Slow milestones
kicked a tad further once in awhile
I stumble as I grasp and catch
a glimpse of my feeble walker days
Way up the desert road near the mountains
the pressing feeling;
I’m wasting too much time on the practical
And soon I’ll hobble my way to that high nest of the vultures;
an unnourishing drab soul
“He went to college and finally landed an okay job
No not teaching, not in humanities at all.
He had a living wage, then slowly managed to move out.
Then he tried dating and getting a better job for the rest of his days.”
“Amen.
Thanks for not making any waves, babe.”
Chomp!

I’d rather feel the raptor claw clutch now,
and, whenever I go,
I’d be a coveted delicacy
They’ll spend all day cooking me,
simmering low in a some big ***
They’d wear shiny ornaments
and put out fine ivory plates and utensils
Then, right before it’s time to dine,
these birds of prey will pray
in simple thanks I kept my flesh strong

Soon I'll be a work day chump
9 hours a day, 1 hour drive
each way
Satisfied the pay's above minimum wage
and I got the weekends free to drink and play

8 hours of impersonal lonely phone calls
next to people unlike me in every way
except how we're all paid
A headset be my cursed crown
I'll forget to take it off
when I leave for lunch downtown

"You're doing this for her."
I'll say to the framed question mark
atop my plastic desk
A future wife, another life
Don't let the exhaustive poison win
We're destined for other places
And darling, you'd leave me here
face it

But, your king is a thrill seeking breadwinner
Who shall conquer fertile forests
abound with cabin mansions, reindeer dinners
and more than 5 hours of weekday waking freedom time
Till then, I just wish I could promise you
I won't lose my mind

Dear God we need to leave this town, friends!
Please don't let me abandon you all here
shivering in underemployment
The West is calling with a Daniel "BOOM,"
the South whispers in a mountain mama window pat
Other countries laugh at us,
but will we join their jeers,
show them we are not just circus bears?
Multi-national parasites,
we're too trivially divided to terminate
O God, how my leisure hours went,
so much faster than the work room's ones
without any vent
I complained and complained
to my friends and fam on the phone,
but the time just spiraled stagnant
like a slow spirit taking six thousand years to explore a too small habitat
I haven't got nearly so long.

I’m in the same place as all of yous, but I’m absent minded and got misanthropic contempt, like anthropomorphic deer by the highway watching Cadillac surgery. But deep cardiac compassion, all you idiots are inside of me, lashing out with lively love. Scorns used to scar, but now I smile. **** the struggle you’re on, and put your shoes on the final platform. It’s not truth mama, it’s death. Have you tried it? Me either, we’re both among breathers. Now, tell me about your facts in expressions unconditioned by human history. Tell me about those bats on your shoulders that babble obscenities like Black Beard’s parrot, named ******. He speaks not of this century, so his “*****” are now children’s songs, sung around plastic bonfires, trying to roast electrical socket covers. To no avail.  

Born human mightiest
Socially slighted and far-sighted
Let’s bash through hierarchy
I said bash
you P.C. crusader
cold as a computer
slaughtering the people’s good language
in the name of removing something savage
instead of asserting a new image
A true sign of the artist
but I’m no artist

I'm on a social networking site on the internet,
What is the internet?
Forgive me for my ignorance 18th century friends,
It's a connection of machines that can share information.
Yes, and that "social networking site"
is part of the connection of machines
to try and make people feel less lonely.

It does feel strange sometimes when I'm on there.
And then the possession inside the machine says;
"but without me you wouldn't know this music, this picture, this place, this girl."
And now, for the first time, I am not subdued.
For the first time, I answer back, but what things would I know without you?

What forests would I have walked through? What people would I have met?
What noises would I have heard?
O the less trivial things I would have learned.
What streets would I have crossed (both in this layer of reality, in metaphor and metaphysical)
What girl's eyes would be staring towards mine, instead of those of a camera's.

I've got to talk about the internet
I've got to talk about the facebook^tm
(though in a year it will be gone)

It feels all so inauthentic
so I indulge in the scary technology
but then omit it from my memories
when I see your pics online
I write about them like they are authentic
genuine photographs I have yellowing
in an album in the attic
I don't have an attic either

Some things change
and some things take longer
You say he’s always the same
well one day he’ll die
and won’t say a thing
Was he quiet all his life?
Well he didn’t look like bones
Now he’s eating worms
Somethings change and somethings take longer
Take long steps
and you won’t notice the footprints, getting
larger or smaller
A limp in his walk
His back starts to arch
a new way
except it’s always been empty
Always full of change
no matter how sharp you are
you will be forgotten
All the books about you
burned by a tyrant
All the progress made
is dead
Some things change
and somethings take longer
Put them together
and every thing is empty
Everything is empty.

No vices, no difference
I have some things to do tomorrow,
I think I’ll just take the wagon
I’m just waiting for something to happen
to help me make up my mind
I always imagine tragic
someone dies and they’re so close
I don’t believe in fairy tales or souls,
but I don’t even want to write their names
for fear I’ll have a hand in why they lost life’s duel
or maybe we’re all just an election away from
anarchic warring states,
where I must defend my beans and cucumbers
from slugs and marauders
If we hold it together, red China could invade
so would I rather be a prisoner or dead?
Perhaps, I’ll just meet some girl,
where I’ll feel “some” as a description does her deep injustice,
because the love will be enormous
Now, I’m courting a chickadee that’s never dull,
but her name doesn’t quite roll off the tongue
Her name is Adventure and she rolls like hills and mountains,
and speed popping truckers with their eyes and ecstatic smiles
If I’m still seeing her, I might be a gat slinging ******* out west
bumming around San Jose or Cambodiay
Hearing all that talk, I think I just want to leave,
and I guess the pay is better anyway
My mind is made up
it’s not something real
It is, was, and is still fluffed up with schooling and the words of persuasive people
their confidence in what their saying is like a lightning bolt ******* into my stem
they jammed us into waiting rooms for something called progress
they even separate the sick people
I closed my eyes to see what was real,
and saw nothing
There is no waiting room at all