I saw the best era of my species destroyed by
cynical incompetent drinking of kool-aide,
bragging themselves through the meta ghetto
shackled by a golden steel dawn,
outdated hippies claw for days of back
self-fulling lies of pop culture nexuses
of when babies boomed and came of age
clutching at tethered self-importance
skull fucking the vacuum of progress,
sloppy seconds of a doomed generation, blood stained
in desperation to relive what was never lived,
astroprojecting lies of crumpets for tea parties with Allah
self-appointed caretakers of aging Fates,
burning the wealth of generations in their vanity bonfire
least they realize the flames lick their shadows
in cave they never left or saw, but deprecated throughout
knee-high incomparable failure blaspheming bloodlines,
scholars of their own self-righteousness,
who stole the future in the night, thieves
of self-identified IDs marching all in labyrinth lines
expressing prepackage individuality of shattered spiritualities,
resting wickedly to rise of brilliant morns
making cakes of lies for mind-starved prodigies
laced with roaring icing of Thou Shalt Not
dragon scales for their eyes,
soup kitchens with no souls, archaic fantasies
of rusted cunts and dickless porn stars
fluffed in zen gardens of atomic-glass sands
who loaned the impulse of their zeitgeist
leveraging the cowboy beebop open ranges
assets of timelined cultures, for their depraved hedonism of their now
craven ecstasy, swallowing whole inquisitions
against their self-truths, Charlie hut whorehouses,
sanctified as holy for the hopeless class
mirror reflections refused to be recognized,
shadowing boxing the Gay Jesuses in Private Idahos,
arms protesting the delivering of their anger letters
to the Chinamen of the moment of here and how,
who vapidly suckled the tit of their own denial,
growing fat beyond passed skin of karma bassoons,
skeleton crews of long sunked ships, winked out
in the darkness of innumerable killjoy matinees,
stranded on an island of self-conviction of self-worth,
manuscripts in hand of self-proclaimed glories,
hulls crushing skulls of babies yet born,
who burrow with burros in esoteric texts
penned in tongues trampled by Spanish iron maidens
heralding concepts steampunked into regulated
regurations to answer questions hogtied and derailed
least fantasies be approached and ballets stopped,
the purity of deprived rejection of dissent
for self-centered preservation, no matter the dead
injuns on the reservations,
I’m with you in the Boom,
where babies lose fingers in the loom,
I’m with you in the Boom
mortgaged to crises outside of time,
I’m with you in the Boom
crack-addled by state secret lies,
I’m with you in the Boom
where the future is denied for lusting pasts,
I’m with you in the Boom
swirling in the Brazil of checks in the mail,
I’m with you in the Boom
where salt dresses wounds uninflicted,
I’m with you in the Boom,
where Buddha killed himself on the road for shelter,
I’m with you in the Boom
dancing to player pianos written by derelict pilgrims
on the typewriters of the heretical Gods
I’m with you in the Boom
cherry picking tomato ripe aborted fetuses
I’m with you in the Boom
sweathoused sewing new suits for the emperor
commoditized and sold for brand America
I’m with you in the Boom
chicken scratching fables of truth
of a generation howling against itself
I’m with you in the Boom
watching history collide against humanity’s bulkwork
of entitled babies stealing candy from history.