Slitting my own throat might be easier than saying what is on my mind
Tears sit behind my eyelids ready and waiting
Bleeding out my dreams like a hunter’s prize
Generational trauma can eventually be broken
If we just stop reproducing in the first place
The earth prays for this on its knees every night
Moral development is a process and apparently it isn’t linear
We are here in the maze with no map
Pages are missing in the manual
Unlawful disorder ends up in shambles
Take a country and use it like an etch a sketch
Shake out the pockets of the pirates hoarding gold
History repeats itself aggressively
Fight back with a darning needle and denim patches
The revolution will be repeated as many times as needed
Listen to the words of buddha when he tells you life is suffering
Nirvana will come in the dark of night
Carrying emotional bags of acceptance
Politics are no world for those with a beating heart
A pulse isn’t what keeps you alive
Having goodwill isn’t enough to change the world
How many times the woodpecker beats his head upon my skull
Wooden and hollow like the nickels from my grandpa
Troy had nothing on the nickels of today
Stubbornness is usually considered a flaw
But persistence is not futile
Knock harder on the doors of your inner demons
Is the anguish bright yellow or is it a gash of garnet gemstones
Are we wearing sunblock even in the dark
Keep the devil at bay with bananas and coconuts
Tapping fingers make no sound in the vacuum of human ego
Black holes of Narnian capacity
The human race opens every door just hoping for an escape
Fascist regimes in authoritative mini skirts
Complicating things further than computations and permutations
Is it winning when goliath falls even if he crushes david
Asking you questions like the bathroom mirror
If you fix the dripping faucet maybe the tears will slow
But my father wasn’t a plumber and neither am I
Standing knee deep in donkey droppings
Wading hip deep in elephant shit
Either way we are composting all this why waste it
The garden will be good this year
Eating salads and the rich like they are going out of style
When in truth only one of those is waning
Bouquets of budding rebellion laid on the gravestones of capitalism
My mother taught me how to protest by rolling joints in school
Peace is a form of anarchy and best performed when high
Running up the steps of justice and tripping isn’t an option
Every first timer deserves a babysitter well versed in dimensional awareness
How many tabs of acid does it take to get to the center of your soul
Owls and bones and crunching gravel
Driving away my sanity like Miss Daisy on cable tv at 3 am
Help me save myself from drowning
All I ask is that you hear me.
