Earth’s Children are silent …Grandpa why? WHY?
Insanity knocked on the door from arms of shallow remorse
Are you home?
The grime etched its presence into the mind near Jersey
Tomorrow forgot everything that it promised
These pockets have no dreams they were sold on
Fifth Avenue
Fifth Avenue
Absurd, call Pacino tell him the dancers have broken legs
Luck was never in the cards when the ducks make bombs
A cat on a hot tin roof
The night festers in graveyards on the West Side guarded by the Walrus
I am the Walrus; I am the egg man... Goo goo g' joob
Mister you’re sitting on my toilet, his flowers long to sing Italian opera
Subways are my ballet in the summer, in the city
Just a cool cat looking for a kitty… in the city
Insanity wastes into grime and etches foul eternities of Warhol with Brando
They dance…Lennon just watches
A cat on a hot tin roof
Persuade me again liberty while we frolic with jewels of poets
Of true science found in the intestines of words …spill guts of souls
Contrast the dark with evil and then the stage caters to lost mortality
There is more sense in teacups whispers Tennessee ’s script
Their words ushered by Popes and villains with keys to soured bliss
"There was no key held in existential dreams" said Toto
You can tell by my attitude… that I am most definitely from
Don’t answer the door, Goo goo g' joob
Call Pacino
Call Pacino
There’s a cat on the hot tin roof…
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Tell the unborn..."sorry we ate the apple"
T A McNeil
TIME...the Book
June 18,2011
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