• The words of my brothers are jumbled
    Something about the stagnant air of a coffee shop chokes each consanant
    and stops each syllable in its tracks
    I guess chai lattes cant cultivate conversation under caffinated corruption
    boiling beans burst from the heat and the language of machines rings
    they sing of things unhealthy, but craved
    But the words can be saved
    Through mumbles and mutters, vowels run down the gutters
    and spin with spitle to spawn statistics of society
    The cars beyond the tinted windows whisper shadows of lyric
    With thudding bass tracks shaking and shuddering the caramel macciato in my neighbor's cup
    and his words fall in rythm with the drone of the white noise
    talk of sports cars and politics
    and the DOW midset creeps atop their tounges
    like the smoke from my latest nicotine fix.
    They keep on jabbering but somewhere between bikini cuties and Vivanno Smoothies,
    the subastance of their speech falters
    and in this tranquil transistor radio of static and phychic hotlines,
    I find it hard to hold down my 3 dollar cheese danish with the smell of bullshit in my nostrils
    It's like Hollywood in my local Starbucks.
    And Panera Bread is Paris Hilton's mansion
    (cuz it's filled with ignorant bitches)
    it itches at me to think that the art of language has died
    in the whipped cream of a Frappaccino
    and their stupidity is drizzled in chocolate,
    with crushed caramel candies and rainbow spinkles on top.
    Different dialects debate disturbing demonstarations of diatribes
    against diralects and dead men
    and too often are these corrosive forked tounges overlooked
    and even accompanied in their assualts
    I remember when words changed the world.
    When Kings dreamed of kinder things
    and "the only thing we had to fear was fear itself"
    So it's no wonder great men use teleprompters today,
    lest their good intentions be split like the human genome
    and mutated into the grotesque beast that our nation has already evolved into
    because in everyday situations in a coffee shop,
    superficial talk starts to stalk tragedy with idiotic idioms laced into subpar articulation
    that is only a ghost of the English language
    Accents interchange with sounds of slang and sarcasm
    to climax into an illegitament love child that is colloquialism at it's finest
    and the child provokes pety palaver until the walls collapse
    and make way for those of us with the gift of Gab
    If we can sift through the hillbilly jargon
    maybe we can rebulid each Carribou Coffee Hut into our own holy lexicon
    where we serve each customer a thesaurus instead of a Tazo Tea
    and the Pike's Place Roasts will be roasted and replaced with stacks of dictionaries
    because intelligence has become quite contrary to popular belief
    beneath esppresso beans
    So every unfairly traded bag will be replaced
    with a poem that tells of our ever growing impatience
    and every artifical flavor pump will be replaced
    with poem about how the cancer in our bowls is growing
    and each sugar cube will be dissolved
    and we'll write about how we can taste the diabetes in our cavities
    So maybe someone will see these and give a damn
    and pick up a book instead of a laptop
    and instead of "wassup?" they'll say "How was your day?"
    And maybe me can finally say something other than just "fine"
    and not say what's on our mind,
    but explain what's in our brains
    and gain
    a word in edgewise
    instead of just ordering a drink
    I hope this made you think