Saturn May Riot

My name is Bud not Buddy…

And I cut my hair off because I didn’t know what else to do..

An escapist by nature..

I could be in New Orleans by night..

Eating jambalaya under leafless trees, covered in beaded necklaces..

Watching the parades, drummers and majorettes celebrate..

Full of color and life in every direction..

I see why Kat must love it there, as even the trees get to have their own attire…

Nevertheless, somebody's spirit keeps calling me back…

To a place that I used to know…

Standing under the Sun, I am forced to face Apartment 43 once again…

Where the doors weren’t the only things that had long gone off of the hinges..

These days I am beginning to feel ethereal..

Perhaps it is because I can still feel her presence..

Sky walking above me..

Or maybe it is simply the amphetamines…

In my hometown I’ve seen blizzards in October..

And felt Earthquakes in June..

We drink beer because it keeps us warm..

And we’ll get drunk whether the Bills win or lose..

Lost balloons, butterflies and the tree of dreams..

Trashcans set on fire, Banksy art on the walls, with nomadic spirits twirling in the streets..

Welcome to my house, also known as Allentown..

I dare you to stay a while with me…

The streets are saying that my old flame has just set another town ablaze…

Though the neighbors claim that they saw gasoline hidden underneath your backseat...

I know that you prefer grenades over matches..

Your secrets will always be safe with me…

Love bombers beware! I will not be bested again!

I have some explosions of my own..

And a few tricks up my sleeve..

Irish goodbyes with a parachute for when I am ready to leave..

Peeping Tom’s often see me sitting in trees..

Conversing with Cuckoo’s as if I were Eliza Thornberry..

They say that I’ve lost my mind..

But at least I am free..

For I can already hear the parrots mocking me..

Broadcasting their fables and revisionist histories..

The self serving stories that they’ll tell..

The hard truths that they’ll keep to themselves….

They’ll say that I always had it coming..

That I’ve burned bridges all the way from New York to France..

They’ll tell the public how they’ve always wished me well..

And laugh in private at the thought of me burning in Hell..

These days I can barely keep up with the inflation..

Thus I can’t afford to pay the echoes any mind..

I’m too busy dodging gamma rays and tractor beams..

Still searching this world for something that I’ve never seen..

As I’ve been to the mountaintop..

Where Doctor King thought the grass would be more green…

I felt bamboozled by the Jinnies..

When I reached the top and realized that there was nothing to see..

In a world full of snakes and sheep..

I’d rather take flight, perform in airshows, become a Barnstormer like Bessie..

Show the conformists of society..

That it will take more than propaganda and false promises to defeat me…

Friendly fires aren’t as friendly as they used to be..

My captured starfighter has now set its targets back to me..

I must be crafty this time, and employ my missiles carefully..

For Bud will take on even the government, if they ever threaten his peace..

Should I fail my next mission, the world may learn that our Moon is hollow..

That our dreams take place in alternative dimensions unbeknownst to us on Earth..

Something began killing the dinosaurs long before any asteroid had arrived..

And Saturn may riot…