Rage Red Line

There is no place else I’d rather be

than with someone else that’s not me

there is no escape from world’s end

time isn’t something you can mend.

In a state of suspended inner isolation

without the fierce guard and desolation

reckless abandonment in the evening

substitute rational thought for feeling.

Save yourself the effort of finding truth

the throttle opens up the sun-moon roof

with nobody to watch the broken gauge

the needle dances above the red-line of rage.

Polk Street Belle

Sitting in a Polk Street watering hole,

just like the very first night here,

many years have past though not very far,

give me a fag to smoke and a beer.

Everyone else on their way to someone,

sitting alone and assumed to be okay,

sideways glances that can’t be undone,

sleeping alone in the night and by day.

I can’t relate and probably never will,

there is no song I am inspired to sing,

you can’t get real emotions from a pill,

there is no bad belle to polish or ring.

Nonchalant Day Walkers

They give each other meaningless titles
misdirection at every fork in the twisting road
self reverent obstacles instead of recitals
they have everyone trained with Pavlovian ode.

Life is falling in every possible direction
up and down and side to sideways as well
inside out and diagonally right outside in
we do all the saying that they have to tell.

Chatter is flatter when nothing does matter
words are now empty and flow vapidly hollow
makes us feel bad being a good for not ratter
to disagree with every truth meant to swallow.

Resolving disagreements with their internal bias
disposition is something they keep in their gall
pick and choose what they see and hear as pious
scorn and ridicule what they admire most of all.

Leave alone their nonchalant attitudinal emergency
live in the darkness and die daily like the light
dance alone till dawn with no one else particularly
see what’s sometimes wrong and do what’s always right.

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Dualistic Dynamic Duo

Sometimes i feel like the logical Mr. Spock
sometimes i’m like Captain James T. Kirk
a calibrated clock, does more than go tick tock
Relativistic synergy is part of the cirque.

Sometimes i feel like Gilligan the first mate
sometimes i’m like the Skipper in charge of you
governing operational dynamics, aren’t ever late
Aetherspheric navigation with a smart & small crew.

Sometimes i feel like the mysterious Mr. Roark
sometimes i’m like the vanishing little lost Tattoo
to get what you want now, give it some more torque
Quantumetric differences bond both me and you.


Crooked Clarity Compass

Social fabrication is denial
commitment to what is reality
vision creates a cognitive fusion
knowledge comes from dualistic da da
the crooked compass shows us the right way
open to what is next and not their next
blur is an example of time travel
three components make relativity
declaration of what is and isn’t
clarity eliminates neg bias.

Aslan Moonbeam

Aslan Moonbeam,
is a very strange name.
we don’t have to look,
to tell you’re a brain.

But that’s a-okay,
we are one, they like us.
Now that you are here,
we are now all one plus.

So load up the goodies,
and come to San Francisco.
Your first night here,
we go to an underground disco.

Socially Faded Oasis

He’s always watching from the hill
he’s always out there on a dare
making sure i always softly fell
making sure i never much care
paving my private path to hell.

The walking dead can’t be tortured enough
taken in by a handshake and a grin
complements and accolades are never enough
nothing will ever be the same again
there will never be the end of ever enough.

The hypocritical oasis paves the path very fast
the time has come once again to wear the hood
hot is not what’s on the plate or will ever last
the clock of my time-line is cracked for good
nothing can be done to alter the faded past.

Nothing is as it seems and all lost in pseudo rhyme
nothing is as it was or as there will never be affection
one bad deed deserves one of equal and opposite polarity
life is stranger than any conceived vivid-self deception
digging my own grave one self deception at a time.

Build a plank made of pop cycle sticks and bubble gum
an invited wrath and welcomed long long away after-math
being repeatedly stabbed in the back but not nearly deep enough
the aethersphere is always waiting and full of friendly staff
although myself shines on the outside it’s full of dark stuff.

There is no loathing when it’s backed by a deserved hate
doing the left thing of a least resistant slippery path
fear is the driver to avoid the bitter truth blue platter plate
retrograde ex uses and selectively highlighted past
the chance for redemption was lost long ago to fate.

There is only the waiting to see what happens next
seeing and understanding happens in a welcomed find
progress of an empty fate has always been my vexed
dry by day and night to call me a fool would be kind
the reflection in the mirror is a monster self-hexed.

If i just hold on tight while i become the food
life hasn’t been mine in such a stretch to see
bad guys always hide behind a shield of good
my worst enemy and arch nemesis is b.A.d me
life isn’t real and he as me is now understood.