Government, we don’t need no stinking government. 


All you have to do is touch it you won’t feel a thing,
Mass media goddess the be all tell all weather beauty,
The ruthless means of the calculated ends of structured emptiness,
Some brain dead bureaucrat following his dead end duty,
But the only light that’s on is the applause light,
Its a rerun tragedy but the laugh track is hilarious,
It came broken by mail but anyway the new model is faster,
Turn into nothing with a nice ass make it Viagra vicarious.

And underneath it all I still feel like a blank that’s not been filled in,
I just want to move to a new neighborhood into a house nobody’s been killed in.
And just Facebook all my pretty little problems for the world to comment and archive,
I will end as the junk flies of gut felt gossip on the next world hard drive.

The byte made word; scripted agencies of our cyber selves,
She is an encrypted device of which we can’t break the code,
Everywhere the anything at once memories put tomorrow’s now,
We will bail out the banks of our meaning to co-sponsor the ode,
A fairy tale princess scapegoats blog Fox news or pixellated porn,
The attention span of eternity couldn’t follow this Warhol of fame,
It’s nothing you can’t live without but you need it to know it,
So much less than lifeless not much more than a game.

Stranded in the age of everything,
Branded by the corporate take over sting,
Chronic cancers and streaming revivals,
Sonic censor game show survivals,
New age old school identity thief,
Blue ray spec and unbelievable belief,
Ad hoc universal formats of scorched earth,
Ad rock implications of it girls virgin birth.

Seeded whispers of the automated angels of commerce,
Babbling’s of god like gizmos that hold the future ransom,
And the beautiful price paid to the tyranny of the dollar,
A mean and bloody king but he’s photoshoped and handsome,
Whats doing won’t be done until now happens fifteen minutes ago,
But the sound bite of the hot blonde will have us buying the whole half truth,
This touches us more deeply than when we touch ourselves,
A whole world spent in the pursuit of misspent youth.

Raptured in the age of everything,
Captured by the prime time offering,
Amused to the point of confusion,
Abused by the be real illusion,
Tagged by the ad-bots public invasion,
Nagged by the multinational abrasion,
A great time to live and have it all,
A fate worse than taxes if we juke the fall.


Oh I can only fumble my lyric,
When it comes to a song of you,
The poet in the man undone by your beauty,
And the treasure of all you do,
I feel I have spent my whole life in your praise,
And still not broached your worth,
The atmosphere is perfumed by your presence,
You are the rock and the heat of my earth.

My strangers soul you took and made real,
I don’t know what I’d be sans your love,
My love you seem the only women to me,
The corpus of all time would not be enough,
I strain my throat for I want so to sing,
Some beautiful rhyme that captures you true,
But what matter the show my sweet,
My tongue can find better ways to please you.

I couldn’t take anymore without breaking apart,
Looking to your never ending eyes,
In your arms I discover my own true self,
Escape the world and all it’s whys,
A summer bride for the winter of all discontents,
A lover in any storm or season,
Anytime I take your flesh to my soul,
I swear you out rhyme all wonders of reason.

I don’t think a library could chronicle those lips,
That have brought a miracle with every kiss,
Those that have put such songs on my own,
And whispered some meaning to all of this,
I thank you above all of the few I could thank,
For loving my right and forgiving my wrong,
I owe you my life love sex and my joy,
You are the flower and very seed of my song.

Women of the ether my blessing and breath,
My only reason for loving life and fearing death,
But I love you in this world I’ll love you in next world,
I’ll love you till all worlds stop and tender back,
The souls of their making to the eternal wonder,
That now offers itself to me,
As you.

For Rebecca


Where’s the revolution,
What makes these dreamers come true,
Where’s the revolution,
What gives these thinkers what to do,
It’s been coming for it’s trial of years,
The light of justice to these shadow tears,
We don’t need bullets but we might need blood,
A rainbow arched across this first born’s flood.

Where’s the revolution,
Where is the river’s healing drink,
Where’s the revolution,
Where’s the rebel thoughts and what they think,
Where’s the revolution?
Where’s the revolution?

Where’s the revolution,
What makes the meal worth the hunger,
Where’s the revolution,
What makes the young blood burn younger,
This darkness that only patronizes the night,
Is a product of much more than the absence of light,
Stuck inside the weathers guts is the thunder of this rain,
Medicine bliss will be the measure of this pain.

Where’s the revolution,
Where is the river’s healing drink,
Where’s the revolution,
Where’s the rebel thoughts and what they think,
Where’s the revolution?
Where’s the revolution?

Where’s the revolution,
The fight will deliver the foe,
Where’s the revolution,
Just a player in the systems show,
Where’s the revolution?
Where’s the revolution?

It’s been around the corner since I was a child,
In the sixties the seventies it almost went wild,
Then they gave in just enough to keep us pacified,
Now we stare into the t.v. till we’er zombified,
Some kind of fucking nightmare this American dream,
Eternal mornings of that idiot alarm clock scream,
But there’s no time to make a difference because you’ve gotta make a living,
They make you think your taking when your the one thats giving,
“One day they’er gonna rise from their habitual feast,
And find themselves staring down the throat of the beast”*,
Not enough information to inform just enough to dupe,
The news much more like gossip on a feedback loop,
No new ideas allowed just institutional thinking,
But so many ways to waste your life there’s no time for blinking,
Thru the opiate of our beliefs thats the way we are controlled,
And by the falseness of our beliefs that’s the way we are de-souled.
Where’s the revolution?


