Jeritopia Down

Or

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Word slam in bedlam

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Tick

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I cannot tell who authored the post and I cannot tell who my best friends are. Through words and war we’re forgiven. Through malice and loss we are living.

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In what grey world do the most man made mad men, mad women, white knuckled, afraid Bull doze, mow down half the promenade with a cunning cum laude and death ray gaze.

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Tock

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Dock you’re butts right here and I’ll tell you a tale, incomplete, unfinished ‘cause I landed in jail ‘bout halfway through so I missed some stuff which might be important but was never enough to hold back the flood gates and prop up the walls, weren’t fire brought ‘em down weren’t nothing at all that could not have been avoided had we all just fall flip bent over backwards and kissed it all goodbye where a dream shaped ribbon wraps a pie in the sky in a black and yellow wrapper, in a paint splattered smock …

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Tick tock tick tock tick tock tick tock

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Are we here to make friends? Are we here to save a show? Are we are here to live together? Are we here to say no? Are we hearing one another? Could we be a better lover? Would we know if we recovered? Would we know?

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So, take away the avatars and see if you can tell who is authoring the post that is coming straight from hell ‘cause both sides now have sides as well and all have friends who fell.

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And you can’t un-ring this bell.

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Shock wave mock wave we’re talkin’ ‘bout you what’s new, we're through, what’s new?

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What’s new, we’re through, what’s new?

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