Thursday, December 06, 2007

I sit here with mad head a buzzing like a lark on Saturday. Dammit, no, not like a lark on Saturday, but on Monday, when his head is full of whiskey and the future asmatter with gloom, with doom, with 5 dollar hamburgers that taste like 3 day old cheese. There will be no control, no comeuppance, no one will get their just desserts, only their due diligence, and then some, they’ll be under the thumb and smashed by the glove, it’s a day I pray against and guard the door in wary eye for, knowing that one day soon brutha anti-love is going to be knocking down my door and professing a new religion one of a boot in the neck and face in the ashes. It’s one that I’m hoping to avoid, so I gets in my hovercraft, but mofo ain’t fast enough, can’t outrace the man teamed up with the other man, and when they got a plan? Something to root out the love and germinate hate seeds on the planes of your local neighborhood and dairy? Well, shit, then the shinola’s what been tethered to the barn and fully taken advantage of, which of course ain’t cool, and then likewise obviously what you can’t do shit or come hella highwater to knock it down or out, but it’s impotent, it can’t respond, there’s nothing left to do but acceptance of a new condensation, an updated list or rules, and aggamemnon or Solomon or not none of those fools is gonna suddenly come through with a magic whistle, don’t believe that shit for a second.