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Dangerous roads
and starless nights
a/c out
and faulty lights
squeaky brakes
a seat that bites
you can take your truck and stuff it

endless circles
lonely bi ways
without a net
on the highway
it's time that i just
did it my way
you can take your truck and stuff it

you can take your truck and stuff it sideways
right there where the sun don't shine
you can take your truck and stuff it sideways
it's not your life that's on the line
you can take your truck and stuff it sideways
right there where the sun don't shine
you can take your truck and stuff it sideways
i'm on my way....and that's just fine

paperwork
time delaying
canvas straps
constantly fraying
you ***** to me
but i hear naying
you can take your truck and stuff it

life's short
i'm not waiting
takes too much
to keep berating
i'm getting *******
and we're not dating
you can take your truck and stuff it

you can take your truck and stuff it sideways
right there where the sun don't shine
you can take your truck and stuff it sideways
it's not your life that's on the line
you can take your truck and stuff it sideways
right there where the sun don't shine
you can take your truck and stuff it sideways
i'm on my way....and that's just fine
for Patrick Desmond
Jack Ritter Aug 2018
A baby boy shuts his eyes and sees
bull continents drift,
collide, startle, spin around.

Prehistoric bucks suddenly accusing-
(Did YOU just back into ME?)
They jam head-to-head,
gouge, reconcile, then confer.

The boy likes what he sees.

The beasts get down to business.
They iron out earth's future
with special bellows, & lots of musk.

Above this caucus
of nodding, naying heads,
clacking antlers mesh
into a burgeoning thicket.

He calls for more!

The thicket shudders,
sprouts into a dagger forest.

It shoots up recklessly,
like a baby's legs,
and jabs the sky
with young ideas:

New species, struggles, lies.
Whole societies in the air,
too busy to teach their children
about the bellowing below.

           The weight of so much life is too much.

There is a final SNAP
of prehistoric backs.

Not a grain remains on which to carve
the memory of all the things
that passed before this boy's eyes.
A friend called it a Darwinian myth. Highest hurdle was anthropomorphizing continents.
houssem Dec 2014
how about a sky full of stars
how about a past not that far
how about a truth that looks like a lie
and a lie so beautiful like a summer night

looking back where I used to stand
trying so hard to understand
the black in a beautiful winter night
my unflinching denial of faith

true or false is just a matter of heart
am surrounded by the embrace of  a helpless light
black or white never makes a clear sight
am still trying to make the difference between wrong and right

Naying my feelings won't lead to the where
am drowning in my own regrets
an no one can hear me anymore
guess I can't regret what I never sad

people lie and say goodbye
in their own twisted way
nothing will ever be the same
and no one is to blame , there's no one to blame



words trying to touch my soul
tamed by a world so cold
reading all those lies in those empty eyes
tasting rain on my window pane,,,, my soul is sold
Existence. The experiment in extended soul **** to excrete entertainment from innocents for the de-light of the slovenly mob of slobs with sloppy spirits.

Excalibur only exists to enforce an existential quest for the pleazure of beasts to bequest a feast of pain on naives brave and fool enough to play the game in vain: the only one who wins is the baying crowd of naying ni-twits, never those with gifts.

God only made holes so something could rip them apart in the amusement park called jo-kingly "life", a place of strife and ugliness wrapped in rainbows to hide the knife at your throat.

Happy ending? No. Not for the au-dience, ** ** **. They willingly asked for what was gross and got the lonely axe reserved for ghosts: eternity in a barren boat in a moat, oh Sam I Am!
Writing is so much easier these days

— The End —