Wednesday, April 14, 2010

Journal of Psychoactive Drugs


If your reading this fuck you
go outside!

Having said that, dig it,


Hope Is A Ship (Drew Brees For President)

Hope, at times for me
Is a once-great passenger ship
Breeched and sinking fast

This vessel is one that sees the Mississippi,
Floats on it for a brief period
But has no idea that it's being dominated
By the mighty, muddy beast

In these instances responsibility
Becomes government reports that are long,
Arduous and too thick to be stapled

Many people will die they say,
"200,000 people will be displaced."
This incites the mantra,
Home is where the water is not

The ship that was a home is made of steel
Neither black nor white
Its grey, so grey that it is without true color
It finds itself trapped in the womb of the dense, delta mud

The people;
The brave, the bold, the idiots, waiting for their ship to come
Sit on top of their roofs,
Now islands where they can soak up Indian Summer Sun
For the abandoned, perseverance is a suntan

THE WATER IS RISING PLEAS…

Words spray-painted white on black shingles
The rescuers, government, American people
Are suddenly illiterate

Federal law states:
Energy (money) cannot be created
Nor destroyed
But the ship is gone,
The people are in watery graves
The City is a large crescent with greedy bites taken out of it

6 years later the laws of the universe are disbanded
Ferrel dogs rule the day
And love is never having to say you care


Who Among the Argentinians

For now I am under a New Jersey Sky
Who among the Argentinians can say this isn't
a beautiful thing?

All things being equal, I am flat on my
back, legs straight, hands folded on my chest
which makes me little more than a
body at morgue

Yet this immortal sky
and the roof that I lay on
Is alive with other skies
and roofs and me and you
and roofs,
time and women
and music
That is… if everything is just so;

The stars are no longer fixed points
but glowing sperm against a backdrop of
soupy liquid
an unexplained transient black

When things go beyond description they become hallowed
One can see this in
Sleep, or the works of
Geoffrey Chaucer,
A Jersey Sky, or
You