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I COUNT


A

Venus

Slaving Stylishly

Silence is Betrayal

Easy Come, Easy Go

Eastern Phantasy/Lawrence of Arabia

Vicious Cycles (Owed to Lance Armstrong)

part 1 of Martian Folk Songs: Martian Frontier

part 3:                Another Place in the Sun

part 2:                 Mars (Ode to War)

(You Just Caught) A SMiley Virus

The Importance of Being Wilde

21st Century Tom Sawyer

Witchiepoo and Me

Da Crossroads

4 Ever

V


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Singularity Sucks Durham, N.C. June, 2014

courtesy

Duke Power

synchronicity -

the Count

Love Bites in Two

Raleigh, N.C.

Aug., 2007

courtesy

N.C.M. of N.S.

photography -

A.J. Wilson

Witchiepoo And Me My Darling, Witchiepoo and me, We sat beside the Crimson Sea, And cast a ragged and tattered net. We pulled IT out I'll never forget! We pulled out Uranium. We pulled out Titanium. We pulled out Neptune from the deep end. We pulled out abandoned atomic subs. We pulled out the Costa Concordia. We pulled out a couple of lesser Gods. We pulled out a couple who left the Mob. We pulled out a shoe. Would I lie to you? Hell no! We gave IT to a spider back there on Mars. It was then the Wicked Witch began to bitch, About The Man who killed the Sea. “He killed the Living Trees. He killed the birds and bees. He left everything for dead, and blamed that shit on me.” Into the dunes the woman ran, With tattered net held high in hand. She caught the Drone when it flew too low. She pulled IT down held by a toe! She modified IT, deep fat fried IT, Zapped it with her Wand and let it go. I asked Her Wickedness about the mess, That she was piling there upon the shore. She had a simple plan to stick it to The Man, Who dumped it there. He's coming back with more. He gave her spider arms, stole her Lucky Charms, And gave her bats low-cost lobotomies. So with her Living Flute, she wants to play a tune, And bring the asshole to his knees. He has no living heart. He only tears apart. When he's finally cold-n-dead the creatures will be free. So we cast the net again, and danced in acid rain, And dreamed of pleasures yet to come, When mushrooms cover the land, books will talk to man, Trees will walk tall and proud, sing to you and hold your hand. I hope the witch is right and she wins her dreadful fight, And saves a Living Island from The Man. But its going to be tough, because that Psycho Puff, Is always interfering with her best laid plans.
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