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Poem

You think you enjoy the radical,
flaming in the gas jets of astral fumes, 
spinning in the ocular midnight of a rabid dogs dream,
yet, I think you know, NOTHING is as it seems.

An all too thorough pondering
of mundane thought comes to naught
as vulgar words don’t necessarily wax poetic.

     Talking, writing, hurl, polysyllabic words
across a dot matrix screen in a pixel fight with the Lord
don’t made you a prophet or a prophetess
 	You just scream now, scream…
show your pain across a global terrain in a globular dream
‘Cause I know, you know, NOTHING is as it seems.

Rebel, rebel hell, damn good for nothing navel watcher
pick the lint out, start a fire, you don’t have to die to mean something
     you have to do something, damn, it's not enough      to just BE
ACT don’t just bite the dirty hand, green with the bile of your blood
eat the whole arm…chaw of a chunk and spit it in the systemic eye
                      of a postulate system which MAKES have and have nots.
See that fading grin wink from existence      and the twin terrors of
DUMB and DEE saying “Howdy and Fiddle Dee Dee” to the 
arses who claim to KNOW, ‘cause I know, you know,
NOTHINGS as it seems………..

*Dedicated to Jeffery Cohen from one anarchist to another
**This would be my Alice poem ;)

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