The Rip Post                                                                                              

Is This?
 Is This?
 Is this what you wanted to know?
 Is this what you wanted to hear?
 Is this the message
 You expected as
 Revealed truth,
 The summation
 And culmination of
 All the information
 From generations of
 Human existence?
 If You?
 If you were looking for clues,
 If you sought intimations
 About the nature of reality,
 Youíve been barking up
 The wrong tree,
 Youíve been walking on
 The wrong road.
 Then again?
 Then again, the remedy
 Is plain, when again
 You asked for an answer
 That would explain the
 Pain you feel walking
 Around in the fog, in the sun.
 Thereís no need for a gun.
 Are you perplexed
 By the complexity
 Or are you simply vexed
 By the direction your
 Life has failed to take
 And are you looking
 For villains to blame
 For your reticence
 And hesitance?
 If so, well then,
 You have another think coming.
 You want?
 You want another song,
 You want another tasty morsel?
 You want an eternal embrace?
 A special cartouche on the pharaohís
 Tabernacle might give you all the
 Instructions you need to go dancing
 With dream cats and Republicrats,
 Waltzing past tomorrow,
 Guy Lombardo portraying Zorro
 Mother Mary of the Immaculate Sorrow
 Denied orgasmic bliss by rapacious angels,
 Giving birth amid cacophonous creches,
 Your tribulations are only minor tributaries
 Lost amid the constellations, calling you down,
 Like Bozo the Clown, with a doo-rag as his crown.
 You want this?
 You want this?
 Then you know less
 than I ever imagined.
 Catastrophes whiffle
 Past your noggin,
 I can hear your arteries clogginí
 Donít need to be an M.D. to see
 Your demise written
 Large across the skies.
 Donít do it!
 Donít do it!
 Donít turn on the tell-me-vision,
 Donít summon the old apparitions,
 You are a faux magician,
 Your incantations are lame,
 Your spells are lacking in vowels,
 Your consonants are inconsistent
 With the time coordinates established
 By Ludwig Von Bee and Wolfgang Em.
 Time signatures apply ligatures
 To the very carotid arteries of
 The imperial bleats, in a heartbeat,
 Skip, skip, skip, skip and go
 Good night!
 ---Jack Oakes


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