Mike Roe And Mike

As below. So above.

Things never fit.

Like a glove.

Your Days Are Numbered Now Name Them

Six hundred years old.

On his thirty-ninth childhood.

Jonah finally learned to shit his pants.

He could shit those pants with ease, now.

No need to scare shit out.

All done with zero grunting, he was proud…

Ya gotta learn to shit yourself, he knew.

If it takes six hundred years.

Cause once you learn to shit yourself, my friend.

No shit can come from fears.

If You Need To Be Angry

A punching bag, you’re not.

But, here you are… caught.

In the eye of a drama storm.

Drama storm.

Drama storm.

Turn and torn.

Man you rustled bag!

You Hag!

Queen of Drama, Storm!

Suggestions Dropped Like Grenades To Fall On

The Boogieman wears my droopy pants.

The Boogieman wears my shoes.

The Boogieman, he limits me.

Tells me what to choose.

Fear this, fear that.

My Boogieman knows just where it’s at.

Staying Where God Wants You

Pretend you are a fuckwit.

A moron and a gloat.

Pretend you’ve nothing to offer.

Then think about your oath.

Your oath. Your oath…

Just think about your oath.

To UPHOLD life.

Against all strife.

And now, apparently, you’re in it.

It’s time for you to bring it.

Sing or just wingding it.

But Madame or Good Sir.

Bring it.

The Stupid Future And Past

It hit him in the gut.

Right. In. The. Gut.

Weren’t no ifs, no ands or buts.

There it was and just because

It was there, he could see it.

He could feel it, be it.

Let it run amok.

Or he could look away.

Go and play.

He could really not give a fuck.

That thing was there.

That much was true.

But it did not tell him what to do.

He could shelve it for the future.

Redesignate it’s past.

He could do this from where he stood right now.

Create a new future and past…

If You Open The Door For God He Will

The Devil makes you do stuff.

You don’t want to do.

And God, he wants whatever you want.

Cause God, he works through you.

Satan works in other folks.

Via tempers they can’t control.

They stab you once maybe fitty times

And you don’t ever say whoa!

See, God and Lucifer, at your beck and call.

God is gonna help you good.

For Slewfoot, you take the fall.

But buddy, don’t you think for a moment.

You are doing this all.

The Deadly Lack Of Imagination

They didn’t think it was a bear.

Just the shadow of a rock.

Cause this bear never growled

And it never, ever talked.

It just cast this shadow.

Not much there to know to

Run this way or walk all day

But some who say

It’s a bear alright.

We need more fright!

And get out of sight!

Don’t wait til night!

Or it’s cover of darkness.

You disregard this

At your peril.

And they did…

Everyone Wants A Slinky

Shh! No talking!

No whispering, too!

No damn winking or

Smoke signals, you!

An En Dee Aye.

You sign today.

And then you say

Nothing.

Keep it to yourself.

You got bills to pay.

You like dat car okay?

Maybe your lips stay

Close Ed.

In Liarland

When his lips were moving

And his mouth was on this side.

One could hear the fibs a tumbling.

And, once in a while, collide.

They painted a sunny picture

Full of sunny, sunny ways.

But the sun will gladly take your sight

And leave you in a blinded daze.

He lied and lied and lied and lied.

With smart dressed liars by his side.

They flashed their whitened teeth with glee

And shook with both their hands, look … see!

They held friends fast and enemies faster

They only focus on what they’re after.

And buddy, that ain’t you.

How They Shut You Up

You’re scared.

Am I right?

You don’t sleep good at night?

You, you think they’re watchin’.

No, but they sorta gotcha.

Looking over your shoulder.

Sayin’ ” Dammit! I fucking told ya!”

Hands in ya pockets.

Not your hands, all theirs.

Fingers in your busy-ness.

Fixin’ on your address.

Nothin’ you own’s yours.

You run with man whores.

They, they open doors.

So often they tell you…

And you know they close them too.

Reality As An Onion Where You’re Peeling The Inside Out

He could be artificially intelligent.

He could walk and do that talking.

He could observe without balking.

He had a front and centre seat

To the Shit Show.

Ya, here in the front row,

He could smell the shit.

Got used to it

Being on his clothes and

Up his nose.

From there he rose to the challenge

Like Stonehenge.

Shit was fake as hell…

Karma

You’ll get yours!

He shook his fist.

Eyes a bulgin’, dude was pissed.

Life was upside down.

Shit had come around.

And that shit had just found

Him.

No, You Ain’t Suffering Alone.

He was a thief all right.

He worked both day and night.

His tool was so uptight.

You could have a stroke.

Maybe be that bloke.

Who one day wrote;

“I’m gonna do what I wanna.”

“If I am not hurtin’ no one.”

“I’ma gonna hava some fun.”

“Ain’t livin’ in fear.”

This Farmer Farms Crazy

You had to pay them for paying them.

They charged you for nothing.

Fines tripled and quadrupled.

The cameras missed nothing.

They charged you to use your money.

Had to pay if you didn’t.

Paid to tie your horse up.

Got a fine if you didn’t.

Charged you for the ground

And the rain and the waste.

