Annealing bypass accountant funnel package routing
Die stream play overlays
Towards function
Away from heat regulator
Mobile O.S grid independence
Semiconductor dyes/dies
No grammatical syntax coupes possible
Melanin lamentation
It appears to be the color of dread
Locked in
is a private penal profiteering feeling
Black site
has a plantation clandestine skin
Making abolition voices
invisible again
Usury jaws open like an abyss trapdoor,
predatory lending
got a bulging debtor belly once more
As the black robes
rattle strike
a corporate cobra plea deal —
Let the food chain shakedown siren lure
Leopard spot plastic bags
over the head
Casting poverty pawns
into the a domino pit repo hole
Obsidian wiles got a blue steal bracelet price tag;
dark bags under the eyes, dreams dead
Pale thoughts ... Pliny sleepless nights, no dawn:
Implantation device now in control
Overseer bound destination,
underneath the roulette task terrible Gulag will
Siberian tigers have a paper appetite,
turning into eclipse panthers when Dear occupant can’t pay the bill
01-14-22
They tell you what to love,
and who to hate
Their EM waves
dictate
when to have feelings of
disdain cut-rate
Callousness is the mental diss-ease
that permeates the air —
Pharaoh moans ...
toxic fumes of vapor crossbones,
they Caesar Palace dicey sell
Mood marketers
always swill toga do,
owe so pyramid scheme well
Create your con-sumer reality
with jingo slogans
as the purchase item guide
Ad hocking violent buy-products,
guaranteed to keep
your gunpowder tears dry
Sob heavy metal tales
of forged wails
is the pitchfork tongue cry
They tell you what to hate,
and who to love
Bend the knee,
profess unwavering loyalty
To the money sign satellite
passing up above
Feel free to
empty inventory please
those remote control, Mood marketers
Let the gold chain ticket stub
be the glass ceiling snub
worth of
your commercial existence
Nil grieve to
never promissory leave
the debt dole, repo soul carpetbaggers
Drunk in Barstow,
waiting for a waitress,
who gets off at 2:00 a.m.
The crap game cleaned me,
two bums on the pool table,
snoring like a train
Drunk in Barstow,
third time this month,
I just never seem to learn
The waitress said,
“My boyfriend’s gone,
truck’s on the road to Bern”
Drunk in Barstow,
on borrowed time,
the repo man at hand
I swear tomorrow
I’ll get it right,
tonight—any way I can
(Barstow California: July, 1991)
Used carcase dealer
got a crash dummy discount
for the
covetous consumer
Pyramid chain customers
all have the
Pharaoh chariot lust
Crypto-coin tarnished souls
want a cartel vehicle
to transport
their false profit cargo
“You need a boss eighteen wheeler,”
says the
dark sunglass, shady-voice dealer
“Something catacomb big
to a-carry your
Faustian minnow bait load
I suggest a coffin-lined rig,
with a trapdoor
to cattle prod secure goad”
With a snake charmer drone,
the crafty saleswoman
viper spit rattled on and on
Raising the heat of the fever pitch,
she suggestively hissed,
“Don’t you feel that Route 66 itch
Get an added sixth gear,
and squeal hear the asphalt buckle below
The sirens, have no fear ...
blues on the take, gon be on cruise control”
“Purchase a roadkill deal, Dirt Devil eighteen wheeler —
And Judas silver grin sign
the blotted-out dotted line, ”
croons the black widow repo clad, used carcase dealer
Go into the Badlands.
Get your private screening.
See how the universe works.
Have a double dose of psych.
Bath in its sea of love,
Smell the enemy within.
The dark tower.
The soul surfer.
In your warrior's way,
Embrace the den of thieves.
You'll feel pretty.
Now, get out of my room
Big city greens.
Anywhere but here,
Repo man.
They love to sell into the dark end,
where covetous souls
plunge to the bottomless debt deep
Parrot voice chirps got the suicidal siren blasting:
Saying a lifestyle of surfeiting
is an overdrawn bank account pleasure drowning
Pirate eyes cast a silver tongue hook
of bait-and-switch repo
to the blue wails
Underwater mortgage
from a pirate lending shark loan
cause the cash minnows to prey groan
Heavy is the dropped credit anchor pain,
sinking life savings ...
Treasure chest safety net
401k disappearing
Another black pirate patch
cast a hollow gaze
False profits on the rise,
usury rescue in pocket tearing decline
Pirate eyes wink leviathan;
spearing desperate, money hungry short fins
at the bottom feeder end
Purse plunderers sale on the pirate flag
wavy death tide ...
