The Last Man Stomp

It’s been a big fat dance
around a long hot fire
but looks like the Man Stomp
is coming to a close

A bunch of Stompers
don’t want that to happen
Start it all again,
they say

(Drill baby drill
Supply the demand
A Man Stomp’s no place
to mention the sun)

Rev up the oil lamps
and the gold maps
Yank us off a haunch
from a mammal

We don’t need to burn it
to eat it
Make it a little edible,
is good enough, they say

And to finish if they hadn’t already
invented birthday cakes
they’d invent one
just to smash on a Girl Face

(Resolution, honor,
acceptance of fate
A Man Stomp is no place
to take a date)

Delicately extract ourselves from the circle
The world outside the Man Stomp is cold
for a moment — then 
farther we get from shouting and banging

boy howdy here comes the big reveal
what they called love didn’t come close to the possibility
and open space potential of what Love really is
A whole different kind of dance

(Sic semper tyrannis baby
Dulce et decorum est
Man Stomp is no place
for a humble request)

They will stomp a while yet
It’s part of the dance
to be unable
to forget

They will stomp
a hole back there
Some things will fall in
and disappear

Maybe they wil set
the world on fire when
their torches fall
as they dance

(Scorched earth to turn from
Bones to rot away
A Man Stomp is no place
for a real man to stay)