Music and sandpaper

Wandered evening spread out its posts
Into the belly of life's darkness
Where the kangaroo pockets lie
Like some dark hole
Some space you can't escape
And in your wanderings
Space gives flight
To your doughnut holes
And other flying objects
Tuna in reversal
And the tin cheese on top
Filled with ice cream for the lactose intolerant
As the rubber duckies whine
No more gerbils for dinner
Just as the justice rolls
Out the back door into the oven
Quality buys food stamps
Shoves them into the microwave
Out comes a micromit
Kind of like a micromite
Without the bite
And the shadows grow
Over the stuffing out the door
Until your peace ends in a blast
Just before the shovels arrive
And the civility breaks
The ocean floor opens
You awake
You sing the songs your words
But no one hears
It's much better that way
It's what conscience say
But wording off
Try again with capitals
Still no good
No good
And the beasts open the door
You don't let them in
Or do you it doesn't matter
How'd you get so moralistic
It aint no literature
Lit erture
No nurture
Just get out the buns
No dinner tonite
Just the bones
Toss me the bones
It's music with all the sandpaper.

Denis Streeter 10/9/11