(Copyright ©1996 by Kristofer Dale, all rights reserved.)


         Working For Peanuts

        my penchant for eating
        keeps me repeating
        the folly of life's
        unceasing strife;
        this maddening predilection
        even call it an addiction
        to air, food and water
        leads me to the slaughter
        of my fondest aspirations,
        encumbered with machinations
        of a starkly fiscal nature
        (compliments of federal legislature);
        locked deep within a psychic dungeon
        chained to the infernal combustion engine
        i wend my merry way
        each and every day
        carving a transient niche
        out of "ain't life a bitch"...

        the latent brutality
        of thwarted animality
        keeps an homicidal edge
        to the psychologic wedge
        driven into society's
        epochal anxieties,
        the tool of my trade
        as a conscience dismayed
        at the rout of nature
        by western nomenclature;
        the journey from being dormant
        to becoming a soul in torment
        is effortlessly simple
        in the technologic dimple
        on the face of planet earth,
        of fear there is no dearth
        for the rulers of creation
        painted as our salvation...

        when the stress of all this
        starts making me dis
        and i write it down quick
        before my mind is too thick
        with details of the triviality
        with which we treat reality
        in the eager pursuit of loneliness,
        an escape, or an attempt, i guess
        to feel a fleeting sanity
        in the face of endless inanity;
        it streams from me with the urgency
        of the global state of emergency
        that all human beings face,
        no matter color, creed or race;
        the question as always is what to do
        for them and theirs and me and you,
        now i've taxed my wit, the end is near
        so fuck this shit, i'm outta here...

                    aszsa