The ghost of you keeps drawing me like a severed limb
Stumbling when stepping down on what I could depend
Severed ties like ragged nerves Raw electric agony
Each day I find a new one, and this seems to never end
V8 Juiced
2 rows of four make 8
burning dinosaurs past the throttle plate
sweating on dead cattle, hit the clutch, grab the shifter
a smooth left turn, push the pedal, it’s a drifter
Counter steer into the slide
fishtail fins blowing gravel wide
The moon looks on in apathy
She saw the children whose bodies flow free
crossed bones swing from the mirror
Objects aren’t fast enough to look nearer
hit the clutch and slam the steel
The faster I go, the smoother I feel
The world seems a better place when it’s a blur
The beast levels out and growls out a purr
chasing the night onto concrete
The rattle of the gravel no longer shakes the feet
Slide the gears up into 5
crank up RPMs and no overdrive
The moon hides her face behind cloudy veils
She can see tonight is the last on these wheels
Fire
And I ask myself, did I fall from grace?
And I look around me
and I realize
There is none to be had here.
I must leave this behind
fight through to reach the fires
and once the cleansing flames caress me
hold me warm again in their embrace
Then I shall rise
For one can not fall unless one has risen
and I
I still choke on the ashes
of the fires that consumed those
who sought to use me as the fuel
for their fires of ascension.
for I stand in the flames of others
and know
that I shall not be fed upon
will not be burned
because
I start the fire
Fertile Mind
If you were to ask about the shits I give
There wouldn’t be enough for a fly to live
Not a molecule of the detritus
That comes from deep inside us
Nothing could initiate a quark of gravity
To pull that metaphor from in the cavity
Deep in the nether regions of my mind
When you climb deep within and hope to find
A reason for me to judge the life another man lives
If his life is based on the consent he both asks and gives
To oppress my stranger, that’s an unknown brother
Just to impress the false morality of another
My way, my life.
…not yours
Nom
The gingerbread man lost his arm in nom
Now he’s on line fucking everybody’s mom
You can’t spell Boomer without “Me”
And environmental catastrophe
Squeezed out a generation too numbed to feel
And see destroyed all they were taught was real
The next is stuck in an eternal trauma
Too broke to join in the drama
Spawn a crowd of riled-up world creators
Who suffers punishment for procrastinators
Neck deep in ashes, trying to turn them green
Choked on what’s left from the boom right lean
The world suffocates on plastic confetti
Wondering if the locusts will die already