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Brinesanity – an abide jar, filled with all the fuqs given.

By

Here, the reign.

You hear the train a comin’
Just round the bend,
You know you won’t be sleeping,
When the IRS steps in.
Stuck in Fulsom Fed,
Euros or fine Yen.
But these papers keeps a-rollin’,
Down to Variance.

When I was just a new curd,
My Momma told me, “Feta,
Abide as a good cheese,
Don’t ever play with olives,”
But I shot a man in Athens,
Just cause I heard ‘em lie.
Since I hear that thistle howlin’,
Gus’s alibi.

I get there’s rich folks cheatin’,
Prestige kontiki bars,
Probably dunkin’ choda,
Troughin’ meat cigars.
But I know they had it comin’,
I know they can’t be me.
Still those people keep a-cheatin’,
It’s what tortures thee.

Greed freed me from a prison,
Road tracks made of brine,
So I check bet just a Skittle,
Satan shoves all in. Blind.
Leavin’ Fulsom Fed,
Got my papers today.
Said abide’s not a lonesome whistle,
It blows their blues away.

*abide*

 

By

Into the Void

Rocket engines burning fuel so fast
Up into the night sky they blast
Through the universe the engines whine
Could it be the end of man and time
Back on earth the flame of life burns low
Everywhere is misery and woe
Pollution kills the air, the land and sea
Man prepares to meet his destiny

Rocket engines burning fuel so fast
Up into the night sky so vast
Burning metal through the atmosphere
Earth remains in worry, hate and fear
With the hateful battles raging on
rockets flying to the glowing sun
Through the empires of eternal void
Freedom from the final suicide

Freedom fighters sent out to the sun
escape from brainwashed minds and pollution.
Leave the earth to all its sin and hate
find another world where freedom waits.
Past the stars in fields of ancient void
Through the shields of darkness where they find
Love upon a land a world unknown
where the sons of freedom make their home

Leave the earth to Satan and his slaves
leave them to their future in the grave
Make a home where love is there to stay
July 21, 1971

The fury to be cut into a mask, is made from leadership. Today, the masks are digital impressions and accomplishments masked by hard drive walls.

The paths are etched not by the soul that took it on a journey as great as the void it crossed, but by the tips of something calling for a wanton attention in the mass metallic hysteria of today. The need to generate more grunge with a new rebellious atmosphere that seems to want to forget the past, and not embrace the historic epitaph of walking legends.

There is too much going on they say, I have to remain connected to today, where the relevance is deemed necessary by the media lollipop I want to suck on.

I can’t break free, and do my own thing – that might separate me from the school.

That would be bad.

As a sardine, my sea of brine is made of brainwashed pollution.

If I get too close to the sun, I will be burned to a crisp.

Besides, i want to join some of my cousins, the lemmings for the moon walk anniversary. They are giving away hot dogs that have some kind of magic on them. If you lick them first, before you eat them, you get to see bright, vivid hallucinations of social grandeur.

A land where tales wag the tides.

The tides, move you.

If you are lucky you will find, behind this void – a gulch.

There will be no fuq given for you in that way, but that which you give.

Buy the ticket, take the ride and then...just...

*abide*