Jesus Was A Rouge Agent

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Jesus was a rouge agent
Calling out institutions woefully unjust
Up-ending currents & the status quo
Powers that be & reigning corporate trusts

Holding fast in the face of arbitrary traditions
We won’t look to long at your offbeat proclivities
Unnerved authenticity & outspoken truth
But they’ll chalk it up as additional incivility

Looking again to God, but knowing She won’t talk
Red-lettered honesty; realism against expectation
Unvarnished tales of the meekest souls
Rapt against our most quietly brave ministrations

I’m Not Feeling Strong These Days

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I’m not feeling strong these days
With my soul in traction
Weakness seems to manifest itself
Sustaining a chain reaction

I’m not feeling invincible anymore
With my heart on the gallows block
Life can crush your spirit
While we’re busy serving the clock

I’m not feeling perfect, quite honestly
But I know there’s toughness somewhere
Upon a solid foundation I shall rise
With a firm grip on love & a fist in the air

Cold Coffee & A Stash Of Lost Dreams

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Cold coffee & a stash of lost dreams
A distant memory of those rail yards
But we weren’t ourselves with honesty
Not the renegades or anything that hard


Images of what we might yet become
Grabbing self-regard before it fades
Destroying their notions of modernism
Returning to polka dotted shirts & dark shades


We all have our morbid skeletons
The vague semblance of a broken soul
But somewhere are the clues to the truth
Somewhere when lightning meets a weary, old skull

Speak Up, Stand Up; Announce To The World

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Speak up, stand up; announce to the world
Spread the news of truth’s availability
Don’t be shy; we’re all in this together
Easy now, no need to hate on my virility

I honestly distrust anything popular or sacred
Passing them by & allow them to hide
I have to figure it out 20 years later
Force-filtered through life & time & tide

Opposing magnetic poles claiming Orwell
Both deluding themselves he’s their saint
But he was human & all the related flaws
His divinity seems a little too quaint

We need people with a firm, decisive choice
No interest in your ineffectual, intellectual porn
There’s no time for pussyfooting around
We must find the truth & feed it to the bullhorn

The Government Wants To Lock Me Up

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The government wants to lock me up
For I don’t fit into their diabolic plan
Turning society into robotic morons
I just can’t continue to work for The Man

Trying to sell us artificial stimulants
Fickle airwaves that their bully pulpit bought
Falsified histories & professional victims
The system wipes us away without any thought

Pharmaceutical conglomerates tell us
Conscience is a personality disorder we can’t shake
Turning our daughters into Stepford Wives
Stealing our minds – hoping we’ll never wake

Corporations in league with the dolt on the throne
Continuously embarrassing the whole of humankind
Whose agenda has a limited number of characters
How the hell is this the best choice we could find

But I won’t succumb to any of their devices
I’ll take my liberty and the happiness I’ve pursued
Rejecting the crooks & ignoring their feigned power
Won’t find me in Nurse Rachet’s line; docile & queued

I can’t live a life that’s so blatantly false & empty
My soul is no longer pristine, but I’m an honest guy
I’m taking to the wilderness; leaving the State behind
I’m trading their promises for a more natural high

There’s So Much Talk Of Being Wild

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There’s so much talk of being wild
Like there’s a constant harness holding us back
But its just an illusion for others to see
You’re choosing to embrace all that you lack

These false pretenses are keeping you low
Images of a manicured life on your social media feed
Spending your days adjusting other’s perceptions
When these aren’t the actions a happy life really needs

It’s difficult to perceive any truth as you focus the camera
The projection of crazy as you manipulate your reputation
Here’s a secret, the honest people don’t really care &
The real wild ones don’t bother with perfect punctuation

Image by Anatoliy Morozz from Pixabay

Feigning The Glamorous Life

Feigning the glamorous life

Proof of the shiny being a mirage

Charlatan; promising a false idol

Arbiter of a fictional montage

The veil covering honest intentions

Quiet manipulation of time

Epiphanies with truth in reality

But I now know, I’d rather be in the grime

It Was A One-Eyed Kind Of Morn

It was a one-eyed kind of morn

With evening’s festivities going awry

I scrawled out all I could remember

Once a gentleman, turned drunken guy

Slight images of a lovely form

Olfactory sparks upon my brain

Sketching the party’s guest list

But no new faces could remain

Racking my skull for a proper memory

Writing down every & each detail

Compiling a list to rediscover

I’m trying to think, but it’s to no avail

A faceless gown with affectionate gloves

Somehow my mind is able to recall

Cognitive fragments begin to linger

Clouded out by last night’s alcohol

Scenes slowly begin to return

I believe we were out on the dance floor

An embrace of smoldering desire

Yet I couldn’t figure out any more

Scraps of notes spread before me

No identity to place upon the truth

Scant reason to be shy in my search

Basking in honesty of my lapsed youth

Cobwebs have been sparsely lifted

Won’t think of her in the passed tense

Her ghostly touch encourages me yet

We shall meet again, I firmly sense

To hold her with determined spirit

Seems fantastical at this sad rate

Yet she’s left fingerprints upon me

Remaining until I succumb to my fate

I Won’t Impress You

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I won’t impress you
Doesn’t matter who you are
I drink cheap wine
But enjoy Cuban cigars
I won’t play that game
There’s no benefit to me
This heart is not for sale
Honest, humble & eternally free