the ways of this back alley world.  The street class, the road grease, the pavement.  Hustling like laughing hyenas, pointy shoes and briefs.  Eyes of lies.

Everybody gonna be got.  Gonna get the getcha getcha.  That ultimate end to our life and times, the final beat of a worn out heart, the last breath of sweet oxygen.  A full memory card.

The times is the thing, rips and roars.  The who's and them's.  Exaggerated stories of uncommon occurrences, flashes of brilliance and unusual insight, known names.  Names of fame.  Consequential times of your life.


The Absurd Mutates

And that's O.K., to sit in the seat of privilege.  Regardless of our ignorance.  Good to know.  Agent for change, a fighter.  In the blood, in the DNA somewhere, a natural, ingrained.

Being aware, plotting, rapping.  This is brilliant stuff.  Spectrums of inclusions, in depth studies of impacts, richer conversations.  Those that take offense, those with causes.  Rail.

Compliments are compliments, know the backhand is not there.  We are only opening doors for the ladies.  Gentlemen are still cool. The absurd is easy to spot, it's usually circular.  Then, and only then, the absurd mutates.


We Shall Speak

Stick it with your control measures, they don't work around here.  Signs have no influence.  Gibberish.  Eventual litter, blights.  Signs say nothing.

Oblivious to your guidelines and policies, they are not mine.  Your creeds are bland, your proclamations are weak, your mandates are ignored.  Your bans are irrelevant, your muzzles are broke.  Intentional disobiedience, planned, perfected, taught.  We shall speak.

Rock the mock, loudly.  Pile on, with truth and class, and some perfect vulgarity to make it fucking stick.  Little clowns they are, little Mao clowns.  Shame throwers who won't show their faces.  Laugh them off, shun them, escape the dull dim.


Walk The Muck

Toss the withering flowers, replace them with the fresh cut.  Keeping the inventory high.  Colors to burn, the dull must check out.  Bring it down some place else, somewhere else.  Walk the muck.

Tentative and shaky. Undetermined, unmotivated, uninspired.  Even MoJo took off, sped on down the road, never looked back.  Off to some hyped up hullabaloo or some hoity toity whispering tea.  To be seen, heard, and known.

Large amounts of quality over quantity.  Frivolous pursuits, pipe dreams, and delusions.  Enjoy them too.  The trail goes on forever, it loops and loops, it rewinds, but it changes with the seasons.  Time for this, time for that.


Slow Living


Slow living.
Feel the body, the mind's a mess.
Soul giving.
Learn karate, cut the whacko stress.

Sun rising.
See as many as you possibly can.
Sad endings, rarely goes as planned.

And each day that passes away.

Is another brilliant day.

Another day to create.

There's no time for hate.

Screen gazers.
Too much gazing and it burns your brain.
More lazing.
Quit wasting your American dreams.



Scape The Goats

Tyranny at home, cowardice away.  This tragedy of incompetence, this built-in excuse, this justified farce.  Pay no mind, they are spinning their tops, their brains are scrambling, they're licking ice cream.  Unfazed, falling in line, frenzied eating, like rats.  The big guy tyrant was there all along, getting greased, getting his 10%. 

 A masked diversion, the mandate mandates.  The blinker class.  Don't have to live like the refugees, call in the damn torpedoes.  Your response is empty, your response is weak.  Call the scene as it's seen. 

The truth was it unfolded quicker than anticipated, their heels were busy.  Demonize the lovers of liberty, scape the goats, erase the evidence.  The mushees will slurp anything down, they'll believe anything the mushers mush up.  They echo, they go along, like dogs hoofing for treats.  Wag, drool, sleep in your cage.


Figment Of Evil

These made up realities.  Look around, see the truth, the games, the fabrications, the suppressions, the data.  Figment of evil, a manifestation of greed.  Inevitable perhaps, but still sad, still too damn bad.  Stay away, let me be.

The oddsters are calculating.  Hunches, guts, math, experience, human nature, viral nature.  Speak to the few, the masses are illiterate.  The masses are caught up in the net.  They are like tuna, the real kind.

Anger is no good way, let justice and karma work it out.  The angry will stay mad, in all of mad's forms.  Hysterical laughter can cure a soul.  And music, of course.  Attend, help, and pray.


