Practical Contemporary Socioeconomics

What’s the use for you, you useless loser

Stop selling me excuses or a bruise or two’s soon in your future

If you’re not a producer then you’re a lazy leech consumer

Waitin’ ‘round for the day they say who? you? yeah, you’ll do, sure

But I can insure your poor ass, you’re a glass of pulp without the juice, you’re 

A couped up, stupid fluke of putrid puke who can’t even say “can do, sir”

‘cause your attitude is so acute, your latitude has pulled the chute, for

A hint, look under tasks soon to be replaced by a computer

What? you want something brighter or safer or cooler

Well you’ll take what you can get because beggars can’t be choosers

Get up, get in gear, break your brain, beat your bod

You better make something out of nothing out of uneven odds

Turning nobs or scrubbing floors or waiting ‘round to get robbed

What am I kiddin’ you’re just another good for nothing, sorry slob

Don’t you come back here again until I hear you’ve got a job, so

Get a job, get a job, get a job, get a, get a, get a...

No more pretentiousness, just list your references

Nobody cares about your wish list or preferences

You’re in the business biz, so find a business kid

‘Cause life’s expensive shit won’t come for lowest bids

And you’re a lowlife, it’s obvious enough you’ll quit

Just like you always did, so why even bother with

Lookin’ at higher hits, when it’s less hit than miss

And more intensive bliss, comes after mortgages

And your college’s degree might help a bit

But even masters sit and wait with patience, since

You entry level ants still needs experience

Forget all common sense. You better make amends 

If you make anything at all you’re barely makin’ cents

So get a job, get a job, get a job, get a, get a...

You can work and work and work and work all day

And if you even get paid it’s a minimum wage

No one living can say it’s enough to live anyway

So we pray in god we trust and bust our butts to decay

The Losing Side

A simple man of modest means

Seeking his dreams like he’s looking for lost keys

Stashed up with memories 

Of who he used to be

A rope tied around his throat

Choked out with doubt

Till he can hardly breathe

Picking at seams

He watches his friends leave

Their final words, obscenities

Rolls up the window, turns the AC up cold

And the stale air through his thinning hair

And the scent of the seats 

And the ache in his knees says he’s growing old

All told there’s mold under the glove compartment

Ever since he left that dark apartment

Ever since he left his heart discarded 

Started sleeping in his car again and spends

All his money on gasoline

And all his time on elegies for what could’ve been

He won’t stop looking but he never sees

Beyond daily atrocities

And the building bills and fees it takes

To make it in the land of the free where nobody’s home

As some simple man of modest means

Stuck in traffic on a lonely road

They say beggars can’t be choosers 

Still we’re begging just to get by

In a world of winners and losers

We’re fighting for the losing side

At Arms Length

Fire off your mouth 

A shot across the bow

The chauvinist who goes ballistic 

So insistant, self-inflicted 

I wait for the blow, to undergo a show of our strength

Force will take the poll, we keep the whole world at arms length

Collecting shells upon the sand 

We set our sights for foreign land

And breathe the burning powder 

As we wait for tides to change 

Plunging in only arms deep 

The blood of ages, widows weep 

And measure down the barrel 

Pray for pain to test our aim 

Don’t tell me they don’t kill 

When all these people will 

Not a day goes by and still 

We’re shaking with the thrill 

Of burning holes to drill 

With bullets, blood to spill

Overture

I’ve been told there are those whom you love and those that you leave

And mostly I fall on the latter half of these 

Okay, let’s admit it I fit quite adequately 

In the category of those you’d do well to forget or flea 

But I can’t be okay as the mistake you might say 

You only made on your way to something better

A moment of bliss that’s maybe missed but won’t matter

A friendship that bloomed but was always doomed to fail

A ship full of dreams shared but now long-since sailed

I don’t want to be just a footnote to your fairytale 

I don’t want to be just another long-lost lesson learned 

A bridge long burned, a fork you turned and never looked back

I’m losing track of the facts in the case of those who stabbed mine when I had theirs 

And I’m starting to be scared that my judgement is highly impared 

Though it’s certainly not all your fault or really all mine either

It’s just that I am most commonly the common denominator and besides, there’s

So many people who seem to find happiness everyday 

It can make one wonder if maybe I just don’t work that way 

Is my acquaintance just one of those steps that you’ll take 

On the path to a promised happily ever after 

So you can laugh it off someday so glad you avoided that disaster 

Whether it’s a matter of fate or if I’m my own life-line’s master

The universe is happy either way to watch me fail 

And end up as just a footnote to your fairytale

He and I

He's what you might call offensively attractive
I'm what you might call defensively unattractive

Like an athlete, his effort is obvious and yet inexplicable,
results uncontainable
Like a cut from shaving, my effort is accidental and ordinary,
results embarrassing

He's something carved, sharp and particular, a masterpiece with a garnish
I'm something discarded, sloppy and porous, burnt around the edge of the pan

It is a joy to be swept up in his entrance
It's a relief when I'm not there

He lives in the moments he colors with confidence
I'm still dripping with the stink of childhood mistakes

He's got something good to say
I blink in awkward silences

His arms can hold you, let you know you'll be alright
You don't wanna shake my hand if you can help it

Everyone I know is madly in love with him
And I am too

Gradations on a Fake Wooden Table

Nothing matters less than I guess right now
I do
I don't
I won't care if you never talk to me again
I dare you to
I lied, I care
I will always care
Overshare
I know
I don't

Simple Man of Modest Means

Simple man of modest means 

Rolls up his shirt sleeves

Dreams of counter culture, scrolling the job listings 

Leans back for the vultures, rolling tongue, teeth glistening

Who’s listening? 

There’s a scratch in the glass in front of his left eye 

And a note he’s rubbed raw in a frayed denim pocket

There’s two sides to every coin he’s stretched 

And more than I’ll ever know of love, he’s already forgotten

Simple man of modest means 

A stack of paperbacks in the back seat 

Sleeps in parking lots, plays guitar in parks at dawn

Keeps a growing list of thoughts he can no longer rely on

Brain or brawn

There’s a hole in the wall just big enough to see through

And a resume with aging names and numbers

There’s a new scar or two on his wrist since he last slept

And some songs on his chapped lips that itch for words 

Simple man of modest means

The winters smell like gasoline 

Summers gleam sweat stains and grinding teeth

Nothing seems the same since ends won’t meet 

More bitter than sweet