Goose-Step Parade

A Ruse -

A runner-up for

The greatest story ever told;

wolves sleeping amongst the fold.

Amused

By the sight of flung feces

We’re all down here on our knees

Swearing we love the king’s new clothes

A sketch you can’t erase

A dream you can’t wake up from

A vile inheritance

And I don’t want this – I don’t want these chains.

These putrefied remains.

And every song’s the same

As we willingly march rank and file to our own demise.

Just kids

When we believed the lies

When we pledged our hearts and minds

The wolves biding their time.

Consumed

Our little lives away

Us voluntary slaves

Committed ever to the farce that occupies our lives

Perceived dichotomies

Between safety and freedom

False flag realities

And I don’t want this – I don’t want these blood stains.

So twisted, so inhumane

So futile and so insane

As we willingly march rank and file to our own demise.

A Harlow-esque fantasy

A self-inflicted disease

Clinging tightly to the terry-cloth machine

A sanguine depravity

Caught: hook, line and sinker

No desire to think.

Too afraid to not believe.

Existence Existing

You can’t not have the thought you are having.

You can’t not do what you are presently doing.

You are a process that cannot not be

Exactly as it is in this moment.

You are a part of all that there is.

You are Existence existing. 

Champagne Rivers

“Give me your tired; your poor” she said

Her pants engulfed in flames

Her eyes, they seemed so genuine

And her robe disguised her shame

She once had such open arms

Her gaze fixed upon the sea

But the copper they used to make her

Has turned dollar bill green

And if the fences aren’t tall enough

We’re equipped to build a wall

And if that doesn’t stop the floodgates

I guess we’ll have to kill them all.

Greetings from paradise; it’s even better than TV

A picture postcard the likes you’ve never seen

With champagne rivers and gold paved streets

And so many pretty people with nothing underneath

The winds of change have stopped blowing

And now the real storm has settled in

All that’s left now is the acid rain

And our sense of entitlement

And if we don’t squander our inheritance

Before we’re overtaken with disease

We may face the reckoning we’ve earned

By building this machine

Every motive has externalities

Like every creature has its flaws

And I heard the last cries of defiance

As she was clenching down her jaws

Celebration

I am a celebration of mediocrity

I’ll leave my mark like a stick might

in the sand on the beach

I am paralyzed by the constraints

Of the mundane everydays

That keep passing despite

Every effort to make a change

I’m just looking for my slice of the pie

Like a vulture waiting

for something else to die

And if I don’t wake up

In the morning like I should

Please consider this my good-bye

Don’t draw attention to my tattered shell

Just embrace this; my lofty farewell

I’ve got nothing left to give

I take back everything I said

And regret having done

most of the things I did

I’m malfunctioned to the point of obsolete

I need someone to put me out of my misery

Just put me in a box

With a whiskey on the rocks

And let me fade into anonymity

Welcome to my nightmare

The one that seems so tame

Welcome to my life here,

where the excuses sound so lame

I guess this is the standard

Because no one else is afraid

I should be adaptative

And learn how to play the game

And I can’t relate the terror

And I can’t communicate

How hard it is to fake.

Can't Call This House a Home

I never even saw it coming

Never even stood a chance

What was hidden in my daydreams

Realized every failed romance

All the truths lie somewhere in between

the movies and the magazines

Every Saturday morning I became

the target of some new campaign

I knew the face of Tony Tiger

Before I knew the face of Jesus Christ

I prayed to a Golden Arched Mecca

And to the clown I sang my throat dry

They had me at “hello”

My soul was sold

before I’d set the price

And the toys that came inside

Were like a plastic wrapped suicide

The devil put a band together

They toured around the globe

Oprah did an interview

They got their own reality show

So no one even noticed

When hell was unleashed out from below

Lo and behold their anthem for destruction

Reached top ten on the radio

The last thing I remember

I saw the clown shake hands with Uncle Sam

They had just signed an agreement to ensure

The safety of some long foreseen plan

And what the language can’t take care of

You bet your sweet ass that our apathy can

And no one cared about the outcome

Because they started playing that damn song again

And we all danced to forget the sorrow

We rolled over for our bones

We had such high hopes for tomorrow

You can wait here to die

But you can’t call this house a home

So I will wander here forever

Or I will settle like a stone

I will pray there could be a heaven

I will wait here to die

But I won’t call this house a home

Being Human

Every argument is a bead of sweat

Into a sea of absurdity

We don’t have any real answers

To the most fundamental of our questions

Because there is no way to determine

Truths beyond our grasp

Every passion is a mountain

Defiantly refusing the reality of erosion

We are so often miserably mistaken

While being so arrogantly certain

Even as we acknowledge half-heartedly

That our intelligence is limited

Every belief is an unforgiving restraint

An infinite and impossibly cumbrous weight

Demanding the denial of gravity

In the face of our downward propulsion

As we race without cause or reservation

Relative to static objects

Every word is an arbitrary refraction

A wave generated by an electrochemical reaction

And given meaning by nurtured neural connections

And even if everything is mechanical

It won’t change even the tiniest little thing

About what it is to be human

All the Good Things

Maybe it’s not so bad here.

Maybe I’m just pessimistic.

Maybe I fail to see the lining in the clouds

Maybe it’s just so much easier if I call myself realistic

Instead of admitting I’m afraid to be let down

So here’s to all the good things

Because I’m certain that they’re still there

Even when I’m caught up in the despair

And I know that I am guilty of years of misanthropy

The good things are still obvious to me

If you’re good at finding the bad in things

the world can look so disheartening

And if the fight can’t be won why hold on to the towel?

My faith still ebbs and flows some and sometimes I can’t see the purpose

But I’m reminded when I stop and look around

So here’s to all the good things

Because I know that they’re all there

Even while I feign I’m not aware

I get so wrapped up in singing on those thing I hope to change

The good things, I just hope they stay the same

I’m glad to change my tune some

and entertain a new perspective

Even if the feelings are so brief

But when I return to my state of being bitter or disappointed

There will always be the good things underneath

So here’s to all the good things

Because they’re the reason I still care

Even if it’s fleeting I know it’s there

And I’ll keep reminding myself each time I see misery and pain

That the good things they will never go away