Shh! Keep it down! I'm scared they'll hear,
the Yesmen are after me, they might smell your fear.
The whole tribe is on the hunt for my dignity.
All I did was say one thing, and that one thing alone
triggered, like a gun starting off the race, the hoard to come
stampeding towards me.

I'm in the safety of my humble abode.
I'm in my sweet and sound home
with a welcome mat that says, "Hello!"
But I'm terrified that my neighbors are infected
and have turned into the Yesmen.

It's a disease, an infection, and the flu altogether.
All year-round, the people are prone to sickness.
The only way to ward off this evil is through a mind of your own.
But we only have these materials, a match and a torch.
I guess we can't start a fire in our hearts or a flame in our chest,
or a passion or desire or some other pest,
but the Yesmen will smell it all and eat you up like a beast.

No, no, no! They're onto us! They've caught on!
How do I know? Well, they reek of disappointment!
You can tell from miles away that I'm on their radar,
and not very far.

Be careful, I'll sacrifice myself because I don't want to live in this world anymore.
The Yesmen have taken over and I'd have to obey
these savages and barbarians that slay anything in their way.
This only happened because I finally decided to stick up my nose
to say one thing, and that one thing was "No."

I wanna witness...

The energetic synergy within the city limits
Pulsing with adrenaline as yesmen do business
With mysterious gentlemen in worn and weathered tenements
Indifferent of the minutemen surrounding the premises.

A genesis and exodus of textbook corruption
Eruptions of Congressmen abruptly interrupting
The voice of the denizens; citizens distrusting
The integrity of every legislation made in history

And the mystery surrounding all those slimy politicians
Discussing their envisionments and policies like madmen
Disgusting in their ways, protecting church and state,
In the government we pray: Amen.

Quiet, or you miss the promise kept
by we, the people who hold the yesmen in chains egon-wize

Cuomo Opens Poetic Door Looses Zeitgeistical Cult of QAnon

everybody wants your vote, nobody wants to read my ****

so if you do you could be like so
this is easy,
we have taken every test,

passed all the rituals, learned the steps to the rose dance
morphing from the lilac dance which is longer

in the years when the manzinita shed
more bark to make the fiber for the best baskets ever tested
best
being relative you perceive in as, as in may be the global brain is
friendlier than the kids in the 1950's happy days,
could imagine after they wore the tie

yeah we just missed that, my generation,
barely missed disco, too.

beat the rap, survived the crap, got old on rumors of war.

Huawei, wu wu wu wei we go,
peace versus war...

who one last time? What are the odds?
There is a flood in Bangladesh,
Warholian fame,
back up to 3 centuries
must be the melting of the ice. Who is making this
seem life-like,
as real as any vision in any kiva, vista vision, without which

internet of things

my people perish, and I am at the white page, once more
turning to the business page
three of the world's biggest banks set aside, as in, did not count
as profit,
just in case. Eh. We qui quinonaqanonic grain eaters,
we set a scene, the stage
observed off stage, obscene as you know,

when you see it it is as if you are here, in the book of life
where you witnessed all the evil any one like you could do

if you had your own way, you coulda been Besosaurus, or Sam,
but you went walkabout
and now you say

you learned how peace is made, while being good for nothing.

Ironmanmeyes yesyses I said, while being, actually being virtually
real
as any deed you wisht you did, but did ent, earily close
but
missed still counts, you fired,
you pulled the trigger on the trap you set and Broncos are back,

life goes on, the richer are as rich as ever and the hermits
are as happy as they ever wished to be

Cuomo is a graphic artist, a meme maker,
who new a lysurgic imitation
of
what? HELLOHNOMYGAAAACH-you

deny my power? Fool. Raca-ist, too. Dimensional missed shifter

making some old lies do double time,
the center cannot hold,
Cuomo is a zeitgeistic antenae in radiolandmentis psiscience-osis.

Any idea can be a plague these days. Give 'er a go.

Antediluvian condition, sayzz the New York Times, cut the drip
drip drip
bene fits as we approach 6% solution,

with full disnification in the internet of things allowed.

Tinker bell may be the voice in your GPS if you can imagine
Suzie Creamcheese dating me and being
the operator who once connected me to you

we were walking to chicago, remember?

"On the far end of the trail of tears." today, a native son
sang of a promise kept,

and here we sang along, before we knew he sang, we knew the song.