Crazy the musical

uh oh uh oh, cannot even take it any more;
for show for show, keep the secret in the drawer;
Just go, just go, your credence from a bag of corn;
The truth, the truth, sounds like the static on the phone;



Its kinda rigid when you break a broken flint stone;
When using sticks for fire try not to use a fish bone;
Its really trivial when soggy is exempt;
Can be pretentious if you think you're in contempt;

I'm kinda skittish about cabbage in a can;
Would it be kiddish if I tried to hold your hand;
I like to pretend that I am a super spider man;
Cryptozoology can't prove that I am bland;

Could super mario jump on a marionette's head;
Why does king koopa want princess peach in his bed;
Why does these question's without answers take up space in my mind;
Could use those dendrites to solve problems yet they still grind;

All together, All together, here we go now;
We're gonna take our turns, take our turns practicing our cat growl;
So kick a paper, Kick a paper bag until it hurts;
Do you think turtle hands could turn a tap until it squirts;

Imagination Station

Hello to Earth from inside my brain, when the synapses snap the neurons will explain, that the feeling I get is a chemical release when in fact is the stack of thoughts from within my inner beast.

There's a momentary lapse when the future and the past come together in the present, presently its kinda slapped, altogether the formality doesn't really last, it's the reality statistical causality I scrapped.

Dry cut, wet cut what's the difference, can you see it? after all the outcome's finished can we agree to disagree that pig's don't fly nigh do ostriches or penguins. Mr.Popper had a jalapeno door stopper for stopping, didn't stop him from getting caught hustling and hopping.

Hop along Harry now the time is nearing paradox, doctor schoel's shoes do you think they're comfy  without socks? Parachute, paradigm, para diddle paddle, beat box full of treats, now I'm here to feed the cattle. 

Gonna loosen up a bit treating words to be like zingers, what's up with that kid. Causeless harm with a jar full of bee stingers, rest assure it's safe just like some olden ravioli, sitting on a park bench eating jello wearing moldy goalie, gear on, gonna stop the raw tomatoes from their jeer pawns.

Pistachios though through their trajectory are nearing what it is I'm fearing could be a hospitable hostility all depends on where you're stance is or if your a literally sitting littering.

If the shell's deflect from hitting upside your face, hopefully you are considering moving your positional place, you may need to be conditioned to react and retract before making a decision about moving right back .


Holy molly, my mind is running around it's kind of stunning, how I sound when I'm just cunning tryna ground what is becoming, ultrasounds refracting like echolocation contracting, catch a bat and teach it to preach and practice acting.

Train of thought has stopped, this here is where I drop, all the baggage theatrics that I've manifested in this cream of the crop, imagination station is the place this all takes place, on the screen is where you read it right in front of your face.

Vampire Diarrhea

Inkaty binkaty  motha funken danky donkey, Just tripped so hard I smacked the cart my horn when Huh-heh honky!

My ice cream melted upwards till it dripped into the clouds that thundered in reaction to the melty cream of cows.

I just had a daydream i was slipping sipping on some syrup that spilt from a tree gushing it poured until i woke up.

Already awake, with your face go hit a rake, could a car without brakes possibly ever have stakes in the fortune five hundred vampire joust that takes, place every tuesday at the back of the fake, building that got built to stand in the space, of the empty lot that stood there since the start of a case.

Can a case be made for toast that hasn't not a slice of bread, like a neverland buffet, enough has or hasn't been said. But enough hasn't been lived, in the time that it took, for fifteen thousand magic rice bubbles to go an grow in a nook.

Can a cranny be explained, existing in outer space, can a scream in a can be heard if opened in your face.

Can the stars explode silently, if they were in a library, can a crown be worn upside down if it were to sound just like a inside out bribery.

Can that new thing that looks just like the old one, become more improved if you think you may have stole one?

So at the end is the beginning like the middle, or is it so big that in a microscope it's little?

Unthinkable

Faster Forward

Milliseconds pass faster than cash can last, Time flies by, leaving nothing to stash,
Time of day, but the suns gone so hey, is that right, why don't we say time of night?;

Moving forward faster than the pace of speeding of light, which when transmuted to be perceived by the brain as sight,I live one blip at a time, but when the time is right, I'm all growzed up now, getting older as cells begin to fight;

Second hand is present, but ignored just like its first, firstly overlooked, invisible, like the presence of a curse. You can feel it, know its there, dare not say it, make you scared;

 Just live it, ignoring its existence persistently remaining distanced, like a restraining ordered carpel tunnel telling you to your wrist is, not healing, but not broken, not feeling like its been token;

Outta breath and can't guess why the heck you feeling choking, dust... up in the air, clouds be smoking, the grinzel hairs, needing oxygen, no matter how much you gasp it's not there again;

Misplaced, reallocation, carnivorous pears need medication, not there to be stagnation, always moving like creation;

