Monthly Archives: May 2021

with
the morning breeze
& uncertain atmosphere.

the cycle built
which propelled a blade of grass
through a telephone pole.

I face all this in you
for you wreck me. 


 

A jade dragon by the door
the saffron full-moon stares on.

But they argue and bathe in sorrows
not mending the ragged cuts of self-pity.

"O cruel world, why have you kicked me again?"
as the fat pig wallows in its own filth and excrement.

Among them, the adversary gets a jealous sacrifice
sighing it up with tears to the sanctuary.

Thus the ritual is repeated, even sought for 
& insensibility accounts for these twisted facts.

How easily carnal fantasies disengage 
--like the companion in one ear whispering:

"For love I do this for you, only 
for you, for you my one and only." 

Yeah, right. Taste a switch & the button, 
perceive the plasticized flesh.

Like a hungry canine, the antler fetched 
jaw-clamping it in lipped teeth--

Before the altar, "Nevermore" is repeated avowedly
A figment of imagination? .. No, it continued,

Cast from heaven for conceiving beds of pain,
the chains argue aloud, but few ever learn.

The end is the finale & indeed, the inception
of the future.

The lust for war 
is skin-tight & as hemoglobin to bone--
turning poets into preaching prophets 
politicians into potion preachers
children into cheapened chattel
soldiers into senseless slogs
intellectuals into inflated idiots
conservatives to corny connivers
liberals into leaky liars &
the right into the wrong.

simply because war is a blood poison
and war is psychotic chaos,
a familiar imp that smirks
at every easy solution
posed by poets, preachers, philosophers &
politicians

this resident devil refuses to be bought off
by an affluent culture of convenience
whose minions glibly say,
"Just turn the place into a f**king
parking lot" especially if you-know-who
flips us the nuclear bird--

So what shall I be turned into?
nothing more than what I am:
one whose eye
can see the smirk in the mirror.

.4

The ancient establishment of squirrels now pretends
to be in step with the interests
of the next generation of kittens,
but only has its own nutty preservation
as its motive. 
It exists to perpetuate the same
nutcase squirrel philosophy of nut hiding. 
Many gestation ago, older squirrel politicians
fluffed up their tails up and munched on hallucinogenic seeds
pretending to still be juveniles to entertain and remind
the humans of nature.
But many were just the agents of the ancient nutter tribe.
The so-called sub-culture broke all the rodent rules,
enjoyed an excess of tree-sex and frolic
living to party like solitary tree squirrels not caring
about grounded social convention.
They were careless of the climate
of gray-squirrel debate, hate, and dissension carried on
in the military-industrial complex of
the carnivorous 13-lined ground squirrel tribe. 
Now the hippy-minded gregarious
flower-children of that era have become
the very thing they abhorred, though claiming
to have bigger and better eyes, they are as asleep as the
representatives of the 13-lined were generations ago.
The difference is that the new so-called "woke" free-squirrel
is anything but that. 
Being brainwashed to be
more fundamentalist than the white-tailed antelope squirrels--
What a pretentious fuzzy tribe
of killjoys! 
The kittens and juveniles of today are
tail-tied by those claiming to liberate them--
Let them party again.



2.3

And it begins, the great parody follows, violins 
with watery-eyed hyenas 
who never truly cared, 
claiming they were best of friends
who were always "too busy" - 

Now the impostors say, 
"If there's anything at all we can do .."
(I want to soil their face, 
to retch my dying barf on them)

Their false looks are so bloody melancholy- 
Their empty show curls my lips into a sardonic smile. 

Unbearable fakes! Fly from my fading face - you frauds! .. flee!
--or I may foam on you.

The witness of my wasted shell
is well aware that I withdraw while being alone--

Only a mute granite will mark my melting memory.

for my friends and fans:
(If you visit, please leave behind 3 Daffodils 
and a 6-pack of Busch).

stop. pause. breathe.
before you engage your mouth,
engage your mind and heart.

before you stoke your hating rage
stoke your memory with 
what makes for actual identity

before you deploy the missiles of your
words like patriot or scud, deploy
caution--

first, think. question. reflect.

do you want revenge?
do you want an I-told-you-so moment?
does more hatred satisfy hate?
will payback gratify your soul?

the "counter" always becomes what it countered

should the generation of today be responsible
for the atrocities of their parents--grandparents, great-great, etc.?

first, pray. suspend judgment--rethink the narrative

no one wins a prize by gloating.
no one is a hero by murder.
no one becomes more human by dehumanizing anyone.

Hiding from what's now
mine back of a shivered mask.

Owned revenant concurs
after his image.

Renouncing the tongue-weeds--
their volunteer creator

unnatural seeds--
my crime, the bigger

yet, the root is alike,
and may be utilized 
other children to bear;

The unsullied mirror of choice.
After multiple dyings
nativity recovers--

Again, a commencement,
another day discovers.

Without two, no flight--
Our feathered friends are balanced,
left-wing needs right-wing

I've broken the bolt from the fence's gate. 

For we were the first on this vast land, 
though your insatiable selfishness would prevent us.

I've removed the latch with my crowbar. 

You pretended you'd share the open vistas as far as the sun-painted mountains, 

where my people roamed the sierras 
for millennia honoring the land, buffalo, sky, and sun;

But now, I name you robber and liar.

Those "other" streets downtown, 
where the real "downtown" is found, 
and the human condition is all run-down. 
where the classes clash, 
and the rat-racers smash, 
thugs rob, beat, and bash, 
And children get trashed.

Downtown, where some think it's fun to visit. 
They say, "We'll be cool, legit...., 
We're just going downtown 
to clown around a bit," 
but the piranha downtown 
don't clown around.
So, if you're the clown, 
you will be found face-down. 

There, its streets are like another planet 
for man-made concrete 
has displaced nature's trees,
like a frozen heart of granite,

Where it's easy to admit
that you might want to quit
going downtown.
Go there and see the dead-eyed stares, 
and the road-rage glares, 
bus-jingles selling Pringles 
and booze, 
and we all really lose 
because every single thing
about downtown 
with inequity mingles.

There I'm lost, 
you're lost, 
we're all lost. 
Because there's no parking
without a cost - 
for downtown, we're ticketed to a number, 
next to the park-bench bums 
who in their fridge-boxes slumber 
and try to pan-handle 
with every kind of swindle. 

For downtown is also the American scandal 
of homelessness, carelessness, bread-lessness, ... 
For we've fouled our own nest
from the plight of the homeless dispossessed.

There, people easily get locked in 
because the financiers of downtown's sin 
melt human beings into a low-income bin - 
a statue en masse 
whited gray jointly 
under a pigeon's ass.

Many forced to live downtown 
to the city's vice, become addicted. 
A lethal overdose is predicted 
because like heroin, fentanyl, or crack 
if you try to game downtown, 
there,  you'll find no lack, 
but only if you have the smack, 
or else you may
get a cap in the back.