Ken Kesey is dead

Ken Kesey is dead and we taught him a lesson. we taught him good. there is no love. there is no hope. there is no room for thinking outside the box. the time of pioneering has come and gone. we are a settled beast, best left unstirred.

stirred, we will bite the hand that feeds.

stirred, we will rise up and revolt.

stirred, we will destroy the only things that keep us sustained. this is the nature of the beast. visionaries may resist; but in the end, they too succumb just as readily as the pleasantly ignorant.

the lesson never really gets learned, and we anguish over it. we do ourselves a disservice by not realizing that perhaps some lessons are best left forgotten, so that the hardship can be truly experienced anew.



oh, no one flew over
we all stayed on the ground
looking for cover
and keeping our heads down

the apoplectic vision
is somewhere in the dirt
and pushing and fighting
is this how we flirt?

Aw, Ken Kesey is dead
and so is MKULTRA
but we all love conspiracies
we dread it's so tawdry

it's so paltry
so sultry
it's so country
it's so haute couture

we all rode the magic bus
in our dreams
i had dreams about your lust
they were obscene

oh, no one flew over
'cause we all lay on the ground
totally high
from the chest on down

the beat generation
we beat them dead
the peaceful nation
it was all in their head

some converted
and some of them fled
the rest resigned to hiding
from the love they dread

oh, no one flew over
we all stayed on the stone
protectively killing over
land to call our own

the prodigal visit
from the you you knew before
hasn't existed
since you shot him to the floor

Ken Kesey is dead
and we taught him a lesson
no one better dare hope
to escape the prison's depression

repression, the risen
have driven the dirge
we're all taking it back up stream
back to the first urge

you better move aside
if you don't want a ride
it's not that we hate you
but we'll leave you behind

no one's gonna stand
in the way of this journey
but give us a hand
we're not in a hurry

i haven't felt this good
since twenty
I’ve got privilege
and I’ve got plenty

Ken Kesey is dead
but the urge remains
to relax instead
and let go of the reigns

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horizontals

horizontals, lined up row upon row, end to end, endlessly. we are but buried bodies, graves, and tombstones waiting to happen. we lie down, together or apart. we close our eyes. we sleep, and then wake again. until one day we don't. one day we close our eyes and never open them, ever again.

sometimes it's not so bad, to lie down, unmoving, staring up, and feeling the whole world move around... knowing that one day all feeling will be gone; savouring that it is still here, now.

when i lie down, i think of you, and i can be at peace with it all.



you become horizontal
when you lie on the floor
or anytime you're not standing no more

and if that means sleep
or the little death
then you probably won't be worrying about what's the score

i loved you a million letters,
A to Z
and love you a whole new language, now that you're dead

i loved you in fields
and on the way to the sea
each fleeting momentarily, out of my head

lie with me here
between the blades of grass
and the dirt, and water cascades like...

among the failing
fall of man
hold me now, i'm so afraid to pass

you become horizontal
when you cease to be
and they spread your ashes across the sea

and you biodegrade
and get eaten by fish
and you can't feel a thing and you no longer dream

believe me a million
times and more
i'll love you when you're not standing no more

and if that means sleep
or the little death
then you probably won't be worrying about what's the score.

You become horizontal
when you lie in your bed
the bed that you made to lay your head

and that means sleep
or maybe death
but at least you won't be worrying once you're dead

the distance between
you and i
can be measured from this point to the sky

it's not really consistently
the same each time
'cause it's all relative to the beholder's eye

lie with me now
under the canopy
or take my hand and come dance with me

we're falling
from the grace of gods
and it's not something we even believe

you become horizontal
when you leave the earth
when you break the gravity of your birth

and you bring out your dead
you read their last rites
but you can't quench their last thirst

believe me a million
times and more
i'll love you when you're not standing no more

and if that means sleep
or the little death
then you probably won't be worrying about what's the score.

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