desperately we judge
behind a web full of our own spiders
there is no end to this rainbow of lies
no pot of gold, merely a black kettle boiling to the top
do you feel the venom coursing through your veins?
These days the future is hazy
The job I work means nothing
It's 6 AM and I'm feeling crazy
I don't care about fucking anything
My life is a smudged question mark
Written on an empty folder
I just want to go down to the park
After all, I'm only getting older
I'm getting too old
Now I'm only 21 but listen here
I might not have seen it all
But I've seen enough for me to say
Answer your phone when you get the call
It won't ring twice but it always rings true
I'm just trying to get it through to you
Skipping rocks in still waters
Smoking pot up on the roof
I don't know why I even bother
But I know what I'm saying is the truth
Now it's time to go back again
And again the same feeling haunts me
I'm telling you as your honest friend
You need to adjust your vision before you see
And then run away with me
you tasted like cigarettes and pot,
you were bitter, like the smoke i breathed in to feel less
you were sweet, like the only things i could feel
you were beautiful, like sadness
you were ugly, like happiness
you were sad, like loss, happy, like greed.
you are gone, like love.
Some fools are born, conditioned by fate,
And they, like all, still procreate.
All useful knowledge flees their minds,
As selfish life fulfills these swines.
And while they swing and cheat for joys,
The watchful eyes of their little boys
Do take a look at what they see,
And what they see is “A bigger me.”
Their little girls, in company of dolls,
On occasion, foresee what befalls
Upon them, too, as they soon explore,
An impending battle of love and war.
But then, there exists that little kid,
Whose sex and gender shall remain amid
A cloud of irrelevance and mystery:
Their wisdom calls most urgently.
As this kid sees a life unravel
Along Lacanian stages of travel,
Concerned are they with the fuss and mess,
Which most adults do not confess
To what they cause and what they bring,
Most taken in by their offspring;
And as one parent lacks all the care,
The other lives a life unfair.
In times of chaos and audacious cuss,
Dear vengeful killer, Oedipus,
Consumes all facets of the mind
Of the little kid who must confine
All pain, and hatred, and all rage,
Enough to place one in a cage,
And leave one there to squirm and rot,
Like a lobster boiling in a pot,
And free the bird whose wings to fly
Have been broken off, now left to die,
In part, by diabolical norms
That invade a home in all shapes and forms.
But the kid looks up at the two,
Then whispers quietly, “I’m neither of you;
Not the blinded one, who feels must reign;
Nor the obliged one, too tied to pain."
Nor does the kid ever dare to be
A product passed politically:
Ingrained in mind, in heart, and soul
A subordinate being in a bowl,
That turns, and turns, and turns, and turns
While greedy capitalists more they yearn.
Within this cycle is little choice,
Hetero-normatively sans a screaming voice,
For a true language for some not made;
Virile chest-pounds place a shade
Upon the stronger ones deprived
Appraisal for their stronger minds.
The kid, all this, can’t take to be,
As what they see they wish not to see.
In this unbalanced Yin and Yang,
The kid’s perception hits a bang:
“The power lies within the one,
Who mostly governs with a gun;
And how can a human hurt their double,
When love and passion are lesser trouble?"
A fitting sex the kid can't choose,
As in every win, each sex does lose.
But slowly, as they come to be,
The kid, society directs to see,
That to just one sex they must belong,
As 'genitalia proves feelings wrong.'
This funny theory most credits Freud;
By collective viewpoints the kid’s annoyed:
'No good is said, no good is done',
For those who are all, but yet are none.
Great gender points makes Butler de Judith
While her female likes are out to proveth,
That she is wrong within her stance
‘Only female unity will give rise to chance'
To an inclusion of the female word,
And one that’s First, not Second or Third.
The opposite, still out to bend
The rules and laws, all to pretend
That the other sex does not exist
Because swollen egos must persist
In rule, in art, in build, and biz:
'Fields where opposites lack all wiz.'
The kid, in this silly world of theirs,
Looks at all the foolish heirs
Who bounce and shoot this gendered ball,
While the kid stands back and laughs at all.
symphonies of sounds, and arrangements of metaphoric surrealism
the hibernation of ones mysterious thoughts and deepest actions
a psychedelic wonderland of white rabbits frolicking down holes,
a time warp of madmen the thought of being chased by dark shadows
in the mind of monsters that hide under the foot of the bed.
a stew of emotions boiling and biting at our ankles,
a pot of acid-spiked visions so unclear
a world where billows of color mix and mutate
the tall man chasing us young children through scenes of disruption and
everything within us as mortal beings where buddhist pray and the sun shines,
leaping over peace pigmented hills,
filled with hysteria and delirium
the dreams that have left me uneasy and the dreams that leave me wanting more
There are no magic memories
Fit to fix an old man's soul,
Or time befuddled bunnies
Traipsing down a rabbit hole.
