2003-09-03 - 11:27 p.m.
none of us are heroes
isolated in this meet
from the Ghandis to the Neros
every man feels incomplete
this convergence
this insurgence
this ornate recalcitrance
is stripped away
in this brigade
of love and hate's survivor dance
something's missing
in her kissing
still she dreams about romance
as the troopers storm the gates
and create a circumstance
where she won't go out on dates
even if she has the chance
and the men become like women
shave their nads and scratch their nubs
as the horse bridals are swimmin'
in their vagasils and rubs
snorting aerosolic mists that like inhalants fill the lungs
of the victims and assailants who then pass it to their young
and it's really quite egregious
and we circumvent the lies
but we're trapped inside our cages
as we start to realize
none of us our heroes
we're all in it for ourselves
and when it comes to zeroes
Happy Buddhas eat their elves
hungry mothers eat their children
when such famine hits the land
saying, "nothing here to fill them,
might as well eat contraband"
so we gamble for alliances
and stumble arm and arm
till we sample the defiances
toward what could do most harm
imagining the richter scale
of seismographic lust
and put our bodies up for sale
to take in all we must
and it leads to less than honorable
distortions of the trust
that once frequented the conquerable
and led us to this bust
looking bleakly at the thunder
and the ambiance of life
almost weekly you have wondered
if it's renassiance or knife
as a crowd gathers around you
in the casket where you lay
and the proud rather confound you
"you're a basketcase" they say
you've no idea how bad it gets
before the race rats eat your toes
so go with God before he lets
you cause your own self-made war woes
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