Audience Eyes



Behind the shades thoughts a'flutter.
Singing it crisp without a stutter.
Finishing off each and every line.
Picking melodies and busting ryhmes.

Stomp the floor with a tambourine.
The Harp honks, the lyrics bleed.
Keep it quiet between the tunes.
Jam all night, howl to the moon.


Those audience eyes.
Glassy and stoned.
Those audience cries.
The wails, the screams, the moans.

What's the worse that could go wrong.
A broken string, or a butchered song.
Originals covered up with the covers.
Bout bandits, and jokers, and heartbroken lovers.


Pocket Player


Lays down the beat.
Keeps money time.
She's a pocket player.
She'll blow your mind.

Hits the groove.
Bing bangs the snare.
She's a pocket player.
She's got funky hair.


Drummer girl plays it strong.
Drummer girl plays it long.
Drummer girl plays behind the band.
Drummer girl gongs her gong.

Brings the pop.
The herky, the jerky.
She's a pocket player.
With a touch of quirky.

Golden cymbals.
And a sweet high hat.
She's a pocket player.
She go rat-a-tat-tat.


Molecule For Molecule



Molecule for molecule.
Inoculations and ridicule.
What about infection rates,
Deaths and cases in lockdown states.

Molecule for molecule.
Take my take, I've been to school.
Bodies and minds and souls in tune.
Stay moving, stay immune.

Molecule for molecule.
Panicking mobs and useful fools.
Seasonal virus, like seasonal flu.
What's bullshit, and what's true.

Molecule for molecule.
Manipulate and lose your cool.
Create some shame to pass around.
Divide the folks and shut them down.


High Heeling


She got good shoes.
Oh yes, she do.
She got pairs in blue.
Got pairs that're new.
I'm just your average dude.
Don't really have a clue.
But I know, yes I know.
She got good shoes.

Those shoes she's got.
Are really hot.
Tied tight in double knots.
They help her when she trots.
Boot kicking like robots.
High heeling like big shots.
But I know, yes I know.
Sweet shoes she's got.





Cut that 45.
Look em in the eyes.
Cut that 45.
Memphis city heartbreak night.
Memphis city heartbreak night.

Look at him sneer.
Bring the gals to tears.
Look at him sneer.
Memphis city heartbreak night.
Memphis city heartbreak night.

Crying all the time.
You ain't nothing but a hound dog.
Crying all the time.
Memphis city heartbreak night.
Memphis city heartbreak night.

Suspicious minds.
Figure we'll be fine.
Suspicious minds.
Memphis city heartbreak night.
Memphis city heartbreak night.


To Enjoy Thy Presence


Wait at least two weeks after the final dose.  To be clear about your status.  To belong.  To enjoy thy presence.  To bask.

The travel life, like in the magazines.  An operator, intentionally oblivious to any restraint, acting welcomed anywhere.  In front of the front row, asking intentionally obvious questions, eyeballing.  All the while, unknowingly agitating.  Scorned, in a way.

Reveal nothing of yourself, there is little point in revealing.  This is on principal.  Freedom of shoulder, freedom of butt cheek.  The Vetenarians know, some animals are just animals, their minds are closed.  They may be your friends, but you are not theirs.


Drink Warm Drinks

Ambivalence and the apathy pile.  Growing bigger by the day, those things not worthy of care.  The care worthy really shine brighter and clearer now.  Reduces the sweats, minimizes the worry, promotes chill.  Some despise the cold.

To them, blankets!  Cover it up, layer it up, mask it up, button it up, zip it up, and shut it up.  Keep it tight, live off the warmth of others, try to remain calm.  Drink warm drinks.  Hats, scarfs, keep the ears covered. 

Hear no evil.  They are not at the table, they don't understand peace.  Music must be free, there is no toil, there is no mission.  It's just made.  It just sounds.

Jerking Their Knees

Everyone freeze, stay still, breathe lightly.  The air is tainted somehow, state to state, town to town.  The lockdowners are jerking their knees, it's all they know, it's what they do, they panic.  Poiseless.  Without cool.

