You go to church on Sunday
And then you've done your part.
Instead of saying “I hate that *****
You just say “Bless her heart.”
Monday starts the week anew
With dog-eat-dog intention.
Live and let live and the like
Seldom rates a mention.

Help the poor and needy
Doesn't pull too much weight
When measuring by dollar signs
To decide what is truly great.
The Bible verses get changed:
“Do unto others” is rewritten
To “Do what we can get by with.”
Thus is the common man smitten.

So you allow the Congress
To do whatever they want:
Outlaw our rights and rob us,
Laugh at us and then flaunt
That nobody can touch them
As they bleed the land dry.
We're just to bless their hearts
While the watch us slowly die.

We can keep on pretending
That everything is just,
Then go to church on Sunday
And brag about “In God we trust”,
Or we could wake the hell up
And start to participate
In what used to be our country
Right now before it's too late.

But that would mean standing up
And not just going along
And not following on party lines
Not singing the downtrodden song.
It means questioning our leaders,
But, you see, right there is the rub.
If we stop ourselves from being robbed
We can't belong to the Hypocrite Club.

It's the path to righteousness
Put a five dollar bill in the plate
Then be as iniquitous as you like
And your life will turn out great.
Put in a buck or two, maybe more
It's a method known since 1147
In an urchin's hand and you score.
Anyone can buy their way into heaven.

It's the fake as hell, flaky as well
Bend and stretch Holiness Twist.
Do what you like, namecall a ****
Cleanse with a twist of your wrist.
Donate a dime, go commit a crime
To church Sunday, be Jesus kissed
Suddenly resurrected, sins deflected
You're an ace at the Holiness Twist.

Appearances are most important
In the big holiness game of life.
You have to have the big house
The big car and flashy wife.
You have to have the perfect lawn
With the current rage of shrubs.
You have to wear the right clothes
And belong to the right clubs.

But the biggest thing to accomplish
To keep from seeming totally odd
Is you have to have the right and
Obvious choice for your god.
It has to be the right kind of stuff;
It can't be Eastern unless it started
Back when there were miracles
Like when the waters parted.

It's the fake as hell, flaky as well
Bend and stretch Holiness Twist.
Do want you like, namecall a ****
Cleanse with a twist of your wrist.
Donate a dime, go commit a crime;
In church Sunday, be Jesus kissed
Suddenly resurrected, sins deflected
You're an ace at the Holiness Twist.

I wanted so much to like you;
I had heard so much about you.
Your show sounded like fun
Sadly, too soon I had begun
To listen between the lines
To know you, see who you are
To know behind the shallow mask
To see the ugly stained star.

I forgive myself for a bit of it
Because I know that it was
The method you always use.
I would later guess the cause.
Perhaps myself and others
The countless clueless mass
Mistook the rich and famous
As people with any real class.

I had to see the gaudy penthouse
With gold used instead of chrome.
I needed to see the fake opulence
That you chose to be your home.
I saw you hobnob with famous
And calling them your friends
Soon I would be let to see
The photo was where it ends.

So, I packed away any care for you
And chalked it up to my youth.
Little did I know right then
I only guessed at half the truth.
Because you put your skanky ****
Into the presidential race
And this latest **** of your ego
Means I never stop seeing your face.

Running for the highest office
The leader of the free world
Sure seems to have given
Your screwy hair a different twirl.
Suddenly you dragged out  speeches
Of Hiter, Mussolini and Stalin.
You shouted the policies of the KKK
And thew your vitriol all in.

Since too many fools in America
Started chanting Trump, Trump
You seem to want to turn DC
Into something like the town dump.
As for me, I have trouble sleeping
Worried your fans might be letting
And idiot in charge of the nukes
So he can bring on Armageddon.

We won't stand in silence, my brethren and I.
We can find beauty in violence, what colors when you die.

We stand here now where others may have fallen.
From Friedrich William Nietzsche to Joseph ****** Stalin.

Whether they be a tyrant, a king, or an overlord.
A musician, a muse, or a thinker due accord.

These people changed the world, for better or for worse.
Some left this world a little better, some of them accurse.

Put to ink these thoughts of yours as random as they seem.
Write about your problems, or jot down your favorite dream.

One of us who saw you would really like to know.
Did you ever fall in love and how did your spirit learn to grow.

You will change the world. How much to be decided.
Whether it's by acts or words, I'm sure some will be delighted.

Except for you Gacy. *******.

“For reasons unexplained, every person in the world is born with a large gaping hole in the center of their chest…while not uncomfortable, it is widely considered unsightly, and pretty much everyone tries to fill it with something…some people fill it with religion, others just buy a bunch of stuff, and some even fill it with other folks…I left mine alone, though, because I found out if you run against the wind at just the right angle, it makes a whistling noise.”

A hobo in Soho goes South
I knew him,

a gentle man
a road man
a man with a load on his mind man

and kind too
never knew him not to give,

'the only way to live'
he told me once,
when I was sat with him

I called him Archimedes
because
he,
though displaced,
displaced the same amount, though
faced with discontent
he was content to be.

Interestingly
he never complained about his lot,
lots complained about him,

a gentle man
gentleman Jim,

Anyway he's gone and more
will come along
until
we,
Joe Public
have had our fill and
sort the situation
move in a new direction,

don't ***** Archimedes
do something
memorable.

The Island of a thousand smiles
a thousand miles across the sea
waits patiently for me.
I row as fast as I can go
but influenced by wind and tides
that guide me in all different ways
I am at sea a thousand days.

The smiles wear thin waiting for me to sail in
and
the Island sits so patiently.
Its pearly whites sit tight for me
but I am all at
sea.

and in the corner, I hear the metronome click
I fill the kettle and yet still feel sick

my stomach thinks my throat's been cut.
but I cannot eat.

I cannot compete with or beat the metronome.

It steals the minutes of the day and all it does
is tick and click and tick away.

I want to say why don't you stop, but it catches me and mops another minute up.

I pour some boiling water in my cup and forget the tea,
the metronome has done for me.

I see each second die and give a little less for me to live
and still it ticks.

It picks a moment when I blink and makes me think that all is well and the ticking is but just a shell upon the shore where timeless endless oceans roar
and then it makes me think some more
and ticks again.

I close the kitchen door

The metronome sat in the corner clicks right on, before too long my life will tick its last and in the shadows cast there will be another metronome that waits for me to tick into infinity, once more I see that endless face and in the place of midnight's dream
where I shall rest my weary bones
I know there'll be
more
metronomes.