(One Hundred Minus Ninety Equals) Ten Jetpacks for the Lonely

 

1. And so, another top heavy day within the sworn to camp enemies of a purely human

musical swamp, who want only to own the essences of that ancient

sweet fragrance, like all the others, and sell it back

to us at a tidy profit, which will more than likely only

leave us soulless in the end and unable to feel

anything really wild to the touch without a machine's terribly cold sterilized

influence on our pacified psyches. 2. I played my daughter's guitar today

until my fingers were split open and bleeding, sliding on

the blue wires like penguins on their blubbery punched out

pot bellies, all of which makes me smile in spite

of the thin cutting pain I'm still feeling. 3. I don't even have to

 

try to bring it out of myself. Do you even understand how this miracle child of God and man means to speak to you from right where you are sitting alone right this lousy minute?

4.  Smiling at the simple trust given a  new sweet twang place dumped 

upon the world's own lapping sound just between me and this cheap little 

guitar, it just happens, all quite naturally I might add. 5. It manifests itself like the

always going to be around to pick up the pieces if we let it 

kind of free fun we always seem to somehow have going for us as a non musical group of ultimately friendly souls in the universe. 6. But  those Nasty hordes will 

continue to gather in their lame bigotry halls like Elizabethan puppets on steroids.

Painted piss-stiff as any papermache parade. As pompous as exaggerated

porcelain jaguars leaping off of a mantled marbled fireplace onto the

imposing rug soaked floors of a menacing mansion in Beverly.

7. They gather around their hypocritical racisms like moaning zombies trapped in

 

an abandoned barn with the doors stained shut by another landed 

boatload of rusted locks and twisted iron bars. 8. They revel in

their stupid sexism like juvenile pranksters lost in an overstuffed toy department store 

way after the closing hour bell has tolled and gone crawling back to sleep. They rampage. They steal. They

break. Nothing brings them any real sense of joy until the police come. 9. They

kill as a matter of every day praise. They consider

it the highest form of fact and worship in the

ever more dangerous universe of time. They think they know God needs some tough love protection

from Himself. He knows not what He is doing. Nothing

equals the all mighty wishing for hell coursing through your manic & manipulated

veins twenty-four/seven,man. Join your familial friends in battle or die in

 

the crumbling ruins of civilization like the millions of other spoiled to death

rats. They know of no living rainbows that can ever interpret the

language of barbarians into good old fashioned solid English for them. They've heard of

no useless flower gardens worth holding up a spanking new command

of angry bombs for. And just because you say you

love someone in the here and now doesn't mean they

should be kept alive out of mercy. Compassion is a

curse that puts us all at a disadvantage in the

laws of the burning world's jungle beast like jaws. 10. Breaks my best smile down to a mere flat line dear friends. Because they are

the very same life as us leering out at us from inside their

flesh-colored combat suits like mutant hermit crabs. Children of various sizes.

 

of various stories. of various lumps on the head. of

different depths in the same ocean. We're all walking around in

a room where the walls are made from invisible spoons of water. All

this does is state the obvious, which if you want

it, you can have it. Because you're already there. And

I'm already here. And they're already here. Unless we make

a certain kind of peace with the shark infested water it will

drown us without remorse. But again that's only if we

make no effort to preserve the balances that keep our

beautiful blue ball floating along its ring tone path right where it is. So music

is a reminder I'm reminded of today. There are plenty of others I'm told.

Perhaps you are one. You and you. And you.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Bonus works:

 

 

 

 

The Light and the Cracks