Locust Farm
'till extinction
we are man shaped centrifuge collecting ridiculous items processing ridiculous orders.
man shaped mountainsides for joy rides 'till extinction.
city the mass grave faces carved on terminals.
domesticated wolves turned rabid roam the outskirts of town.
village turned cynical after water turned glue.
pick up one of the many end of the world hobbies.
trees stretching their arms out to the sun is no proof of god.
welcome to my garden it's dark as day.
every man needs his own tongue to match his dream.
beware all false prophets and symbols of greed.
beware all adventures that require new colors.
every man is a movement but no movement is a man.
if all must suffer for one to succeed none shall succeed.
as i take off all my gold for good ask not for approval.
just space to create universe after universe
and when the universe ends
the artist as well creates a new universe. if not so be it.
i've lived like an atheist while praying under my breath for some saint to save us.
but the only saints i see are in paintings
of artists gone mad and no one saved them
for being future martyrs for millionaire jokes.
we create the myths to do the killings with.
washington no longer whispers it gloats.
a poem called locust farm
if i could build you and set you off i would cute little grasshoppers.
can you eat buildings?
can you jump into televisions and eat the living rooms?
can you eat newspapers and all the bad books?
can you bring in new monkeys to replace us?
will you build us better schools and teach us things to make us better people?
i would like to be better
but if you don't think i'm good enough EAT ME!
if you promise not to make anyone rich
i'd make you four foot tall and bullet-proof.
'till extinction