The Drone Man

You're running through back yards,
Jumping over houses, staying out of the street
Where the Stupid Drone Man wants to run you over
With his Lawn Mower,
But you're worried that he'll hit your car with rocks
Or you're worried about your bright white socks
Getting dirty
Or Ripped off your feet,
So you walk the walk in the middle of the Street,
'Til the Stupid Drone Man slices off your feet.


The Drone Man:
Ass so fat he can't stand up.
Children stretch across train tracks tracking
To his fungus infested feet.
Leashes and whips burn his heart to a fist
To a crispy corn flake flat pastuerized process parent food.


Two feet shorter 
With disorder you stumble 
And fall.
Without your feet,
You've lost your balance,
Lost you talents,
And all 
You've got to save your Self from the stupid ass-fault
Is a vision
Of a Word and a Deed.
It's a vision
That you'll take the lead,
And crawl off the street 
To the fruity Feet Trees,
Where the philosophers breed
And Bleed 
The greed that created the need for lyposuction.


Three hours later, in the triple forked feet trees,
You look at the world through your triple eyes and see
That everything that you need 
Is right at your feet
And everything you believed 
Is left in the street
And everything you can see
Is naked- the way it should be.
And so say you to He:
"I like what I see what I can be."