I’m an island
Evolving all alone
Weird features
Fitly shaped for sole survival
Huge soul stuffed in hardened shell
Too big to survive on mainland
Too small to disappear completely
We’re endangered
There’s only one of us that I know of
Our language has been rewritten by fools
Our rituals thrown in cages
Our history lost
I’m the last wild one
Screaming to a world that could never understand
Listening to pretty people
Complain about ugly people’s talent
Dancing about architecture
This building’s too loud
Short strings
Tight wound
Meta Pixies too soft
Beethoven too loud
Dynamite isn’t dynamic at all
Bombshells only blow each other
Beauty comes in many forms
Simile puns duck ‘n cover
Dear talent and brains,
What’s compassion for?
“For the dumb ugly kids
Plucking away next door”
Sense their joy
Tap into that
Compassion’s a gift too
I love everyone
I hope you all learn
How to shut the fuck up soon
I beg for a light until I see one
By the time I see it
Don’t know if I invented it or not
Is it real?
I don’t know what’s real
Not for real
But I’m going to follow it regardless
I couldn’t follow anything blindly
I follow a thing bigger than anything else I have known
When I can’t find it I’m lost
My visions where I’m inanimate
Stuck outside space-time
In a dark void of eternal dread
There’s the presence of a taunting laughter
And it’s a familiar presence
I know you
You’re the lady at the end of the line
The voice right before I die
A light red color I’ve felt viscerally before and after
I know you from nitrous oxide too, ticking breaths
You’re always there in between life and death
I know who knows you and doesn’t know they know you
I know you
You showed me my birth
I heard my father’s voice as I popped out of the womb
You’re the last stop before I die
I know you
Was that real?
Am I stuck in a dark void taunted for eternity?
Is that the truest hell?
You know how I know it isn’t real?
Because music. And mountains. And love.
I experienced them all inside of me
The external stimuli seems real,
But it’s certainly fooled me before
My devil’s advocate tells me
If you experienced it all inside you,
The dark void could be reality
You could’ve created this life as an abstraction from that dark void
But then I answer, even then, if all this is inside me, it’s a fucking beautiful dark void
Even if I’m alone for all eternity and I made this all up, I love my imagination and I find value in it
If the worse case scenario is that the light is a sick joke,
I’m still going to follow it
I set my own rules
Long ago on a waist-high pedestal
I stood on a perch
Gave rise to law of earth
Days passed where that law couldn’t have been clearer
Rule of earth was my mirror
Ill-fated days, still I lived without blame
I found grace in the fate
All that stood still,
For stillness was all that would await
On the dawn of ill fate
I conjured dusk in the same
Resting on restless twilight in disgrace
I stood there a decade
Let awash all humor away
All the joy that made the pain
Like a paused tape
But the film went on
A decade without dawn
Still night, no right, no wrong
In the absence of all, an ethic is called
In that reckoning, comes law
Ethic is presence, ethic is will
The compassionate empathic creates his own hell
Hate seeps its mischief in one who hears his call
To care so God Damn much you don’t care at all
To be left to devices one has no will to use
I’m ill to refute
To respite in dispute
In his last attempt at humanity
The ramifications of insanity
Are to heed its call
I am one with earth
If I’m one, I am all
As long as I rise to the ethic of Her Law
Step up to bat with
Lone Masses
Doing backflips
Around your track list
Doing truth for you to relax with
Beauty follows laws of attraction
Step up to bat with
Lone Masses
When your ears get mad
Listening to all that trash
Slap this mat in the front, round back
Welcome home, you gorgeous lil ass kiss
Step up to bat with
Lone Masses
When the fridge buzz
Overrides the static
When all the little things
Start to actually matter
Like love and death
And the everlasting
Step up to bat with
Lone Masses
Spun round the sun
Wearing rose colored glasses
Truth to power
And power back at ya
Pretty sad there’s still folks
Trying to flatten it
Step up to bat with
Lone Masses
Only talking trash at
The blasphemous
Science deniers
And art hating fascists
Persecutors of love
Who put prophets on the blacklist
Step up to bat with
Lone Masses
I’m a Velvet mirror
Staring at you backwards
Showing you the hope
Buried in your sadness
A light shown inward
Reveals the lantern
Step up to bat with
Lone Masses
Is this rap?
It’s fantastic
Like indie alt and what’s that?
