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Cluttered Clichés

Might isn't always right and
race isn't the most essential part of our identity

The enemy of our enemy isn't always our friend

Sexual preference doesn't define anyone beyond the bed

Class distinctions are artificial as
money trying to buy happiness

The desired outcome never justifies a hateful method.

(hating haters only multiplies haters)
Fomenting hate is never the solution for hate

Only character explains a person, not their color

Size matters only to those who have tiny souls.

& birds of a feather are for the birds.






 
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Posted by on June 9, 2021 in Poetry

 

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Hotel California

Your sad-kitty victim-eyes trick another
to check in to your house of mirrors

Salvation Sam (or Sally) to the rescue--

The catfished are like cattle to the slaughter
but they want it at any cost-- thus, the flim-flam;
until payment is due

Courting conflict creates continual chaos
berating boredom bastardizes bilaterally

Having homes like houses of horrors
mental mirages manipulate manic mannerisms

Victims vent vitriol --converting to victimizers
verifying a vicious volition.

Remember: Never blame others for your choices
or you'll never check out of Hotel California.



 
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Posted by on June 8, 2021 in Poetry

 

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Time

There is a time to let go;
to slice the cords binding the soul.
Though they hum with live desire,
then biting, sting with a venomed fire.

We drew energy from a shared breath;
pledged our love to reach past death,
but when we stayed closed in together,
the storms burst out in clashing weather.

There is a point to let go,
but now I can’t, for I know
you’re in my blood, a part of me
to my heart, you hold the key.

 
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Posted by on June 4, 2021 in Poetry

 

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Ashes to Ashes

Atlas appears to drop the ball
statues of the state are being sacked 
hell is having an unholy holiday
libeling the memory of our heroes and heroines
independence is infamously iced.

Butterflied bleeding-hearts are brainwashed
as academic actors adjust America's attitudes-- 
between her borders, bullies bluster
because the bloated beast boasts belligerently
insurgents instigate internal insurrection 
to 
turn trustworthiness into a tale.






 
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Posted by on June 2, 2021 in Poetry

 

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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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