04SG1115

I’m a futuristic beatnik laying on a dirty beach with a gleam in my eye and a cocktail umbrella I’m using as a toothpick.
I’m an insignificant mime-clown who hates aerosol spray cans but loves vienna sausages.
I’m electricity, surging with fire through every synapse and neuron I can’t control.
I’m one-quarter Hitler and three-quarters a Transylvanian politician.
I fought for your right to kill then killed my right to fight.
I ordered room service for #113.
I got Nostradamus plastered and the rest is history.
Or not.
I am the bastard love-child of silence and noise,
A mere menial distraction whose only desire is to nurture you for this brief moment in time.
Irony.
I forged the nails they used to crucify Christ and I failed seventh-grade shop class.
I am one-one trillionth responsible for MTV.
I melded iron, silver, brass, and gold into a scary new sort of heroic poetry.
I am Algernon and I failed eighth-grade gym class.
I wrote the world’s greatest song then sold it to a hobo for a sock sandwich.
I’m all Trivium and hardly any Quadrivium—
That hobo was Bob Dylan.
I told you a long time ago I have something to say.
I also said something else that I don’t, just now, recollect.
I’m a gulag night-watchman who plays god with the inmates.
I set the curve and now I’m taking it back.
I told him the term “whale-road” was a brilliant idea.
I share similarities with the snake and Beulah’s donkey.
I was promised a mail-in rebate when I sold my soul to the devil.
(Mephistopheles, you paperhanging son of a bitch!)
I stared into the sky and nothing stared back.
The stars are nothing more than stars.
And space is space.
The continuation of my life is exactly where I’ve begun.
I’ve spent so long convincing myself,
It’s about time I started convincing others.