If there is a god maybe his plan is more complex

If there is a god
maybe his plan is more complex
than a human can understand.
Maybe each motion in this long history of people
is the grandest Rube Goldberg ever concocted,
and the end is the ultimate enlightenment…
That someday all the anguish we suffer as a species
will suddenly make sense.
Perhaps it will be a billions plus “Aha!” moment
and we’ll collectively know why children were abused
why conflict ensued, and why lives were ripped apart;
how hope often prevailed and we trudged on in our human race
with a limp, just to reach some elusive epiphonic finish line.

Maybe each topple of an ill-fated domino
is a falling push toward the age of Aquarius
And it is hard to make sense of the pain and suffering
our populous must endure to reach an end that is
beyond our finite comprehension of peace.

But if we could not understand it, why, why would we keep going?

Liberate me

from cigarettes to seatbelts

from sugar to salvation

from  every vice to vegetables

from vixens to vaccinations

  

from addiction to assurance

from craving to consecration

from fixation to fitness

from the perverse to preservation …

 

Which of these makes you feel more at ease?

And is anything without moderation a good thing at all?

Should anyone be given the right to moderate these things for others?

Would you let your neighbor make that call?

Somebody fire the hostage negotiator

We’ve a perverbial gun to our head

and the hostage negotiator shouts,

“If we don’t want to end up dead,

we’ve got to ‘help’ the Economy out.”

  

Stimulate the Economy

scrape up what little cash you’ve got

and do a seductive strip tease

to make it’s wallet hard and hot.

  

Stroke Economy’s down low digit

and make it rise from it’s limp state

you must act now, no time to fidget

’tis your dutiful obligation to fellate

  

Bury the reason that guides your hands

and says you don’t need something new

you’ve got to work those glands

’cause Ecomony won’t be satisfied til you’ve been screwed.

 

Breathe hard and deep into Economy’s ear

and speak of all the things you wish you could buy

that’s the arousing words he needs to hear

and he’ll seek out this shady guy

  

“Uncle Sam, he’s a good friend, and will do anything for me

You and the next two generations could be his whore

You can have everything, dear, he’ll loan you limitless money

Because I know you. You always want more.

   

You can pay him back, but give the lent money to me

For the pleasure of pleasing me and my knob

Oh, we can stimulate each other mutually

And have fun making many new ‘jobs’.”

 

That hostage negotiator’s bad advice

has bound us even tighter

and now we’ve got this greedy vice,

a fruitless, empty exciter.

 

So, whores of the Economy

rest your hopes on mud

or give your pimp autonomy

let it whack it’s own pud.