The Perfectionist is Listening

the rich are committing suicide

and taking us along with them

the prosthetic limbed b******s

Fort Darwin tottering on fewer stilts

once the Masters of the Universe

presently picking through garbage

looking for an Icarus to pilot

some way back among the clouds

their telepathic goon squads

armed with the hard on of God

squat in the darkness of doorways

lightning strikes all around them

even their telephone poles were clairvoyant

several thousand watts went up my leg

shorting out the only attention span I own

left me perforated but far from lacy

wearing all my masks all the time

fragments of self are selves

in a bulemic deconstruction

where form and content

mud wrestle incessantly for attention

on the crazy train to 3 color 3 finger hell

apparently the ancient gods still rule

in their madhouse heaven

ambivalent petulant flatulent gods

brandishing sword point conversions

wielding gun point perversions

the protagonists the antagonists

fornicators masturbators liquidators

pariahs and unlicensed poets

preaching hellstone and brimfire

now their carcasses are steppingstones

it's psywar out there kids

better find where they hid your dossier

mesmerized of the world unite

you have nothing to lose

but your failed methods of addressing reality

said his slowly twisting tongue

struggling for ratings like any media

the soul cannot erase it can only go sightless

a phantom trapped in melancholy

when we were built to dance

with the twinkling summer stars

he finally learned to undestroy memory

being an ascended master of non sequitur

carried aloft by the wings of Mother Goose

his metabolic hurricane of why

an inferno of intrigue and superstition

our embryo-headed UFO ruling class

have me inside their fence of skulls

an investment in diagram futures

the idiots