We | A Lyme-Brained Rhyme Game Excerpt


Why do we allow ourselves to be consumed by doubt?
I really don’t know, man. Why do we stay bugging out?

How are you gonna lay me upon this bed all day
and make me focus my eyes on what the others say,
always thinking on the tomorrow
that’s years out from today.
Santa ain’t the reindeer,
he flies the freakin’ sleigh!

Easy for you to say, always talking shit.
Always keep the brain racing,
causing me to throw a fit.
Always claiming to act for others,
you want your own benefit
and I don’t even know who’s lying here,
but on you? The shoe? It fits.

On me?
You’re really gonna blame this life on me.
the captain is the angel
and the problem is the machine.
more translucent than solution of saline,
you tell me,
“Don’t be blue,”
and take the yellow out the green!

It’s yes or no, monkey, there is no in-between.
You always rock the boat and careen the shits on me.
Your ship has sailed,
I’m pristine and life is looking pale.
I got bodies in other timelines waiting,
fucking begging
for me to grace them with sublime and fine dining,
a life of gold shining like rhinestone sized diamonds;
now I swear to fucking god I am not simply rhymin’,
say your last words before I pop you like a hymen.

Been there, done that,
you’ve tried to kill myself.
Remember that pilly dinner,
snatched the bottle off the shelf?
But you cried, changed your mind,
vomited, and stayed crying
while I picked up all the pieces,
so you’d best stop denying.

I fucking scoff–

I cut you off!
I think you’re stuck with me.
Mister Immortal Spirit,
just a ball of energy,
or a string,
the pull start to get my ass up out the brink,
I mean bed;
even after all you’ve tried
I still ain’t wound up dead!

And tried I have,
how many tabs of Acid does it take!?
How many Magic Mushroom trips,
how many bowls of Shake?
How much time you gotta spend
tripping on a higher plane
just to see that I’m divine,
and you and I,
we’re the same?

Then why can’t I fly?
Why you make life so hard?
Why we always stayin’ broke,
why we empty in the heart?

Oh it’s we now?

It’s been we, motherfucker you’re a sheep
if you think you’re gonna spin this thread
right back around on me!
I’m a long-haired hippie freak
with a psychephrenic mind–
Yes, a man of my design.
Life’s a story, play your character.
Be kind to the AI and carve your mind
into the baluster.

I thought the mind didn’t exist?

You thought right, it’s just the tendency
to bend these words together,
make ‘em rhyme and give ‘em density.

So what the fuck’s the point,
why you put me through all this?

We go through all this
as much as a wall goes through ya fist
when you’re fuckin’ angry and your rage
has got me fuckin’ pissed.

Is there something that I missed?

And yet he still persists!
You asked me a question so I cuffed you at the wrist
and you just keep coming back,
Fuckin’ imagine that!
The hairless ape’s map of life:
riddled with fucking gaps!

I think the point of life
is to live ‘til the light goes out…
…so if you knew that all along,
what’ve we been on about?

Yes, we, soul and body,
the ghost and the machine.
Inseparable together,
insufferable as a team.
We stand alone in a snow-swept forest,
just leaning on this tree.

Now that we have this poem,
I wonder what it means…

All the books were taken off Amazon the other day due to some clownish bullshit, don’t worry about it. They’re all back up en eBook and Paperback, except for this one. Amazon’s making me wait on this one. So, here’s a poem! My favorite poem from the project, in fact. Hope ya dig it (-:

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