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Cannibals in a Hurry

Peanut butter crackers 

Simplicity made edible 

Clarity digestible 

Sweet, savory, salty 

Incredible 

A child tries to eat them 3 ways 

You munch it whole, grinning 

Pull it apart and in pieces, loving 

Or not at all 

 

A hot new album  

comes down the gullet 

of the American consciousness 

Heartbeat made audible 

Struggle laudable 

Pain protracted, amplified, and interactive 

Applaudable 

A child tries to hear it 3 ways 

You consume it whole, dancing 

You pull it apart and in pieces, loving 

Or not at all 

 

A person enters the room 

Complexity made sentient 

Identically different 

Misunderstood, consumed either as art or as food 

Eccentric 

A child tries to see them 3 ways 

You exhume them whole, judging 

You pull them apart and in pieces, loving 

Or not at all 

 

A person enters the room 

How we consume art or crackers well that's how we consume 

Casting judgement?  

Might as well cast the dice, roll the bones, and hop on your broom 

You don't know what's inside the peanut butter 

You don't know how the album was made 

You know that you like it 

You might know why 

Or you abstained 

Disengaged or played too rough 

Missed half the crumbs 

Only heard the hits 

You dribbled and then forgot to shoot 

Or forgot to dribble, shot, and missed 

 

Children are impartial judges of partial things 

We can trust them to be honest but not always to think 

Yet at least as they pick apart the crackers they sing 

We mutter curses as we forget to lick our fingers clean 

If only you could consume another human  

with the same care and intent as a child eating peanut butter crackers 

Watching cartoons in the afternoon but 

You won't 

Because to a child they are novelty 

They are new and delicious 

When they break something apart in their exploration 

They are mildly disappointed and they make wishes 

When we break something we are vicious 

We blame the flimsy cracker 

Rail against the artist 

In our failure to enjoy we never pardon 

 

Couldn't be that your feet are just not fast enough to dance 

Couldn't be that maybe the pieces taste better in someone else's 

Than your hands 

Couldn't be that maybe you're the stranger in the room 

Couldn't be that maybe you grew up to soon 

 

Now we detest the unfamiliar 

The immediately unrecognizable 

We eat the cracker whole  

and haven't stopped shuffling our "liked songs" 

In a long while 

Keep it moving on bad faith 

Expectations and assumptions well laid 

No desire to share joy only to get paid 

Where is your creative spirit in the analysis of the babe 

Did you forget to take it apart? 

To appreciate the notes, the clothes, the filling, and the heart 

Did you even try cracker cracker peanut butter? 

Or double peanut butter? 

Or just peanut butter? 

Did you even consider it with your headphones on? 

Or rolling the windows down and cranked up out loud? 

Or while enjoying a drink on the back porch or front lawn? 

Did you even stop to wonder how... 

How is the cracker made? 

How did the album come about 

How does the way that I consume it change the taste as it goes down 

Well if you've been so careless with these things 

I assure you the depths of the soul are far beyond your 

Dirty, unappreciative, greedy, gulp-it-down-whole, tasteless, thoughtless, far-too-grown-up mouth 

Love Baked Bones

Anathema