There is no mystical past to long and for which to venerate. We were not, in all humility the best or the worst, still sickens my stomach. There is no future, never was… I am going to hunker down, in this gleeful poverty, in my well-known backwoods. Hide from the high contrast mid-day light, as the planet spins plus rotates around our Sun. Maybe I am the UNSTABLE ELEMENT in an energetic Nuclear Fusion ( or is it fission?), no matter: WE ARE VISHNU. Hunkered down in History, not Theory… and the stands in our Coliseums chant, ” I don’t care if it’s all Propaganda, AS LONG AS IT’S OUR PROPAGANDA!” I can’t think in 250 characters or less, can’t sing for much less than 2 minutes, a FREEDOM MADMAN leaning against his FALLEN BOOKEND.
Categories: Manic Beatnik Riffing
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