Intentional and unrelenting, the kookie keep blabbering.  It's become a humlike noise, a ticker tape, an alert, a notification.  Delusion food. Dole it out, the delusional must eat.  Like teenagers, the dumb and cleaned are always hungry.

Divide the masses.  Pit.  Stir.  Create sides, take sides.  Confuse.


The Agitator Tribe

Tired of guidance, sick of recommendations, worn out on declarations, and apathetic to proclamations.  Bluster and his cousin Squeal.  Words of blah.  No form, no thought.  Blurts.

Rationality and the check out, gone to the islands for awhile, gone exploring, gone America.  When the whiners kept whining.  The worst of all traits, even the whiners agree.  Annoyers are different, the come from the agitator tribe.  They have a sense of humor.

Whiners are no fun, everything must suck, and all must be told of the suck.  Convinced, eventually, but either way, all does suck and will suck.  In that whine voice, from the back of the throat.  The squinted eyes, the raised upper lip, the eww face.  Ugly. 


The Big Ignore Snore

The Big Ignore Snore.  Insurrections have lost their edge, nothing like the French. Or the Lybians, lots of walking around, lots of chanting, lots of single file, some prayers.  Be interested to see all the tapes.  Tragic about that vet gal, God bless her and her family.

These DCers are people to ignore, people to shun, people to avoid.  You will smell them, America is known for its collective bull dung detector.  There aren't that many cleaned brains.  Rational is the new intellectual, the intellectuals are out of intelligence.  They irrationally bore things to death in think tanks.

Spoiled ruiners, they ruin for sport, they ruin sports.  Five rings of a cartoon, the ratings are fake, they are worse than reported.  The middle finger don't work on the middle class.  Time is ours, we devote it freely.  We spend it how we want.


Private Noises

Spy, spy, put me on the list, rip off my mask and read my lips.

Cry, cry, stand with a fist, dwell on the past, get all pissed.

Divide, divide, go inside, lock up the doors, run and hide.

Alright, alright, pick a side, take it no more, gonna multiply.

Peeking through your windows, looking through your screens.
Wonder what they do with all the things that they see.
Listening through your walls, bugging all your halls.
Even your private noises, your primal screams and calls.

Signs, signs, ignore them too, whizz right by, you know what to do.

Times, times, find your own news, the true kind, the kind that's true.

Pretend, pretend, it was way back when, chicks were chicks, and men were men.

Amend, amend, we will defend, through stones and sticks, and the boogieman.




The Cootie War

This is beyond protocol, the robots are shut off, the inspectors are milling around, the bureaus are active.  Alert the commission, they'll want to know.  Minds are gone, off and away, in the clouds, unseen rationality of the outsiders.  The sense of the common folk.

The Cootie War has begun.  Variants are awaiting word, ready to take it to the vaxxes, the sneaky injectors, the poisoners, hysterical maniacs with everything to lose.  As many jabs as you can handle, unlimited.  Certified and stamped on papers.  Cooties are being hunted down, the few that get past the immunes are shot on site, sometimes twice, even three times.

General Johnson disagrees with General Johnson, Major Moderna don't care, he's flanking something, enlarging somewhere, and Rear Admiral Pfizer has a real problem with the Deltas, no way they'll stop the Alphas, the Alphas swim upstream, they go for the DNA Strands.  Nothing they can do then, they lose the DNA Strands, they lose it all.  So righteous in their stupidity, overconfident and smug.  The Vaxxes are bumbling to defeat, but they got money to burn, they'll try to drag it out, hope the variants just quit.  Hope they don't ambush again, hope they don't pounce.


Audacity Of Mope

This virus data is whacked.  Numbers appear, but they seem sketch, they seem random, they seem manipulated.  Regardless, the idiots talk.  Nothing is that weird about green tea.  Debunk the mights and maybes, use your brain.

Logic is flawed, assumes too much, any benefit of the doubt is enough.  Apparently.  Play your own odds, keep your cards down, rats are at the table.  They peek with the sideways eyes, they peep.  Sweat beads above their lips, dead giveaway.

The cheaters are in charge of the cheating for sure.  Cut those corners, look the other way, grease the gears.  The best place for deception is out in the open, unsuspecting, in the faces.  Audacity of mope.  Beware, the frowners are around.


