Honey let the record play
the’ve got a lot of shit to say
I hear it in their voices but
can’t hear it in their phrase

I swear there’s meaning there, profound
though none of it has yet been found
we shouldn’t let that stop us
Listen on through the malaise

or second thought, let’s turn it off
We’ve better ways
to waste our days

than listening to another folk guitarist-hack

drag drag drag drag drag
lean head back blow through it, man
keep your feet off grass

I suppose that I’m not crazy
But If I am I hope that you
will take time from your busy day
and try to help me make it through

to a point where I’ll recuperate
or at least one where I’ll understand
the truth of my malignant fate:
my life was written in the sand

My only hope, to wonder now
to cling to my failing cognizance
I’ll take the time to take a bow
and settle for indifference
But as your needle stabs me through
I wonder how this all makes sense

You walk past the solid lines, saying
‘Come what may.’
So, when the universe cuts us into puzzle pieces
Don’t go around asking for the bigger picture.

When darkness unfolds and tidies up the sky
only few dead stars will be left shining
So, don’t go around asking yourself,
’wasn’t I born exactly like the best of them ?’

There maybe something greater at work
Something bigger than our bond
Something loveless and eternal feeding on our
Disillusionment.

you make me shout
you make me scream
you make me want
to do horrible things
to shake you up
and make you see
how stupid and horrible
you are to me
and how you deserve
above all things
to be my first victim
of ripped out spleen
and next your heart
and then your brain
which i will leave lying
in the acid rain
as a way of improving
upon its current use.

Fight the power
fight them fight the
power and just maybe
you can win but first
you have to fight
the power or you
can choose not to
fight the power but
either way the
power will fight you.

Even the luckiest
Friday the Thirteenth
ends with a broken
Windshield.

multiply these cells
fire failing synapses
help me pump this blood
allow weak lungs to sing life
i need thee every hour.

Winding down with a
cold glass of milk and a
hand full of chips that have
fallen on the floor and a
cookie for desert
and the Tonight show on the
Television.

Shut The Fuck Up Leno.

*click*

(This marks the 1,000th post on The Sieve and The Sand.)

inborn function
provision unction
conjunction junction
its true what they say you know
you cant just go around
creating and recreating
and rerecreating new wordsies
people notice
fight back and
disappreciate your fine arts

Don’t eat the peanuts
unless you’ve got an iron gullet
or don’t fear death
or at least Salmonella.

You know,
Turtles have Salmonella on their
shells,
but they do just fine as turtles.

And anyway, Salmonella is just a
Virus.

Do you know how small a
Virus is?

though short lived
thou wert nice
and a brief glimpse
of the freedom
that couldest be,
glimpsed from afar
from my pseudo-job

maybe i’m weird because
i don’t believe in stories
or i’m probably a complicated
asshole or something worse
and if i had all the money
you know good god i’d spend it
and ride some epic binges
all the way into a herse
i think you can point fingers
and throw mud on the canvas
keep sticking your ideas
in the sky made of brick
but i intend to be open
fields of green and digging
at the truth beneath all
of you institutionalists

soon the end will come
and then where will we be
when all of the boasting
and all of the toasting
has reached the end
forevernevermore
and never comes again
forevernevermore