There is no pot of gold, I'm told,
At the rainbow's end.
Nor an Alice fool enough to call
The Queen of Hearts her friend.
There is no quest for Camelot
Unsinged by writer's block.
Or a Pan within a labyrinth
Dispensing magic chalk.
There are no Gnomes, no spirit keys,
No dragon wars, no trees that sneeze,
No roads paved in that yellow brick,
No fairies darting low and quick
Through enchanted dandelion seas
Alongside the Everbetter Bees.
There are no mountains draped in gold,
Nor pixie dust bright as the stars.
No armored bears to fight the cold
Just to gain some battle scars.
There is no cheese upon the moon,
No mermaids deep in a lagoon,
Or pirates haunting Neverland,
Nor flying carpets o'er sea and sand.
No segacious wizards wise and fair,
No time-traveling rocking chair
Until that wild winding wind we share
Showers imagination here and there,
Up, up high and down below,
In places gently capped with snow,
Where every wiley fuss will know
All the greatest memories go.
There are no wonders left to see
Until somebody sets them free.
And that's where Carroll inspires me,
And I get so lost in young Barrie.
Where one rides a magic alligator,
Dahl flies in his glass elevator.
Where Genie's kindly grant a new wish,
Geisel shares his "one fish, two fish, red fish, blue fish,"
To my Muse, this is the grandest sight,
And why I am compelled to write.
Copyright © 2013 Richard D. Remler
"I can believe anything provided it is incredible."
~ Oscar Wilde
I met me a gypsy somewhere South of Poughkeepsie, and this hobo from Hoboken offered me his creased hand in a token of friendship.
We travelled out West in Box cars,made some dollars selling jam jars,slept under lilac trees and drank rotgut from the river bars.
Down in Kentucky we got lucky with diamonds,drew a full hand at poker,smoked Cuban cigars,spent more than money in bars and blew the whole pot on showgirls.
Then hobo got sick and he died awful quick,it was the pox and the rotgut that took him,but hell we had fun.
Open your consciousness; let your head show
Take care to tolerate the whims of your foe
Don’t make the mistake of letting hate show
Take care to cause acceptance for your foe
It’s okay to lay blame after a dirty blow
(But keep some of it for yourself)
They know they are in the wrong
But just won’t admit that they know
Make sure to show readiness when it comes to peace
Convince them there is no score to settle
And that your hatred has all but cease
Don’t be the pot that colors black the kettle
Offer up something in return for the cease fire
And be willing to show proof if called a liar
And if all else fails; if the situation becomes dire
Sacrifice will prove to resolve ones ire.
I wish I had some
Payday doesn't hit til
about 2 in the morning
and I need cigarettes,
Tomorrow Ill buy
some really good pot
and get stoned.
Pay my bills
and spoil myself
I deserve it.
I always say that though.
Why can't this day
Ill go to work,
and starve a little bit.
Do some more homework.
And wait for my bank
to fill up.
Not asking for what you ought;
Asking for that which you should not..
Since when is asking, asking a lot?
It all boils down to the melting pot,
If not the pot then those who stir it a lot
Are they cooks or crooks
Cannot both be collateral damage?
Or a bushel of raisons;
Cows free to roam; grazing
If I could, I'd let the world free;
Loose of all burdens of brazen
Maybe I'm the one thats crazy..
Even after all I've been & seen,
I still somewhere deep in between
Think there is hope on the horizon
As long as there are still resources to survive on,
There will be supplementary minds on
Bygone be it best be bygone,
If I'm not right on
I often wonder if I was ever one that could be relied on..
If I'm not just me, only with wiser lights on to see
I hope recovery is recovery,
& this is me in recovery;
I hope that even I have yet to see me,
To meet at the point of my very own destiny
I know I must let many things be..
As they are, not as I are,
But I can be let be, or I can be better;
I can be let free
I am capable of thee,
I just have to say one two & three
Give it my best shot once,
& tap dance along the map with a fighting chance