posture-pedic solitude

posture-pedic solitude upright man is faster than the poles predict the easy win and suppers ready for the thin the fat man gets the buttered skin and Jesus loves the ones that sin so that’s the point where hope begins as I drive up in my Muerte Benz I refuse the bite of the archetype its metal-mouthed and braced to shout always changing rearranging faces in my absolut absolute constitutes a hope to find an open mind but more so sees a sundry sign classifieds can’t sell my boat the one in which I almost wrote the finest letter to a goat that ate my words inside the moat of which I sheered its useless coat and wore my sweat inside my throat the meaning which I now misquote puckered pavement porous pigment my fairness fades into a figment skewered saline saves what’s in me from billowing into your veins pumped the plasma drained phantasma and now I know we’re all the same jack the phat should eat his wife the plate and spoon should take their life and Jacky  Horner should use a knife and I should be the one to say ‘cause I read them all just yesterday there’s no end to going’s on and if there was we’d all be gone lifted from our platitude to take upon an attitude (we’d all be dying soon) that here is now and damn the cow that took the chance to leap the moon I rewrote Vognar I rewrote cummings I look the Beatles guitar strummings I copied Shakespeare’s perfect lines and made them mine so many times some are veiled some are not and who cares now if I get caught once a turn you bring me roses my kindred souls they miss their noses our rotting flesh look up and see our skulls are primal next to thee bring a blanket and snuggle near the sun will set same time next year do not bank on words to last… Buy a car and drive it fast! Written April 10th, 2002 © on Apr 09 2002 05:37 PM PST   0 • 10