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herded upward glance
manipulate our heaven’s gate to your ugly power’s shape we need more witches for smoke the gears are almost unobscured wish there was something in our sky that wasn’t man-made sell me warm dreams painted parasite agenda shell I don’t need an incubator don’t need answers to herd me to synthetic pastures where questions and evolution are destroyed
putty creatures
i am not so pure and not so unshackled shut-up what is wrong with me and you why do we bend i feel half worthless i see ports closing as i pass by like motion detectors lies lies stupid worms with sensitive little nerves open your ports what the hell is wrong with me do i not fit, am i a different format disease medicine side effects disease delirium medicine side effects disease
lens and statues
headache behind the eye melancholy flies dangling head thirst into oblivion picture an un-rearranging camera fuck your lens drive into corner mosque spot of burnt blistered region regain occupy what was never yours or anyone else’s because these causes die with us what do you leave for tomorrow’s people toxic puzzle enclosing what do I give to the cure cry out as it burns so what the crowd’s cheers drown it out completely indistinguishable as good and evil in a maze of distorting mirrors who’s funding my education dislocation of the question mark from its point subtly smashed joint I am led like cattle to smoke and mirrors a drop of battery acid on the floor it’s time for war don’t you see death is what we live for stick a pen in the headphone jack expose it to the people democr…ushed make statues of assholes and the shit will never hit the fans make rainbows of radiation and acid rain and the pots of gold complete their plans
metal drains give a beautiful shine
drowning in anti-catalyst pseudo-friend soup always a new crack in the bottom draining through the bowl little metal bowl poured in some new color can't keep it from mixing can't keep it from sinking frankenstein smiles a picture flickers in luscious color as the insects chew at the projection screen appalling the odor of their stale indifference waste the spell on plastic knives find the holes and cut them size only i escape, massaging the wounds if the blood's not flowing, the holes are growing if i could shut myself up bite off the mandible shut it down slice it with its own knife piss it out awake the dormant forward easier said than done
look how far we’ve come
you could fill stomachs the way you fill your pockets but why do that when you have the bombs and the guns on your side build it on the backs of slaves, build it on the natives’ graves build it through filtered ears, there’s no money in peace here your hand shake your dollar snake control is its prey your hand shake your dollar snake control can’t get away how many have been greeted with subjugation and conquest how many have worked and died to fuel and mask greed kill me, rape my land as I try to shake your righteous hand build it on the backs of slaves, build it on the natives’ graves your hand shake your dollar snake control is its prey your hand shake your dollar snake control can’t get away go ahead destroy anything that stands in Mr. CEO’s way let the metallic vines strangle their roots
why is it evil?
he ate, he 8 so that it, the symbol, would lie down forever just for a few hours can't even break the skin because you might be so small that it doesn't even matter mite feeding upon the dead skin cells of mite, and on and on, your universe a speck of dust it's easier to just write fiction that way you have control of yourself and the other apes and you can acquire and conquer and map and assimilate but you don't know a damned thing because you've been bred to damn it reflex the 8 eats itself sideways, it eats the past tense and the future, if it even exists 8 tentacles probably not interested in micro-mites having trouble understanding...this poem is going to hell
wallpaper
self-perpetuating programmers so you heed the profits to guide us on your way the elephant and the ass lock themselves in spar legislative fencing the arena is closed the best circus in the world, you say side rails for monkeys direct, contain, control the flow of the river the main stream the dam(ned) will never stop it the foundations of this palace, a greedy decorated lie some of the pillars, anyway makes you wonder what else goes on inside then again it's easier to just listen to the profits then again it's just easier to let go and float cozily downstream or follow the scent lick at potential bleeding from corruption there's always a worse place than this so blessed are our profits, keeping them in control keeps them on the mountain, writing self-sustaining scrolls
flicker
am i so far from sanity or am i so far from the closed eye your mirror masks its opposing terms what the hell am i in the scheme now i know heaven and hell assimilation or fire with an ancient cartoon wrapper and now you’re full of a different kind of greed because it’s socially acceptable for you i don’t know whether to yawn or scream oh wait, let me grow fur and cut off the dream be integrated lights flicker it drove me insane
crucifix grid woman
she feeds the spider that weaves its fears into a grid it tells her to hate parts of who she is holding on to a silk thread she needs something to dangle from the crucifix grid she disappears into the light
the threshold where dreams are swallowed
i wish i could tie all your nerves together (to kill that virus) sharing our resources

all songs copyright 2001-2003 Alex d.