Peering into the empty wallet
abyss dark
Where all false profits
foggy deceit hide
She’s in love with a repo man
She leaves and he finds her and repossesses
Her time and time again
Maybe one day
She’ll make up her mind to stay
But until than a few months in
Then she’s out the door and on her way
Hopeless
By Samuel K Byrd
A hot meal, a cold bed, and hopes
that tomorrow will be a better day
unemployed house foreclosed and the repo-man
arrived bright and early yesterday
tax cuts, tax incentives, stimulus package
all a little too late
get in line; get a plate, two hours later
you've forgotten what you just ate
classifieds job fairs Internet but nothing
seems to help
only good thing is that there is no wife or kids
I only have to provide for myself
just stay focused work the system
don't let it work you
keep your head high and your prayers higher
and soon you will make it through
6/20/17
Aye
Okay
Here we go
My first and last initials are D.O
Paying haters little mind, and smacking 'em away like a mosquito
With the force of el Nino
Skills of Morpheus and Neo
Knowledge of C3PO
Been in and out of a few casinos
I've bought tools and supplies from the home depot
And liked tracks off the album sixobreezo
As well as a lot of music by man of no ego
My amigo knows how to roll up the good stuff, bigger than a burrito
And torpedo
Another homie makes me laugh, when he talks about cappuccinos
Or my other friend when he's got a bag of cheetohs
Meanwhile, worldwide cars and items occasionally got a repo
Realize there won't always be an opportunity for a T.O.
Better get on that, and quickly address the B.O.
Not yet have I had a P.O.
Or worn a tuxedo
I was good at sports and shooting ball even freethrows
A long time ago, my oldest sister had a Kia Rio
Quietly and late at night, they move down dim lit street
looking for that wayward car, the payments incomplete
The borrower five months behind, tries to keep it hid
won't give it up without a fight, their life in downward skid
Offensive in their nature, they'll try and stop the tow
violence, damage, verbal threats, they will not let it go
They find it backed up in the drive, a mongrel is on guard
before the dog suspects a thing, a bone's thrown in the yard
Can't resist, he chases it, they quickly grab their tow
they're gone before the debtor wakes, he doesn't even know
The car secured inside their lot, picked up without a fight
the toe truck freshly fueled again, heads back into the night.....
The mud slide back in eighty six
Took out half my farm
And the war that lit up 69
Is where I Left one arm
My wife and kids have left me
To part's unknown, somewhere
So I sit here all alone
While losing all my hair
chorus
Now you can see, what my attitude should be
But instead of mulling around
I get picked up, when I'm down
As I quote that little phase, that tickles me
"C'est La vie"
My truck was repo-ed yesterday
My dog and cat ran off
My old friends all moved away
And often I feel lost
chorus
Now you'll agree, just how happy could I be
When my world has gone to hell
I just get up, where I fell
And whisper those sweet words in ecstasy
"C'est La Vie"
Refrain:
We three mates can raise three cheers.
Here we are together raising our glasses of beers.
Any sins or troubles, let the beers wash them away.
We can be sober tomorrow. Let’s get loaded today.
As long as we are functioning alive,
we have to punch the time clock for nine to five.
Our supervisor is such a pain in the rear.
We can forget about him while we drink our beer.
With my automobile, I am two payments behind.
For the repo man, I will be difficult to find.
He won’t think of bringing the tow truck here.
The car will stay outside while we drink our beer.
For thirty years now, I’ve been stuck with my wife.
She has been torturing and pestering me for most of my life.
If I’m out too late, I know she will come here.
We can all wait patiently while we drink our beer.
Slipping
Ed Barton’s head hurt and his chest pounded. Or did his head pound and chest hurt? His problems were sucking him up like a dizzying vortex. “It’s money”, he thought bitterly; “lack thereof, more precisely”. His wife and kids called him “loser”. Knowing that more caffeine would make the pounding worse, he defiantly held the Starbucks latte grande in hand as the Bluetooth unlocked his Beemer; his lone remnant of the “old, happy Ed”. Grey all day, it began to teem as he opened the car door. Sliding in, intent not to spill the coffee, his slick loafers slipped. Down Ed went. Soaked, he lay there watching his coffee run; a muddy river carrying away his hopes. He though of his lost job, unpaid bills, the putrid turn life had taken. He decided to not get up. A crowd gawked. “Call 911!” a woman shrieked. Ed decided to will himself to die; end his miserable existence. A familiar voice intruded; “Barton, is that you?” “Hell” Ed muttered; “my nosy neighbor”. The interlude over he rose to face the world again; wait for the repo man to come.
“Battle”
black skyline shades tripped out heels
staggered buzz u mistake for swagger through your high
u turn the corner
i turn the block eyes pumped open timbs tied tight
pushing subway cars and b-line trains
this ain’t Chutes and Ladders or Monopoly
your ass is Sorry mind Boggled out in Candy land
u turn the corner I turn the block with…
suburban land through flower beds
inner city behind bare trees…
my mouth
perfected picket fence 2 car garage
rundown no fence buzzed in…
my mouth
chromed keys and rims valet parking
repo man coming incognito parking…
my mouth
u turn the corner fall down in shame from the spin
i turn the block eyes pumped open timbs tied tight
pushing subway cars and b-line trains
stepping over you a pillar of rhythm no shame
with…my mouth
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