The season is upon us, low cold winter sun taking up its position in the southern sky and stretchy pants pulled from the closet for grazing. Sharing time with those still on this side of the veil to make new memories while remembering our dearly departed. Memory is just a fresh coat of paint on the long-gone reality of actual events – creative license granted leeway for telling taller and taller tails to entertain. Better buy a larger boat that fish is getting bigger with every recollection. On this day of the fowl feast, my ballad of nonsense celebrates another year of manifested life and the spoils of war within my head are shiny rich. The digs speak to the contrary but I was once edgy before going straight and this is The Chronicles of a Lost Southerner.
Occasionally we gotta be reminded that the devil rents space in our heads, cuz if these rouge thoughts were ever discovered indigenous the prescription dosage needed to adequately suppress would terrify the most hardened street junky. Long gone are the days when trusting myself was a sure bet. Randomness is on the loose, fate a gamble, and life’s roulette wheel just got flooded with extra balls bouncing toward my number. Thankfully I’m only 10mg nuts today. The curated world is fueled by artificially inseminated anxiety that the carnival barkers and Dooms Day weathermen postulate. Crafty sons of virtue! They gonna highjack your freedoms, enslave life’s font, use a wire to solve mistakes, scrap the boom sticks, punish the punctual, bring their own diarrhea monkeys to a crap show, verified, two teams on the same team, the hat the rabbit the magician the audience all in on the con, fire thru rain, free to do but not free from, water will be the new land, freedumbs, lawless, optical illusions, leisure violence, walking with the king, a new leader is born. Lead us! Oh, ye great pied piper play the cult anthem. Lucky dogs we be to be in the know – hear the truth and good fortune for our side is the right side.
Sharpening the teeth of soup eaters, they are hypnotically castrated from responsibility while walking in the direction they are told. The sons of feral thinkers outsourced character flaws for a new religion of science friction, then lit the fox’s tail on fire and set it loose through city hall as bloodthirsty hounds rachet up the excitement level. Weaving around nuance to broad brush the actual shading of life, offering no chaser for the elixir substituted as a sacrament in a church service that is more complex than calculus taught by a pissed-off chihuahua. Nostrils flared out and looking to whoop ass. Someone better call the fire marshal because there are too many angry sheep up in here. The instinct of a mob is to march for change on the road to extinction. WAIT! What? Hold the apocalypse! On second thought, the concert of collusion is about the begin - innuendo, hearsay, and fertile grounds starved for the performance. Ahhhh lawsy day, the maestro wearing his American Flag bowtie for this occasion and testing out new lies. It ain’t wrong folks when set to the right music. We just good ole folk using bad people to further good causes. They got the cash and power, so changing the rules is superficial while serving humanity’s wants. Then we foolish dreamers walked out on the check and stole the tip jar. Payback is gonna be a beast.
Until the next time,
Jarvis
