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.
Monthly Archives: May 2021
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.
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.