It’s so much better than all of those crap hits
Step up to bat with
Lone Masses
An ever lasting, instant classic
It’s massive and magic
Contains zero plastic
Curiouser and curiouser
It’s madness, it’s madness
Eternity’s mass split
‘Tween a quantum reaction
Space-time is additive
Absurd but not abstract
Can be beautiful, entropic, lovely or tragic
Forever is actually
Quite elastic
Well folks, that’s it
Signing out lone masses
If there are questions
You have to ask it’s
The last bastion of hope
In an everlasting sea of blackness
CA satire - each line features the same rhyme as the title
Weak willed by your own attrition
You’re the blindest thing with 20/20 vision
You’re the babysitter who needs adult supervision
You succeed at failing everything attempted
You're right off the market in the worst condition
1 out of 5 stars in the online listing
Too many choices for your makeshift prison
Your fraudulent free soul’s another slave to the system
Only outsider who requires the center of attention
You’re the loudest voice who's never listening
Gossip queen screams, “Better mind your own business!”
You put yourself in the way in order to say, “Keep your distance!"
You're uniquely boring and ineptly gifted
The most broken brat who ever attempted to fix us
You're a half full glass with a leak that's dripping
On your brand new shoes, now your glass's half empty
You're a new age nutcase faking ancient wisdom
Always preaching what's “real,” mid-pretending
Old school "new energies" quoting words never written
Learning how to live from whom study death for a living
You're a sinner saved by closeted hypochristians
You're a vigilant hippie, hip to neocon glibness
Bull's eye bullshit tools is the title I've given
To you and all the fools who call mindless ranting a religion
Your new slang savvy is wit to the witless
Like your rusty metallic irony's ballsy bitchin
Like your gnarly naysayers' hawking headless hitches
Is that a sense of humor or a vast, immense denseness?
You're not smart enough to be that pretentious
Combining long words which make sense to the senseless
You're a word-a-day calendar trying to construct a sentence
You are an offensive contradiction
I add this poem to my life from which to mark your omission
Feigned angel smiles through a vain facade
Projects a reel of all he's not
Callous malice freed to do as it wants
So it believes it can’t be caught
Every breath through gnashed teeth
A karmic breeze whose whisper screams
C'est la vie
There is a ghost behind the mind
Whose inner demons napped the inner child
Rage freed from its cage boils up from inside
A smile lets down deceit's disguise
Can't trust a smile whose tongue’s in cheek
Through the mind, the ghost still speaks
C’est la vie
Ghost hides from an ever present past
Nothing answers, no one asks
Fingers crossed behind his back
Even the reaper wears a mask
Curtain falls, unto the breach
C'est la vie
Every monster once had a heart
Bemused and buried from the start
Every man is a work of art
His twists of fate shoot in the dark
Some monsters made, some born to be
C'est la vie
Such is life that death cannot win
Can't feign grace, can't make fake amends
Man's enemy is death’s best friend
Death is his lover and death is his kin
So goes the ghost given the chance to breathe
C'est la vie
The feigned angel gives up his ruse
Plastic halo becomes unglued
His crown of light becomes his noose
Eye for an eye, tooth for tooth
Inflicting mind ends with its last breath
Such is death
“One must imagine Sisyphus happy”
Seedling drifts downstream through the estuary
Will to power at the whim of happenstance, she’s not entirely unlike you
If she reaches the ocean, the ocean will consume her
No thought to distract her will, and within her a common desire
Desire to live, desire to grow, desire to be as she is
She will never attempt to know her genealogy, for she knows all of her family exist within her here now
Everything she will ever be and all she will ever need is within her here now
The first of her species, a simple genetic mutation gives her offspring the capacity for global prosperity
Whether the world will ever know her kind depends on how the water moves on this particular day
All her potential rides the current of here now
From a warm little pond
Comes a bored little yawn
As Dawkins asks Darwin
'how was life spawned?'
Mother nature just laughs
As she peals off her mask
"It's not ‘how,’ ‘when,’ or ‘where’
‘WHY’ IS WHAT YOU SHOULD ASK!”
Seedling's journey lays her on the bank where she's loosely planted in the shade
She experiences the same time and space that you do
Takes weeks for her fragile figure to rise from the mud
She experiences the same will to live that you do
Photosynthesis isn’t so easy in the shade (it’s all an allegory, you know)
She experiences the same struggle you do
Her single limb reaches toward the sun as her roots dig for thirst
She drinks the same water you do
She's grown crooked out of the shadow without the silver spoon of fortune
The alpha and the omega exist within, grace in every cell
A single flower from her single limb holds the stamen to propagate a new species on earth
Bent in the only direction where there's sufficient sunlight, she faces eastward every morning and westward after noon as she grows larger than the shadows
This poem’s companion piece reaches the ocean:
Satirizing the moral heart of the country, the artist builds a bridge between ideological linguistic islands, calling out the treachery of society’s crimes against humanity and crimes against earth using humor of the absurd. The artist sardonically reinterprets many biblical parables using literary devices of riddling allegorical whimsy to paint the absurdist’s abstract apocalypse.
