POETRY

Somehow Bigger

Salvation is a constellation
a sign in the sky at the change of times
when possibilities meet there imp like companions
the salve that slaves will propel like a baryon
tree through the everglades
alligators are not saved
in multinational escapades
of companies selling the blood of the planet
dam it, dam it, and
turn it, over like an easy,
don’t pretend your not queasy
watching as it rushes from a mile down
monkeys can’t swim that far,
even through you wear the clown
makeup you aren’t fooling me
backing out, like you flipped, it ain’t easy
switch parade in the day of days
when saturation meets the mouth that craves.

Yo, Monkey brain, yo monkey brain
what’chu got rolling behing that curtian
do the plooms reflect your gears turnin

what is this evil butter your churning
that mirrors blood in the water burning?
I’m uncertain, my monkey brain
I’m uncertain, agrees with yours

Cannot satisfy the growing demand
drill as you can, can as you damned
swept like dirt floor on a rainy night
plagues are gentle compared to
what I want to do to you at night
take you dividends to save your friends
there’s no relaxation as you veto zen
theres no salvation when rejection
is your response to the reflection of the stars
on a clear ocean skin, teeming with life
You destroy, with consuming intentions deploy
your wildest inventions
take your conventions and choke on them
take you pretension and joke about it
take your crude oil and soak in it
bath in the pain that you pretend you imagine
feel as they suffer, make torture your companion
don’t worry, eventually your skin will melt away
its not like you have feelings anyway.

Yo, Monkey brain, yo monkey brain
what’chu got rolling behind that curtain
do the plooms reflect your gears turnin

what is this evil butter your churning
that mirrors blood in the water burning?
i’m uncertain, my monkey brain
i’m uncertain, agrees with yours

Intention is a mother bitch
she’d kill for her own on any day
first eyes placate then teeth lacerate
whether your a stranger or relate
shun left on your door step
an unwanted son
pretense and done with you make me sick
watch as you hide behind a false flag
gently tucked in a bed, with truth in a bag
which your willingly withholding
but soon you’ll be folding
and admit the problem is
somehow bigger than your head

But how do we get out of here?
But how do we get out of here?
Some call me a pessimist
I call it a distraction
which is false satisfaction
because the problem is not bigger than our head
no, no
it is our head.