black and white are all i see in my infancy
red and yellow then came to be
reaching out to me
lets me see
There are some safe havens within hell
In places blinded by comfort,
By greed, and by consumer-culture
Free from the inherent wretchedness of the world about,
Seemingly neighborly, yet thought more elusive then so.
On the brink, living on the divide
between water and brimstone
Stretched thin by isolationistic notions,
Evidently content with the stores of the modern,
Continually striking at the barrier of the divide
Between water and brimstone,
Wretchedness and safety,
Hastily amassing to grow the consumerdom
To feed the greedy hearts of those residing
Within safe havens,
Lost within a world-wide hell.
I am not but a bleak deformation of when man was born,
When the sky was immersed with clarity, with the calm of night
A sky that has since been scarred with light,
A light once meant to provide life, now twisted and enhanced
Into a force to be feared.
I am not but an image of decades past.
Frayed by time, by ignorance, by indecency.
My surface raped with misuse, depleting in my own skin,
Where parasites run rampant, burrowing evermore into me
I am not but a lost sense of serenity,
Both body and symbiot seeking to eradicate one another
I am not but evenhanded,
Working to tolerate those who have taken refuge upon me,
Those who may consider themselves my children,
Those who pillage and destruct upon my flesh
I am not but an ancient thought that has dwindled in time,
Leading to an ignorant end for both parent and child alike,
Some may call me mother, some say home.
I am nothing remarkable if the wrongs of humanity continue.
How did I get here? The pain so unexpected and undeserved and for some reason cleared away the cobwebs. I realized I didn't hate the cabinet door, I hated my life my house, my family. My backyard, my power mower. Nothing would ever change, nothing new would ever be expected; it had to end, and it did. Now in the dark world where I dwell ugly things and surprising things, and sometimes little wondrous things spill out at me constantly, and I can count on nothing.
What does a scanner see? I mean, really see? Into the head? Down into the heart? Does a passive infrared scanner like they used to use or a cube-type holo-scanner like they use these days, the latest thing, see into me - into us - clearly or darkly? I hope it does see clearly, because I can't any longer these days see into myself. I see only murk. Murk outside; murk inside. I hope, for everyone's sake, the scanners do better. Because if the scanner sees only darkly, the way I myself do, then we are cursed, cursed again and like we have been continually, and we'll wind up dead this way, knowing very little and getting that little fragment wrong too.
Craig Leg broke his fuckin leg like a man
Drank a 40 ounce and he felt no pain
Gordy drank so much he forgot where his car was
So he drank some more and forgot where the bar was
When Big Jay fights he goes outta his mind
He likes to fight 4 or 5 guys at a time
We're bad boys and we're back in town
with D-Hodge at the wheel and Tim A. with the sound
We're bastards! Kings of rock & roll
Me Scotty, Craig, Jay, Gordy fucken roll into town after town with a trailer in tow
Scotty plays his drums till his hands fuckin bleed
Find him backstage with a bag full of weed
Rock and Roll isn't played by nice boys
Bastards play street punk rock and roll
We're bad boys, yea and we're back in town
with D-Hodge at the wheel and Tim A. witht he sound
We're bastards! Kings of rock & roll
I am interested in purchasing your soul for my ginger friend. He has a new soul compression facility and he needs to test it out before using it large-scale and compressing every soul for the Ginger-Economy. You see, he has a five-sould giner rating (meaning he has room for 5 souls in him for transport) and he would really appreciate some kind of dicsount on this as his lack of a soul impreaches his ability to find employment outside the Ginger field, or the underground soul market. He would be willing to trade a large soul tank for this. His only question is what octane rating is your soul?
Please get back to me before sunset so I can give my ginger friend Jahey the good news...
Rbert Vagramov
Port Moody, BC
i'll sell my soul, my self-esteem
a dollar at a time
for one taste, one taste
one taste of you my magdalena
i saw death rising from the earth
from the ground itself
in one blue field
a present for my friends at thanksgiving
