Country Stonk (©2016)
I am bringing nothing to the table.
There's a hole in the think tank.
It's that ol' time Cain and Abel,
fiction digits in the bank.
There is gold in them there coffers
and food enough for all.
Some born to crawl the gutter,
others in their lap it falls.
Too many wasted brainstorms
'n hurricanes of hate.
Gene pools 're splitting platforms,
fences where there used to be gates.
Can't go down that liberty road!
Why not? Ah, just because.
Desist your pointless protest
while I ignore that article sixth clause.
Turn that other cheek.
Don't forget to give.
Rewards for the meek.
Others need to live.
Must I accept these poultry offerings;
clipped wings and breasts and legs?
Eat the shit put afore me,
these tasteless unfertilized eggs?
Those hens are good for rearing-
Them cocks in the chute!
Where were those wise ol' owls 'a perching
when we needed a hoot?!
Old power of suggestion
"Some people are saying"
Noetic indigestion
has always been a thing.
This inter-personal media
givin' everyone a voice.
Turn on, tune in, drop out, ignore.
You've always got a choice.
Once elevated
any way from the pack.
There's no way to ever...
go back!
We're looking out to spaceward,
some swear that DMT
is proof of an another world
extra terror stir real trees.
(We're) definitely tissimal
Open 'n wild 'n Free.
Calculating decimals
in fractal odious seas.
Some say that they're delusional
Others; "Hey! Count me in".
Quarreling on the wherewithal
of laws that determine
the definites of right and wrong;
a justice meant for all,
no pantateuch or latin ev'nsong:
wailing in Saint Pauls.
We arc from the enlightenment;
sparking the justice hall.
Champion innovations
that give a chance, not a free pass,
for all.
©2016 John T. Windle/Vaudeville John
I am bringing nothing to the table.
There's a hole in the think tank.
It's that ol' time Cain and Abel,
fiction digits in the bank.
There is gold in them there coffers
and food enough for all.
Some born to crawl the gutter,
others in their lap it falls.
Too many wasted brainstorms
'n hurricanes of hate.
Gene pools 're splitting platforms,
fences where there used to be gates.
Can't go down that liberty road!
Why not? Ah, just because.
Desist your pointless protest
while I ignore that article sixth clause.
Turn that other cheek.
Don't forget to give.
Rewards for the meek.
Others need to live.
Must I accept these poultry offerings;
clipped wings and breasts and legs?
Eat the shit put afore me,
these tasteless unfertilized eggs?
Those hens are good for rearing-
Them cocks in the chute!
Where were those wise ol' owls 'a perching
when we needed a hoot?!
Old power of suggestion
"Some people are saying"
Noetic indigestion
has always been a thing.
This inter-personal media
givin' everyone a voice.
Turn on, tune in, drop out, ignore.
You've always got a choice.
Once elevated
any way from the pack.
There's no way to ever...
go back!
We're looking out to spaceward,
some swear that DMT
is proof of an another world
extra terror stir real trees.
(We're) definitely tissimal
Open 'n wild 'n Free.
Calculating decimals
in fractal odious seas.
Some say that they're delusional
Others; "Hey! Count me in".
Quarreling on the wherewithal
of laws that determine
the definites of right and wrong;
a justice meant for all,
no pantateuch or latin ev'nsong:
wailing in Saint Pauls.
We arc from the enlightenment;
sparking the justice hall.
Champion innovations
that give a chance, not a free pass,
for all.
©2016 John T. Windle/Vaudeville John
