by William Theseus

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Pity the poor right wing conservatives,
Who have lost all of their hates.
They hated the "niggers," but that became taboo;
They hated the Jews, but that also became taboo;
They hated the commies, but they disappeared;
They hated the pinkos, but they faded away.
Whom oh whom could they hate?
Since they must have a government to hate,
Why couldn't they hate the stodgy German      government?--
Oh no, it would not do.
Why couldn't they hate the snobby British
But no, it would not do either.
Why couldn't they hate the haughty French
No, no, everybody hates the French.
What, oh what government could they hate?
Brilliant! They would hate their own government.
But wait, they also needed some people to hate.
What, oh what people could they choose to hate?
They are resourceful haters--never fear;
They searched around and came up with the queer.
Now, with god's help, they are happy haters again.
They have a subversive government to hate,
And also, some subversive people to hate.


When Man crawls on his mate to copulate;
Or pulls out his penis to urinate;
Or sits on a commode to defecate;
Or uses his fist in heated debate;
Why would he even have to speculate,
About whether or not he's a primate.

                  The Seekers

Off the restless seekers fly far and wide,
Looking for something that's missing inside;
Seeking the sweet life in another mode,
While other seekers fly to their abode.

        The Killers

Killers believe in killing.
Those who believe in killing killers,
Think like the killers.


If you are a slave
On a factory floor
Or a salesman
Going door to door;
Or in an office
Working at a desk--

Flee from de Masser's plantation
And celebrate your liberation.
Savor every minute of the day--
Free, whether at work or at play

Resolve to be a slave no more
And never again de Masser's whore;
Pledge to take your life in hand
And henceforth be your own Man;

Vow to reject de Masser's minions
That promise heavenly dominions,
Designed to keep you a slave
From the cradle to the grave.

Celebrate the life of a free Man,
That earns his bread by his own hand--
That takes orders from no Man
And gives orders to no Man.

         Ride Ride Ride

Rolling down the interstate,
The radio blasting,
A mug of green tea in the rack,
A jar of peanuts in the console,
A loaf of bread on the seat,
A bag full of fruit on the floor,
A head full of ideas,
And as carefree as the clouds.
Nowhere to go,
Nothing to do,
But ride, ride, ride,
And think, think, think.
Pity poor Jesus
Up in his paltry heaven.

         The Incubus Trinity

Go to any country in the world;
Go to the poorest section of that country
And there you will find:
The least enlightened people in the country;
The most religious people in the country;
And the most conservative people in the
The Incubus Trinity--ignorance, religion,
     and conservatism--
The binders that cement the mind of Man in myth.

It is no coincidence that the US South--
A conservative and religious bastion--
Has been the natural home of:
The religious bigot, the violently prejudiced,
The right wing political demagogue
the warmonger, the lynch mob, the Klansman,
The church bomber, the Dr. King assassin,
 And the televangelist.

The converse of this observation also holds.
In the wealthiest section of a country
You will find:
The most enlightened people in the country;
The least religious people in the country;
And the most liberal people in the country.


Philosophy, the father of reason
And progress in human thought,
No longer has relevance
In human life but has morphed
Into a mere game of
Quibbling about minutia--
Played mainly by academia. 

       Heroes and Martyrs

Death to the invaders, they cry,
As they do their brave deeds and die;
All Men in all times have agreed,
Heroes and martyrs do these deeds.

        Not Gentle

It is not gentle on my mind
That I am near the end of time;
That my body shall be rotten
And my name soon be forgotten;
That life is only a brief spark
And then the everlasting dark.
Sweet life, I savor your embrace
And long to ever kiss your face.
It is not gentle on my mind
That I am near the end of time.

   Joy and Sorrow

In life, the greatest joy
And the greatest sorrow
Come from the same source--


Philosophy and religion
Are to Men
As Chirping and twittering
Are to birds.

             The last picture Show 

                      For Carol
 The older the nut the harder it is to crack

Of course the show isn't over till it's over;
But it's foolish to start looking for a new plot
When it's winding down to the end;
And yet, I search for new plots.

I want to go to Paris and walk the
Wearing a beret and a long trench coat--
Get a young French mistress--in her 40's--
Who will make me gourmet meals, kiss me
And make gourmet love with me at night.

I want to sit in the sidewalk cafes --drinking
    coffee and writing poetry,
While watching the slinky Parisienne
    minxes stroll by--
Drink absinthe in a sleazy bistro
And get into a fight with a mustachioed Turk
Who is coming on to my woman.

I want to go live with a Bedouin tribe in
And roam the desert sands on the back of a
Get a young Bedouin mistress--in her 40's--
To share my mat through sultry desert
Go on raids with my tribe against their
    enemy tribes,
And sit around the campfire in the evening
Listening to the old men tell stories about
    past battles.

I want to go live on the Volga
And travel the river with the famous
Get a young Russian mistress--in her 40's--
Who will make me borscht by day and
    Russian delight by night.
I want to drink vodka and carouse with the
in the riverfront dives.

But alas, here I sit with my memories,
Watching the tail end of the last picture
In which I am the star.

  Irrational Fear

I stand in a urinal stall,
And am answering nature's call.
In the next stall, my neighbor's shoe
Is positioned within my view.
While I pee, I stare at his shoe
And think he's staring at mine too.
I start to fear what I might do,
I might turn and pee on his shoe.
But my worst fear is, don't you see,
That he will turn and pee on me.


No Voltaire or Rousseau;
No Newton or Shakespeare;
No Mendeleev or Tolstoy;
No Goethe or Einstein;
In three hundred years,
Not one first rate mind--
From Jesus and Mammon--
Billy Grahams and Paul Harveys.

         Manifest Logic

When a Man slaps his wife,
It's called spousal abuse.
When a father slaps his child,
It's called correcting his child.
When a Man beats his neighbor,
It's called assault and battery.
When a Man beats (spanks) his child,
It's called correcting his child.
The logic is manifest:
It's a crime to beat those
Who can defend themselves,
But it's beneficial to beat (whip) those
Who are defenseless.

      Flag Wavers

Why are warmongers
Who don't volunteer,
But stay home
And wave the flag,
Called Patriots?

               Killer Ape

For all his miraculous achievements
And belief in a so-called loving god,
Man is still a primitive killer ape
That feeds on the corpses of his victims;
And organizes killing campaigns of war
For the purpose of slaughtering his own
He is a beast like all the predator beasts--
Unless he chooses to be human.

           The Purpose

Work is not the purpose of life,
It is the provider of life.
Love is not the purpose of life,
It is the renderer of life.
Art is not the purpose of life,
It is merely the spice of life.
Then what is the purpose of life?
It was this seeming mystery,
That spawned the gods of history.
But the purpose all men must heed,
Is to mate, build a nest and breed.


Every Man is a philosopher--
The famous as befuddled
As the unknown.


Schizophrenia and Religion
Are afflicting analogues
That seize up a sphere of the brain
Where illogical ideas and reality
Are resolved.

           Smokers Suck

Smokers suck on cigarette tips
That makes puckers around their lips;
But did all puckers on their lips
Come from sucking cigarette tips?


Oh to be like that old Saint Paul
But with a new gospel for all.
Alas, it's not likely to be,
He preached myth which most minds can
Truth is more difficult to sell
And myth still harder to dispel.

         Nature's Darlings

It's thought Man's success is due to his
But rats have moved right along in his train.
The real reason that rats and Men are king,
Is that both will eat almost anything;
And when starvation comes both are
To stay alive by eating their own kind.

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