That was then, this is now
Who was where when what was how?
Hear them take their last breath as they're shot down
I scream
Floating in the gene pool, expecting the man who can walk on water to arrive
Sell outs and everyone who has had a bad week even though it's only Monday

Whippersnappers hang their heads in shame
I am one of twelve
So expendable
We live in gluttony
Lineleaders, math teachers, bottom-feeders have no idea
Watch them fall and be forced to crawl on their bellies
We laugh
Lewandowsky-Lutz dysplasia, getting back to your roots
Progeric clock-makers, lying dead on The Yellow Brick Road
Thin-skinned Transsexuals putting bricks in their purses
We live by eight
We die from our weight
And go unbloomed
       -Tommy Johnson
Standing in a nuclear reactor somewhere in Chernobyl looking for the truth
It might be in my contaminated endoplasmic reticulum
I am a radiant
Doppler radar
Monopoly dollar

Singing in the shower, amateur hour
Projecting sour notes
Pouring out their hearts and souls, hear them
Trying

Moo-juice nectar, spilling off The Round Table
Blondes in red bracelets, Kabbalah saves them
Henry pays no tax, John Berryman's bats tell us
You are the lunatic
We are the two quarters of a half-wit
This whole thing is insane

       -Tommy Johnson

The Nail-biter saw her as his saving grace from a life of lonesome worry
She saw him as a meal ticket and a free ride
He over looked her granny ash
He disregarded her speech impediment
Always holding his tongue when she stumbled on certain words because he loved her and all her imperfections
She had a bullet proof black hole heart and his common sense was stuck in a sound proof cell as they had what seemed to him to be, passionate ***
He worked day and night, coming home with dishpan hands
Saving up to buy her a bouquet of hydrangeas, tulips and baby's breath
She took them and said, "Wow, thank you you're such a good friend"
The Nail-biter left and drove his car into the nearest embankment
She did not attended the funeral, she was too busy having dinner with The man with OCD who didn't have tics but tocks
She knew the routine and loved every second of it

The Benchwarmer with peeled eyes and a chip on his shoulder
Was all ears but under the weather

The Pick of the Litter told him to hold his horses and that he could not pass go to collect two hundred dollars

Bob his Uncle was down in the dumps that day
And ***** his Aunt's eyes were bigger than her stomach
But she had a punchline so funny it would rock your socks off then proceed to knock them off  even though they fit like a glove

But somewhere in the crowd there we're various whisperers and a soothsayer who knew The Benchwarmer would win it big single-handedly that day

And they all shouted from the stands

"You got a good head on your shoulders, you little pain in the ***!"

The Couch Potato is glued to the screen with his tin foil hat on
He sees tailor made charades being played for keeps
Superficial calling cards being dropped into mailboxes
Gravy trains being engineered by some guy subject to temper tantrums and growing pains
Window shoppers searching for second hand teapots, swear jars and unofficial other halves

To him it's all real
Is he wrong?

Put on your dunce cap and ponder that

       -Tommy Johnson

Let down the draw bridge
Cast your lots
Draw straws
Pick an alias
Then go off topic with the sleepwalkers  you had a falling out with

See the check and balances that pale in comparison to The Mighty Hill of Beans

The people in the two square mile town must have something going for them
They can all recite and summarize their code of conduct

"We must exercises proper window seat etiquette, understand that names make it harder to slaughter, use our home field advantages when given and turn phrases where needed."

They all either have over bites or under bites
But all have clubbed feet and hold a roll of film under their arms
The film shows how their predecessors leveled the playing field
As their enemies stood stammering as their armies we're vanquished under The Mighty Hill of Beans

Mayor Moniker went on yammering, buying his own *******
As all the people who puberty hit like train give him a standing ovation on their once battered battle field  under The Mighty Hill of Beans

I guess it's something in the water there

The Dark Pariah and The Mouth Breather went to go get a jump start on their blackmail and their payback

All the kissup's
All the suckup's
Who think they're the best thing since sliced bread with the crust cut off
Who pick on people's foibles and leave their self-image in shambles
Not to mention all the narcissists who claim to have coined certain phrases we all use, then pucker up to the ***** of those who can keep up with the Joneses

They were going to make this world go belly up
Remove all of the potholes and speed bumps in life

The Dark Pariah wrote his plan in chicken scratch
And The Mouth Breather wrote his in calligraphy

The Mouth Breather's plan was to kick start a new denomination of hero worship
All followers must give themselves rug burn and stick up three banks in thirty minutes then put their plunder in the collection plate on Tuesday mass

The Dark Pariah's plan was to create music to their ears
That would make them hopscotch off a cliff and free fall to their deaths
This was part and parcel for his sham to exact his vengeance

But ipso facto they never followed through with their plans due to sheer laziness
And now they're both dominated by remorse and online FAQ's

Get on with your lifelong crisis
But know the difference between response and reaction
It's all too familiar
Paper covers rock
Rock smashes scissors
Scissors cuts paper
Mask your bad breath
And get rid of that embarrassing screen name
You've served your time to society
Now go search for that cat with the vast collection of tongues
Reanimate the dead and beaten horse
But don't let yourself get bullied or get thrown under the bus
Stand up and use your great stoicism  
Use that pulley powered propulsion system you call a mind