Keep Them Pennies and Act Like You Got Some Sense:     Act II & Act III

Act II

Remember we are here, and here is now
Not forever in some mythical place
Where dreams are constructed of blind faith
Diluted moral ways, and a gate that swings
Like a prison for those who lived in the path of the drain
Believing words of lies bound to their religion, it’s lies, and hypocritic ways
Their error is blind again, justified with intangible
Faith. So, tell me how can this be the same place
Murderers, rapists, and chimos go, if they pray,
Just one time, after spending their lives molesting and raping and killing
Before they lie down, close their eyes to
Die fuckers
Die Fuckers
Die in fear, bath in it – the putrid stagnant tar that is “victim”
Feel the stigma, taste the shame you inflict, choke on it
Here, let me stuff it down your gut through the throat hole
How does it feel fuckers?
To lose control over what gets stuck into you
To feel dirty, less than human, and to feel alone
With the fresh feeling of violated still running down your leg
Your black eye screams, “I should have been quiet.”
 
Act III

How can we change this path that lies
(is lying?)
Lay in front of us
For the better of the world, for the blades of grass yet to grow
On the toes of children who have yet to be
Alive, to live a life romping
With bare feet, free, truly free to feel the soft Earth
To feel the freed ant – no longer marching in a line, no longer divided
Free from singular minded, uncompartmentalized
Fuck these defining lines (lies)
Pseudo-partitions imagined into reality
Ignoring foreboding signs clearly posted everywhere telling us all the same thing
The same thing that we have seen before and again, written
As it always is in the language of the conqueror
Plain text, simple, simple Simons we are
Arrogant claims of how we live so much better, better than ever
Packed in cities, packed in traffic
Packed like cattle in the chutes
Packed like meat as it swings from hooks
A silent call
Spilling the ugly truth
Like cattle’s guts on the kill room floor