The Consequence of Sound

My rhyme ain't good just yet,

My brain and tongue just met,

And they ain't friends,

so far,

My words don't travel far,

They tangle in my hair,

And tend to go nowhere,

They grow right back inside,

Right past my brain and eyes

Into my stomach juice

Where they don't serve much use,

No healthy calories,

Nutrition values.

And I absorb back in

The words right through my skin

They sit there festering inside my bowels

The consonants and vowels

The consequence of sounds.

Got a soundtrack in my mind,

All the time.

Kids-Screamin' from too much beat up

And they don't even rhyme,

They just stand there, on a street corner,

Skin tucked in

And meat side out and shot,

And I'd like to turn them down

But there ain't no knob.

Run into picket fences

Not into picket lines.

All this hippie stuff is for the 60's

Just a cliche for our time.

But a one of these days your heart

Will just stop ticking,

And they sorta just don't find you till your cubicle is reeking.

Did you know that the gravedigger's still

Gettin' stuck in the machine

Even tough it's a whole other daydream.

It's another town it's another world,

Where the kids are asleep,

where the loans are paid

And the lawns are mowed.

Whad'ya think?

All the gravediggers were gone?

Just cause one song is done

There's always another one,

Waiting right around the bend,

Till this one ends,

Then it begins

Squeaky clean, then it starts all over again.

The weather report keeps on

Tossing and turning,

Predicting and warning,

And warning and warning of,

Possible leakage from news publications and,

Possible leakage from news TV stations.

That very same morning right next to my coffee

I noticed some bleeding and heard hollow coughing and

National Geographic was being too graphic,

When all I had wanted to know was the traffic

"The worlds got a nosebleed"

it said

"And we're flooding but we keep on cutting

The trees and the forests!"

And we keep on paying those freaks on the TV,

Who claim they will save us but want to enslave us.

And sweating like demons they scream through our speakers

But we leave the sound on 'cause silence is harder.

And no one's the killer and no one's the martyr

The world that has made us can no longer contain us

And profits are empty then rotting away 'cause

The consonants and vowels

The consequence of sounds.