The simplest fact that certain folk will eternally tow the party line for sake of bemused familiarity just breaks me in two, anymore, as I stand here adjusting the chain tensioner on my commercial grade Shindaiwa chainsaw.  Good thing nobody’s a liberal or a conservative if they’re not insane and torn right in two by might makes right and aren’t ya glad we put your heads well up your ass way back then…when the need to separate gov from the people became heir apparent as a means of wealth & power unchecked by the likes of benevolent thinking individuals, scholarly sorts, & forward thinking skilled laborers with exact measurements & straight lines on their minds during the week and ale or lager & the yard tractor or the air compressor or a mitt, a baseball & a son on their minds for the weekend, or folks like me…who are labeled liberal by the fcknutted factioner who doesn’t know the moment of birth of an offspring & the ensuing years of pre-adolescence ~ the cosmic balancer of tides beyond the paradox by bloody birthright & spite & malice of forethought, so-called conservative, morose mindset. 

I like your music but I’ve never liked your views.  …hahahahahahahahahahahahaahhehehehehehehheeheheh..., GOOD-GRIEF GRIMACE SHUDDER TO……..SHEEZ! 

Get a soul of your own, a guitar of your own, Bob Roberts, and go get on with your bitter song & dance somewhere else…because your argument for sake of argument builds nada right quickly on all shorelines it touches and diminishes with great squalid zeal & even zeitgeist & screechy treble.

Far “left”, like far “right”, is our hell on earth tonight, …the farther you go, the more hellish you make every peripheral in your midst, the closer we come to annihilation or just simply mathematical boredom and the casting of a caste system by psycho casting directors with bloodlines thinned, as their hairlines are thinning, for so damn far back its scary to think of the innocence destroyed for sake o gold & silver @ the hands of the red-eyed dogs and their moot damned Vogons, Zarkin Freuds!

Who would not lend the plantationers their right to scrap for dominant wealth supreme?  Who would not  lend the wildcatters & the railroaders/ranchers/bankers their dominant wealth supreme?  Who would not lend the studio-mansion film-makers and the networks their dominant wealth supreme?  Who would not offer those who still spend Hitler’s gold & harbor, still, notions of subjugation their dominant wealth supreme?  Or the Sheiks or the Clerics or the Emperors or the Papal & ‘is Holy Ghost their dominant wealth supreme?  You name ‘em and who would not lend them your future children?  Hey, especially when they aren’t likely to make good on their debts, unregulatedly-so shown that all-time has proven this with little doubt. 

& for this reason, like our good GMountain (…although not necessarily definitively…because nobody can really know exactly what’s going down inside another), we can opt to make divinity scapegoat to the rape & pillager’s grandiose finale and kiss this earthly plane glad goodbye, in our minds, as we visit upon notions of the threshold oh the Pearly Gates;  …or we can opt to steady the shoal and shed the Guignol theatre of our souls with every hope and begin to build, not a bridge across the fackin Bering Strait…nutlamps, …but a bridge from here to……..

        ……..        ……..        ……..        ……..

…you know what?  Fckit.  I’m done.  Alcohol-soft middle age has finally come; fought it tooth and nail but now I have one less tooth and nails chewed down to the string mallet calluses. The fork is in me….  As of now I’m dropped out.  Goose is cooked.  Take you’re war & shove it  …In the hands we’re in…we really are more likely fcked than not.  You know it too.  If moot & enmity MUST have their wagon … & their mighty opposition is wealth & power unchecked by the very divinity they tout within their own ranks…, then there is no room for humanity anymore. …maybe some time to write our end songs and play them on lawns or find a welcome stage…and bone-up on notions of universal language while offering sage wisdoms born of effort & pain to our progeny for sake of what is left to call their oyster (maybe days, maybe another sullen century) …in the coming Spring rains.  The answers are run-dry, …all that’s left is black & white….& red all over & you know  it could’ve been different lovable & groovy buoyant sister to the mindful several who gather ‘round a good firesong.  Just too damn tired of the rhetoric anymore….  Been listening to the screams and to those who listen to the screams and to those who form with others who listen and do, …& the lines are met with gravely slow deaths in committee…as they apparently always have in recent pasts.

Go ahead and hate your neighbor, Dale, go ahead and cheat a friend; do it in the name of heaven, brother, you can justify it in the end….  There won’t be any trumpets blowin come the judgment day, on the bloody morning after…one tin soldier rides away……………

G’nite sunshine.

My grave is a toilet, …was once a sacred grove

where the water met the land.

I’m goin home.