just that

& this

out of respect for the fucking RECORDING ARTIST this board WAS created to celebrate...

a random oy punk lyric without sensible shoes---totally barefooted

it's supposed to be all upright & beautiful but the dbis only speaks in blocks nowadays so's what's usually poem like in stature is just going to be too much inkblot on a 3X5, shapeless, formless, but certainly wordy ..so some should probably just get a move on..

~<>~

More Black Coffee for Breakfast, Please

…Get so unwound & wow! I’m not sure Where it’s at As if to be so laidback & disagree-able Or vast & over my head And so I’ve think so The hip & the damned If only it were true (& you) That we are coming together In this connective tissue Above & beyond the din Of careless revenue pipelines & ruddy-faced radio liars & RF signal permeation To feel the sunshine On our faces again

A lid opened on a guitar Case, Full of Silvertone & an Indian strap, Emits forward unto me A circular space as big as us In shape & form & clarity--- Yet so unobtrusive

There is a greyhound bound for wealth Beyond that of the hoi polloi (common ilk) Born of said sundries just like his dad Cross his path, son, you’re good as had Birthright is a lottery ticket stamped on a forehead One man wear wool coat and walk the halls alone One man walk in packs, salute the boss, & make atonement Boss-man he don’t care what you think He gets his every day, and you sink well There’s an odor on the man who pays retail Has no tax shelter; sweats home details It is the stink of peons & peasantry & the beer joint up the street Boss-man lobbies for the oligarchic priority Know nothing come out o’ the proletariat but drunks & malarkey The rich do get richer while the poor grovel in it heartily Not like anyone’d notice, though, the kid’s got pride

Can smell the green tea in your cup & the Earl Grey in mine, tonight we sup White light round the smooth sound hole Reflects outward into the air we know Advance on song articulations of & from the near silent waves Unto the copper-wound strings & then their vibrations sing Fingers pluck upon the steel A smile makes a comfort zone real Upon your face and then on mine & the time flies comfortably Yet I’ll close the lid Then soon enough…anyway Hide the music away Hide the music away

I want more black coffee for breakfast, please (Oh, but this time…honey sweet & creamy)

Had this day a giving Need to strip down & Naked among my glee, For thoughtful temperament Was inching me toward A soulful thing of which I’ve seen ..& see again ..on into forever-ness

They weigh the measure of his manhood in a day’s work Hold work-a-day conversations with what the ladies call jerks No matter how hard he tries ..it never really gets any better Pay raise is a put-on, more responsibility & no more pay & so the greyhound take more time to make his money work Staking claim to tax shelters on the back of the common shirk It’s always been this way, it’s just that now the man don’t hide it No need to bother, the rules’ve changed, we’re all liars, can’t deny it Those who don’t buy into the status quo are the cheese that stands alone And the lone cheese has a reek like the everyman…but sadder The greyhound can smell him a mile away Colluding all the way to the bank again today It ain’t easy, no it’s never easy Takes…knowhow Birthright. And…a Willingness to compromise One’s ethics effectively

I, semi liquid id (pending stasis)

In flight of seeking, seeing, Wisdom, wishes, & Inventing things Already known to trees & air And all that’s given In response to those, & we, who dance in Cosmic liquids Unseen To eyes

~~