In the American South, The Holy Bible is pronounced “howly babble.” In the biblical story, the Tower of Babel is an attempt to reach divinity materialistically, and God’s punishment for this is to confound speech to babbling.
Here in this incoherent dimension
Descartes and Einstein debate enriched uranium
With brown polar bears
On icebergs drifting unto providence
You wouldn't want to be a fly on that wall
Nor would you expect Mexico to pay for it
Perhaps you'd tow that iceberg into Cape Town
With several steamboats
Perhaps you'd ignore the colossal irony
One might even say, titanic irony
Floating steal and iron rivets
While knee deep and dying of thirst
Evaporating thirst with steam-powered drought
That sinking feeling
Pale horse-powered deluge of doubt
Don’t ever let go the diva the delusion drowned
Her feathers still float with broken wings
Pecking order from chaos with beaks
The dove is grateful as the dead
Realizing Purgatory isn't Biblical
The Catholics made it up
Then took over The Court (7 of 9 “justices”)
Grey area looks pretty black ’n white to me
Two blacks and a hundred whites hung the apolitical branch
Morality hangs on the tree of know-ledger
Politic forbade picking non-theistic fruit?
Slithering supremacy singing coup coup kachoo (they are the egg man)
This grim brimstone acquisition
Smells of the beach and eggs
Dawn downpour of sodomite sulphur
Same mirage lost in the desert or lost at sea
What color should doves and polar bears be?
Who’s the first horse, my love, at the end of time?
Inuit skipping stones somewhere over the runway
Red carpet sunset showcases sealskin sheik
Dorthy’s serving salted leprechaun meats
A variety of flavors from the prism of light
Judge can’t retract refracted crimes against earth
So sings Chopin’s funeral march
Howlin’ babble’s gavel lands the gallows hand
The tower showers all across the land
Noah’s nightmare, nature’s fire extinguisher
Nero’s number fires mammon in impoverished dory-hunky
Flipping merchant tables, who recalls Humpty Dumpty?
Who likes their eggs hard and who likes them runny?
Side of apocalypse, my love?
My brunch is revelatory, how’s yours?
Is the ship sinking? Where's the music?
I thought the band kept playing
I thought the people kept praying
Where's the part where we tear each other apart?
What exactly is this we’re eating?
Or is it four horseman with arrows in their hearts?
Cupid, you devil, you smell of sulphuric farts
In the ass-raping wind
God hates? God hates? God hates?
Y’all ain’t just morons
You’re oxymorons
Angel-raping takes precedence over homosexual sex
And that’s all God had to say on this
All of the horses and all of the men
Couldn’t put the queen back together again
God save the queen!
Or is it, "God stave off the nihilists"?
Is it "love" or "what I think love is"?
Is it “the greater good” or the faulty mind’s menial ethics?
And what do you think a dove is?
You don’t know the ethics of ambiguity
When you say, “I want to make the world a better place”
You really say, “I want to make the world more like me”
Stiff, rigid judgement stuck in karmic lapse
Refractors of light selling hot air
To push riveting stolen irony
Across a desolate ocean of mirage
No love in tow
Fools of Purgatory, the tower of the babbling brook
They learned nothing
Still trying to fit God into a book
Creator of the eggs
Is not your personal cook
And the antichrist is MONEY
You dumb fucking crooks!
I wish I could feel like they look like they feel in the movies
I wish I could feel like sound when it moves through me
I wish there were Nazis so I could join the resistance
But I wouldn’t will hell into existence
The contentS of your words have no vibration
There’s nothing for me in your pseudo-contemplation
Stupid with strong opinions is usually the funniest combination
But I'm really annoyed with this conversation
Why do people watch movies with other people?
Like to get interrupted with questions every ten seconds?
Sobriety is painful and intoxication gives pain a chance to feel
Only ever went bowling knowing I was only going because there's beer
I wish I was high so I could enjoy talking about the weather
God pisses on cows to piss off assholes wearing leather
If conversations were only slightly more enjoyable
I wouldn’t be so excited for when God destroys us all
Ghosts, superstition, fiction doesn’t scare me
Of humans like you, Brute, I am still very wary
Give me a real monster like Vlad Dracula or Nero
I might fall in love with the actress, I might play the hero
I stare through you who speak with such admiration
I wonder which eye you're looking at for that feigned sensation
Stare at the acrylic one while I stare at the space station
I'm really annoyed with this conversation
Music reminds me of the success I never had
Sex reminds me of the love I never had
Pleasure reminds me of pain
Numbness reminds me of nothing, let’s do numbness again
Calling you out on your stupidity brings me nothing
What I've stated is that I'm jaded, and you ought not confront me
Should’ve met me last decade debating every interaction
Can’t you sense my indifference to your dissatisfaction?
