Jeff Can Blog

Eden’s End: Foreclosure of the American Dream
Jeff Klepper

The minute hand is never truthful
God said to man to multiply and be fruitful
But there never seems to be explanation for the cause
Memory and static trends deciphers waves for blatant flaws
In tactile execution as we gun our own down
For aforementioned stories never clarify the sound
So assimilate for goodness sakes and craft your own demise
Fairytales tortures our sails but the winds they never surprise
Commit to stand on governed land and never resist the law
For fame and fortunes underground will trivialize what we saw
Command and forfeit the change in heart for a sword of happenstance
Then on that day my friend we will finally claim our first moment at chance

Heaven in a blind state of misinterpretations
Jeff Klepper

The air is just air until we say it’s no longer
The last time I loved I could have been fonder
Telling lies as if the truth would be suffice
One day left is never enough for the followers of Christ
But time is telling and they scrutinize my spelling
When paradox meets man and man meets truth
There only will be the infrastructure of proof
But do not follow or swallow their puppetry
For you my son will become their infantry
Desert crust and the crush of tomorrow
Forlorn on the hill of continuous sorrow
But do not fear for fear is a tactic of theirs
Despicable as it is there are cures for prayers
Justice is the manipulation of the circumstance
Songs from the last one in chains might stand a chance
This will be the new world order—thought defeats happenstance
So call your brothers and tell them to notify others
Today freedom is never won it is perceived
And questions are never answered only received
So say no to religions call and hallowed-out engines
For tonight we move forward and the dead will not be mentioned

Last Words: For My Eulogy
Jeff Klepper

The Atheist is never mourned for fact is fictions scorn
Carrying the burden of truth only to be bombarded by “proof”
The words of now and the memories abound can never materialize in a world vacant of sound
Heed the warning signs from the profitless few who have no motive other than to skew
There is no home for the Atheist for the world has become a place of baron lots
Where politicians inhabit mansions and build weapons for plots
Common man does not understand that blind faith is for the blind
It is the last resort of the misinformed sort and is more bothersome than kind
We must look to those who do not impose will beyond the will
For dead and gone is Aristotle’s song and the limitless young fawn
Drink to marry, and marry we will, ourselves to the ones we detest
For love and hate are equal magistrate in life’s meaningless quest