FRONTAL

They don’t speak the language — they wear space suits and carry guns — while men in suits make gestures and plans over coffee and buns. The invasion of other nations where we be Aliens — seems a bit distorted watching televisien. Der’s dem people wearing towels and robes and no women to be seen — while da guy in da spacesuit says, “Listen, Dude, we be here to make you clean.” And they answer, “It’s all Greek to me — It’s all Greek to me. We see your lips a moving — but it’s all Greek to me.” That’s about how it’s going — while the banks still eat their fills — and us uneducated peons eat Big Macs and swallow pills. If they ever figure out what they be doing and fix the flats at home — perhaps the folks in New Orleans can leave the Super Dome. Just another promise broken so they send in the marines of skill — to make some odd peace offering — after having been trained to kill — or so it seems. It’s a vast military industrial complex and we pretend to give a hoot — most of our lives are pretentious — while we try to steal more loot. We claim to be individuals — until we join a gang and circle jerk each other off — until the next big bang. And they answered, “It’s all Greek to me! It’s all Greek to me! Money talks and bullshit walks — why not just speak to me.” Bama Llama ding dong — he sold the world on hope — he got the Nobel Peace Prize — they must think we all smoke dope. Things take time to cultivate — that’s one thing we know — the language they use is meant to confuse — it’s just one more odd duck in a row. “And it’s all Greek to me. It’s all Greek to me. The Brotherhood claim that he will do good in our name — Is all Greek to me.” Rupert L.T.Rhyme.