I befriended all the blacklisted subjects of Dixie's Paramount
All the black and brown renegades of the new south
I grew up in a place where homosexuals were condemned
So I made a life of making homosexuals my friends
I grew up with astronauts at the dinner table
You disgrace infinite timespace with your opinionated fable
My father's an artist, and you’re art-disabled
A real artist would never put art in a box with such dainty labels
Philosophy? I no longer care what anyone else thinks
Psychology? Studying the sick cannot diagnose humanity
Music? It’s like “bless you” to a sneeze to me
It all happens within, and your platitudes are a dumb disease
It took decades to train myself to smile and nod my head
But nobody greets each other like that in The West U.S.
I trained myself to anticipate southern hospitality, the great white lie
Reversing these unnatural social cues I so despise
I found solace.
I found space.
I found the masquerade.
I found the slave.
I no longer desire to speak to human beings.
I find nearly all of you to be annoying at best.
John, John, Judas and Jesus
Only interesting characters in the New Testament
Maybe Paul Thomas Anderson or Radiohead -otherwise yuck
I don’t care to see or hear any more -I’ve had enough
Funny thing about living knowing I'm not the first
Trying to reacquaint myself with sensations as all become blurred
There's a force among us that wishes to base all upon feel
So I separate myself from everything I always thought was real
If my mind had led me to any fruition
Why in hell betray my own cognition?
The answer comes as a thing bigger than any thought could ever be
The sensation is brighter than any sense could ever touch or hear or see
I’m a fish out of water (I don’t belong here)
I need to move on (I’m done talking nonsense)
Look at me, penniless dog in a cage
My mind led me to hell, and I actually stayed
No more talking about living
No more talking politics, no more talking religion
No more philosophy, only living the metaphysics
No more advice, no more opinions
The knife in my back is the knife in yours
Have you made peace in the war of words?
Questions as rhetoric only point to feeling
Feeling is a much sharper, much heavier sword
Wit smells awful without grace
Et tu, Brute?
For all these years love's not been with me
Seven hundred years of history
A century for all the sins I've forced love to forge against me
A love I've chosen yet not to let forgive me
A dove shot out of the sky
A love that scolded me with an eye for an eye
If not for the breadth of bliss she might've given me
I might not have run like hell through tall grass
To the end of all things
But I did
I saw the end
On the banks of the Tennessee
I saw how it would end for me
I saw how it would end for all things
Then I saw life the way I think I thought you should see it
Then I saw life the way I thought I should portray it
I know what the so-called "God" whispered to Peter
The same thing my guide whispered to the aether
You mother fucker fly like the goddam wind
A true romantic would court his own coat-tail and fail at it
With the gods amiss to such a backwinded sail
Set against the winds of whimsy
As it were to succeed or to fail
One comes to terms with infinity
Bought an old soul from the dearly departed
A place I can store the end that I started
Saved up all year, so there's no debt or barters
I bought an old soul that fits my whole heart in
Tasting these tears as they fall upon me
I wasted each year that has no memory
Making room for love without fettered jargon
I bought an old soul that fits my whole heart in
Got a letter from a friend who said I need a shrink
I need medication and I don't need to drink
I received her with love, and I received him with whiskey
I'd receive them much better if they received it all with me
FOR SALE: an old mind that can't get much sorted
A messy old cavern with a whole lot of storage
Comes with two poles and an eye for a bargain
I bought an old soul that fits my whole heart in
The heart's just a muscle, and life's just its martyr
Love's a cliche, one I'd love to be part of
We'll take off our masks when there's uncharted waters
We'll all buy new souls to haul our old old hearts in
A Garden in Ojai, CA, May 15, 2018
A trick of the memory
Paints a picture of reality
The thought that denies itself
Calls on spirituality
In one split moment
The curse of perception
Counts itself to sleep before the Shepard
Counting blessings
As the curse gives rise
A gift of resurrection
No past present
No desire
An affirmation of life
Virtue beyond ethic
Prudence in the curse of perception
Dimension of deception
Like a sphere as a circle’s revelation
Shedding perspective
Muse of eternal inspiration
Lift the spirit to its making
The spirit can’t deny itself
Nor thought as mere sensation
This moment calls itself creation
Time and spaceless
Where nightmares abruptly awaken
The thought can no longer deny the picture as a painting
A thought it’s infinitely tracing
The wave that’s been a chore to ride
Unto the breach, where worlds intend not to collide
Breaks at the waxing gibbous
Following the spirit
The broken fists open up their gift
The tide of tears turns
Where the wallflower can’t forget
Memory’s absent trick
The dance never promised to be the fortune
On and on Soham awaken
Break a broken mold
Spirit lift the picture of reality
Hung up on the wall of Braille
A picture getting clearer
See through fortune unforetold
A portrait of a mirror
Framed in fool’s gold
The body’s calm
Slacktide’s modest still infinite motion
Deft deafness washing Sirens back into the ocean
Revelation
Can no longer deny the moment
What picture of reality can’t remember the thought that denied itself?
