It's all gone out of me, the hammer falls and I'm not ready to answer Trembling, weakness supporting a tub of jelly The pollen-filled air flies past like the Pelicans at the edge of the harbor Taking us gliding for an unpleasant ride Down the corridors of plastic colors Through the one word answers that bubble forth from 10,000 years away in hyperspace Where the mechanisms of language become so convoluted That they disappear completely out at the vanishing point Coming up behind you again to drag you into that smoky allure You remember hating and pinching your nose from And hiding in the car, but the new fear is of becoming addicted to it Just like your addiction to ego games and Intellect, just like your addiction to pleasure and constant validation
The validation's there in the eternal self, they say But I'm an intellectual Too impatient for meditation And lost along the way to enlightenment That I truly want, But then I'll never have it if I continue to live this way
It's wilderness calling from a tame fool Sticking up for you the overgrown horoscope signifies The shapes of skydives, He comes in and out of our dull lives And there's an electric current that solidifies between Him, Us, and his music Iron rods jutting up from scorched earth A broken paradise Crumbling in a whisky tumbler Blackened by fiber filters, creations Unlocked by flowing ontological Caricatures, open wounds gnashing At attention-seeking osteopaths Fortune seekers clamber down Soccer field bleachers, Somebody lost his sneakers in the woods Once there was a set of barbells along the trail We fell in line and started Counting each other One by one it seemed like the green apples would never fall It was up to us to wait for the shower It would feed our kin We'd begin to rise up together But it could never keep up with our pen We wanted the ghosts to follow us and overtake our mortal foes But we couldn't command the armies of the dead We derive all our pleasures from films and campfire stories We contrive our adventures but we wait for them to happen to us We take a passive role in finding love And it blinks lights at us across suburban streets through windows in the dark The mind begins to writhe with new memories it composed of old An idealized time of a child with the perverse mind Of a hogtied adolescent Guessing that the course of existence Isn't determined by the speed of your calculations Testing the warm water on a naked toe We could dive in and forget to breathe And the water could carry us forever Alleviating gravity All the obstacles we perceived in past lives Remain with us like Chimney swifts on the bottomless April days of a Klu Klux **** telephone operator Who believed in the spirit and the holy ghost And burned a quiet altar to Satan's minions every Sunday night Drinking nail polish and Obscure references to the films of the Ancient Greek philosophers, who Saw the medium as a means to a message And patronized the elitest filmmakers to study the ancient Runes And reveal their findings to a power-hungry public That would not outright reject it But that would have to follow it down the rabbit hole Through the wide mouth of the trumpet around brass fixtures And into the tight hot moist mouth of the trumpeter And the elemental warriors would strike oil beneath the whole affair Ending the time we spent hoping for any entertainment to create itself before our barren psyches Busying ourselves with incomprehensible tasks and letting our indolence take the reins until we found our heads again out there amid the vapors of New car chem trails and old railroad bunkers where spruce and cedar grow through cement earth, they force apart the ground with just their roots
We weren't ready to keep watch the following weekend but we Had no choice when the government bond expired And we had only technological solutions left to hope for And wrongly we abandoned our research posts to fight the enemies With giant weapons and uncreative slogans Our drummers played so fast we marched along and killed all that remained in record doubletime Rendering the events of that victorious day immortal in the ingenious accounts of Philosopher/poet/historian Michael Jackson Who gave one final performance To save himself from what must not be