The Manic Manifesto


We might not be the brightest. We blink after our bedtime and inhale energy.
We are the furthest from fame. Hell, we’re the closest to calamity but our hearts are carved out of hardened determination.
Remind me again why the need of mediocrity’s morphing is so contagious. Did they knowingly pick level one when we have already paid for the Penthouse?
I’m easily the biggest bystander but when the time comes I’m the crowd’s coordinator. Sometimes I laugh in the face of levitation because I am so grounded but someone has to do Newton justice.
Call me courageous or charge me with chaotic conspiracy. I’ll hire a lawless lawyer and take your tires.
My crew and I, we’re the managers of major league madness. Running through the rafters we make it rain riddles.
He and I skydive until we land in the sea. We’ll swim and warn the others.
I accomplish a lot with my accomplice.
We sing songs of system collapse while we dance to drown out the daytime demolition. Smashing through smiles made of plastic we’ll preserve the present of patience. Irony will flow through our veins as we eradicate ignorance. Most of the time we will modestly mosey through manmade monuments while planning our own presentation of this planet.
Look past us now and look up at us later.
We have greatness grown on the inside of our generation. Gradually gaining strength we’ll speed past the sideways thinkers and coronate the once cowardly. We’ll practice publishing poems with pens and paper while learning to love the lines that test our intelligence.
Crafting confetti out of constellations we plan the party of the century.
Galileo gathered gangsters to disprove the decided. We will imitate the iconic imagery once more.
Manic and misinformed about the mainland we will sail on staring at the star lit shipwreck.
Tonight we turn over the tin of tainted water and take over the toll booths.
I’m 20 years sober now so I am sorry about the trashed “someones” outside. Somewhere along the sunrise they will see their salvation and cease it.
The time has come to take the world by thunderstorm. Trample the tides of temporary highs and handcuff the harshness of reality to the dark side of the moon. Our stomps will be the sound of history being made.
This band of musical misfits might just migrate to the mountain top in search of matchless matrimony.
Love is life.
We will be incased in our youthful, yawn-free state after tonight. We will be forever free in this eternal Neverland. The rights to wrinkles will be given to the winged worriers. And we will remain ripe and ready for reckless adventure.
Will you join the joyful shenanigans or wait sightless on the sideline?
Ready to rule or comfortably content, here is your chance to be change.
Take it or type your regrets.

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