RACE TO SPACE

KABOOM

so there is a thing to be said for optimism and a thing to be said for realism

irreparable damage has seized this beautiful planet and unless we as a species find some way to quickly reverse the damage we gotta get the hell out of here.

so this is no new news, I just wanted to put a tint of hope to this otherwise bleak poem i wrote tonight. its not finished, but it is 4:30 in the morning.

o ya i was a little stoned too hahahah
jon giusti's crews steeze seen producing scenes in a movie

i'm hype glitch watchtower golden eagles and pegasis shit a snake
to spit
i m an evil eye blown mind
i noise craft fasion creating a passion we made it happen we aint strappin cappin we aint fattenin up the cogs of the beast the hogs from beneath the secret untold moldy finger strangle hold the all seeing eye pyramid purple cocaine sky nearing the sea of treat and the rancid candy island teat sticks the boats to shore and gobbles them all up

the real world

a fairy tale fable strung haplessly enabling halfassed rats to sleep knowing their cartons of bullshit reek and the eighteen pack of hipocrosy has turned to yeast and sprung a leak

the real world is real cold.

one sided dice.
treadmills.
an ape in cape, dancing, grinning his lips split fists grip grissled grit brain fizz fizzled and lit up shut up shit ass blind tricks tricked up with bits of glass to grind it in
once and for all finally finished the end

wake up

the real world is real real cold.

the real world is a garbage bag in heaven or a muscle car in hell i cant sell that well can't tell well if that hell is this hell or whether heaven just fell

if this world is that we're done coming back guns selling crack abundant tons of crack smoking crack is like buying a brand new car

and if a doors not a jar then this worlds not far not fair we're too far the wear and tear the scars the hairspray the cars masks are busy in bars masks put folks behind bars masks travel by air in a craft to mark what they soon will consume from afar

soon we will have no more room

the god damn real world

an
uncertain fate. uncertain date three years -can't wait. certainly nothing to do to abate the state
we dug ourselves into this hole watch us dig ourselves out im sayin it:
a hole is only a grave when someone receives payment.
so pay up
this cold world can only take enough
of this stuff
hang on tough
...




NOT FINISHED but thank you for reading.

normally i do not like to take art seriously, but occasionally it happens and I personally feel that when it does there better be a damn good reason to be taking yourself so seriously.

I guess this is a serious poem, so here is why: If i read this somewhere and someone who's not quite convinced at the crisis of our planet, and is shocked into doing something about it, who's minds will they change?
By proposing these thoughts in a carefully composed environment such as a poem, I could use those I inspire as satellites to, in turn, inspire others. The potential impact of this piece of art justifies me basically complaining for two pages.

So again, thanks for reading.

Until..
jon g make ¢

Mon, Dec 29, 2008  Permanent link
Categories: art, poetry, apocalypse, night flight out of earth

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