We're Going: Poaster's Progress

A Poem

We’re Going
Poaster's Progress

To where we have to go, it won’t
Matter anymore,
What the freaks have had to say
And what we’ve heard before.
We’re going far, we’re going soon,
Off to find new ways
That lead to fertile thriving land,
And brighter dawning days.

Pencil pushers, the raving mad,
The number munching fools,
Let them chew their technic fruits
Until their time is through.
The pop-stars are blowing out,
Going supernova;
The royal blood of modern times
Ain’t nothin’ but Coca-Cola.

Listen close and listen well,
The heart is slowin’ down,
Its circulation’s cutting out,
Droppin’ toes all over town.
The zombie veins are pulsing weak,
The fingers all fell off;
And zombie sex has lost its verve
Cause kisses turned to coughs.

The zombie kids can’t know a thing,
They lost their ABC’s;
The zombie kings are freakin’ out,
They ate the zombie queens.
Knick-knacks and bric-a-brac,
Keep the doggies stoned;
Cause getting high on your own supply
Is cheaper than federal loans.

When upside down is rightside up,
The posies start to fly,
Hinx and minx and subtle winks,
The fat begins to fry.
The chopper comes with choppin’ chops
For choppin’ off your head,
He’ll chop and chop and chop and chop
And chop until your dead.

So come with me and off we’ll go,
Squelch this stupid noise,
Leave em’ dead, let no’s be no’s
Let em’ break their toys.
Get out before it gets too late,
Extremist use of prejudice,
Cause modern times have quick become
Apocalyptic Nemesis.

Schizophrenic telegenic
Sirens sing your name,
Let trials come but brave them bare
And tie your passions tame.
The fay resolves unto the grim,
To strangle Typhon’s rage;
Firmest hands of pious men
Prevent the ancient phage.

Woe to you, oh men of the breach,
As Babel towers fall,
Trowel and blade are called upon:
“Rebuild the temple walls.”
So thrust the Phineas lance to pin
The traitor on his whore;
Righteous might propitiates
A sacrificial floor.

Men of the gaps, you must be strong,
Cast out your foreign wives.
Refill the temple’s empty courts
Though you be deprived.
But know ye this, the time is now
To worship in the spirit,
And be ye taught by God Himself,
If ye can wish to hear it.  

Were going now, so off we’ll go
To icy frosted hills,
Endure the cold by crackling flame,
We’ve oaths that need fulfilled.
It won’t be long until we die,
So button up your coat,
And stack the stones with careful eyes,
The temple yearns to smoke.

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