16 April 2008

Enlightenment Song (Declaration of Evil)



//Instrumental Version //

Mother Fuckers:
IF WE'LL NOT FLATTEN CHIPS,
TILL WE DO SOMETHING DUMB,
LIKE CHOKE ON THE DIP,
WE SHLD SCRAP OUR DILEMMA,
WE SHLD FEED ON THEIR QUIPS,
WE SHLD USE THIS HERE INFINITE
GRANT, 2 EXTEND THE NUMB
STRENGTH OF OUR HOLD,
GET SOME GEOMETRIC REACH.

13 April 2008

Lou-Ellen of the People; Boot Stomp Reprise



Lou-Ellen of the People:
OH THAT SONG, IT BE A RINGER, ‘N
I’VE NO DOUBT ITS TUNE WILL LINGER.
BUT WE DON’T NEED TO MAKE A MESS,
OF OUR FREE LUNCH ~ SO I CONFESS:
I WOULD RATHER SIT ‘N SING ABOUT
OUR DIGESTING BLESSINGS, THAN
REPEAT THOSE AWFUL LYRICS,
THEM SECULAR DIGRESSIONS.
WE NEED THE MUSIC IN OUR BONES,
‘BOUT THAT THERE AINT NO QUESTION,
BUT IF WE DO WHAT THAT SONG SAID,
IT MIGHT CHANGE OUR COMPLEXION!

Pringle:
HOLY SHIT THE BED, I PRINGLE SAID ~
THAT LOU-ELLEN WITH HER POPULARITY’S
GONE ‘N WAY-LAID THE FREE SPIRIT.
LISTEN HOW THE PEOPLE CRY ‘N DROOL
AMEN N2 THEIR PLATES OF FRIES!
FUCKING HELL! WE'RE GONNA LOSE!

10 April 2008

The Poets to the People; Lunch Buffet Country Radio Boot Stomp Intervention



Poets
     IF THEM LABS, ALL STILTED,
THO A FUR PIECE YONDER,
BE THE PRIMARY VACUUM
OF THE SHIT THAT WE’VE NOTED
MOST THE PEOPULACE AIN’T GOT,
HAVING MUCH LESS PONDERED,
WE SHLD TAKE A LONG WALK
ROUND THE PIER GOING FROM
THERE 2 HERE AND REDISTRIBUTE
ALL THE SHIT WE CAN GET, LIKE
THE SOURCE OF STREAMING QUA
LITATIVE SPIT WHERE GROWS CRITIQUE.

Pringle
YO POETS, CHECK IT OUT:
THE PEOPLE’VE ALL STOPPED
EATING; THEY BANG IN TIME
THEIR SPORKS UPON THE PLANES
OF PURE FORMICA. METHINKS
THEY WISH YR SONG BE KEPT
A-SUNG. GOOD WORK! BUT HARK,
WHO’S THIS? POPULAR LOU-ELLEN?
DOTH RISE HER VOICE ON LIQUID
STILTS, 2 QUELL THE PEOPLES’ WILL?
OH SHIT: SHE’S GOT THE INSTRUMENTAL!

03 April 2008

Ode to Beauty Sapped



     TAKE HEED THE RISING ABSENCE
OF WHAT WAS THE TEMPER'D FLUSH,
OF THIS YOUR CHEEK, WHOSE
TASTE AND TEXTURE WE HAVE
SAMPLED AND CAN DULY NOTE
THE FLUSH’S DEVIATION FROM
THE CHARM WITH WHICH DID
ONCE IT CALIBRATE OUR SENSES,
MAKING IT IDEAL FOR SIMPLE
THINGS LIKE KISSES, OR PER
CEIVING FINITE GLINTS OF THAT
WHICH ONCE WAS SELF-CONT
AINED, BUT NOW REFLECTS IN
AWFUL WAYS THE TOTAL GLARE,
THE ABSTRACT SWAY, OF THE
EMPIRICAL MOTHER FUCKERS,
AND MOST, THEIR AUTOMATED
LUSTING MAKES OF WHAT WAS
JUST POSSESSED BY U, NOW
BUT A SPOIL, RAVISH’D, IN SOME
TUPPERWARE PYRAMID STASHED
BENEATH A LASER-GUIDED PILLOW,
FAKING TEETH 4 EXTRA ASSETS:
WHAT’S BEEN WRONGLY TAKEN
MUST BE RIGHTLY GOTTEN BACK!

Pringle Drives its Message Home



               ... THE DOPE
IT GOES THAT NO-1 KNOWS
THE MOTHER FUCKERS
GOT THE DUST, OR THAT
THAT STUFF’S THE REASON
4 THEIR ISO-EXAORATING
HYPO-THRUST. 4 WHAT IT’S
WORTH, I ~ THE CHIP, FEAR
THE MOTHER FUCKERS OUAIS
2 SLICK 2 LIKE A BIG DOG UP
AND DEPOSIT, ALL OF THEIR
FUNDAMENTALS N2 JUST THIS
1 CHIPPED DISH. & SO ENDS
THIS PLOT-INITIALIZING NEWS
QUIP BY ME ~ THE CRISP.

Re the Rise of the Transparent Sphere



Poets
LOOK AT THAT! ~ IT’S GOT A PULSE!
LIVE ON THEIR SCREENS, OH
THE GLITTERING TRANSPARENCY
OF THE SPHERE, HYPER-LOADING
FROM SOME SPRINGS
LIKE INVISIBLE WINGS,
HOVERING JUST ABOVE
THE WATER ON ITS VERY
OWN ACCORD. SWEEPING SPRAYS
OF DBL CLICKS EMIT
A SWARMING CREST
OF WHITE EMBLAZONED
GLOVES, OH TERRIBLE HERALDING
ARMS OF THE FORTRESS’ GARB, WHOAH!

Gyspy Theme



There's no gypsies in the Poem, but the tune is the backdrop for a spoken exchange between the People and the Poets, following the Pringle's first monologue, after which the People self-absolve:

People
OH POETS, THREE, IF CROWD
U BE, WHEREFORE THE FUCK
WAS THAT PRINGLE A-SINGIN?
AND WHAT, AT THAT, DOES IT
MEAN? WE’RE AFRAID!

Poets
OK, PER SYMBOL CRASH U HEAR,
ASSUMING MEASURES OF THE ZEPH
YR IN ITS ANGULAR SPRAYE—

People
OH SORRY, BUT WE HAVE 2 GO
NOW MANGLE SHIT 4 SUPPER SO
WE DON’T GET HUNGRY LATER
IN THE DAY. TATERS!

Poets
INNOCENT HATERS ~
THE WAITERS REGRET U
EVEN IF U NEVER KNOW IT;
LIKE WE DON’T JUST
HEAR YR WIND, NOR
SMELL SWEET NOTHINGS
IN THE FASTENING SPHERES,
AND EVER WILL WE SHOW IT.
YR FEARS WILL ONLY
KEEP YR BELT FROM A
LIGNING WITH ORION’S.

01 April 2008

Opening Salvo



Poets: HEAR YE THESE LINES
ALL U LIKE LINEATED HEADS ~
AS THEY ROLL IN DRUMS BACK
FROM THE FRONT OR SLUICE UP,
FROM THE INDETERMINATED BACK,
AS THEY’RE COMPED OUT B4 U
IN THIS VAMP ON THE LIMENS,
OF AN AUTO-LIBERATED DISH, OF
A PRINGLE ~ READ ALL ABOUT IT: