Newspapers cloak only to wrap Th' Truth
Propaganda-acid is droppin’ our youth
It’s easy to see; like pullin’ a tooth
No one's in line at the ballot booth
Give ill wind time to blow, the rooster to crow
There’s a numbing down with the control on slow
Plug my ears jus’ don’t say it isn’t so

America’s asleep… and America’s snoring

If I was Th' Lone Ranger hidin' behind a mask
There wouldn't be any danger to the questions I ask
Howza ‘bout genocide, dispossession and warfare… a hearty Godspeed?
Whatcha say Pocahontas; trade in your feathers n beads,
All for an electric blanket and a packet of reservation misdeeds
“You bet”, that's what she said while she-smoke-um-peace-pipe
O paraquat laced stems n seeds

And her chronic cough resembles America snoring

If I were a world leader, I would not mislead Th' World
I would not miss anything. Miss Amerika knows
that it's only a pageant, and that it's only a show
isn’t any film in the camera - Then why are we posing this **’?
No, no, no, Miss Amerika knows…
She’s a man infests destiny *** slave with competition ribbons & bows
Physical restraint, our lady Liberty reaps all that she sows

And her breathy voice resembles America snoring

You remember Houdini, not a shackle could hold
Cut a trapdoor into heaven t’escape growin' old
Guess he just couldn't hack it, bundled up fo' the cold
Double-breasted straight-jacket, French handcuffs of gold
Freedoms breath got magically cup’d with an airtight stranglehold
With much sleight o hand plus reckless feats o daring

He conjured up Camelot snoring like Merlin did, before disappearing

If I had me a needle for every bubble I popped
Bind 'em all like one; you would hear those pins drop…
Like a gunshot, like a shot – An explosion of societal erosion
Freedoms and privileges dissolve in the roaring circuitry that flows
Far within the bald eagle’s skull there’s a thing of Grand Guignol excess,
‘round n ‘round it goes
Hey pilgrim, what ‘bout that promise of angel wings & a new shiny halo?

It sounds an awful like America blew it ‘cause of the snoring

Gol ****, and with a revisionist history twist
It all (AMERICA th' beooteeffool) can be told (over n over)
Until we’re unwittingly sold,
And certainly nobody will be particularly ******
A fire side chat ‘bout our lunacy embraces the mantra “Oh, say, can you see…”
While I pledge allegiance to everything but thee
Gotta lay in the bed made for the brave and the so-called free
America is (fill in your favorite expletive) snoring
I hear, yes I hear America snoring, snoring - America’s asleep…

by "ooznozz"

Is being alone antisocial?

When I start to feel uncomfortable,
I take a deep breath and I try to take the pressure off myself,
and let my heart and thoughts
control these difficult moments.

I’ve learned more about myself than I ever did
when surrounded by others - Insincere smiles and its relationship to the world around it creates erosion of civil life and private dignity...

No one plans to be alone. I certainly didn’t.
There are some days when I’m lonely and I cry,
but with each day that passes, I’m learning I can do things by myself. But when I do venture outside to see the world, I know that I can do it on my own and NOT worry ‘bout anyone sharking into my waters.

by "ooznozz"

When reading Wm. Burroughs i fall virtually invisible while moonbeams and razor blades take a fresh scalp, mine. Tearing loose from his torn pages and the cracked book spine of this person, i still hear words echoing, "Ahh, the dice cannot read their own spots"
----------------
“Erosion”, forget-me-not…“Erosion”,

When i **** UP,

It’s a true 10 on a 10 scale.
Maybe even a…Last gasp?!?

My inner voice spoke softly ‘bout loud issues
"Stay an inch or two outta kicking distance”…
And “take note of the sanity lost.”                                                          

Gah, yes, i know. It’s time to go down in the basement of my mind. It is damp and musty, poorly lit, a very low ceiling and in places very dark. It is an underground space and what you see is very much like what you’d see when a large rock is lifted up off a damp floor – ugly basement-like Things that are scurrying ‘bout. Hey jus’ maybe this is my Naked Luncheonette imagination working overtime and thinking, “Hmm, whatever” – Bottom-line; this is the place i wanna be at...

Said the ugly basement-like Thing…
”THE CRAP YOU ARE ABOUT TO STEP INTO AT THE NAKED LUNCHEONETTE IS DEDICATED TO ALL THOSE POETS WHO…UNDERSTAND ME AND MISUNDERSTAND ME AS WELL AS, TO ALL THE ‘HEELS’, WHO WOULD JUST LOVE TO STAND ON ME”

STEP HERE ——> AND THEN THERE..

With skin in the game @ THE NAKED LUNCHEONETTE
i’m poking ‘round in the archaeological digs
of a used and improbably mind.

Reaching out, grabbing small handfuls of "what was once"...

Fumbling among the skipped parts
& then finding that my tongue
is the enemy, of my well executed smarts…?
----------------
i throw the dice, built from the bones (i cling onto ‘em like a life raft) of my once-upon-a-time friends.

All are gone, all but one.

The one on each die that tumbles away from me

i keep on lookin' away when i stare down at ‘em… screaming SNAKE EYES in frustration
i know not to mess with the snake eyes when flesh circulates as payment.
----------------

“Echo, tears, embodiment” says the angel as i fall upon my knees



by 'ooznozz"