Best Week Ever

Just had my best week of all time,
I'm 42 but still in my prime.
Spent some time with Brittany Spears,
I left her begging and in tears.
After a night with Beyonce,
she wanted me to be her fiance.
Just one night with Pink,
now she can't even blink.
Had a date with Katy Perry,
she asked me to pop her cherry.
Spent some time with J-Lo,
she was more sloppy than a joe.
Rihanna likes to play rough,
**** she looks good in the buff.
Me and Fergie ate some black eyed peas,
then we were joined by Alicia keys.
Had a blast with Taylor Swift,
we did it on a ski lift.
Avril Lavinge wanted it never to end,
now she wants to be her boyfriend.
I turned Miley Cyrus back into Hannah Montana,
its a secret what we did with a banana.
Me and Kesha sang her hit Tik Tok,
then she ****** on my clock.
Selena Gomez is a witch no more,
I turned her into my little *****.
Carrie Underwood won't slash my tires,
the heat between us started some fires.
Gwen Stefani left the singer from Bush,
she loved the way I smacked her ****.
Lady Ga Ga showed me her poker face,
with her I reached every base.
Me and Lita Ford kissed each other deadly,
then she sang me a **** medley.
Madonna said I was her best,
we spent no time dressed.
I was man enough for Sheryl Crow,
let me tell you, she can really blow.
As the week ended, I had Shakira moving her hips,
then I woke up and it was an **** with Gladys Night and her Pips.

it's so strange how fear strikes
gently at first, like morphine
it dribbles through you, you bottom out.

and then when you are dry and cracked
it soaks into you like gasoline to driftwood
the sound of the birds become dull
and then you panic about your panic
because the birds see everything and you need them
when the wild beasts come
need them to listen, so you can sit still and hum--mmmmmm
dear forest, can you block the taste out of my mouth
block the sound of talk radio voices whirring through the channels
pineal staticky as a black hole, so you say
vacuum packed emotions cemented in nothing
compressed trash dumped into the same landfill
and suddenly your cup runeth over with the poisoned caviar
and you ignored that ******* caveat when you were young
the bed you make you lay in it, you dug your grave and then fought them
all the way in, i guess that deserves another personality pathology

words and pictures and angels that george carlin doesn't believe in
but i don't mind i still mostly agree with him
except quietly poking that thought to the back of my mind
to recirculate and well i don't want to forget it in too much time
but angels, there are some things you can't describe to people
that eventually make sense, and some that make you stop
before you start because, you have to see quezacoatl to believe it
and i understood after all those nights of john darnielle
soft voice meant to carry, snakes, destruction, and ripe plums

there are some little devils and some little angels
they don't need a medium, just an invitation
a little thought, blind intention, unconscious manifestation
and only then can they live
hocus pocus **** whatever,
illuminati is distraction,
these aren't legends they are presently presence
essence and breathlessness and aristocrat embezzlement
i'm not worried about the devil
i'm worried about the people who crouch to his level
leveraging him on their shoulders
parasitic loaner, bankers thirsty to sell us
everyone's just looking at miley cyrus
welcome to america, this is a ******* mess
i might overnight some toy blocks by UPS to congress
if they learn to count 1 2 3 but in millions
perhaps it'll dawn on them how much ******* debt we're in

so some nights i let the crackle overwhelm
and sink into the consciousness
and let the shadows prowl around
because pajama sam keeps demanding
not to be afraid of the dark now, for my art, for my heart
there's a world in there and sometimes you have to fall
to know what's life when you come up for air and see
this show is so debonair i can barely bare to read the latest
it's all so plasmatic, phlegm and smoke and paper
burning cities, smoke and mirrors, moving more paper
the only way to act outside the script is to stop acting
and it's the roughest road to choose
but it'll be worth it when you can actually rest in peace without dues
reality isn't real is it, blue collar is another word for slave isn't it
9 - 5 is another expression for consume, a check goes in a box
but we assume it's fair work for pay
we are each a stock, worth about as much as a tea bag
to a party of executives in hot water

and the man outside keeps screaming
something evil is hidden in the depths of the news page
slipping through slack fingered open mouthed people
somehow we're still clueless in the information age
we see it, we read it, we feel it, helpless
we sit in our desk chairs and wonder what next
and the devil sits in our ears whispering don't worry
i know what you're expecting of me
i'm coming, if that is what you all collectively believe