It is, or is it ism? is it ist, ing ed, or can it be presumed, that the suffix that's required will be unveiled when most desired?;


Now if I got a lobotomy, in my frontal lobe, could it be possible that I'd changed forever to be slow? would I drool and not feel pain, emotions or notions to make me sustain, the kind of life I live, am I living in actuality;

What is living, what is giving, what is driving this mentality. Could it be that I have a craving for more congeniality, seconds pass and expiration's closer than before;

Yet for reasons unknown, without physical apprehension, intercognative devices interrogate my reluctance, leaving me to have to deal with resulting unappreciative dysfunction;

Dissociative disdain directing me to my recluse, thinking money makes it better, as dollars can be a noose-cents can be annoying. Bills are constantly destroying all the happy thoughts I have making my thoughts all be toying.

Playing games, singing songs, living now, living long. Seconds pass, time flies bye-bye, melting into a haze, turning into minutes which then turn into days;

 See you later, if not sooner, If I see you, don't act lunar. Which is to say do act out of this world, faster forward as we travel and our futures unfurled.

MrBassoon

Wild Card

You know that feeling you get when you take a gamble and win,
That same feeling making tingles, before the rush starts to begin,
The excitement that enthralls, overcomes and then befalls,
It's when your heart begins to flutter then it skips and it stalls.

That existential exuberance,
Inflates you till you're feeling tense,
Egotistically ballistic and manically optimistic,
Stereoscopic material building insatiable cravings for endless variables;

Leaving no room for error though,
Eliminating all doubt,
Taking over your brain waves,
Pushing negativity out;

Saying no isn't an option,
Or in the least quite hard,
That urge you feel, it's very real,
That's me, I'm the wild card;

I'm what you been missing,
All this time in your life,
The thing that you been looking for,
The cure for your strife;

I'm right here, and you are there,
Here's the rules,
So it's fair and square,
Gimme your money and I'll keep it coming;

The feeling that you seek,
I'll speak it in literary tense,
You can read it tongue and cheek,
Or if required verbally, I'll read it once a week;

Guided by blindness

There's a voice in my head,
It sometimes confuses me,
Tells me to say things,
Or do things, but truthfully;

I'm not sure if it is mine,
I can choose to ignore it,
Free choice is opportunity,
Decisions can be abhorrent;

So far it's led me here,
The darkness becomes clear,
Days are getting longer,
As is my growing hair;

When I go make bad decisions,
Often leading me astray,
I listen to this voice again,
It guides me back, but I don't stay;

I seem to have this problem,
As I'm unable to cope,
With rational existence,
And I think it's mine, I hope;

As the forces in my mind,
Constantly they battle,
One fights for right now,
The other for tomorrow;

Procrastination is the game,
Been a victim, and a player,
Seen the outcome, and the hand dealt,
Turned a quick task to all dayer;

Learned to listen,
Control the outcome,
Make my mission,
Remove the doubt from;

Let the inner voice lead,
Ignoring blindness,
Using just thoughts,
Perfectly Time this.

Stark Raving

I be stark raving mad when I jumped so high I hit the ceiling, Like a bark making proud the tree that grew the rough protrusion, on the outside of the skin, reflections looking in. What is it you see when you look on a whim.



Is it me that I see when the feelings inverted, kinda like sugar cane no candy cane, just blurt it. Minty whips kicking doing flips like a ninja hopping round about to get licked, like a lolly pop play ground, about to get dropped, sand dune castle made inside an hour glass. Hand made tassels, probably never last.

Like the ribbon you don't get when you come in eleventh in a race, or the congratulations you miss cause you in the wrong place. The hooray, and applause from almost making it to space, from a couple caged monkeys with gnats on their face.

What good is a balloon if its only made to pop, what good is glass when it always gets dropped. Eventually everything will be broken and shattered, like Shatner's career, who can blame him for getting badder?

Is that even a word, or am I making stuffs up now? who the hell cares this is my place to throw up, sow... I take verbiage and spin it any way that I want, and when you come here to read it, you only think that I thought, that you think that I think that it matters at all?

Well it doesn't, in the end it's really quite small...

Mad At The World

I'm mad at the world because it's keeping me down, no not the gravity there from spinning round and around. Things are constantly taking a turn for a shitty, why can't life be wonderful, why do I stay in this city?

I'm coming to the conclusion that the ones who got it good are also the same ones who did what ever they could. As I try to do the same my life gets more so inane, as further forward I push and I keep expecting the train to come and get me. Save my life, take me off of these tracks, and it won't because it can't, because it never looks back.

I seem to be the one here fallen off of my path, keep on wandering further, until I add up the math, at this point one and one don't seem to add up to two. So I speak with other wanderers encountered inside of this zoo, they tell me over and over that I'll eventually find what it is that I'm after if I keep on the grind.

