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Arizuma (String’s of Iscariot’s Money Purse)

Lyric written in philosophical pluralism
Stolen from road signs and wicker basket highway fruit stands
To buy organic fruit from a smiling alien
Calling out for a home in the window of new Heaven
Broken concrete and rusted steel girders
Life crushed to a whisper
Silence in pluralistic ignorance

Don’t drive sensible Subaru’s
Screw your perfect smiling family of five
I am not one of them
Don’t push a membership for the book club with every purchase
Screw your new releases and extra 10% off of the 20%
We are all to bored to read
Don’t preach to me about savings certificates or the value of a retirement fund
You can use that paper to set your institution on fire when the lights go out

Fame is plaster used to fill empty souls
Fooled into entertainment
Your dishes are dirty
Your hero is dirty
Your children are dirty
Where is the fucking remote?
Only the famous speak of themselves when they are old

Sell singing blackbirds
Sell insoles for stolen shoes
Sell oceans, black with foam
Sell bombs bursting in air
Sell the adopted sons of greed
Run away to a new home with your riches
Fly there with matches and more than 3.8 ounces of liquid or gel
Is it real?

This lost name of his 14th disciple
Spin up this wooden boy
Barnabas wrote his trust on recycled paper
Collecting coins on Roman Holiday
Dealing blessings in dirty road side bathroom stalls
Sold off to those paid to protect by his God’s forsaken children

Magnificent farmer
Protector, father, teacher
Melting witches with buckets of water
Wishing I were the muse of Oz
Dreadlock Jesus wails out of speakers
Blue light’s glow from the stereo’s crack radio dial glass
Twin cassette tape soldier
1984
Seeker of love, peace, justice and pain
Planning his fifth life to this, his reincarnation songs
I am on number 4

Lover’s face woven into her pillow
Bottle of Virgin lust purchased in a theme park gift shop
Advertised in Sunday’s coupon section
Drowsy guilt, nocturnal regret
Never fret desire, dreams last an average of 1.5 seconds
Regretting his broken precept
Next week we will sit in the front row

Collecting the willing
Our silent King’s wishing stone
Blood drenched sugar and moldy leafed wicked brew
Imperialist rogues sip tea at 3pm
Plucked down of a broken buzzard feather
Better to stock your court with enemies than liars
Scribbles biographical flattery
Each man his own false enigma
Easily solved puzzles
Compromising relevance for justification
The wise chose to remain ill defined

Chasing brush lines in painted fields
Where his childhood lives
Where ocean dreams
Delusional hopes topped in blue sky simplicity
His promise of intoxicated debilitation
Shuddered, his car changed lanes

Modern man can blur survival and surrender
Still this jackal midjudges his value daily
Subservient Ruler
Shaded in your mother’s shadow
Paper cut by torn pages of fashion magazines
Painted in makeup and hair dye
Freedom, Woman Unbound

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Arizuma (String’s of Iscariot’s Money Purse) by 


This is the New America. All men are created equal, some just have higher ceilings to grow within.

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