#86 100 in Siberia

As Is What Was is a collection of poems created with no thought at all. None. There is no control over grammar, sound, rhythm, idea, or anything really. Why? I thought it would be fun. Is it insane? Absolutely.


100 in Siberia

Damn it if Dylan weren’t right

But you’d rather rave about the sixties

Like some late soixante-huitard partygoer

You were never there in the first place

Yet you know so much about the greatest poet of the college dorms

You know so much don’t you

Vintage education

Have you seen the way the vinyls spin

It caves your head in

Bake it all up and go rocket


Somebody said the hill was too steep

So the other decided to roll down it laughing

Into the electric fence at the bottom

Youthful vindication

That’s the spirit the stuff the swag

The kind of thing that makes your neck hairs stiffen

Sing it to the stars and have a blast


Are you really living

If you haven’t seen a dude get sucked off outside a building facing the highway

Nope. No that sort of stuff is for the freshman

What’s in naïveté but a good old who cares and an illegal bottle

This is the class to change it all

You ain’t going nowhere kid

You can sit there your flannel and spout about the majesties of progressive thinking

But you just know the words

You don’t know where it comes from

You like how it sounds

Not how it works

Give me a break I was one of you too

You can scream at the devil’s advocate all you want

There’s a reason he’s on that side of the court

This isn’t new

None of it is


100 in Siberia

And you want to flip things over

The new leaf the new agenda the pores are open

Let the system breathe

How do you think its lungs have been working in the first place?

You like the flip sure

But only if the other side is face down

Surprise surprise that’s how the other side likes it too

They know it’s easy to rile you up

Because anger is easy as pie


Give ‘em a slice

Interrogate the devil in whispers and maybe more silence

Then pounce

But no you’re not god’s own

Don’t get it twisted


Let them fall in line at the table

Don’t chase em away from it

They’ll bring order to another one


You did it last time

And again before that

Yet you’re still stubborn enough to think you own the grown ups table


It’s 100 in Siberia

But you’ve been sweating since 64


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