Grind it up, like the beans going into the cup, percolated, then demonstrated. My perpetration is up, like the leaves in the wind, I be flying on a whim. Years ago before the fall I used to live on a limb.

Now like a stab in the dark, I'm just that kind of crass, a haphazardous approach to falling flat on my ass. Like a blanket that's wet, I'm feeling heavier than I should, like I said a moment ago I feel grounded below, if I could I'd be flying high, but I'm not, no I'm stuck in this rut, left to rot like I died on the spot, and I'm looking out, living out moments of time.

The sadness always leading me to a state of frustration is the fact that I can't seem to avoid all of this  constant confrontation with myself, inside my head, during this juggling act, the one I do where the things I'm tossing always end up coming back, biting me in the ass, taking me down the wrong roads.

Tricking my mind to make me think that I'm about to expose the next chapter in my life that will eventually lead to the close, to happily ever after that never seems to exist. So I wonder and ponder why is it me the world's dissed?

At this time now I would like to conclude, that the my time on this earth has left me feeling proverbially screwed. I want to stop this constant cycle that tears at my inner being, being as I'm suppose to be able to, what is it I'm not seeing? What is it that I have seemed to have forgotten? Is it someone, or is it something that with money can be boughten? Is it some kind of relic that if I had broughten with me on my travels, treasure would easily be gotten?

What I do know is I don't know, and I can't know or I won't, so therefore is it the world that I'm mad at, or a reflection of me that I see in the world that makes me disagree?

When a brainstorm rains

Chaka Mushaka went out to get some baka, but what he got instead was a case of the runny cacas;
Roony toony, jumping dragoony watch out for that spill before you become a bafoony;
Smack yo head, would you be dead? Depends on how hard you hit the bed;
Bed of rocks, bedrock, or dirty socks, either way the situation sucks like wooden blocks.

Now hows he gonna wipe when ain't nothing round to do it;
How you gonna prove that the apex is congruent?
What you gonna use to clean the blood from yo cruddy duds?
The same thing that they use to clean the floor with bubbly suds.

You can't get drunk from drinking soap, and you can't get high from firework smoke;
Don't try, you'll die, and the people will cry;
Like the time that cat got sand in it's eye;
Meowing all night, till the dog's bark on;

Then you try to drown it out while the night turns to dawn;
Cover your head with feathers from a bunch of baby ducks, in a sac on your bed;
Sounds a little nucking fricken fraggen futs;
But what do I know about it, cause I do the same thing, sept I cover the feathers with my head and a blanket covers me, whilst I lay in my bed, Inside my house that's right beside a tree.

And night turns into day, and I leave eventually;
As I watch out for the puddle, the one thats eight feet deep;
It's right beside the nether realm that's hiding like a creep;
Like a vine slowly growing, wrapping around as it's snowing;

Is that ashes, or dust that's falling;
Where are the stars that be calling;
Out my name, like the name game;
The one with the fella bo bella;

Ip sip quip lip;
Ships a gonna tell ya;
As it sails away into the sun;
Would it eventually melt? or is it just gone?

Velvetta, queso con quetta;
Cheesy line from rhyme time;
As far as I con-seeda;
If I can stop, I'll try to drop, the message here is don't drink pop, or soap, or hope to get high on smoke from poison gas and allotrope, or you transcend to another place, whether here or there or outer space.

Work Week

This week I worked a lot;
 last week not nearly as much;
Some people complain about working too often;
 others that their work often sucks.

Having two jobs is like riding two horses;
 can't tell which one is the faster;
Till one rears back and kicks you off;
It'll begin to be quite a disaster.

I worked as much in one week, as others work in two;
But till this day there's barely pay as I spent it before I was through;
My credit cards are maxed out, there's payments out the wazoo;
I just got approved for another one, oh golly what should I do?

I'm thinking of taking a vacation, my mind has already split;
So should I pack, or just hang back, and wait for my body to quit?
I don't think it's gonna happen, at least not for a while;
The last time it did, I was a kid, afraid of crocodiles.

Working kinda stinks, Why can't I get paid to do nothing?
I guess its cause that wouldn't make sense, and so I'm forced to be constantly roughing;
By that I mean doing the gritty, the things other people cannot;
Or possible won't because they just don't, and that's that, so I'm in a though spot.

I need like a billion dollars, a millions simply not enough;
There's a chance I could spend it too easy, pretend that I would buy a castle, and stuff;
I'd probably buy a Ferrari, a Lambo and even a Plane;
A helicopter hummer, damn wouldn't that be insane.

There's a reason shit in life costs money;
Cause if not we'd all be dumb;
Dumber than we are, cause we all can't be stars;
And some of us would end up so numb.

So tomorrow I go back to work;
Another seven day work week again;
Hang my head up high as I work till I die;
Why must I constantly expend?