Finally got to get my hand
out of this flat-lands cookie jar.
Most never do.
Doing time in solitary aught to.
But why couldn't it just be taught to.
Oh you thought one
plus one is two too?
Yep and nuh uhn:
slaves to wages and short on our old ages.
The blue collar gets all the scraps
and that's never good enough
for the sons and daughters of tired men
drunk on their way home
to numb the pained hands and feet and soul.
Flat-lands of tired hands
and then the eighties happened
lime light became one big cops episode.
It would take legalizing abortion
twenty years earlier to break
this crime wave of villainy.
Bikers and hookers held the road
in place where I'm from.
Meth epicenter.
Felony flats.
Fuck the dickman brothers
all that shit is just more of the same
window watching othering.
Lentz is home.
But my home is the mountains
the river and the wind and trees.
Fuck your laws of possession.
I am this land.
as soon as I can
I'm gone
Gonna crawl out of his cage whole Cave hole
give me purchase
a chance and a new Kershaw
so what if we're all crippled emotionally
my damnation zone takes lives away from most
it had come from within
a place without time
a tic-toking timer
priming the pace we all live by
hope here is found in front of a video poker machine
can you see what its done doing
like we knew what we were doing
pruning each other
bitter as government grapefruit juice
poverty smother ring
all the attitudes of wouldabeens
see I am potential buttfucked into disarray
it is what we thought we wanted
I wish you through the heart moments
so silly west hillers daydream childhood
where ideas apparently parenthood
is whats good enough
when its all on the line
table scraps the cream of our dream
dream dream between the creases
where sidewalks and teeth ceases to be
substantial substances suddenly unable to stand tall
hoping like always
that one will stride
in tall hallways right
wont hit my head
with circumstance or lost
chances.
fingers cant stay crossed.
they may get stuck.
in the Flat-lands.
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