Thursday, October 22, 2009

To the Very Man I Just Gave Juice To

Wash your hands
Big baby'd nut jobs we are still hiring. We found the circular up in the air amongst the trees.
Wash you hands
Good Jesus, I've just ran the car into a parking lot full of 9 year olds. I don't know what to do? Please, strike me down with the quickest, cheapest lightning.
Wash you hands
There's an older woman I'm in love with and she doesn't not notice me in the elevator and she comments on the smell of the freshly fried chicken I bring home. I'm so in love with her an her lipsticked face that I wish to push to ugly limits in my filthy housing equivelant up against a river in the ugly barrios that line Mannhattan.
Wash your hands
Oh my Zeus! I just closed the microwave on what would have one day been the Messiah. He smelled like a hotpocket, looked like a hotpocket, and spoke like a deaf-mute. We are at a joining point my friends, the one where the end of the world is eliminated by the bad taste of dull man in the middle of the night, where the rats run free and write poems about the joy of hamburgers.
Wash your hands
And that iron clad man that keeps barking orders that I don't understand. I try to explain the logic of working an 8 hour day and going home to a beer, but he won't listen. It seems that he wants more of the minions and so I prove indefinitly that I will work for as long as it takes to go home.
Wash your hands
I'm feeling funny, and I blame it on the large pieces of acrylic paintings I've swallowed. They seemed like a good meal until I realize they were painted in Peru. There's no reason to be a poor sport, so I told the waste in the toilet that I had better things to do. I would find a way to make Crisco into gold and resolve some politcal problem in Brazil that I don't know about. I would go about town and assassinate the migrent workers, because I'm so full of my self. It's like stuffing, that ego, and I've proved that I can work for all the tea in Lebanon.
Wash your hands
Where's a fucking bar when you need it? The fucking Mid East is lit up like a thousand flocks of flying, burning doves all racing towards some evil oil disaster in the sands of some sucked up countryside. There's this raining thought of chant that spells burning sand down on me and my brothers and we don't even care about what happens. Get me out of here! Send this translation up into France and down into Spain and up into the U.K. and tell my folks I'm OK. Good Christ, another sweep of the arm and I'm flying across a Exxon station in Syria. My body is forming my words in bursts. Here's a hand for my trouble, here's a leg for what I can sell to FOX, and here's my brain all over the windsheild telling those that come this way "GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE!"
Wash your hands
There's a poker game and a porno movie ruling this galaxy. They stay safe under the unnatural arm of Evanglical Christians that tote blood the size of the moon. The more guns and Jenna Jamesom tapes you buy, the more you drop Chuck E Cheese tokens into the empty mind moon disc that is the Christian plate. Let's make a pact that we'll only watch porno on Tuesdays, gamble on Thursdays, and pray to the heavenly father only when a Friday is accompanied by a blue moon. There's no other way.
Wash your hands
And for you, oh druggy - the booze is over. No, lock yourself behind twelve doors that no one enters and find salvation in the doorknob you call a God. Take that doorknob out into the world and define the cult that is the recovering. And, make sure that we're aware that you no longer live life like it was a sink hole. Now, we can accept you as another polluted heart, instead of liver. We love you.
Wash your hands
And to the big bosses, the teachers, police, politicians, and edges of sliver nickels, I say this: watch the folds of your uniforms, because what shit they've collected you better understand that you must respond. Send the children into tiny rooms to learn about what it's like to be a criminal, send the guilty to gas chambers to feel like what it's like to be a politician, and send the masses to hell to learn what it's like to lead with dick so limp that every sun in the solar system couldn't keep it up with all the hydrogen in the universe. I hope you choke.
Wash your hands
I hope we all choke
Wash your hands
Choke on the ashes of what never was a nation. Choke on what was never a world. Choke on the fact that who you are and where you came from, this is it. This is the best we can do. And choke on the fact that we're still being tricked into thinking that there's a right way for everyone and that there's a wrong way that will be exploited for greed, and that there's humanity's way which will never see the day of light.
Wash your hands
Here is humanity: open your mouth and scream the idea you hate the most. Then, work to make sure that that idea never comes about. Keep up your search, find the evil in your soul and exploit it for all it's worth. With enough people, we might be able to put away our fingers and start working on ourselves.
Wash your hands
And make sure you sell your idea to a network, so that you can send the word via reality show. Because, we all know that whatever you think or do isn't important unless millions of people see it.
Wash your hands
God is gay, burn the flag
Wash your hands

Pleace,
Ronald Bush

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