A.G.E's Joint

  Step right up, folks. It's the game where it's all made up and the points don't matter. Live improv from lower Manhattan. The scene is: You are on Jeopordy and your fellow contestants just came out of CBGB's. What would be your next line?  "Songs from the psych ward for $200, Ken." "The answer: 'We can't take her this week...' Yes, Jerry?" "What is Personality Crisis?" "Right. But you don't get money because it is imaginary Bitcoin." "Well, Darn."

  Very superstitious They tell you to forgo pleasure In this life For the Pie in the Sky Made of fluffy clouds In the next.

Bags are packed Almost No blood No alibi No wrong turns On long and winding roads With strange store clerks  And palm trees Two thousand miles from home. It won't be the long way home. 

Lucid dream Bouncing along the edges of my skull Overreaching conscience pulling on reins That doesn't exist Third level Ego, Id, Supra Sliding back and forth Between threat and joy. When the Amber Alert sounds Launching me to the next level Loving is so short So is living Forgetting is forever.

  It is a dream An artifice Created by computers To an unreal ideal A stone chapel In someone's mind Trying to achieve Innocence.

  The Stranger appears Dressed in red and black He beckons me toward him I know the purpose The edge of the abyss For everyone I back away It can't be my time Unless it is everyone's That final crash  Humanity is bent on