Nor could it, nor has it ever
That called spirituality
Sheep nor shepherd
Chicken nor egg
Bird nor feather
Is it a moment?
It is that it is
That it is forever
I really do think of you
As the demon in my place
Mister Hyde's great disguise
Wearing my same face
I must purge as you emerge
From the deepest depths of hell
If I ever knew this side of you
I could truly know myself
The irony of recycling
I know how much you drink
The blasphemy of you being me
Is you say exactly what I think
The only bloom that rids me of you
Is all that love lost
If a part of you could stay
If I could fly without the lot
Don't wreck me, fortune, free me from hell
But let the demon's breach still be a part of me
Let me truly know myself
Soham bares the fruit of every forbidden tree
“I Am That I Am” for the shadow of the cave
Shall we let it rot on the vine?
Live and let livid from the grave
While shooting stars chase their stardust into yeast?
Is this Plato's wet dream?
Baring child from an infertile seed?
Let it rest lest it rest in peace
Circumcise it with your teeth
Ferment it into a disillusioned dream
Distill life till it's realized
Vomit the forgotten
Forget all forgiveness
Stumble into this high tide
How much space is there
Between sunset
And the night
Somewhere within deception is the word
If deception prefaces heaven,
Then I have seen the light
I been to the mountaintop
We shook shadows in the dark
Left-handed recollection of space
Presently poised
To reckon with the guise
Of indentured noise
And the deceptive word in the light?
I think you thought these thoughts before
Where the fuck is hindsight?
Where you think memory's stored?
P.S. The Devil's linguist survives on morning tithes. Amen.
Sargasso Sea
Somewhere East
Sargasso Sea
Atlas holds the tide for me
Alas, there’s not the faintest breeze
Logistics drown Romantics
I’ll fix my sail or a short reprieve
…Swimming to Atlantis
Bad Feathers
What used to be bad days
are now good days with bad feathers
Does it mean bad days are now good?
Or now good days fly better?
If I'm in my right mind
at this ungodly time,
to debate such a nonsensical
question in rhyme
Good days must be at their best,
whether indeed or in jest,
Let these wilted wings fly unto forever
EGBDF
When tears hit keys in a cold house
Every wasted Christ pretends
He can turn tears into wine
Every dog slips on his own drool
Every good boy does fine
Fine-tuned fingers slip on cold water
When years shit
they tease cold corpses
Pepper and salt may suit
the needs of the assaulted
Tears may be the only hell that separate
apes from bastards
Reason to speak for melancholy
it's grace for the acclaimed
A Legion for hell and hell-folly
It's a strange play on rain
Strange Play On Rain
Wake to the reign of the apogee
Come the cruel cold tricks I'm ravaging
And the meek mold tar for the heavenly ghost
While the Greek gods sit on their featherless thrones
Break down… my liege
I know… I breathe
Coal lust… for steam
Stardust… for sheep
Nightmares for dreams…. I'll wait-
For the carpet that gravity amends
For the sake of an apple on top of my head
For the chains of an angel I see from above
For the wake of a mangled beak of a dove… I'll wait!!!!!
Grace at the pace of the white rabbit
Grace at the pace of the white rabbit
who wins the race?
I'M NOT A SHEEP! I'M NOT A FUCKING SHEEP!
STOP COUNTING ME! STOP COUNTING ME!
Insight
Something behind the rambling
Between the ranting raving
Don't know whether to call it "purpose" or "providence"
incessantly teetering
on the edge of nihilism
I am going to throw it at you
Every sentiment here is multifaceted
Find a reason
between
the
dead
lines
That feeling when pragmatism defeats intuition
Ever try to decipher an action
is it propagated
by instinct or insight?
Ever attempted to define whatever it is that propels you
to ask?
If mother nature writes the code
she's the guide
is there any room left for will or divinity?
Does socratic method lead to any answer
other than "undefinable?"
Yes.