Sizzle A Little

Got no jokes, but funny things occur.  Starts with the looting.  Angry envy, there are no starving looters.  None that I've seen.  The Stoics say give anger a day of thought before taking action, let the envy simmer, let it sizzle a little.

The authorities have demanded your papers, whip out the passports.  Or, you'll be reported.  And being reported is all we need to figure out the group of rational citizens.  Don't ask, don't tell.  Get the fuck out.

Is the NBA still on?  Gave up Coke, or any other fizzed up, sugared up liquid.  Keep your dignity, folks.  It's essential and required.  Opportunity is usually found, it rarely knocks.


The Spirit Of Saint Louis

Scene of the crime, the Missouri Botanical Gardens.  Illegal beauty.  Acres and acres of green, serene, lush, maintained grounds.  Goddess statues and stories, a tropical dome, lily pad ponds, trees of every origin, and Robert Shaw's Italian villa.  Nature's best face.

Surrounded by red brick structures, red bricks all over.  This town is crumbling.  Louie, Louie, oh no, me gotta go.  Ayi-yi-yi-yi.  Dump your old dreams into the Mississippi River, send them to the sea.

Narrow are the roads, tense are the neighborhoods.  No quaintness.  Broken cars and broken windows.  The Spirit of St. Louis is dull and despondent.  Dim. 


Wet Cigarette Butts


The trailer industry is booming.  Load up on cash, some traveling money.  We'll hit the Oklahoma fruit and vegetable stands on the way back.  They're all over.  Must be good business, everybody needs to eat.

This road was paid off long ago, but the Turnpike Tollway circus continues.  Just as well, although they should round up to the nearest dollar, coins are a dirty hassle.  Could send along the suggestion, but the stubborn Okie Turnpike Authority wouldn't listen to a Texan even if the math is better.  They'll get the same traffic at $3 that they get at $2.75.

Funguns and beef jerky made a fine meal.  Way better than Country Bob's in St. James, Missouri.  Despite the billboard promising hand cut steaks, the place reeked of moldy, milky mildew and wet cigarette butts.  Questionable ventilation, questionable sanitation standards, questionable all around.  Oh well, on to St. Louis.      


Prepare The Feathers

The day after, early start, late finish.  Firecracker aftersmell, we showed them last night, we declared.  All the twisting, all the bias, all the larceny, the tyrants had their run.  The professional government, the real shakers, the in-betweens, the oozing kings, the slippery queens.  Prepare the feathers, cook up some tar.

Bring back common sense of the common mind.  The brilliant have squandered their opportunity, they are brilliant no longer.  Inventors take over, make something outlandish.  Prevailing thoughts should be your own, don't believe the dimmers, the end of the worlders, the fretters.  Rest easy.

Keep the spirit of '76, twelve generations strong.  American stories full of hope, cursed with despair.  We shall overcome again and again.  Collective of independent minds beginning to howl together.  The general mood.


Consult Your Doctor

Varient schmarient.  Evidently, a shot is all we need, unless the shot don't work, unless the shot is whacked.  Consult your doctor.  Patience.  Wait it out, catch and defeat.

Days are all their own, they do not return, they are not repeated.  The illusion of next year is a hope trick, daily survival is what matters.  Daily striving.  Daily thriving.  Daily giving.

Whisper into the microphone a bit louder, your words are slurring, sir.  A real thin skinner, like a glossy paste.  Save the sympathy, let humility lurk, let karma come around.  What goes up must come down.  The blood, the sweat, and the tears.


Boutique Colors And Urban Skylines

Shaded parkways, across the street townhouses, brick sidewalks.  The dream came true.  Premonitions.  Street tacos at Mexican Sugar.  Boutique colors and urban skylines.

Class is dignity, class is kindness, class is funny.  Daughters of their mother, indeed.  Attention, pay attention.  Look and listen.  Look for lights.

Headache eyes, rest up.  Like purple roses for the lids.  Step out proud, don't let people tell you what to do.  Suggest, observe, tap your toes.  Make a melody. 


Blue Bird Bore


Blue bird bore for sure, no one cares about the chirps anymore.  Edge is lost.  Transparency of our gutter and deactivation rebellions.  New modes emerge.  New ways.

