Crack!
Oh snap!
What’s that?
Oh! It’s. The. Daily. Grind.
Remember?
When you dealt with the devil?
Your heart for more mind,
more reason less rhyme,
your eyes for more time?
Now you a brain left blind!
You suck in only in x-rays.
You stuck in a skeletal daze,
so confused.
Bones fused,
so you stay creakin’
on LinkedIn
or Insta
or freakin’
out about your future
or what to do this weekend.
Coffees and cocktails when you should be drinking
The Flesh
The Drip Drip, the Juice
The Flesh
that drips when I let loose.
The Flesh
The Juice Juice, the Drip
Life
like with fine wine, I sip.
Starved, frail, skin and bones, pale—
Nowhere to go, no room for your inhale.
Bones bruise; bones break
and act as casts of your past mistakes.
This spiritual osteoporosis
manifests as a neurosis.
Scientists don’t know how to fix this
(the easiest way is a cup of hugs and kisses.)
They don’t know that so
they make you take calcium
for bones stronger.
Meanwhile, forever young’s
feelin’ wronger and wronger
Ooooo, you can’t take it much longer!
Your life is bare bones—
of course you hunger
The Flesh
The Drip Drip, the Juice
The Flesh
that drips when you let loose.
The Flesh
The Juice Juice, the Drip
Life
like with fine wine, you sip.
Skeletons feed off fear.
Skulls stay stockpiling like the end is always near.
They banish the beautiful over there
and declare, “we’re only being practical here.”
(Shh... the flesh rests everywhere.)
Selfish genes may protect them
so no one threaten them,
but no one connects with them.
In our smart hearts we know:
What’s wealth,
what’s health,
what’s self
if you're alone?
Cold?
Lookin’ at laughs
through a telescope?
Standin’ on a skeletal scaffold
that don't even hold life whole?
Starvin for soul, stuck searchin’ for
The Flesh
The Drip Drip, the Juice
The Flesh
that drips when they let loose.
The Flesh
The Juice Juice, the Drip
Life
like with fine wine, they sip.
You know the Flesh,
life’s connective tissue,
The hot pulse when someone kiss you,
The muscular love that makes someone miss you.
The flesh, it’s not bionic;
it’s ionic.
Electric
love
pass quickem’s
(between you and me, I like my life thickems.)
You know the fleshy Flesh,
The drippy drip,
The juicy juice,
we sippy sip.
You know the Flesh,
the god gravy,
the Flesh,
so flavory:
salty, sweet, and savory!
Umami!
Peace out Ramsey, Flay, Fieri!
The Flesh-- it’s got its own gravity,
Beauty beyond vanity,
Crystal clear sanity,
And raw rationality.
Oh, you asking me can I prove it’s real?
Truth is, I can’t—
It proves itself when you feel.
Proves were more than hard stops and harsh starts,
more than looks, checkbooks, and smarts,
greater than the sum of our parts.
We’re flesh and blood and beating hearts.
We’re Flesh
The Drip Drip, the Juice
The Flesh
that drips when we let loose.
The Flesh
The Juice Juice, the Drip
Life
like with fine wine, we sip.
A performance of this piece can be found here, starting at 51:24 : https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=AUWFmot3xKI.