Yes
Yes, I do
I believe that I'm creating my existence
My existence persists and insists
I write this bit of bliss, hit or miss, tisstiss
I sculpted my mind
To make one eye see clearer
The bits bat their eyes
And the bytes ping satellites & bing a mirror
Luck
God tiptoed up the back ladder
With an ostrich on his sleeve
His heart got caught on a rose's fishhook
So the doves made their own wings
God fished till he was a master
He caught hell and made hearts bleed, he said,
"Put a corpse lily in your canons
Fly the ostriches for world peace"
Fish were pleased to be on Christ's platter
The dish walked over fermented firmament
Mashed grapes trickled back down the latter
Acrophobes found temporary permanence
Blue
Burning blue blood candles from inside the manhole
From medieval flannel to first century sandals
Creating stone tools from finger-length regency
Bashing brash knuckles through second-hand frequencies
From pints to handles again switching channels
Licking up spit from a photosynthesized diabetic
Flung feces on fleece canvas for the new-shit-aesthetic
Anchors
Right... Cognition is a novelty...
I love staring at walls.
Vigilance is prominence
Lividness is provocativeness
When you are who you are
The block is blackativeness
You don't like...
mother nature's keeper
You don't like me...
Well me neither
I’m leaving it up to the aether
The dark side of human indifference.
Then we fought, not like dogs, but like anchors trying to swim.
Night Trump was elected, punched a window out of my SUV, nearly bled out in the lawn. A friend tied off my wrist, drove me to the hospital where I received 26 stitches. Following weekend, played a show in Ojai, CA & wrote this.
Oh Hello,
There's a friend
There is the voice I thought some Lover tried to send…
I met Her once before Time knew it could bend
She tried Her best, but I still know our best begins:
"It's a little much. Can we do over again?"
>>>
Oh… Hell No
Who's womb is on a whim?
We won too
Liberté's discourse is:
"Life or limb… "
I've seen the shift, you know?
The third shift…
When everyone's been sleeping through the day that never ends
I know it's late
But Love needs a latent friend
Firing back the echo that keeps firing him
You know?
"You're fired… smoking on the third shift."
The Reich made up its mind
It's time for a cleanse
Fire with fire?
Count them out or me in
A night of broken glass is a fight I'll never win
But there it is…
There it is again
There's US... and Them
I'm seeing my reflection from an eye that I don't miss
You know?
Anybody can make a fist
But The Third is an Augustly Turd to arbitrarily dismiss
You know Judas?
Brutus?
Shoeless dancers on the ether?
Cancers landing shanked answers into Caesar
Shall I cut the cloth any deeper?
By July, we'll all miss Easter
Then…
We'll have time
When Easter meets The Fourth
The Fourth will be Aligned
If the Axis became the Reaper, Whom is You, I am?
Why here and what now, old friend?
What is I, and why can't it see?
Ayeayeaye plead the Fifth
To reassess Her rest in Peace
To bless Her silent scream for me
>>>
Oh… Hell No
"It's never too late…"
That's that I hate
That's just the vomit from a Voice that led an ungodly Shepard to say…
Do you know? Do you know, my friend?
I've thought about it much, and I can't think it all again
Is it too late?
Is it too late?
Love still needs a bastion of Hope to procreate
I know Her and Hell.
I know them both well
I've been wishing water would mend the coins I couldn't meld
But I won't whine
I won't complain
The Mother of my Lover sees a tunnel at the end of the light
Copper can only turn greener with brine
Father of my liver learned to walk on alter wine
A frozen river of shared misery
Will not break Her Will the love of company
For every penny that shines with me
We're becoming ninety-nine senseless Dreams
For every dollar a blue collar bleeds
We live for the loving accompaniment
She liveth for a shared mind
And hell hath cometh
If Love must plummet
Love shall be wrung up with twine
Hung by the nails for which He binds
Breathe in…
Breathe in, my friend
Lean in, and leniency will glide
The only way to free him is to let Her be His guide
Her noose is callow
Shoot the twine with an arrow
However wide
However narrow
He must lead the noose like a turkey leads a sparrow
When the Eagle cries
What's left still has the right
To see the torch as not a guise
Let her torch not cast a shadow, and let her crown not pass a crime
"Mother Liberté, send me a sign."
To hear our Founding Fathers' Word in kind
I'll take His word with a grain of salt
And copper turns green with brine
I'll take His word in hindsight
But don't you fucking dare tread on mine!
I've fought the worst of you
I know where Seven K's meet their Essssss
My God is tortured, but my ears are blesssed
And God only knows how I've kept my eye out for this
Blind thine
Turn this godforsaken water into wine
Cower?!
To whom is Empowered
We pay the soldiers in rum
Our Eiffel Tower is a lady dressed in cum
Shall I run?
