Full Moon Rising
I’m a mad toad on a lily pad. A tiger caged for the delight of a strange future’s children. A decimal point at the tail end of infinity. A war child born into the slavery.
Advocates of hope are stooges. You want specifics? Well here, put this in your pipe and smoke it. Unhook your buckle-up-for-safety mindset and step out on the porch so I can see your pale vacant eyes.
Take a hard look at what you think needs fixing. A harder look at your scheme for fixing it. George Carlin didn’t think he was funny, so why do you? Why give a standing ovation to someone who calls you a sheep? You’re the porcelain receptacle of the shit Carlin talked about, still laughing but a little nervous now that they foreclosed on your mortgage.
These are not the hard cold facts, this is the rebirth of original sin. Say a Hail Mary or two. Unleash a mea culpa. Do something Jewish or Islamic, skyrocket into the Zen-Buddhist Void, slumber thru the American Dream. We’re solidified in perpetual shame.
There will come a day of reckoning that will bear no resemblance to rapture. Don’t take my word for it, wait until the moon is full and the tide rises.