Yellow Ochre Mixed with Elmer's Glue (or, Chocolate Pie)

Two big ol' towers of babel topple,
shipwrecked Noah's Ark,
battle for Babylon, and
good ol' Sacrificial Lamb.

Ahhh, the Big Bang and a storm of trouble;
the Marter outside the church
up on the hill.

Talk, talk, talk, and march to the chess match;
gloves come off in the ice rink;
spit out the mouthpiece, naw on some jerky;
ride the wagon to the desert, plant a windfarm.

Put the Baby in a basket and float 'im downstream
into the arms of the President.
Watch him lead a million people to the Guggenheim.

Wash your hands in a fountain of fossils,
dust the mantel with the Texas Plains,
refurbish your corpse with an empty Milk jug,
cut open your heart with ancient Roman coins.

Lasso a wave and reap a hurricane;
bake the grain, steam veggies in a locomotive;
sit in traffic on the way to evacuation routes
three days after the storm.

Chariots throwing bows and arrows,
Drunk Soldiers throwing elbows,
Angry Fans throwing tomatoes,
Poor Sports playing cheap;

lockdown at the Rock in the Gulf Stream.
Cover the Klan with burlap sacks.
Tie 'em together like the logs for a raft.
Take pictures of the easily manipulated.

Eat ice cream on the curb outside the prison,
galavant around like a springtime cardinal,
watch parades at Nine o'clock,
ticker tape falls like the morning paper -

dents the cars and wrapped in plastic.
Keep an eye on the mountains and valleys.
Get out of the red and stay in the black.
We already been on the bad side once, don't wanna go back.

Put an afro on a Kitten,
take the balls of a Bulldog,
shave your head and go to Church,
grow a beard and join the Choir.

Talk to the Secret behind the screen door,
waste your money on a thimble of wine.
Break a pita and pass it around.
I guess I'm picky, but Jesus shoulda served chocolate pie.

Lay down your rug face East and get down,
a big ol' cube off in the distance.
God's thumbnail and that must be Jupiter.
All the ancient profits hold hands in the shadows.

Don't throw dirt 'cause it can get in yer eyes
and we all know about specks and splinters.
Offer your cheek, and offer a prayer,
and offer your heart, if you dare.

Smile like a Mormon.
Dance like a Hindu.
Play like a Buddhist.
Love like a Yogi.

We're all cattle coralled behind farm fences,
sectioned off like counties.
Borders are for the bored and evil.
Shooting stars don't need passports, let's go!