Worse than ever before, the shaky press, the crumbled rubble, the pebble pile.  Escalator going down.  Gonzo.  Static activists, stale and dumb.  Chewing gum while whining.    


No worries, the truth prevails.  The dishonesty is tremendous.  A group of cheaters, do the boarder dance.  Busy, busy, endorsing, working, working.  Shine on you crazy diamond, shine on.  


Fund The Inspectors

Fund the inspectors, crank up the audits.  These tyrants hide behind their words, saying nothing, telegraphic sneers.  Promised a hot, bloody summer weeks ago.  There was no conversation, just a crack down, just a crack up.  Cannons are not allowed.

Start with the trigger, go from there.  Blabber more about strike forces, perhaps stop the vandalism, city destruction, and death, despite stitrring it up last summer with your racial spoon.  Hear us good, old fool.  Your programs are infested with your vile, twisted greed.  Emergency fumigation is needed.

Drone, drone some more.  Announcement about jurisdictions and coming together.  Knee deep in bribes, accused stalker, proven groper.  The American flag looks embarrassed, he doesn't belong near it.  But it's still marvelous, with its red, white, and blue.   


This Sea Of Signs

Automatic analytics, moving on.  Take notice.  Work it out, from all angles of curiosity, even from the devil's advocates.  Those devious dogs, those hot rats, those thirsty for blood and money.  Think.

Conclude, it is what it seems.  This vaccine economy, this sea of signs.  Disintegration, ash.  Heap, heap, hooray, heap, heap, hooray!  Plenty of shame in the rock yard.

Mock away, it's the only way forward, there is no other response.  Anger is pointless, sadness is sad, and now is not the time for apathy.  Challenge the minds, seek rational race theory.  Exist.  Enjoy.


Too Much Fahrenheit


The heat of it all, the swelt.  Triple digits and the wave.  Too much Fahrenheit, pull down the extra shade.  Cool off with cold white wine, drop in a cube.  Discovery mix.

Mosquitos must die, best they were never born, or hatched.  However they get here, damn them to hell quick.  Poisoning, swating, electrocution.  Draw blood.  Lather the deet,  keep watch.

Sinister people are among us, bent on authority.  But, we're not gonna take it, no we ain't gonna take, we're not gonna take it anymore.  Because you got to fight for your right to party, all in all it's just another brick in the wall.  We don't need your education, or your conversation.


Bad Acoustics


Not scared of the sticks or stones neither.  Get it on, conversationed out.  Brick walls are boring, they crumble eventually.  Bad acoustics.  Ugly.

Like a desert mirage.  Intellectually, you know there's no water.  But thirst hopes, thirst believes, thirst convinces.  Without training, the human mind is easily manipulated.  Without water, the human mind is dry and dusty.

History happened, but it's not all that important anymore.  Maybe for grudges, resentments, regrets, and envy, if we must.  For glory and knowledge and inspiration perhaps.  However, this day is most important, most incredible, most delicious, most essential.  The future is at stake.


Lumber Lobby

Consider the got duped bias, most want to avoid looking taken, punked, or moronic.  Shame corrupts data.  Something about suckers, gullible suckers.  Been around since humans were humans, we've all been there.  Same thing with dogs, they keep going for the fake.

No looting this afternoon that I can see, all races are out and about, pigments of indescribable description, beautiful brilliancy all around.  No bonfires either.  Thankfully.  Wood's a bit high, the lumberjacks are raking.  Lumber lobby grease, no doubt.

Citronella burning.  Mosquito war.  Jokerman dancing to a nightingale tune, a waltz on the patio.  Spin.  Spin. 


Vitamin C Deprivation

Let's all be scared of the Boogie Hackers.  Russian, of course.  Gas, meat, maybe orange juice is next.  Vitamin C deprivation will sink us all!  Save us, Jesus, save us, Joe.

In truth, these companies got scammed, probably cut corners protecting their data, made the profit line look nice a few quarters ago.  May they fail!  Better run companies will emerge, meat ain't going nowhere.

U.F.O.s without aliens is nothing.  Bringing out all the hysteria, whipping it up, boogie, boogie, boogie.  Varients!  But the citizens are apathetic and calloused, a bit less gullible.  They seethe.