i turn to quezacoatl and all he will murmur
is
what are you going to do about it
the collective has power
waiting for a fateful hour like
a wave puffing up it's chest
oppressed does not mean suppressed
and politics are liar language
money is bluffing to keep us thinking we're nothing
once you've seen what hides in the dark
the light glows brighter in comparison
keeps you safe in the early hours of morning
when you listen

we are the change
we are absolutely everything

I am a puzzle piece.
Not a piece that connects with the other pieces.
But a piece of the puzzle that doesn't fit with the others.
I wasn't like the other kids at my school.
Not one one corner of me would connect with any other person
“You don’t like Gossip Girl?”
No I watch shows about people with real problems, like the news.
“I can’t believe you don’t like the new Miley Cyrus album”
You should believe because I don’t listen to trash that would decompose my brain.
One day I told my dad my concept.
“Dad I am a puzzle piece that doesn't fit with others.”
He told me
“You’re right. But its not that you don’t fit in. You are a puzzle piece in the wrong box.”
He was right.
I am a puzzle piece.
A piece of a puzzle that was probably dropped in the wrong set of pieces.
I am on a journey to find the rest of my set.
Even if its a set of four pieces

The Old Man sat and watched
Muttered some, not much
He just sat there watching shoppers
Use Black Friday as a crutch
A crutch to show inherent greed
Not caring what they bought
He watched them fight for useless stuff
And in the end, it's all for naught

He smiled and he just sat there
Just incensed by what he saw
As the double doors flew open
And opened the stores maw
Whenever did the season
Change from giving gifts to this?
I've been around for many years
Was there a memo that I missed

He sat and watched the melee
A retail **** you might say
Then he muttered once more slowly
And he rose and walked away
He shook his head from side to side
Trying to make sense of this whole scene
These people gave thanks yesterday
What does Christmas mean?

He stopped and picked up letters
From his post box on the way
And then he went up to the roof, you see
To his reindeer and his sleigh
The old man, well...it's Santa Claus
And he's adding new names to his list
With the nightmare down below him
There's now some folks who might get missed

While people talked about what Miley Cyrus was wearing

Ben a homeless veteran of war, had a heart attack, fell from his wheelchair
and died and people stepped over him.

While people talked about what Miley Cyrus was wearing

A forest fire burned in Yosemite National park and Sierra Nevada destroying homes, and
threatening wildlife including 200 year old redwood trees.

While people talked about what Miley Cyrus was wearing

Latonya lost her job, and in turn her apartment and in turn the custody
of her children.

While people talked about what Miley Cyrus was wearing

Yu fellated a man in a sweaty brothel who was nearly four times her age.

While people talked about what Miley Cyrus was wearing

Fukushima Daiichi Nuclear Plant leaked tons of radioactive fluid into the
Pacific.

While people talked about what Miley Cyrus was wearing

Syrian President Bashar al-Assad used chemical weapons on his own people.

While people talked about what Miley Cyrus was wearing

let him go
gently, gently now
let his footsteps echo
as he walks away
embrace the sound
and swallow down all the things
you'd love to say
this time, what is lost will not be found
let your freedom sing.

from the evergreen trees
to the dead and decomposing leaves
of trees that just don't stick around
the pitter patter, that silent sound
of the fall of rain, the drip of tears
the feathers of these past years
pluck away, **** the days
that you wasted with him
there must be some way
to shadow the agony with a graceful grin

do not drown yourself
in drink
do not harm yourself
in what you think
because the sun will rise,
the sun will fall
the world will surprise
by taking all
that you had

it might not be eloquent,
but these are instructions
on how to live with a broken heart
your fingers, your words will not mend
only time will tell

he will walk away
with a lack of empathy
he will never say
that you are what he needs.

accept, regret, and see what comes next
these words are yours to protect.

There is true art in words
Past the arguments & debates between worlds.
More meaningful than the daily gossip, wide spread news between groups of girls.
Deeper than the pictures painted, for those who can not see.
Communication without words, resulting in generations acting primitively
More commonly misunderstood, no guidelines to follow
Not even a bible to read, the fruit for uplifting our souls spiritually  
No narratives to relate to, or even songs to sing  
The expression of one's character, minimized as far as only sight can see.    
Even those who can not hear, use words to speak.                  Swift movement of their hands, body language and gestures
All used to forms words ya see.
Men say women use them to much, women say men don't use them enough
Both parties using them the same, most with intentions of relaying true love
No hobby or passion untouched by its beauty
There is true art words, without them... where would we be? ...