Wonderland Covered In Tar

By Nathan Payne | pablosmoglives | 28 Apr 2021


 

Wonderland Covered In Tar

 

lost

in the weird boiling

brew

of ethereal goo,

the primordial suitcase

of single-celled shirts

and bacterial shoes

 

where stars are mistaken for planes,

madness for brains

stagnation for change

 

where doors

creak open like cricks

where birds fly like bricks

through a plate-glass

sky

shattered & cracked,

we're over-rated & under

attack, attracted precisely

to what makes us sick;

for my next magic

trick,

I'll stick my head in the sand

& fry an egg in the

palm of my

hand

 

we all sit down

to our fictional feast

from the last to the least

from the west to the east,

ordered to cease

& desist,

or is it cyst & deceased?

 

I'll luvya baby,

'til the wind starts to wheeze

'til the flies hate the fleas

'til the sun hates the sea

'til the quarantine-age

refugees

are forced to their knees

in a vacant-lot forest

of itinerant

trees

 

who sees

the arrogant,

self-assured grin?

when the man squeeze the trigger,

does he figure he'll win?

does he count the cost?

does he carry his cross?

does he think he's the boss?

does he know that he's lost?

his soul is demolished!

does he polish his shoes

with the 5 o'clock news?

does he iron his shirts

with terror alerts?

does he know where it hurts?

does he think he can choose?

 

pigs!

you are what we eat

this is no trick or retreat

the word's on the street

you're a jerk

& a joke,

all mirrors & smoke

aloof & elite,

& just when you think you've got us all beat

will be the day that you choke

on the words you excrete

 

you're both below & above

but you're not my beloved

shoved

in the back

by the powers that be,

forced to draw

blood from a honeybee

by another power-tripping wannabe

Angel-of-God,

are you a friend or a fraud?

I was sentenced to death

by admiring

squad

 

sitting under the parachute trees

waiting for the sunshine to freeze, teasing

the birds in their

nest

I sleep with a knife in my chest, infested

with ants & armed to the teeth

I scared off the bones

that were buried

beneath my

bed,

I'll get a job when I'm dead,

I said I'm not leavin' my post!

 

in a former life I was a ghost

 

 

(c) 2007 Nathan Payne

From the album "Vampire Cats:"

 

 

All rights reserved

 

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Nathan Payne
Nathan Payne

I am a songwriter and bandleader who travels the world in search of the golden ticket. http://www.pablosmoglives.com


pablosmoglives
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