Juan de Fuca

Last laugh through power lines 
Thrumming along ask how I’m doing
 “Fine” they expect but instead I say “Zel Mazé” 
Pine boxes vibrating with sine waves arranged in a NEJI 
Liner notes impress upon like weaving an elegy
 Rhodes tines rusted wind chimes lacking energy
 As Mingus said “before time runs out of time”
 Sold for zero not the same as free
 Read write and arithmetic the Dao of holding out
 Paying upfront to sail the boiling sea
 Sun’s pouting in for a drought by the end of the week
 Sitting still shade of an oak tree picturesque espirit From what I see I have no doubt
 Never bowing down mil-tech from the page 
Faust for the stage courtesy of the federales 
Mayday paygrade I molded the clay traded it for a place to lay Oh my pretty little head 
Lean back imaginative play with words and images Derivative still impromptu stay hewn into a loose affinity group Pushing back like I was born to Remember I’m not a face yet I remain unbothered Take dishonor over being collared a choice made by few 
Last laugh in Honshu sparring with figments
 Don’t whine or argue
 Time runs out of time but it never shows you Y’all motherfuckers are already dead 
Now in soul soon in body Aim steady boorish blend
 Don’t care what you call me call me jihadi Slant, bitch, anything ‘cept fool
 Paper tigers and taped pennies
Calm in the face of ridicule Ate ten truths too many 
Having the time of our lives scaring catcallers and billionaires Wretched of the earth living amongst the evergreens
 Apartheid beneficiaries dropped into thin air The pound of flesh is owed to me and only me Alone