Do you remember pooping while you were high?

No.

Pooping when you're high is like waving goodbye to your best friend in slow motion.

We need to do our taxes, that would help.

Don't we have another month?

A tough
guy still
his place
relives Spanish
Inquisition and
gossamer upwind
only prorogue
yesterday with
those Oxfords
on shoes,
shirt and
Otis for
trusty returns
easily now
a ghost
ware of
his Aberdeen.

I woke up in the morning, My cat was reading Twain,
I tugged his tail so hard, It yanked his little brain.

My Father walks down the stairs yelling "revolution on the rise."
And I know he really meant it, I could see it in his eyes.

I said: "whoa whoa pops what's up with you? You're actin' slightly mad,"
He said: "well son, here we go I'll tell whats got me sad.

Yesterday the mail came and I saw a ***** word,
It said, taxes are coming soon, You'd better hire a new nerd.

So I walked down to the town hall with this witchcraft in my fist,
they said well sir you gotta wait in line, and then marked me on a blacklist.

So I got on a bus back home, for to find a new kazoo,
and then an animal walked on and said 'son wanna hold my shoe?'

I said no way man you got a filthy disease,
You look like a racoon and you smell like rotten cheese.

Then It said hold me to sooth me ease the pain of life
And I guess I did, next thing I knew it was the end of Saturday night.

I said oh no my taxes are due I gotta find a nerd,
I saw one eating spaghetti with the cat and a purple bird.

I walked over stylishly and then in one swoop I stole the nerd,
then I kissed the cat, broke my back and ate that little bird.

Yes I loaded up my harpoon, with a fistful of grapes,
And I got ready to fire for to make my great escape.

I shoot them at my enemies, and let them pop in their face,
Then mama came, took my '**** and put me in my place.

Yelling: 'Oh Joy, Oh Joy I found my car, now lets go take the bus',
I said Lets go my dear, Its time for us to float like living dust.

Then the Medicine man Comes in with a skull on his cane.
Then he Hits mama so hard she began to go insane.

It was just then we got home so I left her on the bus,
Next time I'll just take the train, at least its color ain't like pus."

Never enough.
Never enough of anything.
It's always running low,
running out.
Money, energy, time.

The fuel gauge
threatens empty.
The bank balance
teeters and tips
into the red.
Almost out of smokes, and there's
one last shot
in the bottle.
The car tax expires
in two days.

You've been
exhausted
since forever.
You can't kid yourself
that you're young any more.
Clocks tick
just to **** with you.
It's dark, but
not as dark
as it gets.

Income is an intangible,
Taxes are an intangible,
Neither exists right now,
Only the promise of it in the future...

That's what credit is... a bet against a promise.

Which means all of nothing,
since it hasn't happened yet,
all credit is risk of one degree or another,
...based on tolerance or gumption.
If all people are, "risky,"
then all credit is risk,
none can be more credit-worthy;
less risky...

So why not turn future liabilities into income,
instead of future income into a liability?

Hmm...

Impossible?

Yeah, ...since anything that gives ordinary people power must be impossible. Jesus must not believe in individual power. The Founding Fathers must not have believed in individualism. No, ...only the state backed by a selected wealthy few should determine everyone's fate by economy.

Only a few should have it all....

...no opportunity for anyone else; the weak, poor, untalented, ugly, simple, ordinary, dumb, handicapped; those ones don't matter.

Just NFL players count.

Only singers and actors count.

Only bankers and doctors matter.

Jesus would agree.

Makes so much sense?

A ***** drills inside my core
It nags, graps, pans, the hands
They knot in spins and twists

My crux left at the river side
Breathing,gasping fast, faster
Body out in the open rawness

Persisting resistance of the force
An outward shield winning
Winged left,right, up, down

Another day, a greater pace
A passive taste, ranting in haste
In bricks *****, all I taste is hate

All walking in dead silence
Heads shouting with dreams
A roll of sweet and sour sate

Echoes of taxes and budgets
How will they evolve us?
Snatching more from pockets

The rockets burst to mock us
Pulling our all to fund them
Nuclear bombs creating tombs

Distribution of lies and wars
Missiles disposing as lyrics
An objectification of reason

Figure brushes on magazines
Incisions of bits and **** hoots
To boost of the hot posed ***

No truth is scaffolded as real
A psychological brainwash
Pollutes and limits indefinately

Learn to recognize lies, while they stand at
Their podiums, and proselytize,
Like so many Sunday preachers,
You can see it in their eyes, and
Their shifty ****** features, though
Their words seem sincere,
Their subtle cues, serve as
Teachers of their inner intent, so
Don't forget your diligence, and
Let them **** your dissent, with
Empty promises and rhetoric, to
Fill your head with lies about,
How war is for the betterment, of
Nations abroad, the sentiment
Is laughable, the premise is a fraud.
Cause when it all boils down, and
When push comes to shove,
Democracy has grass roots, it's
Not imposed from above, and
At the end of the day, money is
The factor prime, it's the secret
Justifier for this terroristic crime,
First, they bombed Iraqi cities,
In a trial of "Shock and Awe"
That killed even more civilians,
Than what 9/11 saw, and
Once the cities were demolished,
Halliburton then rebuilt them, and
Reaped enormous profits,
To the tune of 40 billion, and
Among other things, in this
"Just" war's spoils, were
The underground oceans,
Flowing full of crude oil, and
We all fund these atrocities,
These lies, these hypocrisies, well
If you decide this ain't the type,
Of thing that you can stand for,
Write "exempt" on line 7, of your W-4

For years, they stole and robbed from our pockets.
For years, they murdered what faith we had,
Killed what hope we gained for ourselves.
Poverty loomed over us like death, the
Loss of materialistic payment. Currency controls;
We have none.

Beginning with a silly addition to parchment and paper.
A "stamp act," if you will. Oh, the rarity of a few extra
Coins to spend on a cake for the mistress!
Rebellion and violence against the act increased,
The Sons, the ones of Liberty left
Blood splattered on the ground we walk on.
Fear installed in the hearts of agents,
Collecting and shivering as coins ring in their satchels.
Soon, though, they left. Resigned and replaced themselves with
Another thief.
The Townshend- adding cents more to imported,
Provided, goods. The people starved for things
They need and can not afford.
Naive. They had materials. They had the skill,
But no need to use what they contained in their minds
And their bodies.
Begin the new world! Spin your own yarn and twine!
Build your own shoes! You don't need the goods
From old English factories and makers.

The disagreements and retaliation, the lack in
Morality in the brainwashed heads of soldiers.
A bothered redcoat drew his gun, leaving holes,
Horrible voids.
The dive from cliff to cliff, swing from tree to tree,
The ****** of blood and
The determination to be freed from the grasp of
A controlling monarchy.
The greed they exhibit and the cruelty.
Revenge for taking what is ours?
Sweet tea, English tea,
Soaked in the harbor. The tax will be no more!

The need for peace, rejected by one
Who wanted control and a steady reign.
The isolation, suffocation of the new land like an
Abused child.

It was only a matter of time before the child ran away.

We live in a society were the physical world shadows the metaphysical.
We live in a society were money precedes life.
Students are broke(n) like the loans that imprison them.
Death and taxes are inevitable, but it seems that taxes are more of a threat then death itself.
The greenback alludes us into becoming vicious consumers praying on the wealth of others.
We live in a society turned upside down. Broke(n).