I have this bass in my skull
So now all my thoughts are pounding
But come out with an emotion that's dull
They want me to speak a little more serious
I laugh off the world's issues because if not I'd be furious
Everybody believing everything they read
Knowing no one's really reading because very few believe in me
Rather splatter the internet with a rumor or scheme
Then trust that they're soaking your carrots in chlorine
I mean,  what if you took the time to research and truly decide?
I'm not a god or a prophet, sir, I'm just along for the ride
As you drive into the unknown,  you follow that front wheel
But what if your bike has a mind of its own?

They've got us distracted off on a less than beaten path
With another sweep to knock you off your feet
Left to be eaten by Chuckle Teeth.
They smell fresh meat quicker than Jaws
Then you're stuck in a loop in some fictitious claws.
"But look at the validity and all of these facts"
If you found it that easy, they planted the evidence for just that
And nobody's listening just fighting their case
While I stand on the sideline and awkwardly pace

We are two animals trapped inside a glass box
Nothing to say or do that isn't lost inside our thoughts
You hope to find an inkling inside the broken chatterbox
But mostly deny what's inside the two time Goldilocks
Is it too cold, too hot, or just right?
Hit me up on the flip side and I'll keep you lukewarm tonight.
Who's eyes light up your insides like a rotten Jack O'lantern?
Who's argyle style lies in all the wrong patterns?
I'm loose like a cannon or a bad set of tie rods.
You can hear the truth speak when you read it in my scrimshaws.
Bear claws
I'll Tear apart your life like the jaws of life.
Tear you apart like a knife like jaws did Richard Dreyfuss
What?
Say what?
This guy writes like Jackson ******* drinks
And paints like Charles Bukowski.
His life pours out in lines like the inside of a chocolate factory.
When asked where is his mind he pointed to his heart,
and said to them:  
"you shouldn't play with knives when you're dancing in the dark."

Mundane duties,
Breaths of air,
Lungs expanding,
Stomach clenches,
Heart hanging by a string,
Jaws threatening to cave in,
Hands no longer yours,
Eyes eyeing the world,
Legs rested where they fall,
No one to pick them up.
Melt to the ground
Become one with one you held so dearly.

Always in the demons jaws
Or in their claws
Here's the knife take a slice, take a bite
Start with innocence and all that's right
Next is the heart, cut it out
No need to shout
Bleed me dry
No need to cry
No need to try
**** the soul
Do it slow
Watch the blackness flow
Turn me into a monster
Where only anger and agony foster
The innocent little girl, I lost her

Always in the demons jaws
Or in their claws
Here's the knife take a slice, take a bite
Start with innocence and all that's right
Next is the heart, cut it out
No need to shout
Bleed me dry
No need to cry
No need to try
**** the soul
Do it slow
Watch the blackness flow
Turn me into a monster
Where only anger and agony foster
The innocent little girl, I lost her

I used to swim across the channel to rattlesnake island when I lived
in Florida . We all knew the sharks loved
the funneling action of the channel to the bay . And we were always aware that there were sharks near by . We saw them every day . Yet the allure of the island just a scant one hundred yards away was to much for a 10 year old to pass up . So I would swim across holding a rod and reel high so it would not soak in sea water . I admit there was apprehension evident in my strokes and kicks but I made it across . On the other side there were no rattlesnakes anywhere .
Just gorgeous unclaimed white beaches and aqua clear water . Needle fish scooted across the surface and schools of mullet jumping were all I could see . I did little or no fishing , just running and jumping into the surf . What an afternoon it was . But the sun slid down and we knew we had to leave soon as the big sharks move in at dusk to feed into the night . So we stepped into the swirling waters of the channel and then plunged in and swam . Sharks have all black eyes . Cold  black eyes and an expressionless grin that is all business sporting a mouth full of jagged dagger teeth . They are cautious up to a point but no one knows where that point is . Once that point is reached . . . well you don't want to see that point while your in the water . So about half way across the channel we see a dark shadow swim by in front of us between us and the beach . We know it's a shark , a big one . Perhaps more than fifteen feet long . We can't stay where we are at , but we fear to move on . So taking a deep breath we swim on slow and steady . Finely the beach is at hand , our feet touch sand and we run up on the beach and collapse . Then with heaving chests of fear we look back only to see the shark swim by . Needless to say that was my last visit to rattlesnake island .

The alligator in my dreams
Stomped on all my pretty things
He gobbled down
My favorite clown
He quickly tuned around
Chased me till he found
All he need do is open his jaws
In I'd crawl
In the belly of the beast
I found the thief
That stole my heart
So I took back my part
Turned around and strolled right out
Between the teeth, in that beast's snout
Pinched myself, so I would awaken
So I could placed back the heart that's was forsaken

"Y'got city hands, Mr. Hooper."

I felt his coarse hands grip mine, too;
I lived through Mr. Hooper vicariously
as I looked down at open palms
spread to the heavens,
illuminated in the flashy brilliance of the glare.

I saw wrinkled, calloused eyes peer into mine;
I stood on that rickety old dock
in my fitted and worn wool cap,
faded denim shirt matching pants
and dingy white tennis shoes.

"Y'got city hands, Mr. Hooper."

My ego crestfallen as well,
pride in my intelligence proven in the Academia
withering, as the gritty gap-toothed
leery-eyed barnacle of a sailor
peered inquisitively into my soul.

He saw the smooth hands--
ah, but the callouses engraved deep between joints
on my fingers; a musician!

His eyes grilled, "In bourgeois leisure,
smiling meekly dwelling within milquetoast afternoon hours,
or,
from downtown haunts sweating jazz in the midnight hour,
dancing screaming cursing moaning lovingly?"
My eyes cast down again.

But I know not of the city as my abode!
I know the ****** and the farmer
more than any contributor to painted landscapes, nay;
they are my acquaintances, neighbors, cousins, brothers, and sisters!

For I have lived on the water;
I have eyed the vessels
commandeered by the gritty, grubby,
greased captains of my soul,

as I float buoyed in their wake,
eager to catch a semblance of the waters
that trail before them.

I live treading their wake,
eyes open and pencil in hand.

And lo;
I found sanctuary in the vast fields of the rustic farmer!

For I ate breakfast of the freshly-slaughtered calf;
I drank its mother's milk,
eggs fresh from the poultry den--
I squawked along with the mother hens.

I took in the bucolic smell of the country
atop the rugged tractor,
eyeing squinting
grimacing like a smile in the sun
burning burning down upon stiff backs
and leather necks--

I, the leaves of grass scattered
in the wake of the farmer,
I, the bails of hay furled tightly
sitting patiently in the once golden meadow,

I watched the tractors and their commandeers
disappear in the bombinate horizon;
the sound of insects ushering in the night sky

like unrolling the starry-eyed carpet
before the hazy late afternoon moon.

I watched, I lived,
waiting coiled in their wakes
eyes wide open and paper clenched in hand.

I lifted my eyes to once again
hear his curt admonition:

"Y'got city hands, Mr. Rhine."