The Rip Post                                                                                              


Atonement Poem
Your life has become
a fiction, a novel
which no one will read.
Ego would jump the fence,
were it not for
the concertina wire
surrounding the place.

It's always a hard ride,
except for those who
mouth their lines,
mumbling and grumbling, because
their stomachs are rumbling.
Hard ride, soft show,
soft soap, money for hope.

Who are your heroes,
oh ye of a failed generation,
victims of enervation
and moral starvation,
as propagated by
the zealots of Moloch.
We were the best minds
of our generation.
All that is lost shall not be regained.

Soldiers of the necropolis
are storming the Acropolis
What has been learned,
no love is returned.
Pain is a remedy
taken by few,
but prescribed by many
for every imaginary enemy
that crops up with the croup or ague.
Syrup of squill and hilarious stew.

Brave fighter pilot Georgie Dub
takes to the skies in his chimpy jet plane,
somebody left on the training wheels
so he's got a pain in the brain.
There is nothing to explain
and the prank is on you,
punked forever uber alles all over you.
                   ---Jack Oakes

"The strangest song I ever heard
Is what thunder says to lightning,
But I never could recall a single word."
-Robert Hunter "Cruel White Water"

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