Wits, Fits and Blooper Reels

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The Chemical Brothers “Dig Your Own Hole”

Life can be a bitch
A twitching glitch of bitter twists and turns that quip of loose lips sinking ships unless as we live in bid to learn
Ill-equipped for trips and slips
We fall like stalling blimps
Are then made fools of by our chimps as they parade the masks of gimps
Our limbic lobes go ape in rhythmic strobes in throes of full eclipse
Clipping hurdles
Ripping girdles
Sipping curdled words of sermon
Teaching us of burdened journals
Scribbled in despair
Dribbling like squids, we miss the point and it is critical
Siblings need not be so bloodline literal
Quibbling of principles is principally a frittered cause as pausing thoughts are clauses chalked on whitewashed walls and therefore taught to be distorted, fraught or plain invisible
Life can be a bitch
And trip the sensors of consensus
Breathlessly relentless as it bends us into restless natives
Recklessly it trends us to the school of thought that fools our faces
Names and shames our happy places
Crawling spaces trading places
Putting us through thoughtless paces
Not a thing coordinative
Will not cease its tyranny until it sees us sprawled out in fresh chalk lines on our faces
Alternatively, firmed in sturdy stasis
Topsy turvy curvature of spines one time benign
Masterminding worldwide genocide
Framing our vexation within psychoanalytic paradigm
Typical examples of solutions booed ahead of time
Gangsters lost in paradise
With hairline fractures in our smiles
We don’t clock up the air miles to get high on life, are then disowned as lowlives
With human rights so tightly scripted
We forget to breathe
Concede defeat and beat retreat with feet of fleet but laces twisted
Think ourselves as demon seeds and bleed all out our deepest angst
With blackened tracks of armoured tanks, we bank to left and right
Locking dummy decoy in our sights
With a little light and shade combined we find the inner sight to fight the power peacefully and sign a timeless treaty tuning into timeless frequency
There’s a certain sequency to learning equilibrium
There’s a certain regency to princes pouting lips like they’re amphibian
There are kings and there are queens
There are ribs and there are spleens
There is light and there is darkness
Ever the twain entertained whence they meet
Life can be a bitch
And will most likely be a whore and more
Here’s a thought, let’s even up the scores
Once we’re truly seen
Then we’re adored
Suddenly, discovering one single thing forevermore
Terms and conditions are simply non-applicable
Trips and slips need not proceed to bitter falls
Grows so weary acting dreary
Peering through the blinkers of the cynical
All about the chieftaincy and Sneaky Petes in fitted sheets
When there need not be secret left to keep
Souls paroled
Imagination boundless set to leap
Life will be a bitch and flip us over for the finger fuck
But, with a little luck we nip and tuck it in with flowers on our fists
Call it better chemistry through living
I call it transcendency
Shall see thee at the rivers

Richard Charles Stevens

Keeper of The Crimson Quill

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