Monthly Archives: May 2021

On Your Marks, Get Set….

Ideas dazzled humans. 
Anecdotes propelled missiles. 
Plastic explosive stories constructed 
straw dog-monsters

Chat, and it grows. 
Preach the earmarked vision. Deluded,
with vestigial eyes. No ears to see--- 
No eyes to hear. Philosophies 
produced a viral strain of mind-mold 
scattering collateral damage:
"The outcome necessitates whatever measure."

--- Saying, "Give us your sons and daughters." 
Tanks of presumption clinked along opinionatedly, crunching 
~~~ adulating yielded skulls lined the course. 
The juggernaut goes bulldozing by 
~~~~ with canines and tongue spitting fire like venom.

Publishing, "Chop off the offending limbs!" & 
"Be at one with the cooperative!" 
When an idea became a devil ... 
spinning the head all around.

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Posted by on May 9, 2021 in Poetry



Fiends & the hosts of Hades seek a battleground within the disintegration of the human image. If the idea of "desire" fractures the concept of "process" (this has become synonymous with the eroticization of the screen-fixated gaze), then the lack of poetics of the specular vision will undermine the expression of true autonomous selfhood; this, in turn, will reduce essential "souls" to commodified objects. 
Thus, the outcome: the delegitimization of the natural. This disintegration embodies the mechanistic culture's emergence with the sublimation of narrative authenticity to enlightenment rationalism. This reduction is erroneously substantiating the exaltation of humankind to an unattainable equivalence annihilating the possibility of their very existence.

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Posted by on May 7, 2021 in Poetry


The Tryst

You listen
to my rhythms, 
head reposed on my breast. 

Your flowering aroma calms me-- 
all my inhibitions dissolve. 
Our lips
provide a bridge for our tongues 
to weave.

Our fused breath
resuscitates-- we float.
We resonate
from the thrust of our intimacy. 

I was desolate on a desert isle 
you found me. 

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Posted by on May 6, 2021 in Poetry


Take Me To Your Leader

Brain-suckers are at the base of the skull; 
alien hijacked eyes commandeered empty. 

Everywhere I go creepy-crawly stares. 
It's begun. No one seems to care. 
Crowds follow each other, lemming-like, 
--chanting, "Host IT, or die. YOU are not tolerated."

 I said to myself, 
"Maybe I'm dreaming-- maybe I'm being paranoid." 
I flipped to the airport network, zombie-heads-- 
The eyes! 

The signs are evident: cruel mouths, reptilian, slack ... 
So freaked, I turned to the sly one - aye-- 

The canned talking points were hypnotic, 
"ooo," Caught myself drifting, almost. 
Looking closer, I saw a glimpse of the scar
as one babe turned. The bald guy coughed a maggot;
I puked from the sight! Am I the only one left? 
The snatchers swing both ways, pickling the brain, 
sucking up, propagating, 
turning its host into pin-wormed poo, 
          with little corn pieces included.


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Posted by on May 6, 2021 in Poetry


Silly Rabbit

One hot summer night beneath a rabbit-eared moon, 
they walked hand in hand.  
They were engaged in candid thoughts, 
dreams and visions of life adjusted 
to the highest good of each. 

They sat on a River Run park bench
head to head, attuned to the speechless earth-songs
harmonizing in balance. 
Can anything be better than this? 
You seek me as I am unknown to even myself. 
I have seen minimal certainty, 
yet a child's intuition crows sure 
endorsed by a real summer moon. 

Romance is a lunatic I can't live without-- 
an appetite too overwhelming to resist 
sparkling pure and fresh 
from your moist, longing eyes. 

The gentleman above spoke in my sense, 
saying, "Why fear the heat of the night?" 
Maybe because I think it can consume me? 

But I do need the sweltering tropical fever 
seen in the lunar fullness 
aroused in us.


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Posted by on May 6, 2021 in Poetry


A Tale of Two

We are now with what Dickens described; 
the best and the worst clash and collide. 
Words are being changed, thoughts rearranged, 
undermined, re-framed, and reassigned.

The vulture picks a dying culture.

Let's look at a crucial example:
"Tolerance" doesn't mean acceptance.
You can dislike something or someone
yet still tolerate them without hate.
No one can compel us to "accept,"
the opposite will be the effect. 

Mind-benders fake to be defenders
of virtue, but try to do away
with whatever fame they cannot play. 
Acting like they're our social conscience
under the pretext of saving us 
but refuse us the freedom of risk 
unless they're in control of the list. 

"Tolerance" becomes iron-handed, 
forced to comply, by shame, demanded. 
These bogus polemical spinners
act as an in-style bunch of whiners. 
Who frame "tolerance" as acceptance;
Obsequious coerced compliance. 
One's opinion now becomes a breach, 
overturning the freedom of speech
welcoming the spying thought-police.

Chicken chameleons hide in "kind," 
cautious of an authentic emotion: 

condemned by the latest conceptions
--21 century deceptions.

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Posted by on May 5, 2021 in Poetry


Excellent for Weight Loss

The jilted husband made another circuit around River-Run.
He was still wearing their ring --he looked down at the rocks
she sat for pictures with yellow flowers braided in her hair.
One round was about a quarter-mile --he was on his 15th with
each step being a penance; his fuming mind, his priest.

He reclined on a picnic table in the center of the circuit,
exhausted from grief, sorrow, anger, and jealousy. He told
the interloper that he'd "tear his f*king face off." She used his
bombast to defend her cuckoldry, though the chicken
and egg wasn't an enigma in this soap opera.

Breaking up is excellent for weight loss; he was down 40 lbs
in less than a month. The ring slipped off his reduced finger
into the uncut grass. He spat at the thought of another divorce
& wished she'd reconsider, fancying he could simply forgive. 
He yearned for her, cuddled in their bed, but
he'd already lost the "their" forever.


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Posted by on May 4, 2021 in Poetry


May Day

Today is May 1st, geolocated under the lights
of space and sky with the star filling the green 
seen through blue, which comes through
a jigsaw of polygon negatives
cut out through back-yard maple trees

everything is in motion
I can't see the wind but
a billion green palms doing the princess wave
& slender trunks swaying their slow-dance 

out of the sliding glass
while I vacuum lockdown junk-in-the-trunk
pecan pie crumbs and old potato chips
with a broken rubber band



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Posted by on May 1, 2021 in Poetry