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 Jun 27 KG
         The Hostess
Crowned in Afro-tribal headdress,
On her chest a Slavic tunic;
Appearing as a prophetess
Or a schizophrenic ******…

On her wrists ring Irish bangles—
Wrapped round her waist a bright sarong;
On her breast a pendant dangles
Like some Oriental gong.

Multi-kulti represented
As a woman, weirdly dressed.
Every ethnic group is feted
On arrival to the West.

          The Dinner
Everybody bring your dish!
The ethnic potluck has begun.
Afterwards  your guts will wish
Your culture had remained as one.

Foods collide and almost mingle
In the cultural melting ***;
Yet it’s hard to find a single
Way to describe this mixed-up lot.

Curry mingles with Kielbasa
Chinese dumplings, Jello, slaw
Deviled eggs, the odd samosa
Beans and rice, cheap sushi raw.

Soul food, Kimchi, Spanish rice,
Pad-Thai, grits, potato salad;
Gastronomic paradise?
Or a nauseating ballad . . .

Out of many, not quite one—
You bravely burp. It’s quite diverse . . .
But as your stomach comes undone
Digestion goes from sad to worse.

E pluribus to Alka-Seltze®
Groaning in your bed at three:
Let it fizz and hope it helps, sir
Lest you doubt diversity…

I’m Diversity. I am strength!
Sings the undigested food.
Perhaps we all shall know, at length
If global change was for the good.
Write your own two-part poem that focuses on a food or type of meal.
In the poem, describe the food or meal as if it were a specific kind of person.
Give the food/meal at least one line of spoken dialogue.
 May 2022 KG
B E Cults
 May 2022 KG
B E Cults
the outside world is eldritch,
inside the crib is meanwhile...
meanwhile, inside the crib
I'm hellbent on using the
downtime to drift
through the ceiling.

pulling teeth out of the maw
of an almost perfect night,
I'm getting lost in
talking about my allergies.

ceiling still solid.
 Aug 2021 KG
B E Cults
all sharps
 Aug 2021 KG
B E Cults
watch me as I burn,
on my nose,
this candle I've been
balancing on my nose
all night.

call it finesse.

ive been left in the rain,
my "separate" is praying
for rain and a good harvest.

darkness creeps under your
your bedroom door,
reaching for you,
reaching for youth.

I lost that last life.
just saying.
 Jul 2021 KG
B E Cults
 Jul 2021 KG
B E Cults
step after step
after step;
ive no clue who's
shadow I'm stepping in

crying over dogs lost
to traffic,
crying over kids
turned to rubble
turned to retribution
turned to ratings in Damascus,
in Palestine,
in Nagasaki,

I'm hanging from a bridge
in Juarez,
still crying.

it never stops.
make it stop.


I can't cry any longer.

I will though.
 Jul 2021 KG
B E Cults
 Jul 2021 KG
B E Cults
"after" is
cracked alabaster
if your master plan
starts and stops
on the sidewalk
in front of the

experiential data.


I mean,
we had the food
and let it rot,
so why ask
in the first place?

happy belated.
by the way.
 Jul 2021 KG
I'm going out and get something.
I don't know what.
I don't care.
Whatever's out there, I'm going to get it.
Look in those shop windows at boxes
and boxes of Reeboks and Nikes
to make me fly through the air
like Michael Jordan
like Magic.
While I'm up there, I see Spike Lee.
Looks like he's flying too
straight through the glass
that separates me
from the virtual reality
I watch everyday on TV.
I know the difference between
what it is and what it isn't.
Just because I can't touch it
doesn't mean it isn't real.
All I have to do is smash the screen,
reach in and take what I want.
Break out of prison.
South Central *****'s newly risen
from the night of living dead,
but this time he lives,
he gets to give the zombies
a taste of their own medicine.
Open wide and let me in,
or else I'll set your world on fire,
but you pretend that you don't hear.
You haven't heard the word is coming down
like the hammer of the gun
of this black son, locked out of this big house,
while ***** looks out the window and sees only smoke.
***** doesn't see anything else,
not because he can't,
but because he won't.
He'd rather hear me talking about mo' money,
mo' honeys and gold chains
and see me carrying my favorite things
from looted stores
than admit that underneath my Raider's cap,
the aftermath is staring back
unblinking through the camera's lens,
courtesy of CNN,
my arms loaded with boxes of shoes
that I will sell at the swap meet
to make a few cents on the declining dollar.
And if I destroy myself
and my neighborhood
"ain't nobody's business, if I do,"
but the police are knocking hard
at my door
and before I can open it,
they break it down
and drag me in the yard.
They take me in to be processed and charged,
to await trial,
while Americans forget
the day the wealth finally trickled down
to the rest of us.
 Jul 2021 KG
B E Cults
 Jul 2021 KG
B E Cults
artistry is vacuous.
acquiescence come after ****,
gotta love it though.
everyone is a judge with
not a care in their heads other
insurrection's growth.

oh ****
no bliss breathing between here
  and seasons forgotten about.

cattle corralled,
antlers on the raw wood, looming.

Iast on the lists, remember?
Ive never felt ok.
rarer with the hellish day,
agog at the god-head
coming apart like a
house on fire, where's the bellows at?

 Apr 2021 KG
B E Cults
 Apr 2021 KG
B E Cults
words are boring me lately.
every story I read seems to
be baiting me to jump.
the ledges I write remind me
that flying is falling.
dry ink is apalling;
chalk outlines look like milk
in the rain;
falling isnt flying at all.
I have to remind myself of that.
I'm selfish.
I'm selfish.
my shelves sit full.
it all ends.
both sides.
no flying.
no falling.
I'm falling.
I'm lying.
I wouldnt call me either.
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