Tuesday, June 5, 2012

EGGS: 'United States of Ben'

Posted By on Tue, Jun 5, 2012 at 9:06 AM

Oh where’s,
Mon Cher when the high dies down
When all the rolls are sold in town
When trolling shills propel your friends
To the arms of the Other
Or another, Amen?

Oh man,
Do you polish and peddle the Golden Turd
And milk the teet of the Pharaoh’s World
Cuz everyone’s dumb (it’s Zero Sum)
And numb’s the closest Meant To Be?

That’s deaf to what that meant to me:

Violence dragged in the garb of Peace
Drugged up
Thugged up
Frothy Beast

Cerberus squirting Pearly Gates
The opposite of Love ain’t Hate:

It’s Indifference.

Is there a difference?

Ask a Negligent Pimp:

“Yeah, Isaiah 32:7
3-6-5 24/7,
So just shut down and lift your gown
And phantasize you’re dead in Heaven.”

Damn girl,
The Duke of Pearl
Could strang you hard in Lonely Way
If None pans how it needs to pay
For the ride you rode is not your own
And you’re too shy for a government loan

But oh bro,
They know how we did part the sea
Yet now we just bump ecstasy
As shills for Culture Industry
That’s selling Life Vicariously:

But Daa—aa—AAd,
This Reaction’s just built in?
To how my friends must know my friends’
Language’s bought and sold and taught
Down Isles of Existential Ends

Good Lord!
My Momma had it rough
But that’s just why I’m so damn tough
The train yard crew done named me Nails
Impaler be, or be Impaled

To break the horse
And name It Named for
None of this can be in vain.
And it’s OK that life is pain, but)

XM Stations of the Cross
All at once, and all is lost

Where Mind can sit
And watch the Soul

Rock And Roll.

Stop, drop, and Rock And Roll for:

We freed me back from Myself
Who is Already Dead.
God is underneath your Memory
Floating in your Head.

Plus I saw Daniel Long today
And He said Everything’s OK

For, “Some make things
That some can’t see
When some make Shiny

Like Court of Louie X-I-V
His Noble Mediocrity
Aristopunky Bourgeoisie
Would bore to snore-the-floor ‘bout me.”


There is no division
Living solely how you’re taught.

Jelling like a felon selling
More of what you bought,

Running low on names
To claim the place you
Want to be

Feeling pain
Inside the brain:
Intangibility, but

Babe, I saw your face
It made me want to write a book.

Girl, the world can’t hide your Shine
It’s everywhere I look:

I got the words
To jump the gap
Of maybe how I feel

I’m running towards the blade
Because I don’t believe its real


Lord a-MRSA, what’s it mean?

Is this some kind of funky dream?

A gallows joke?
A test?
A scheme?

A Bens’ United States of Being?

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