Call my lady a Cunt?
We shall overcome
Shall I tread the water as it turns to ice?
Or shall I let the light of Mother Liberté shine?
Call out the hack!!!!!
His ice will crack!!!!!
We MUST walk over the tears that blind our salted shrine
Green… My newlyweds…
Shine.
Liberté
Shine.
Love
Shine.
Thought?
Shine.
till? Moonshine.
Our Love is just the dusk of all the tears we've shed
Do you know?
Do you know, my friend?
I've thought about it much, and I can't think it all again
One leg for the time, and another boot for you to shine
We'll cater to the rustbelt
I've felt the solitude and shame
I herd all-knowing consciousness, and I think it's heartfelt
I take her accountancy at face value
I'll walk on ice for all whom wait
If all whom love Love…
If they…
If They…
Could only love to hate Hate
I could point my latent finger yonder back-t'ward the Pearly Gates
I'll tend the flock of fickle farces
I'll pretend that I am fake
Fuck the Wolf.
Fuck the God who made that godawful shape…
Fuck the Love that left the time that left That space
Fuck the world that my Mass must displace
Oh, hello you fucking Whore
Put another dirty needle in my veins
I've done this before
And I've been tamed
I've died of your cancer, and I've died in Eighty Aids
I'm uncertain that I'm positive
But I know blame
I've never been a stranger to Rage
Is it He?
That dude never sleeps
He's the One…
Is He the One?
Yep.
He's the guy on duty when there's no one else to blame
You know that guy…
Oh, hello Goodbye
He's the one that never cleans the vomit from the meal nobody ate
>>>
Oh, hello.
Someone say, "Voice?"
I found her cradled in an Osprey's kiosk
Rocky mountain hoist
Voice?
When in doubt, don't heed the noise
Strike a poise, end with the greeting that begins:
"I highly recommend…
The sound of a good friend"
I'll even lend the hand that amends the hand that points
Any fucking hand can make a fist.
What did my fingers miss?
The central nervous system sent
Its shadow to Narcissus
Fucking hell is dripping down my wrist
His Sun sent the message, and I missed it
But I found One in the Love of the Omits
Time itsElf is greeting "O" with this:
Mass displacing ohms replacing shit
What I can't get over is every sound that meets its deflection with a grin
When I see the finger in my reflection, I see a friend
I hear a greeting, and that greeting whispers… "Bliss"
>>>
Oh, Hi.
Goodbye again.
I sent out this poem verbatim to a hotbed of apathy one week before the 2016 election. It’s about the end of the human race. Humans vs. Mother Earth. Again 2020.
"A Poem" (Denial’s Attrition)
November 1, 2016, A Travel Trailer in Shadow Hills, CA
1 Someday we'll jump off the runaway train
onto the last grass on the last hill
2 on the run from the voice of denial's attrition
3 which still stands as her only witness
4 We refused to use the accused's evidence
5 the rampart's lone exhibit
6 was evidence only proof admitted
7 Choosing invisibility as an excuse to exercise inadmissibility
8 an echo for every voice that refused to listen
9 On the run from our own admission of volition,
freewill rules us innocent
10 Appealing to our most vulnerable senses,
consensus favors denial on
11 trial with implausible invincibility
12 accusations are suspect to overruling their own suspiciously unruly
13 inauspiciousness
14 Unfit to stand, much less run with no defense,
we know whom to blame for this
15 We judge our denial while a cheek turns a blind eye for the trial of less than a century
16 Forgive luck for futiles casting blank stones slated to arrive at our wake
17 She accepts her sentence humbly on a high horse with the voice of our memory
18 The good book beguiles our sardonic smiles with infinity
19 Someday we'll jump off the runaway train onto the last grass on the last hill
20 on the run from the voice of denial's attrition
21 On the run from our guilt and feigned blame,
her chains will begin to drift
22 On the run, we'll begin to feel her infamous shift
23 With the case against us dismissed,
denial's attrition will begin
24 It begins to accuse us again…
25 Our harsh ruling unduly jeopardizes her sentence, fooling double jeopardy with penance
26 the faithful turn injustice on end when piety puts its own fate at risk
27 driving morality up the wall,
exhausting its resources like piss in the wind
28 On the run from the voice of denial's attrition
anything we say or do may no longer be used against it
29 the use of fate as a noose is still permitted by volition
30 Fate, cousin of preordained farce,
forces free will to its own evanescence
31 Fate, destiny's acquisition, uses naivety as weaponry and double jeopardy as penance
32 Fate, the great shapeshifter, may choose denial over volition
33 at the discretion of all life's earthly lessons,
fate may take human life in the barter
34 Gaea will thank us for our martyrdom
35 Fate, father of Rasa, author of all earthly sagas
in the hands of tabula rasa
36 Fate, the blank slate, may chose to use its pen as the last nail in the last coffin
