Funny that you'd finish that stanza, as I have been noticing some cryptic sorts of things creeping into my writings, and I think that reading your stuff has something to do with it. I have been trying to be less literal for awhile and it is beginning to take hold.

Yarr, that is just naturally the way that i have put words together for longer than i can remember. I like having to do a little work to get a meaning out of things. Or rather, i like making someone else have to do a little work to get meanings out of things.

What is funny with a lot of the nonsense i write, is that i do usually have VERY specific meanings for things. And i am so used to thinking this way, that i often think that i am being way too obvious with the angles.

But really, even when i think i am being clear with meanings, i am usually being way obtuse.

I can usually pick out what's going on, other times I am like "Okay, I fucking give up."

Deflection timing, a game of bounces and bankshots.

A slingshot town in a catapult place
spitting wadded up notebook bits here
but receiving cruise missile exchange.

No, your bendy stripe straw won't do the trick
and no i don't think you could say enlightened, holding only the wick.
I don't know why you are surprised that they all caught on so quick
while you been huffing plague air but you still can't quite get sick.

The same old ounces and inkblots
the mind games and we old have nots
they split our space into blank plots
while our biggest fear remains bloodclots.

Age of the empty was forecast
but the folks around here don't expect it to last
some perspectives even label it already long passed
but don't ever believe you'll be rid of it that fast.

But no there was no trouble and no cracks here
Its just a bunch of black swans and some oddball years
We all catch whatever frequency we all want to hear
Everyone just keep pushing, sure, but nobody steer.

Just another blank mob
seeking wisdom.

Frictionless some sliding traction
a mountain slipper, the low-laid faction
The splinter switched off a board mind
We were seeking so hard as to obscure finds
The spires we worshiped at were twist sharp
Missed they were drills with all that loud harp
They must have figured heaven would be on lockdown
and seem to have prepared a sort of kind of work 'round

Just another bank job
on a long list of.

The fleeing era, a plague time
or was it tiny insects run
A flavor of harvests, of opportunists
of parasites
A filth fixation.

Time could not rinse it off with human fluids
We were fine 'til it talked, 'til it stood, 'til it ruined
A wishbone split in a wrongbent way
The wires tripped and the ankles swayed
The place presented seemed a fakewalls sort
A real longbow but a sofa fort.

And they feigned surprise but they sure showed retort.
You know, i am not so sure that i quite like this sport.

We fell asleep with the Food Network on the other day. I vaguely picked up something along these lines:

Convalescent fish sauce
Sixty-five million years ago
Fold the beef
Prairie arse

and figured those qualify as nonsense lyrics. I remember there being another phrase, but I was half-conscious.

More madness courtesy of the Food Network and a loud AC unit:

Those eyeballs
a souvenir from Germany
ground sloths
shit, I'm in my tent

Crying wolf from the jaws of domesticated dogs
Mocking the ones who fell from the bottom of a well


My skull screams your praises, a sweet song sung flat
I cringe in delight and I leak brightness, losing it
Sprawl my shadow out on the ground
The wearing sands of time do not make rough edges round


If this is the life, how can care you bear to live?
This culture is disgusting and gushing with insincerity
Worshipped for our willingness to defy decency
There is nothing edgy or impressive about your brand of bullshit

To the tune of the Largo from Dvorak's Symphony no. 9 "From The New World":

Trouserbeast, trouserbeast
from the middle east
camel feet, rhino meat
not so good to eat



Main theme comes in @ 0:52

Lovely.

Kind of hard for me to believe I wrote this when I was 14. One of those things I have never forgotten because it always stuck out to me as one of my finer works:

You call me crazy because I've said what you've all be thinking
"Fuck the women and children, can you not see that this ship is sinking?"
Yes, I may just be one among many cowardly men
But no matter how we live we all die like vermin; Amen

It's funny that the only lyrics/original words I've ever written were those to the rap battle over snaxies jazz bass

Duke chickenshit, baron of burdening you with aimless bullshit
Self saboteur, redundant dilettante, why does it make words?
Bow before me, the one true king of dolts and retards

I am not a man, I am a grownboy ticking time bomb
Set to bore you with syllables and transparent aplomb
Licking chapped lips at the hunger for something traumatizing
Intentionally scaring the shit out of myself without realizing;
YOU SHOULDN'T CONFUSE FALSE CONFIDENCE FOR CONTINENCE

Waiting for the world to grant me Shrimp Amnesty
Waiting to be thrown up and over the fence
Lay me down easy, even the hottest days here are freezing
Teeth bore like lanterns in attempt to split the difference
Taken, but still so seemingly eager sometimes
The prospect's a perpetually screaming nailbomb inside
My sanity is the only thing I've ever successfully waged war on
Note to self; you're a fucking moron

Reading back on these, it is sort of bizarre how I can regurgitate the same words without realizing I am doing it. All while previously calling myself a redundant hack. I am one ironic motherfucker.

There is a bunch of good stuff in these last few, but for proper, i love this pair.

I have decided that I am done with writing "I AM KILLING YOU" type lyrics (really, it's been a long time since I felt at all inspired to write such things), I think this is sort of like what my death metal band's stuff will read like:

You weren't ever nothing, but you were never much of something
Church on sunday; blind hate and adultery on monday
Absolutely excruciating absolution will end you one day

So distant, sick with the stench of crowded creatures
Complacent with self disgust, All-American Benchsitter
You can take my badge and gun, but you will never have my bitter