Maybe you’re mistaken
       when you think about what’s out there,
You attribute ev’ry stimulus
       to winged things from books,

Mistaking accidental circumstances
       for essential causes,
There isn’t really anything
       that God conveys with looks.

Perhaps it is hard to face the truth:
       we’re just meat bags with will,
Which slowly rot away until
       the day when we’re forgotten

Needlessly dissecting
       every move and every inner thought,
Attempting to discover
       what makes us all so very rotten.

Take a deep breath
And hold it in
Until you feel it all
...Fading away

Slowly toward death
All of us fall
Someday we’ll feel it all
...Fading away

Through my goat mouth, it’s true,
       you can hear me bleating,
Like a little lamb who’s lambier
       than lamby-lambs can be,

But yes in fact it’s bike tires,
       and tin cans that I’m eating,
And I feel my goat heart beating
       and... I want to flee.

My grandma is a fish
I saw the gaping mouth
The hook was just a wish
To pull her back down south

The gurgling and gasping
Were more than I could bear
Gnashing and convulsing
I felt a tiny tear

Ed just wouldn’t wake
From his sleeping chair
The paramedics’ take
Sank Mert into despair

Then not much later on
It happened just this way
She had a small procedure
The surgeon’s knife filleted

And when the job was done
Within a god ****** day
I got a call at work
And what you had to say…

She’s not long for this world
We’re going to unplug
Come down and say your peace before
we salt her like a slug

She doesn’t want to be
Kept alive with a machine
To go against her wishes
Would be a trifle mean

The big brains all are saying
She’s just a little old
And though she’d probably make it
If she did what she was told…

She doesn’t want to live alone
So let her keep her pride
Here is an exception
To that rule on suicide.

I just wanted to run, I just wanted to hide…

I just hated your faces; it just felt like you lied...

There are times when I can get me so down

As I’m travelling on the streets of this town

And it don’t take nothing, not a smile or a frown

To bring me back to that place



And I’ll either recover, or snap me clean through

With a smile or a frown…created by you

Respectively – you don’t think that that’s true

But it all comes down to your face



You can imagine what a comfort and joy that it was

When you said, “come on in busy bee, buzz buzz”

Come on in, as you are, take some nectar, fly far,

Let me give of myself, fill your amber-gold jar



But the sweet nectar, being considered a drug,

Has been withheld -in its place a small mug

Of vitamins, minerals, some words, and a tug

But I fall fast and frantic, framing the scar



So it’s back to the fields with the flowers I roam

Back to my drunken dance all the way home

Back to the amber-gold nectar, shalom!

I’m stuck once again in the foam.