Category: METASTOPIAN

Arise, Arise, it's Christmas morn.
This is no time for watching porn.
Shuck the crab and crack the corn.
Passout where you lay.
It's Christmas day!

You threatened your boss cuz you have no say.
You were fired and receive no pay.
Now you can't buy that special wine.
It will all be fine.
It's Christmas day!

Your neighbors,
you see,
moved yesterday.
There's copper to gather - don't throw it away.
Copper tubing is money and that's OK.
It's Christmas day! - Peoples...

That girl you know,
who lives down the street.
She surely thinks you are quite neat.
I know she said, "you have stinky feet".
Stalk her anyway, it's Christmas day!

That cheap whiskey is just sitting there,
staring at you from the TV tray.
Finish it off - that's the only way.
For lonely drunks - it's Christmas day!

Your ex-wife has the kids today.
"Were the hookers worth it?",
is all she could say.
Vodka lingers on your breath.
Next comes death...
It's Christmas day!

Merry Christmas peoples!

God commands,
beyond stars which shine,
revealing a path to our goal.

God is seated on high,
just beyond our reach.

God watches our souls break,
and our lives torn,
and the wonder of destiny is before us.

Yet,
we sit and wait and hope for prayers answered.
No answers.

God watches with hidden cameras,
from inside a bunker,
beyond,
where it is safe,
several parsecs away,
out of cell-phone range,
where there is plenty of beer,
and laughs.

Human fate is comedy,
and,
humans were made dangerous,
so it is best to keep your distance.God commands,
beyond stars which shine,
revealing a path to our goal.
God is seated on high,
just beyond our reach.
God watches our souls break,
and our lives torn,
and the wonder of destiny is before us.
Yet,
we sit and wait and hope for prayers answered.
No answers.
God watches with hidden cameras,
from inside a bunker,
beyond,
where it is safe,
several parsecs away,
out of cell-phone range,
where there is plenty of beer,
and laughs.
Human fate is comedy,
and,
humans were made dangerous,
so it is best to keep your distance.

The dark soldier,
bracing himself for night,
lays down his sword,
and waits,
for the coming dawn,
but the storm is there instead.

First Herald,
awaiting noise of fire and shot,
is left in the fog,
without horse,
without hope,
and with gods abandoning men.

Endless hours idle,
peering through the glass,
wood,
leather,
knives,
though no person’s gaze catches the return,
and money is left at the counter.

Necklace brings ghetto light,
noting the clean purchase,
nothing is bought for the price,
but small hands still are clasping,
small hands wanting food.

Broken fingers caress fabricated joy,
small eyes attempt the reversing glance,
small hearts beat faintly, tiredly, in the jungle heat,
with every Mall foot print they pant.

“How do they get the stains out?”,
a young lady asks.
“Are these wash and wear?”
“Are these for sale over here?”
“Why is there blood on my brand new jeans?”
“How did it get there?”
No one responds ...
... but with eyes cloudy,
coldly.

I move in spite of my surroundings,
a wanderer immersed in lies,
I stop to gain direction and compass,
but I am left with nothing.

I move,
to gain breath,
I see,
clearly I am seeing now,
and if my voice cries out,
even though the shore is still distant,
God still hears me… Maybe…

Or,
God may screen my calls,
God may place me on ignore,
waiting for the celestial search results from Google.

All nature must conform,
All of creation must be co-opted and secured,
So my movements bring nothing.

I move despite God or gods,
I move to spite the gods,
I move away from the Devil,
I move because I have no choice.

I move and the moving changes everything.