Long, Jagged Stream of Thought

Here is a long, jagged stream of thought
Some parts are meant to rhyme… others are not

No shirt
No shoes
We step over you
Gold trim
White Cadillac
But we have to take care of us
No shirt
No shoes
No… pulse
But who would get close enough to tell
Besides, he smells
And is probably sick
And she bleeds from within
Her sin
So she’ll scream as the flies drop off
Buzz around so eager to save
But only if we learn to behave
Like bees, busy making honey that will never be tasted
Snatching nectar from the highest urban gardens
And the insects look perplexed as the jungle they visit rages in chaos
Ids screaming “Feed me!”
While we well-off ask “Need we?”
And we point to the sign: “No shirt, No shoes, No service”
Ready to explode when we know a bomb could level the ground
One sound
And it’s all around
Love, electricity
Conservation of energy
Some Cadillac here
Some suffering there
And we wake to the reality that possession of matter is temporary, that suffering is unnecessary, that pain is the product of fear, and that love can still the raging jungle

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