PLANETARY STATUS REPORT!

Old man
awaiting the clock
don't balk
don't flail
summertime sets sail
scan the seas
eat your peas
bend your knees
to the KING of FLEAS

Old man
burnt by the sun
having fun
on the run
carry that shotgun
BANG!
That's what she sang
on the STAGE
with RAGE
she's a sage
of the trees

Old man
hurting from the fight
it's alright
the sky is turning red
but you're not dead
remember what
the old shaman
SAID:
"Keep calm
keep clear
have another beer
let your
dear one
go ... she was a HO"
And remember bro,
she gave you a disease

Old man
your wife is fucking
your dad
you've had all
you can have
your world
is full
of twirling
nightmares ...
So stop
look out
no matter the season
you'll find a reason
lock the door
throw away the keys

Old man
regret torn
forlorn hole
find your soul
lost on the streets
grab yourself a TREAT
from HOOKER JANE
she's insane
she'll let you
grab her TANG
for a slab
from the jab
and the herpes sleaze

Old man
go to Japan
find the STORE
where the WHORE
hit the FLOOR
and her GORE
red spout
all about 
it was a rout
no time to pout
just SHOUT
as loud as you can:
"No more land,
just sand,
and dead trees."

Whatever happened 
to poor G1NJRBR3D?

He was here, 
such a young scamp, 
running about 
chasing butterflies 
and dreams …

WTAF ever happened 
to that little 
BEAM of LIGHT?

Did some monster 
take poor G1NJRBR3D 
in the NIGHT?

Little G1NJRBR3D 
never hurt no one 
no how … 
he was a moon child 
of the darkest emerald 
and in glaze 
his hazy ways 
would transform the gloom
from a tomb. 

No one said 
nothing bad 
about poor 
little 
G1NJRBR3D … 
but is he dead?

Did some force 
grab him 
in the woods?

Is he gone 
for goods?

Did I kill 
poor 
little 
G1NJRBR3D?

WAS IT ME?

Or was it cinna-bun … 
on the run … 
he’s got his gun. 
If you see him 
you are done, 
cinna-bun-bun-bun … 

cinna-bun-bun … 
he walks the Earth 
driving his hearse
where there is no sun …

I was able 
to remove 
the ear worm. 
It was grey 
and brackish 
and sad and lame. 

It had scab eyes 
and a walnut brain. 

It was tearing 
at my temporal lobe, 
chunks of brain flesh 
and girg. 

I am left 
as Mr. Potato 
made me, 
full of zest 
and robusto.

I am ROBUSTO and so is G1NJRBRED.

Robusto 
extravagante style 
VOLCANO YACHT 
CLUB SEX TALES 
type living, 
with dolphin wine 
and raccoon cum
and gopher sunsets.

Hammered and hungry, 
we’re breaking out 
to find new possibilities. 

We’ve been STRUCK 
by the LOVE CURSE, 
and our HEARSE speeds away 
carrying our flesh burden 
and our desires. 

We fold 
into the ground 
like hound dog 
warriors, 
and the mountains 
bend 
to our new 
fire posse. 

TAKE HOLD 
of your emotion 
and FIGHT 
for your LIFE 
until 
the cities burn.

And among the urns
labeled red and black
somewhere near the back
of the bus
for the rest of us
sat little G1NJRBR3D

He mutters still ...

"whatever happened
to poor
little
G1NJRBR3D ..."