We, the Scatterbrains, unfocused, unrestrained,
Random in our pattern, dispersed throughout
that Critical Mass—that info-terrain,
That moves our thought like a manic nymph train—
Our station is static with snow white noise,
As we mime the motions the whistle employs.
As Job we are dwarfed by the whirlwind’s shout,
Flung to and fro, and blown by skepticism.
We wonder what all the fuss is about;
We inquire to find the root of our route
(mapped without a destination in sight).
With water everywhere and bait to bite,
Scatterbrains exist and fish in Schism—
Swimming from school to school, playing the fool
with blues and rhythm and booze and jizm
(Our desire cries for exorcism,
Multi-tasking, and basking in choices).
Many directors help lift up our voices,
So that our song can be used as a tool;
Those melodies—colorful confetti—
Flutter from cloudy skulls like Babble’s drool.
Still, we wade in the cesspool of bull’s stool.
Precipitated by nothing at all,
Each day, each hour, sunup, sun fall.
We, the Scatterbrains, tire of convention,
So we flip-flop our cardinal direction,
Next bore a hole of earthly dimension
To the hemisphere of pure invention
(It just dawned on me that, us Scatterbrains
Are always extinguishing duty chains).
Chronically we indulge our affection
for shards; however, when vain glass shatters,
We have a puzzle for our reflection.
This ends in crystal palace erection:
A place to which we can wander and skip.
Together we’ll drop all our pieces and trip
on and off road. Bushwhacking paint splatters—
there is no better way to master peace—
those hues we follow that swallow gray matter,
Next neurons plot night sky-high and scatter.
Yet still, our boat finds its way to that cliff,
Where our nymphs await with our manic gift.
We, the Scatterbrains, who dispel myth’s beast
named Status Quo—with its neat and sweet dreams—
Digest our eclectic digressing feast;
Thus, we devour northwest and scat southeast.
Now, here stands a tablet (two) sketched in stone.
We set the dosage, now leave us alone!