Man Up

Many are 6 feet under so we can do our things.  They won the wars, let's not spoil the spoils.  The passes were tight spirals, the handoffs were clean, put your thumbs down to bring it home.  Keep your eyes open, get up field.  Race.

Man up, man.  Stay cool and patient.  Wait for the words, they'll create puddles of thoughts.  Drain the clouds.  Say.

Unspoken, many returned and many won't talk, some can't talk.  They are heroes too.  These were their peeps, their gangs, their crowds, their buds.  Try to make them proud.  Live.


On The Fringe



Said, what would you find.
If you broke into my mind.
No longer blind, what would you find, what would you find.

And, how would you like.
If I gave it a try.
If I stayed up all night, til we saw the light, saw the light.

And, where will this go.
No one really knows.
Take the path you chose, and let it roll, rock and roll.

Next time we meet again.
Maybe we'll be friends.
Maybe I make you cringe, on the fringe, i'm jumping in.


Avoid The Warp

Boxed in and isolated.  Some windows, a few doors, mild connectivity.  Passive, dismissive, and distant.  Arms length, for your own good, for shelter from the storm.  To your corners.

The wilting is ugly, at first there's hope, then decline depressions, ashes to ashes is about right.  Remember what can be remembered.  Forget the rest.  Brain capacity is enormous, but wasted density can ruin thoughts.  Avoid the warp.

Take the jump, it'll work out some way or another.  How you use your days is how you use your life.  Wear it out.  Go broken.  Lay it all on the line, like soldiers.


Gleaming Orange


It's mostly irrelevant anyway, but not always.  Not when it's necessary, not when it must.  The maze is discovered dead end by dead end.  Intuition, the 7th sense.  You just know.

The patio lights are gleaming orange, dusk is here.  Each day is like its own life, beginning, middle, and end.  No escaping the sleep, no deprivation.  Early risers need a cat nap, need to replenish for the night, need a mood swing.  Need some music.

Even the fools and cleaned wake up at some point.  Those protest 2X4's are double the cost!  The stimulus is long gone, feeling the high prices.  Sacrifice has limits, things will change.  Pain is a catalyst.


Tech Line Blues

Good, good, glad for you.
I can't connect, all my tricks are used.
Next stop is the tech line blues.
Next stop is the tech line blues.

My misery doesn't love company.
Happy you're running smooth.
Thanks for the tech line number.
Got nothing else to lose.

Muttered all morning with hells and damns.
Called the robot number a defeated man.
Run the virus cleaner for connection jams.
Run the virus cleaner for connection jams.

My misery doesn't love company.
Happy your running smooth.
Virus cleaner fixed me up.
That's really good good news.









Block Out The Junk

Perhaps go to an 11 foot goal and a bigger court.  Bring back short shorts, something, anything.  Red, white, and blue ball.  A green ball.  Now it's all swish and dunk, swish and dunk, shoot out the funk, block out the junk, all we get now is swish and dunk.

Either loved or hated, either is better than neither.  This is entertainment, it must be interesting.  And fun.  Downers are mostly unsuccessful, depending on your definition of unsuccessful, of course.  They suck.

It's rather predictable, this reaction to the action.  Time waits for no one, and it won't wait for me.  Hours are like diamonds, don't let them waste.  I know it's only rock and roll, but I like it.  Yes I do.


Tijuana Taxi

-Breaker 1-9 it's a Radio Check, come on.
-Said, breaker 1-9 it's a Radio Check, come on.
-Been driving so long, feel the miles in my bones, wanna stop, but I got to move on.
-Come on, breaker 1-9 it's a Radio Check, come on.

9er, this is Hornet.  There's a Bad Scene ahead.  Gimme your 10-20, maybe you can avoid it.  It's the Piggy Bank getting the Green Stamps.

-Yes, I know the cargo gotta get through.
-Oh yes, i know the cargo gotta get through.
-Next I knew, sky turned blue, thunderclouds started to brew.
-Oh yes, I know, I know the cargo gotta get through.

