Cow Tipping For The Mentally Unstable

Everything feels so bent
Out of shape
(what was it to begin with?
Circle,
Square,
Something simple to define?
Was it anything at all
Before it became what we were longing to see?
Anything concrete...anything simple.
What we wanted was something to say
"This is this and nothing else
Has been and always will be
Forever and ever Amen")

Look into a mirror only to fall
Into the trap called ultimate truth
That there never has been anything there
To define you in the first place
Except what we were told to see.

And what is it that we want to be?
You and me or something that
looks and feels and speaks like they
dictate.
You say you long for freedom
Revolution
Yet you can't even begin with yourself,
How could you ever change anyone else?
(Take another look at the
Crumbling cookie with intangible pieces
Floating inside a glass filled with our favorite
Poison
This is what they call truth and living,
Throwing your hands in the air,
Letting them create who you are and how you
Came to be
Giving them the power to chose your destiny)'

We have always been
Relinquishing ourselves to the greater authority,
Whether we want to admit so or not.
Believing anything you are told without
Second thought or question.
It's the easiest path there seems to be,
Who would ever want to question
If there is even a path at all?
(Crazy ones locked up tight
Schizophrenia is contagious they say
Delusions made of a wandering (cancerous) mind,
Who would want to live in such a place
Except of course the diseased?)

What they consider normal thought has always been
The safe way for sheep to sleep and dream
It costs less to decieve rather than eradicate
Even though it may seem easier to murder than medicate.

Farmers need cattle to have beef.

There are better ways to murder a generation
Without guns or expensive explosions.
Let them lose themselves in pharamacology,
Make them believe that by shutting themselves down
They somehow have the upper hand,
('They'll never catch me,
I'm high on life and too fast for the man',
all the while you have one foot placed inside your own grave
And they don't even have to wonder if they will have to give you
a helping nudge)

After you are buried they will
Post your picture over the evening news
Your life and death will be yet another tool.
You, the poster perfect image of wasted youth,
You, another reminder for the masses,
Unknowingly you played right into their plot,
Despite warnings and ringing bells inside your head,
You knew something wasn't right with the life you were leading,
But who knew that they would use you even after you're dead.
Who knew it was you helping them win another hand.
(They need fatter cattle, unquestioning bovines,
How does it feel to help the system that you hated in the first place,
By merely poisoning yourself into oblivion?)

You had your chance to fight,
To dig yourself from a downward spiral and open your eyes,
But this darkness is so enchanting and simple,
'Who wants to think about war at a time like this?
Let me stay here for awhile,
Hypnotized by my sweet unconcious'
Meanwhile your farmers remain amazed
At their well oiled machine,
The one that separates the fat and loyal,
From their supposed enemies
(Could have been,
Should have been,
This war is going unnnoticed by the masses,
Blame it on the violence (the kind they breed into us)
Blame it on the drugs (the ones that they feed us)
Blame it on anything but your misconceptions,
Who would want to admit that they are wielding the weapons
Indirectly murdering their own kind?)


"We'll get them to kill themselves and each other,
What an utterly simple plan!
And of course we'll be there with so called 'concern'
to pick up the shattered pieces of parents and friends
Welcome them back into the herd,
That is until the cycle decides
to begin again.
We'll feed them our perception of reality,
The only kind we can control,
We are the monarchs of their minds..

Until we learn how to control Heaven
We'll at least be kings here in Hell"

---this paranoid poem brought to you by the number 8...

Reviews

[Ronn Michael Salinas]

yeah see when you know a secret, you tend to become greedy with it. like finding out a formula and deliberately exploiting it... but "number 8"?