Post Hypothesis Payoff

With your best days behind
You face the future leery
With a sub-atomic mind
A soul shapeless and weary
You reach like a winter tree
To the myth mapped sky

With your losting and your lost
Your way is just gathered motion
Though your deeds still balk at the cost
A dishrag to dry the ocean
So you stall at your beautified ruins
For any stars with light left for salvage

With your fate left player and played
Your sums all milked to their total
The swim of your river is stayed
Your night nursed dreams still motile
So caught in this cult of the imagined
Now, is a new hand of the clock

With your composition of matter
And the immaterial build of your mind
You serve your own world on a platter
And make a meal of any dish that you find
Sick to a world of gods and devils
You sit in judgment of your own decay.



Sweet Dorthea and the Nature of Evil

Eyes like a circus and tongue like a snake, the birth of a lover that heaven did forsake, experience intangible in the shifting mythic light, the subtlety of daybreak and the power of the knife bone night, she was born to please but she is bored with her duty, so she sings a catastrophe and it feels like beauty, and when she moves like a hungry cat you will kill to bring her food, she is the rainbow she is the swamp she is the global mood, I saw her once in a crystal ball as a storm over a city, she is the inspiration of every prophecy of pity, but your appetite says much more than her blank desire, but her coolness is much more like a frozen fire, and your tears are just her favorite drink your sighs the wind in her sails, and in the crucifixion pride she acts the nails, watch her walk down a lonely avenue at sunset, the way the darkness swallows her body your match is made and met.
And you begin to want her, and you begin to love her.
It’s just practicing your fall from grace, chasing mermaids swimming thru light breeding space, she is subtlety and purpose with her Rembrandt face, and your lust is an open wound on which she feeds.
In the light she looks like an angel in the dark she looks like the light, and desire is a fighter and reason is a fight, and the moon’s the only cure inside the curious night, she will give your angles thoughts and forms their deeds.
She delivers desperation in the artifice of a sunset, and you will trust her shadow and plead heresy to regret, she’ll make you feel like a master when your really just a pet, there’s a different world in each eye and you look deep.
She is the honesty of a black rainbow, and you touch the rain and you live the rain and your sick to know, so you hoard the treasure of the thunder’s woe, until you have nothing to give and only temptation to keep.
With earth hurt curves and autumn motion, a desktop mind and a blood letting ocean, tapestry of silence; lips on the bullet, in a god sick fever in creation’s pulpit, asphalt fury; sex bed shame, overtones and whispers and tongue dust fame, nervous art chaos; clock paced thrill, carnival persona undressed to kill.
And you begin to need her, and you think she needs you.

And she looked to me for an answer, but all I have is the endless struggle of maintaining my own confusion.
This is not a struggle for power, it is a struggle for change
There is nothing quite so pleasant or painful as giving up

The New Math

by Michael McGuire

I stood there balking at New Babylon’s gate, collected my thoughts passed thru I’ve got a date, take a deep breath of oxygen and exhaust, it’s hard to believe that one day this will all be lost, man back to matter city’s bones back to dust, when all this acid rain makes the heavens rust, I guess it’s beautiful it might as well be, shining a light directly in your eyes expecting you to see.
It all adds up it all adds up it all adds up to this, fifteen minutes of fame and a sub atomic half ironic bliss.
Got these long questions with these short little answers, media mongoloids and comic book cancers, the infrastructures exoskeleton has gone soft, while architects and politicians respectively sky scraped and scoffed, that guy was a stock broker now he’s an end times preacher, if gods a mathematician the devil must be a math teacher, I need to empty the trash in my head, I cant tell memory from meaning what I shit from what I said.
It all adds up it all adds up it all adds up to this, a bankers daughter’s dimes and a stem cell research implant soul church kiss.
Walking and wondering where do I fit this equation, when does an overtaxed dream become a tax evasion, when your a child the whole world seems a working wonder, till your old enough to see it for it’s plight of plunder, and shapeless shadows of language landscapes draw the city, not even the rain born gutters drain any pity, your born either dumb enough to see the light or smart enough to be confused, but that just dictates the style with which you are abused.
It all adds up it all adds up it all adds up to this, the first thousand digits of pi and a death squad floor sale ground war pell mell piss.
The wrecks that survive main streets ballistic code, watch the buildings breed and the dead end streets erode, when the empty engines of the revolution have been embalmed in rust, these fossilized circuits will double the bandwidth of their lust, meaningless number sets will chart meanings empire, and the dead will be reborn upon this live wire, now I’ve got to find my date somewhere underneath the night, nubile and neon the city’s gradient critique of light.
It all adds up it all adds up it all adds up to this.

Aug. 06


Workings & Wonderings of a Blue Collar Artist


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