We had our own revolution summer. No one kept score of how unaware we were of contradictions. It was all laugh and ride, the state of disrepair was far beyond punk rock assumptions. Now we write down the past and pray for something more. A self attempt at dignity . Iím scared to admit how much faith I put into an upside down flag and you bound and gagged in a photo shoot. It was either fight the good fight or be boring. The kids and their cut and paste dreams make it much worse than it seems.
Do the Math
Had the timing just right but who went and screwed the longitude? Wonít compensate the difference in a one sided vote and radical position. Iím guilty of not feeling guilty with every pair of flushed lips walking by. In the reflected brass of stained glass institutions. I look into the eyes this time.Those hips, with the widest smile push by. Their mouths may be older but from navel to knee they're all celebrity.
The Fish Rots Head First
I can hear the electric. A nine volt tumor that once was a brain. Canít shed a tear for want of saline. Wait to spill guts on a computer screen. Cardboard scrape for a paper clip to hold me sane. Iíll take my punched in time back one stamped envelope at a time. Keep the overhead low and keep us talking until the pay turns gold. Itís not certified but Iíll punch out slap happy and that's fine. Itís the space between the lines. The egg whites of their empty eyes. We lift like this to move and stock but not resist. Register and trademark grey hairs, stress lines. Itís a wisdom patch and after lunch weíll xerox mine. Copies of confusion make me wiser. Iím still behind enemy lines. Burned at the wound to stop grinding gears that never whine. Drop this dead weight barbell off my chest. Tongue in cheek finally mobile, energized and alive.
Heart and Steel
The convenience of a phone line brings too much context. A mixed message violent and condensed. And mantled family photographs keep coming crashing. The distance affords luxury of memory. Walk in closets and basements sleeping in. Not missing a heart beat, jump on the trampoline to shadow box him. I know whats in the next room clashing. Married to spilt vodka and the king of fractions. I remember the bruise and the bedpost happening. Nine years younger with a mind that canít stand in single file style lines. Keep deleting heroes. Keep breaking rationality across his eyes. Iím well past sixteen but its time to stand tall voice tight but mine. A freight train boiling forward until thereís no one left to blame. When the judge and jury finally stop laughing it will be you on the other side of the fence without green grass this time.
Delivered bright, slapped hard and poked in the eyes. Cut from your mother cloned so weíre all born canonized. Hung up on misdirection but well fed and undercut. Youíre too busy being brutal and blue to scrutinize. I have time. Iím not your pulley. Not your indoctrination. Try to subscribe staple words to this because youíll speak from duress. Subject to agency and made known to what threats. We need a new anthem. A method for caring, building babies not agents. Itís contempt not contemporary and you know the toxicity is never meant.
When we meet the point internally so we canít express externally weíve reached the beginning of the end of the line. The trains all run and radios hum on, but we canít feel like heroes until theyíre done and gone. Thereís something criminal in this. Thereís something pertaining to the interests that I must perform before I die.