Monday, November 28, 2005

Whispers on the Wind

The ground's too wet to sit,
So I, instead, will stand.
From behind the pulpit,
I sing the song of Man.

It echoes through the rain,
Reverberating from
My own office of pain --
My own prison of scum.

Solemn dirges of yore
Feather across your face.
The joy you knew before,
Vanished without a trace.

I've stolen it from you.
Song so true -- deepest blue --
Your soul belongs to me.

Sunday, November 20, 2005

"Situations" Jack Johnson

Situation number one,
it's the one that's just begun,
but evidently it's too late.

Situation number two,
it's the only chance for you,
it's controlled by denizens of hate.

Situation number three,
it's the one that no one sees,
it's all too often dismissed as fate.

Situation number four,
the one that left you wanted more,
it tantalized you with its bait.

Monday, November 14, 2005

I Don't Do This Often...

Capitalist ideology,
Money-market psychology --
Mockable as phrenology
In next-gen chronology.

Supply in the can --
The market demands
A change in the way
Man understands.

Primevil comprehension,
Intellectual detention --
Who own's the ressurrection?
Beaurocracy's confection?

Frightened of life --
Necessary stryfe!
Moan and gripe...
Spoon-fed rights...

Question conformity.
Browbeat authority.
Conglomerate beauty
Epitomizes duty.