Charged you for a stadium

While your road lay in waste.

Charged you more for taxes

So they could pile on more debt.

Squeeze you for a little more and

Crazy you, you say yes.

I Can Help You Here

He wanted help where he was but

Help wasn’t where he was

Just because

Help was needed like a blanket

Not a thread.

You’re an ant.

Sorry you’re dead.

The blanket is all.

Outlying The Outliars

Psst! Ya wanna hear a story?

Bout a guy that wasn’t sorry

That he fibbed about tamorry?

It wasn’t true.

But what could he do?

It was through and though!

No really, what could he do?!

Even facts not true.

He said to you.

Looked your TV in it’s eye.

Said pally, I’m your guy.

And don’t you wonder why.

Just nod, yes sir! Eye, eye!

And kiss your arse goodbye.

The Doctor Said Drink Whiskey

She imagined him telling her

She must be drunk.

And whomever thinks otherwise

Obviously thunk

That they know much more than

The whiskey presciber.

He’s not just inside her.

He’s a real man

Who really can

See the medicine in whiskey.

S’all Fixed

She colored her hair.

He was really a she.

And they invented a reality that

Could never be

Deciphered

Cause they heard that

Honesty sucked and

They would beef hooked

If they did so.

Upon Losing Your Mind

Keep someone close whom remembers.

Tell you how great you are.

Might recall where they moved your whiskey.

Might remind you that ain’t your car.

Maybe not so jumpy at sundown.

Might help find your bloody remote.

Might remind you strangers are not your son.

Maybe smart enough to pet your goat.

Maybe say you’re a good boy and

Good boys don’t cry and good

Girls know why.

They listen to their mommies

And their daddy-waddies

And they don’t turn the stove on

By themselves.

French Understand French. Geniuses, Geniuses.

There was nothing to complain about.

The good life was boring as shit.

He knew what he’d eat for dinner that night,

And he knew from what place he’d eat shit.

He knew he knew shit.

He knew they knew it.

He faked his way good.

Got tanned like he could.

But alas, he stood

To lose and he

Boozed like he

Had no tomorrow.

My god, the sorrow…

Awaiting him.

Baiting him.

There’s no tomorrow!

He could not borrow

From the future

Like you, sir.

And everyone does.

They Said Their Way Was The Way But It Was Just Another Way

Their God was a loving god.

Right here, pot was legal by god.

Here, you get a nice piece of cheap sod.

Don’t tell you, after purchase, you thought

Shit was yours.

Gonna make a stand from even

Down on all fours.

Better down here.

Keep a head low.

Never lotsa warning to avoid the next blow.

Eye on the watch.

Sidestepping gotcha!

Beggars slow trollin’

For soul.

Space

This sucks.

This doesn’t.

This sucks.

This doesn’t.

Does it suck?

Maybe it doesn’t…

The Tale Of Two Stories

It was true what they said.

He nodded his head.

It was true yesterday, it was true.

But yesterday was then

And this is now.

Circumstances changed.

And how.

Now was for the twinge-ing.

Tomorrow, there’d cringing.

People be unhinging as

Reality be bringing

Another view.

They Sent No Dollars To The Front Line

No Dollars was the cunning sort.

He’d report “No thing to see!”

And there he’d be…

Helping entropy.

Giggling as shit breaks down.

No Dollars didn’t play about.

You could smell him when he’s around.

The fear… that sweet… that curious scent.

Put big men on their heels and spent

Life like it was worthless.

Pitty now… poor us!

No Dollars, you stay away!

Life Teaches Little The First Time Around

You cook, then eat.

Undress, then sleep.

Time doesn’t pass until you notice it creep

Into your hair and knees and

Even if you don’t please

Time is gonna find you.

Fade away your memory.

Now you cannot run.

Muse at all the things that will never get done.

Now you have to think.

Think and deeply drink

From the past that flew so fast

That it damn near missed you.

Translating Fibbery

His lips moved lots,

When he lied.

Her words flowed true

When she lied.

They smiled and held hands.

Achieving all their plans

Against the also rans.

Holding all the cards.

Ahead by many yards.

They shone from these retards.

Because they spoke a second language.

One that contained all the damage.

Til it ripped a hole in

Honesty’s soul.

A hole the beggars patched up pronto.

Placebo. Nocebo And Karma.

Science! He said,

As he pointed to his head.

Then, to our dread,

Said we’d been dead

Until he said

We were goners.

All fawners for

Magic and baking.

He said.

And nobody hoped he was right.

Small Concern. Big Influence.

You stink and buddy you stink.

You lie and buddy you think

Your lies don’t count but

They’re the fount of

What amounts to

Shit storms coming.

You start running

Off at the mouth.

Hear what’s about

To happen.

Santa Hands Out PTSD

Here comes Santa Clause.

Here comes Santa Clause!

Man, old Santa’s lame!

See, Santa works for Hudson’s Bay.

Walmart and Macy’s, yay!

Santa fronts for MasterCard.

And Visa, he’s okay!

But Santa, he let Sears go down.

Let mom and pops go bust.

Believe in Santa, less in Satan.

See, Santa’s one of us!