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Monthly Archives: May 2021

Before the Climb

Shameless leaves peep
below the long corridor of our
Village stairwell---
eyed wings of moths
seeking light, & me
loitering across the street
before coming home early 
to the most gorgeous woman alive.

A glimmer in the shadows
of our open-blind second-floor window
you glisten from a bath, wrapped in a towel
I desire to be surrounded by your dewy body

your naive beauty captivates 
this voyeur husband to spy on you
across, behind the lightning-riven oak tree
under the second-story window

Silhouetted, you look out,
waiting, & I imagine
for the moment that
I am to return home, 
but then,
he pulls up, parks 
& 
climbs



 
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Posted by on May 30, 2021 in Poetry

 

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Watching Cars

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. 


 


 
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Posted by on May 29, 2021 in Poetry

 

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Inception

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.


 
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Posted by on May 27, 2021 in Poetry

 

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Lunar Eclipse

When the music ribbons 
between ancient watches of the night
only your face brightens my gloom, 
for the moon becomes a child's smile 
piercing the mute darkness.

The winding seems to be hemmed by bogs, 
snarling roots and vicious night shadows elongating,
but then her vine clings true
making empty pretensions subside. 

The climb seemed elating, 
the sinking rut seemed bitter, 
but only as we were.

You became the night, eclipsed by yourself, 
while his leaves were dotted with distilling drops--   
that you may need.



 
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Posted by on May 26, 2021 in Poetry

 

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Lust

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.



 
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Posted by on May 25, 2021 in Poetry

 

Dancing Wounded

Our great Lakota chief warned,
"The white man cannot be trusted,"
and though I am a child
I cannot understand why
as Sioux, we are forced to learn 
the white man's ways,

They stole our sacred Black Hills
--those who would teach us
what we do not want to know.

The Paiute shaman, Wovoka, 
taught us the Ghost Dance
because our ancestors wish
to revive our ways. 

He said, if we obey, the buffalo
will once again multiply 
with the appearance of our
ancestors 

While we danced--
the pony-soldiers came
and massacred us;

My mother and brother now 
redden the snow,

but, no matter, I will continue
the dance.


 
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Posted by on May 19, 2021 in Poetry

 

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Nut

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.




 
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Posted by on May 18, 2021 in Poetry

 

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Narcissus

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).




 
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Posted by on May 17, 2021 in Poetry

 

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Continuance

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.

 
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Posted by on May 17, 2021 in Poetry

 

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Sowing

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.



 
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Posted by on May 15, 2021 in Poetry

 

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