Cannon on the conservative mine
The conservative mind gives me indigestion
with the insanity & inanity (& Rush & Combs & Hannety)
of processed good and food
whose very ingestion
Begs the question
Of geometry of laws & santa claus & all other image without substance
personified in the pres
against all odds & the constitution
thou shalt not impugn the motives nor impinge the pocket puppet of the profit
nor blame the mainframe market game linesdrawn fairnsquare
unaware just like city blocks in a bucket of rocks
o thou logic based life form
shalt not argue vs the economics that support & transport you
nor go where others fear to break their daily dread
even microbial communication est verboten
in the expanding universe of supersized brains
whose balloon people with the little dots zoomin away at C squared
are automatically unawared
until the poison gas of processed food escapes
allowing them to return to normal non entropic non segregated
non aparteid wide neuron size wide eyes terror I-zed
legitimized
be in
the world as the law says it is
give in
man
what a way to make a
live in
the conservative mind the conservative mind
its silence runs deep
disturbs my sleep
hold on it says hold on
to every loan and line and lawn and yawn drawn
with all due respect sir, my friend
while meaning just the opposite
(as one Bob Dylan
said O so much
bullshit!)
in our rules for fools private club dues
gas guzzlers & all too inhuman Bar Bie
ques o be silent
if thou canst not be joyful poet at least somebody
thinks they’re having fun
with Blair & Bush’s snotty
VAL
YOUS their knotty naughty CIVIL
LIE
ZA
SHUN
O government of conservative intent
Why dost so irritate me
When pitchin thy bitchin abstract tent
Over our decalogues, gas logs, yappy little dogs
Ice cream dreams with unconscious screams
Of perfect harmony
don't be rude eatcher poison high tech food
Allow us this quarterly earnings report, a little
Sport, and every abstract quantity
Come to comprise everything meant
By the word ME
& all that is cute
that makes the enemy want to puke
allow us to safely age & turn the page
and the corner from seekers to
dogmatists who make lists
and trysts, clench minds & fists, speak
like fate in simple twists, let us
forget us enough to draw the line
as the line draws us, when expedient throw
parties or our erstwhile
political cronies under the bus
from that first kiss the broken ness
justice clashes to ashes to
de gustibus
The conservative mine the conservative mine
Which season nor reason hath yet to confine
So many nites
The red lites of the radio towers
See how they go neither fast nor slow
Outside my bedroom window
For twenty years
Of uncried tears
Of winken blinken & nod
Indecipherable messages from a mechanical god
A silent drum
The same dumb
Aortic rhythm
O isn’t it time
We broke the code of MINE
Looked aft down the shaft
For smatterins of patterins
You will fit the old mold or be destroyed
Or terminally annoyed
Blink blink blink
I lie here hypnotized
By my metronome shrink
Turning magma to the fog of dogma
Watching each mind and its peculiar ways
Jealousies and fallacies
days and days
Of holding on to MINE
Just draw the line
And so long mom
I’m off to the war
With my guitar
Everything’s excused analogized unpathologized sanitized
Torture is just college hazing
Wink wink wink
The red lights blink
I think I need a drink
Something to curb the aggressive urge
which reason nor season hath yet confined
O it’s dark as the dungeon
Way down in our conservative MINE
o poet bleat not beat not
thy bloody head against the bloody wall
of idiots she loves me nots
and uptight snots
But the conservative mind torments me
Still against my will
With its holdings of squares unawares
with every law & lawn always good
for an impoundment
or confoundment
in its nice warm
abstract tent
With every line & loan & lawn & yawn drawn
Against nature and the night
Which comes anyway with its own dark ideas
Of right & might
Whose holes & absences
Are the only places
We have ever seen the light
private investigations
a log of private investigations into loss, absurdity, and death as a part of life, as seen from the big time and the big self of childhood, before we knew so much we stopped wondering, before the banality gang got to us and told us how to be chained to our daily selves. The investigations are conducted by Joe Potatoes because he has a lot of private eyes and they’re all on the ground.
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