Minivan Driver

AUDIO RECORDING@:
https://soundcloud.com/jim-nut-roarin/minivan-driver


minivan driver,
you lazy pod of opulence

minivan driver,
wherein a manufactured consciousness
do you breathe and watch the skies unravel?

minivan driver,
stagnant in your scheduled prison,
behind calendar bars

minivan driver,
with your familiar faces,
sitting dim and languid around
your plastic tube of solitude

minivan driver,
your clocks and linear progressions
will not bring tomorrow:

only the Sun does that,
billions of years before and after
your dismal squabble here


minivan driver,
locked in a perfumed flesh encasement,
you soften on your haunches,
and sit as godly kings at the helm
of your picket-fence domain

minivan driver,
you use your objects and act big
on a still Earth that you command
and own:

     
no, you’re wrong,
our blue-skinned orb,
she is but a pebble in the darkness,
projected faster and faster,
‘round and ‘round the inconceivable void,
farther and farther than your contrived
realisation of existence


minivan driver, are you dead?

are you crumbling
with the suburban surgeries of your mind?  
are you listless, spiritually unconscious?

let me tell you, minivan driver,
that in a second of Thought,
your Spirituality will reach
a dream-like form and apparition

but for Conciousness, minivan driver,
you’ll need to leave the comfortable ashtray
of your arrogance


minivan driver,
have you ever felt the icy fingers of fear
enlighten your life to a sparkle?

no, you’ll never feel the green karma
flowing in your anal veins
if you just sit there hunched at the table,
bickering impotently and slurping down
an industrialised fuel layed on the plate
before your so-sunken royal ass

minivan driver,
have you ever felt a silence
away from the eternal whirls and hums
of your chemical apparatus?

no, you’ll never be alone in God’s Silence,
you’ll never find serenity, never feel within
the cosmic vibration


no, you’ll remain clouded and confused
with the multitudes of televised intelligence
whirling through your soggy-noodled brain

no, you’ll never survive in Death’s wilderness
with your tarnished instinct,
without your cellular devices
you wouldn’t last a day


minivan driver, you are a mess

minivan driver,
in all your conscecrated wisdom,
a synthetic belch of incompetence

minivan driver,
trying to sell the safety of your private perception,
your bill-board message is a joke:

you are the way, the truth, the love...
i still garbage cans behind the doors


minivan driver,
I have seen more brilliance in the bugs and beetles
smashed across my windsheild

minivan driver,
it’s time to relinquish control,
relinquish the cosmetic worship
of your eggshell mediocrity,
the painted shoebox house of your mind
is now hollow and sterile

it’s time, minivan driver,
to open the calculating curtains,
let the crystaline sunshine of Reality in
to finally cleanse and absolve
your weak and puny soul.