I am tired, so tired
Of ancient relics
Stark statues
That mark
Old attitudes
Bad ideals  
Enshrined in
The sacred skin
Of spiritual devotion

I am tired
Of blind faith
Celebrating hate
Bathing those
Who wait
In the blood of
Ignorance and violence

I am tired
Of the unreading masses
Thinking that they are
Taking me to task
For my bad ideas
Smart mouths
With no solid stance
To back up
Their empty chants

I am tired
Of the primed populations
Bending to the will of
Wealthy preachers
Who give less then
A particle for the truth
And make a fool
Out of all those who
Pay them
To play them

i would think of jumping sheep
but it wouldn't help me fall asleep
or listen to and read classical scores
but they don't put me to bed anymore
even to take the strongest sleeping pills
the bad thoughts and worries it could ****

but i heard your voice
you talked as i closed my eyes
it excited me like the jumping sheep
it graced my ears like the classics
but most of all

it knocked me out in an instant

He said grown men don't weep
but I did last week
last night as I lay on my bed in a heap
bar height - i've lived a life on the sweet
(bar -marmite a little bitter on the teeth
(bar -barfights i guess I thrive on the street
baabaa type if I'm a meat I'm a sheep
ha ha at light but only weep in my sleep
far far right from when I started this speech
au revoir mon amie this be the end of my suite

Tried counting normal sheep.
It didn’t work.
None of them seem to have that je ne sais quoi
that Eastern - European sleep sheep have.

Tried counting good and bad memories. On an invisible flip chart.
Just like in my youth corporation.
I presented the situation to my inner Earth, waiting for feedback and good vibes.
All I got was a mosquito in my left ear.

Tried counting all the nights when I couldn’t sleep but
I was never good with imaginary numbers.

Then.. I started counting all the “I’m sorry”s,
“I love thee”s
and “It wasn’t me to pull the trigger, your honor!”s,
slowly falling in a pit full of
alligator dreams, just waiting
to bite on my neck.

Sleep made me weak.
Sleep made me spill all the meds on the wooden floor and
suddenly, I started seeing the truth through a pair
of 3D cardboard glasses.

Then I started to feel blue and it all happened so fast, officer!

Gave us oil and gave us matches,
didn't give us fire...
Told us we were on our own but,
kept us on the wire.
Stale green heads of famous dead ones
always ruling us.
On their backs we write reminders
of in whom we trust.

Vicious cycle, circumstance will
find us set aflame.
Take a breath and burn to ash leave
nothing but a name.
Lies in print and moving pictures
bought at market price;
cold and hollow, hard to swallow,
still our favorite vice.

Fundamental narcissism
glory be to we~
Sinners drenched in good intentions
wild dichotomy.
Liars, haters, instigators,
nothing good to say.
Everything will be just fine if
they don't have to pay.

Final cycle, broken bible
read selectively,
love and hate up for debate but
neither one is free.
"Follow blindly close behind me"-
so the lemming said.
We'll find out who's wrong and right, as
soon as we're all dead.

I kick the earth beneath my feet
as I walk towards my flock of sheep.
Snow, it came in force last night
(my bedroom door was frozen tight).
Yet, as I woke, I thought of them.
How many did the cold condemn?

A shepherd? That I call myself.
Yet, I've laid my crook upon the shelf.
I read in tales of shepherds grand.
I'm no more a shepherd than a man.
I sleep in warmth and they in cold.
Of me, no stories shall be told.

And I do believe I am a fool.
I go on about "I am so cruel"
The pasture finds them sleeping well.
So quick to say what had befell.
No, I am no shepherd. I'm just a fool
Who forgot that sheep were dressed in wool.