With a wisp, he attacked the challenge
Alright in his opinion to the music
Strolling through it all
Like a mongrel

His hair was beautiful in a typical barbershop way
And his quitting was always frustrating to him
But applauded by the conchords


Who as they dropped bombs upon us all
He floundered below
Vanishing into non existence
Because he couldn't bring himself to retaliate

Once he has vanished he crept out of the rock pool
Into a wooden hut
Where he has to breathe deeply
As his ego raged

Many injustices has been done
But it was over

He had lost his love
He had redowned the road to fame

Like a cheese factory
Running on its own
With mice evolving as fraud workers there.

Like a moth gracefully dying
Taking everything in as it has no more, no less
  Awareness of its wings

Just body

In a state of exquisite Buddhism.

Like a UFO invading his nightmares
For reasons he can't explain

To anyone.

But maybe it was just because of his need to fly
Without effort.
To freefall.

To not care.
To degrade himself
And succeed.


Poonanny Ben tatum.