Copy that, this is Headhunter.  Don't wanna Feed The Bears, but I'm Dropping The Hammer.  That Tijuana Taxi can't hide, saw Rusty at the Eyeball.  Maybe on the Flip Flop we can Hollar.

-Good Lord, how I miss my sweet honey pie.
-Oh Lord, you know I miss my honey pie.
-Can't forget her eyes, can't forget her thighs, way she looks in the neon light.
-Good Lord, how I miss my honey pie.




Lemon Juicing

In war, shooting first is less important than shooting last.  Competency is ultimately rewarded.  Just think of David, been true for thousands of years.  Incredible slingshot, ruthless.  Take out the giant first.

These are not humane conditions, fire and smoke and ashes.  Mercy for the quiters, but no dignity remains.  White flaggers.  They should hang their heads for the rest of their days, forgiven or not.  Crumbled, mumbled, humbled pie.

Lemon juicing, making the sour face.  Bitter it up, pout.  Frown more.  Send a statement, call a press conference,  proclamate.  Cry.


Fuzzy On The Details

Consulted with officials.  They know the truth, they always know the truth.  Inquired on the lights, the hoverings, the accounts.  Memory metal.  Even the officials were fuzzy on the details.

First off, they are not green.  The aliens, the aliens are not green.  Their exterior color is indescribable, it's not from our known spectrum.  Supernova tint, almost an inch thick, more hidelike than skinlike.  Smooth, like high dollar leather.

Their noises are peculiar, codes and beeps, very sophisticated, no grunts or growls.  Attire is sparse, bland, colorless.  And robot hats, little robot hats balanced atop their heads.  According to officials, aliens are horrible listeners, maybe they just don't care.  Maybe they can't hear, maybe they have no ears.


Surf The Earth

These same faces looking to check out and cash out, keep the bills humming, their time is coming down.  Now to the hookups, leave the legacy, leave the bank.  Money's money, it all spends the same.  Even if caught, it doesn't matter, there's little risk involved.  They got the public shamers on their side, they got the muzzlers on their side, they got the law on their side.

The courts are mucky and murky.  The entire branch is infected and bridle, the other branches seem much stronger.  Something about case load and those dastardly lawyers.  But a lawyer's a lawyer, they lawyer, it's what they do, it's who they are, it's why they are.  Busting out hours and hours, the numbers have to add up, there is no fast and cheap.

Each with an empire, and a country estate.  Commoners fawn, but there's a resistance, there's a disobiedience, there's independence.  Justice isn't usually a linear situation, karma moves more like a nebula, reason can be lost.  Reactions to actions are assured.  For now, rise with the spinning day, surf the earth, shine.


A Good Airing Out

We the government?  No way.  Clear out your house, open the windows for a good airing out.  Musty and dank, needs a fresh coat, needs a brightening up, needs some work, new faces.  Some elbow grease.

Fool the fooled, who cares?  Fool the dumb, the envious, and the guilt ridden too.  They want to be fooled by fools, ironically, so they can have a fool to blame when it's obvious they've been fooled.  It's subconscious, or something, or the other.  I'm no doctor, validate that yourself, I just observe transparently as I report.

What's the worry?  Time is on our side.  Haven't missed dusk or dawn yet, still kicking, still chilling, still at it.  Nothing but paradise ahead, nothing but forever.  The pain is a pain, but we got stuff for pain.


Universally Ignored


Little minded tyrants gonna do little minded tyranny, a truth as true as all the other truths.  The leader placed upon us, the leader that earned nothing, a leader who shakes and wobbles, who flops.  No one should follow a flopper.  They should be rightly, and apathetically, dismissed.  Floppers garner no sympathy, they are universally ignored.

Then the floppers start in with crying, like a pity pool of self righteous tears.  Crocodile tears.  Vile reptiles.  Sob, sob.  Sniffle, sniffle.

Then the crying babies start in with the fits, like stomping and clenching nitwits.  Demanding attention by any means, no honey, no sugar, that was already consummed.  Those nitwits tend to eat dessert first, won't touch their greens, lots of potatoes, partial to greasy foods.  Makes me queasy.


The Loud Crowd


The loud crowd, gonna have their say.
The loud crowd, set the city ablaze.
The loud crowd, spit when they scream.
The loud crowd, all loud and mean.

