Why do we humans bother having a point or making any sense?
Why do we humans have criteria, norms, agendas, rules, and plans?
Most perverse kinks in all the universe never have a valid case
Why do we humans have to need a coherence-myth amid the mess?
Thumbs and fingers weave derivative kitsch and trains-of thought blend wonders
Sculpted clay and oil-on-canvas are childish toys of old-age madness
Taste and see the loudest-amplitude nostril-stinks of each brief decade
Now could be the nanosecond before the planet Earth goes rancid
Lick tongues, confess your climaxes with candid, blunt songs
Swim through the neurogalaxies where comets cut strings
Wipe the bums of meritocracy’s elect until death
Love every neurotypical and freak throughout growth
Arguments throughout The Blogosphere bloom with counterpoint
Cyberspace is where graffiti becomes a sacrament
Winnipeg is still my favorite municipality
Even the Provencher Bridge has an air of majesty
We eccentrics are tired of dark, blank zeitgeists that are all the same
Let our lenses refract the light, love enemies and hate their harm
Yes, our teleomazes change each journey where we intersect
We exist and become the real truth nobody can just accept
Let’s endure vivid dreams in the name of the mouth who sings our fate
Metaverbed metanouns are gifts for the mouth who doesn’t bite
We are all one and we, the universe, enact the tranceful dance
Why do we humans bother having a point or making any sense?
