The Great Wake 46: Stupidity Is A Permanent Brand

 

Scared of words, moron.  Small brain and small gut.  Cry a pool of electric tears, unplug a year too late, behind the times again.  Think of old words, liberty and death.  Old as time.

Decadence went wrong, like it does.  Eventually, it develops on the extremes, boredom strikes hard.  Then justifications and irrationality.  Covered in some sort of intellectual robe, covering up the naked, frail minds; boney and hollow, rotted and moldy.  Smelly.

Shame now chases them, stupidity is a permanent brand.  No rebellion in their deactivations, it's all surrender.  Dopes of the uncool kind.  Karma will hound them always, it will growl and snarl.  Diminished, without reason.

The Great Wake 45: A Morning Dash

Flash it like a morning dash, a window jump, a rude awakening.  The scoundrels usually show their ass, eventually.  The lowest form of human, a slave to themselves.  Preserving their dignity like squirrels hide nuts.  In dark holes.

Scrutiny will be avoided, it will point back.  Like a defeated zombie.  There is nothing more for them to say, exposed and shamed by rational thought, which is free thought.  Untouched thought.  Unaltered.

The screams, the squirms, the slips, the slanders, they are all expected.  The unexpected will be wilder, more elaborate than can be imagined or invented.  Take no color side, no blues, no reds, the edges cut like broken glass.  Gonzo it out.  Think.

Sweet Tea And Beer

Coffee taste so damn bitter.
Even when you add some sugar.
Hot tea is for english wimps.
English punks and english pimps.
Orange Juice makes me pucker.
Citrus is a motherfucker.
Dr. Pepper tastes alright.
But makes my stomach tight.

Goes gurgle, gurgle, gurgle.
Goes fizz, fizz, fizz.
Makes me burp, makes me hurt.
Makes me take a wiz.

Gatorade ain't bad.
But electrolytes are a fad.
Bottled water seems a scam.
Like Perrier from a can.
Wine's not my kind of drink.
Whiskey took me to the brink.
You asked me what I like, my dear.
Guess I like sweet tea and beer.

EAE/DAEx4-AEx2/DADA/DE-

*Cowritten by Corey Baker.

The Church Of Crystal Methodists

 

Sitting in the pew, didn't know what to do.
Crying and wailing, saran wrapped food.
Night before, heard all about the whores.
Beers, smoke, and those jail house doors.

The matriarch had to depart.
Something or other about her heart.
Everyone agreed, she was the best.
At the Church Of Crystal Methodists.

City slickers and nighttime tricksters.
Friday night hitters, no boot lickers.
Chicks from town, liked to get down.
Tried them all, they all balled around.

Amazing Grace at the top of her lungs.
Dancing with snakes, speaking in tongues.
The night before nobody got no rest.
At the Church Of Crystal Methodists.

Grandson scored in the football war. 

Grandpaw left, slipped out the door.  

Wondered why he left him behind.

Maybe it's just the sign of the times.

Limo ride gave us story time.
Noses got broken, she tanned some hides.
4th kid got madder than a hornet's nest.
At the Church Of Crystal Methodists.

Escaped by a hair, before the last prayer.
Puddle of sorrow from the brother's tears.
Sent my best, and my condolences.
The whole thing was really quite a mess.

Left them there to grieve and stare.
To think back when they all had hair.
Then the preacher thanked all the guests.
At the Church Of Crystal Methodists.

Oh, fuck it all, fuck it down the hall.
Fuck the money, fuck all you all.
Fuck her exes, they was mostly from Texas.
They lost the fucking battle of the fucking sexes.

Jimmy passed out, after swerving about.
Snuck into a room at his Hobbit House.
All still wearing our Sunday best.
At the Church Of Crystal Methodists.

GCFC/FCGCx2

FCx3/CFGC

*Cowritten by Kent DeVille.

My Wayward Son

 

Stories never told, history never known.
Up here he ate his humbled pie.
Winters in the cold, chilled him to the bones.
Fall of '22, we said goodbyes.

Staring into the flames, fireplace night.
Go move the woodpile, my wayward son.
Didn't need a cane, could take big big bite.
Fastest he ever seen a human run.

Serve him up some beef, fed off the land.
Slice a sweet onion, slice a tomato, too.
Check his dancing feet, two stepping man.
Always seemed in a good, good mood.


Went up to the cold.
Left his Texas home.
Went up to the cold.
Went to be alone.

CGAmF

The Great Wake 44: The Why War

 

Wonder why we're fighting an undeclared war against Russia in Ukraine.  The Why War.  Wonder why we're sending billions of dollars to Ukrainians with dubious connections and troubling associations.  The Why War.  Wonder why we're expected to wear the light blue and yellow.

The Why War.  Wonder why the shit hit the fan when we started asking questions.  The Why War.  Wonder why obvious bribery is expected to be ignored.  The Why War.

Wonder why we still have NATO or the United Nations.  The Why War.  Wonder why all those people died and all those cities were destroyed.  The Why War.  Wonder why we've been betrayed.