Babysitting the Universe

Correct me if I’m wrong-my thoughts are unfurled,

But I’m fairly sure that we rule the world.

The quick ones do, the ones with hands

That never age, and Neverland.

Not drones or clones or walking bones

Bastards of Earth, no use for those.

Yet they’re the ones who sit up top,

Feed us feelings drop by drop.

Upside downside right side wrong

Years are short and days are long

Under hands that crease like Beezer

That’d push the sun in a walk-in freezer.

So why are we the pacified?

When with a flash of our eye green is grass and blue is sky?

The roles reversed! We’re sent to bed

While Earth awakes to sever heads.

Our brains on leashes, forced to heel

While sticks and rocks are told to feel.

Fresh out of Sympathy!

Fresh out of Empathy!

Fresh out of things that make me and you and you and me.

So no more nice! kind! and sweet!

We scrounge for hearts and souls to eat.

Cut a throat to make some paint

Shoot up life into our veins

Tell the world we’re in control

At our command it comes and goes.

While we live we’ll crack the whip

Rest the cosmos on our hips.

Drown the sky to sate the pain

Watch the stars swirl down the drain.

The world’s our oyster, here and now

Crack it open, spit it out

Rob the pearls and leave the rest

No salt or slime but solely best.

A zephyr of our souls inspires a mural

And vision of religion an epidural.

But, our reign will soon be dead

Swords swing gently overhead.

Ideas bound in chains and canvas

Under lock like Scott and Francis.

But nothing, never nothing is in vain

The body of a thinker always rises again.

Ask any corpse and they’ll sigh with nostalgia

For there’s no better fix than an artist’s psychalgia.