The rich are committing suicide
and taking us along with them
the prosthetic limbed *******
Fort Darwin tottering on fewer stilts
once the Masters of the Universe
presently picking through garbage
looking for an Icarus to pilot
some way back among the clouds
their telepathic goon squads
armed with the ******* of God
squat in the darkness of doorways
lightning strikes all around them
even their telephone poles were clairvoyant
several thousand watts went up my leg
shorting out the only attention span I own
left me perforated but far from lacy
wearing all my masks all the time
fragments of self are selves
in a bulemic deconstruction
where form and content
mud wrestle incessantly for attention
on the crazy train to 3 color 3 finger hell
apparently the ancient gods still rule
in their madhouse heaven
ambivalent petulant flatulent gods
brandishing sword point conversions
wielding gun point perversions
the protagonists the antagonists
fornicators masturbators liquidators
pariahs and unlicensed poets
preaching hellstone and brimfire
now their carcasses are steppingstones
it's psywar out there kids
better find where they hid your dossier
mesmerized of the world unite
you have nothing to lose
but your failed methods of addressing reality
said his slowly twisting tongue
struggling for ratings like any media
the soul cannot erase it can only go sightless
a phantom trapped in melancholy
when we were built to dance
with the twinkling summer stars
he finally learned to undestroy memory
being an ascended master of non sequitur
carried aloft by the wings of Mother Goose
his metabolic hurricane of why
an inferno of intrigue and  superstition
our embryo-headed UFO ruling class
have me inside their fence of skulls
an investment in diagram futures
the idiots

one day there won't be an edge kids
just a hole in the ground for the suicidal
do a bacteria count of your spring water
while tossing down a few useless conventions
why do anachronisms live so long die so hard
and cause no embarrassment he mused
musing had become his compulsion since
the holy ghost serpent handling incident
their medicine man pronounced him dead 7 times
his own ancestors sent crows to peck out his eyes
the fortune cookie antidote worked off and on
then hell ascended under his smoking feet
their vanguard toes now on fire
one thing is sure in the lust for truth
contemplation will not buy you serenity
but yes your life can be lived
without a prison cell oath of allegiance
if the universe demonstrates intention we’re it
the battle between sequence and simultaneity
may be good for another 10 squared generations
in this hypnotist hunch monger demolition derby
where a legendary and enormous ignorance
complicates matters for no apparent reason
well maybe for the following reason
all explanations have been oversimplified
in a panorama of benign efficiency
arise you yuppies and management level trainees
you have all the tools of cognition
you will ever need right in your head
every act begins with an estimate
let's put Humpty back together again
feel relevant that's all there is to it
since a monopoly on endless pleasure
is yet to be fully achieved and moreover
the Great War in Heaven is officially boring
and furthermore the iris is a sphincter
just thought you'd like to know
sorry a lung obstruction makes my voice whistle
one ******* homophone after another
making the undead radar in on me
my wings have been clipped so many times
they fall off at the sound of grinding teeth
thanks to the dogs of innuendo and pantomime
we anthropomorphize absolutely everything
no beanstalks on the horizon he noted
just a marsupial orphan with an Aladdin's lamp
charmed into the gesticulating arms of Venus
by the secret patty cake handshake
then a magic thing happened
there is no magic
only unknowing

you're a genius she moaned
there can only be so much money in circulation
he replied halfheartedly ******* her abacus
the moon arose sharp as a razor
and they set about creating a dynasty
a master race of thumb ******* idiots
that arose from the dead at midnight
with pretensions of divine right
she was a plump desert highway waitress
with a mile of sunny cleavage
a beckoning oasis of hope
to every **** sore trucker
he was a cadre from the Cro Magnon bloc
raised by the Sisters of Inchoate Ire
in a constant din of prayer
a model of pedagogical endurance
a time of war ravaged the land
the grip of the Dept. of Antiquities was strong
wizards made the oceans boil
mystics buskered the street corners
will work for the contemplation of food
a few actually knew something
but in practice were a bit too bent
by the wind blinded by repetition
to be true in the rigorous mortis sense
nothing to be done except perhaps
another detached from reality ******
now that the past was in hot pursuit
but the leibensborn are clever
and they were smuggled to safety
in boxes of radio parts
he picked up the Bardic Hour
on the Welsh Luftwaffe Network
she was wired to the 220 dryer circuit
and clicked through the channels
Gamble for Your Soul followed by
Ladies of Leisure followed by
Nearly Inaudible the game show
which asked the same question
if the picture is perfect is it changeable
this is how they ineluctably became
the enemy of both sides
the rim shots were deafening
but histrionics had worked in the past
you'd think we were defending against death
rather than a better data set
so it is with surface addiction
a searching modern art piece