The loud crowd, their humor is gone.
The loud crowd, like a rooster at dawn.
The loud crowd, got a book contract.
The loud crowd, cover their tracks.

The loud crowd, nosey and smug.
The loud crowd, irritating bugs.
The loud crowd, listen close to this.
The loud crowd, put me on a list.

The loud crowd, noise pollution.
The loud crowd, no solutions.
The loud crowd, got a king and queen.
The loud crowd, all loud and mean.



Times Is Times

Thinking of the peaceful times, the good times.  Those in the past, those currently, and those in the future.  Knowing they will exist is a comfort, they come and go like the breeze.  Times is times, can't be calm and still too much.  Might go crazy, might go to sleep, might become hypnotized and detached.

Pay attention, then reflect and think.  It can become a habit.  Prior to concluding, prior to acting, prior to perfecting.  Understand.  There are no journalists to tell you what's real, only the gonzoing underground, only people, only words of glow remain.

Use the senses, intuitions, the gut feelings Complement with facts and ignore intimidation.  Tone is irrelevant, especially in matters of the rational brain.  Blood is blood, only types matter.  Don't even know mine by heart.


Dose Of Doubt


Fundamentally unserious.
Quit America long ago.
These masked bandits.
Bag lady is back.
Tacky, and low class.
On the take.

Dose of hope.
Dose of  DNA.
Dose of doubt.
Dose of patience.
Shout out to the churches.
Feed the world.

Thanks for wrecking the cities last summer.
With your racey spoon.
Good God, it's Lyndon Freaking Johnson, Jr.
Purify the oceans for water.
But gas is almost 4 bucks again.
Sad scene in the gallery.

Bored, greasy clappers.
Think about it.
The cowards of DC.
Cheering each other.
Like Oscar or Grammy.
You don't know what I'm wondering.

Only squares want to fit in.
Blah, blah, unions, blah, blah.
Tons of chicks make more cash than me.
Go get it, money is easy to make.
Nod, nod, yes, yes.
Fuck cancer!

Should have been done years ago. 
Strand replacement therapy.
Whisper and whimper.
12 years of government schools is far too much.
UberTudor is the future of education.
We'll take care of 65 million children.

Echoes, echoes, yes, yes, clap, clap.
All the years of talking and talking.
In the upper chamber.
Their fair share, just their fair share.
Profits talk hushed the place.
Wealth is the reward for work.

Think tanks are dim.
Recruiting IRS agents.
The rich, the rich.
Corporations aren't people.
Inauthentic and odd.
The worst of our country. 


JingleHut: Bored With Ford


I'm bored with Ford.
Good Lord, Good Lord.
Get so bored.
When I see a Ford.

Something about it.
Makes me want to shout it.
Makes me want to yell it.
Find someone to tell it.

Cause I'm bored with Ford.
Good Lord, Good Lord.
Get so bored.
When I see a Ford.



Air Forks


A decade of wheels.
From high ends to kids.
This ain't just 10k and up.

Where the magic happens.
Super cool.
Cranks, brackets, shifters.

Coils and air forks.
The starter's dream.
Artist recommendations.

Keeping the cadence.
Maxing out the watts.
A chill place for a hang.


The Theory Of So.

The world is unfair, there are injustices! So.  Those politicians are thieves and crooks!  So.  Now what?

They're such liars and tyrants!  So.  Propaganda is creating division and violence!  So.  Why pay attention to them?

People will die, the future is bleak!  So.  Poor people are poor!  So.  What are you going to do with your remaining days?


In Search Of Taste

Tracking the river, we crossed at a shallow spot.  Loaded and hunting swine, or any other lowland creature, went to get off some rounds.  Nothing in the afternoon, all the lowland creatures were sleeping, or hiding.  The merry band was coming, they stayed put.  Live to wallow another day.

Riled up and loud, these political suckers got hooked.  Convincing the convinced, educating the educated, yelling in our ears.  Only freedom given away is lost.  No more explanations are needed, but opinions are tolerated.  Draw your conclusions.

They run at night, toward the wind.  Destructive and haphazardly.  In search of life itself, in search of taste.  The future is pointless, it's uncertainties and probabilities.  It's truth.