Cosmic Crutch   
He was outspoken and was excommunicated.
He built a library
It came outdated.
He built a mountain out of pills and wine,

boiled in a rage he could not define.
In a backyard, swinging on a tire,
He videotaped a clown on fire.
He wanted to sell the video tape to a rat and

he made his dog join a frat.
And then he farted on a typewriter.
He flamed the fart and then he made the room brighter.
Well that bunch of gas smoked his ass,
He crank-called, he shouted, ”Sassafras.”
My body hurts because I laugh too much,

and comedy is a cosmic crutch,  lay alone.
Smoking a bong hit with his last cent
Did not regret the money he lent,
Then he quit his job,
He dreamed a fish.
He gave up every wish
Even put sex away, his love to see a sacred day.
His mind drove on and his body twitched He read Marx,

he was not enriched.
And then the radio played on, in his dusty room.
He drank the music into a broom and then out swept the fairies.
They wept diamonds and berries.
They stitched up his broken spine.
From a chalice drank they wine frowned his nerves.
She said, “I’m sorry. I’d like to serve.”
My body hurts because I laugh too much.
And comedy is no cosmic crutch.
I lay alone.
Everybody watching all the time,
All the problem goes
to rhyme.
The rhyme rolls out in music so her heart can use it,
And dancing is a kind of yotgic and so diplomatic.
The moon tided crime away when people hear what people say.
Make the temple quiet.
Make a kite and fly it.
It tastes so good to be good,
It’s as if the universe would
Tell the stars to make love on Mars where the red rock heats the sauna
And our man keeps smoking marijuana
Well my body hurts because I laugh too much,

a comedy is no cosmic crutch I lay alone
My body hurts because I laugh too much,

a comedy is no cosmic crutch I lay alone  
My body hurts because I laugh too much,

a comedy is no cosmic crutch I lay alone  
My body hurts