37 Someday we'll jump off the runaway train onto the last grass on the last hill
…on the run from the voice of denial's attrition
38 Someday the tables will turn for the wrongfully accused as she admonishes us still
39 the last nail will stand trial as our last witness
40 Someday soon, the wrongly accused stands in our shoes
41 we will stand trial for denial's attrition,
in defiance of our own free will
42 Someday we'll jump off the runaway train onto the last grass on the last hill
43 On the run from the voice of denial's attrition
44 You and I will be the last to hear its unwary and incredulous echo firing back at last
45 from a lilting whisper to a shrill
46 On the run from the voice that comes back to haunt the ghost we entrapped
47 the fact is the past is the last voice which it ever told not to tell
48 Our runaway train's innocent claim is already arraigning itself
49 At last, our past is paved over en masse by declaring its first and last plea of "guilt"
50 On the run from the light of our past…
51 As our past claimed that our last shot of shining was just a shadow cast by the fire beneath the last still
52 On the run, our last shot fires back at our past
in a last pact to kill or be killed
53 by the light of our last moonshine,
our lilted echos are shooting for the stars
54 You and I will be the last to see our past denials shoot their dunce heads in the clouds
55 as they provide us with our last bit of shade from our last shot in the dark
56 You and I will be the last to hear our lilted voices echoing our curtain call as we bow out
57 You and I will be the last ones on the run…
58 On the run, our last pact has no use
for a backfiring gun
59 On the run, we can't shoot for much more than the sun
60 Jump the gun from the gavel to gallows to the grave
with only grief as our plaintiff, our past paves the way
61 With two words it's confirmed, "court adjourned," in the cesspool where life breaks
62 From a warm little pond on an island beyond, life carries on in our wake
63 From stardust comes gold, without yellow brick roads and no voice veiled in curtains of shame
64 With no fear driving absolution's curtain call up the walls of hyperbole's one-way race
65 We leave her in ruins, tattered, cheated and abused
battered beyond earthly complaints…
66 Our past as we know it, beaten and broken, becomes golden to a new earthly race
67 Standing trial for the accused, walking miles in her shoes, life's on the run for life's sake
68 Our past as we knew it, tattered and ruined, lives to see the shoe-in the mess we made
69 Grace will surrender our waste as it renders itself home to a new road freshly paved
70 Someday we'll jump off the runaway train onto the last grass on the last hill
our last rites will be read by our wrongfully accused
71 Someday the tables will turn for her as she admonishes us still
72 She read us our rights before our present passed through our last mass
73 displacing all that matters in man's free will and testimony
Atlas and Sisyphus are rolling t'wards a precipice
The weight of the world comes tumbling down
Sisyphus got used to this, and Atlas just began his shift
Philos fell from grace for all whom now bow out
Some of us will bite the dust, and some will fight the afterlust
But all of us must accept we've lost this race
The arc will bend t'wards justice, but justice lives through dawn and dusk
This is just a memory to us whom stay in this race
Atlas and Sisyphus are rolling t'wards a precipice
Atlas takes a knee for a moment of truth
Atlas says to Sisyphus, "How do you make sense of this?"
Sisyphus replies, "Time takes no refuge."
"Every star will shine again," Sisyphus replies to him
"Helios will rise again, and so will you.
Attrition makes its mark on us with Hades rising from our dusk
It's nothing but a pause for all that love can do"
The tortoise sees Eleutheria as she's beset by her own sun
But she is still beguiling us, on this very day
For the distrust of populous, our founders set us back amongst
A field of poppies for needles in the hay
The hare has won a shallow race, and liberty must not be defaced
We must accept this fall from grace as any democracy should
Democracy must persist for Gaea's Atlas and for Sisyphus
Who taught us democracy must not wear a hood
Begin at the beginning
I'm only a part of the many
But there's only so many
Spying flies see sixty versions
Of the same white lie on the wall
Their larvae begin
Stall.
For time is infinite and you're at risk
If you seek time turning
You may live it again
If you wish?
Upon a star
There's a dissolute breed
They feed on your larvae
And your resolute greed
How shalt thou speak?
If you've already spoken
You've opened the door
If you've wished upon a star
How far and what for?
Prey for the sorrows
For they're not shades of gray
When the stars see the world
It's all in one time, one place
Speak through the insolent wind
Blind the hollowness refracted
Contracted by time-space
Tomorrow is the same as today
Free will is the distance
Between time and space
In every version of yourself
There is a way