stir up the
punch
ask someone who
knows
what might be
for lunch
on the fly
vision elite held the hand
edge of the only
continent he knows
feet buried and
hands raised to the sky
taking form for
a moment as a big letter Y
and it’s the
question perpetually asked
three digits on
the hat
if there was one
that still fit
like an
epileptic rigor mortis style
he might have
another still fit
exercise daily
not a slack
he is still fit
for any task
got a question
just stop and ask
might wear a
mask if I have sneak in
some might even
cheat if they think they can’t win
what they need
to retain some power
and the car I
drive has a spot for a flower
or something
peaceful to drown out the lies
if you look
really quick from the front
it appears to
have eyes
to stare down any
one trying to push on up
remember half
full or half empty
I knocked over
the cup
from the window
where I sat
watched the
seasons change
all night long
if I had to
no matter who
thought it strange
it’s just the
way it is
the TAO of who I
am and may be
quick to pick a
thought slam it
back forcefully
in an erratic manner
as quick as
thoughts pop out
like veins an
addict might poke
and stick around
long enough
might even find
a joke hidden
down deep inside
the serious nature of now
everyone still
has confidence
we’ll make it
somehow
but no one
really knows when or how
to end the story
up in smoke
or a blaze of
glory
pick your poison
while I pick up the pen
vision elite and
moving
and done it
again and over twice
compared to
yesterday
today would be
ice
to yesterdays
fire
but let me
inquire
a couple more
questions
before time will
expire
they let it
happen above the law
help pick the
new pope
and I will sit
calmly
holding the end
of this rope
what’s it tied
to pulling too hard
pulled the new car up close
in the backyard…
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