Banjo (add some bpm and a drum machine and we've got ourselves a motherfucking hoedown, but for now, slow it up)

One tick for every tack of a rain drop on my back.

Let's do it nice and well with a bell on every tail.

No one likes a ring a roses hanging round their neck

when the rest of the band has gone and sold in Eiffel tech.

I hope you liked the banners
'cause they're goin' all away.
To their foot lockers,
shopping bags,
and boxes full of nuts.

Some people like to ask and shout for
"who's got the guts,"
truth is,
you mu tha fukka,
already know whose won.

I learned on Miami FM
hate can be fun but the real deal
is running 100 minutes out to work
and having a homeless gent
drop a log on your shoes with a smirk.

I don't like cities and
ya know I don't take to jerks.
Every house should have a back door
to walk out when the grass is high
and the sun is low.

If you want to, you can swim
between the daisies and 'lions
with your body in tow.

A little bit of barge
with a little bit of speed.
Giving the rest of your body
whatever it needs.

As long as the console is right
so will go the rest 'the machine.

The only split bag of grapes that will make the day better

is the sun deciding to hide its face and crack open the weather.

I never complain too hard because the days get a little long.

Every body will learn to change and, hell, never bet on "never."

The Book of Shadows

"They will come
six, times the day, of our Lord's descent
on this world and man will know
suffering beyond every war waged
upon the soil,
folded upon the rising blade
of his own heart, supports.

Billions upon billions of bodies will be lain, bricks
to walls left empty;
the ground swollen will burp
fleck mossy stones blood blackened with
aquifers soaked beyond their ability
to hide atrocity
while the living tread above.

They will come, six days
after our Lord's descent into the lust
to free this earth of the Antichrist.
The second and third halves of our trinity.
Our mediator, busied with petty violence,
will loose his brothers and their kin.
His victory will be won.  
We are lost."

Her Cadet is Restless

It will be your time soon


Beneath stars and clouds


And a bibbed cow slipping


Round the moon at warp two.


Rest your sleepy head


Upon your bombardiers balled scarf,


Thrupping propellers


Before your closed eyes,


Corkscrewing kite tails


Between mountains of white.


Blue higher above


And below? Fires belching night.


Astride that red checkered


Silver finned bolt,


Tea cups clink and Jessie moos.


"the tea is fine and the evening chill,


Have you seen my honey, the spoon?"


You sup and sigh that it's alright


if she spends tonight in your room.


Way up here beyond the sky,


The moon, approaching the asteroid dark,


No one can find where you lay your head,


The wars rage on, a world apart.


So high up here


Cool milk with a little sugar


Is ready for you when your rocket ship touches down.


Fluff your blankets and your pillows


And go back when you're able.


The galaxy arms you rest in


Will keep the beasties away.


Off to dreams with you


My darling, sleep sound.

Bent Nail Puzzle

I do believe
folks are born with a pole.
A single pole.

I do believe
folks are born with a pole.
Two of them.

I do believe
folks are born with poles
sometimes two.

I do believe
with two poles

the only thing
that can keep us together

will be fury
on a scale

somewhere near
the all spectrum scream
of quantum mechanics breaking down.