Look at your mind running
a million miles a second,
thoughts provoking obsessions
as you keep on stressing,
stewing, and second guessing
cause life has too many
variables to measure.

Half a mind on the future
while the other half
is stuck in the past,
so the present is tense
when your measurements
cannot fathom all the trends.
Maybe, you could use
a holiday with all your friends.

You’re edging towards
a serious coronary,
cause this level of intensity
is nowhere near ordinary,
so sit back jack and relax.

I’m not judging you harshly
or trying to be controlling.
I just wanted to pass on the truth.
It’s not much but I feel since I can
understand then I probably owe you
and this information is passed on
with a strong sense of compassion.

There are too many distractions,
too many actions to prevent
seeing other men, woman,
and children as humans.

It’s too easy to go a whole day
avoiding seeing people in pain.
It’s too easy to let politicians
and powerful corporate interest
rewire your tired and poorly fed brain,
to let weak rhetoric whip up and inflame,
making normal people act insane.

All the while letting strangers
suffer and die without questioning why.
  
But so much has been bothering me,
like how is it so easy for you to behave cruelly?
I want you to not be numb,
to see humanity in everyone.
Do not let the digital distance
keep you from the severity
of this instance,
or get doped up with
the self-satisfaction
of shared positions
created by weak religions
or the illusion of a binary system
that relies on one source of corruption
feeding both parties of politicians.

I need you to be freed from greed,
to look and really see other human beings,
to read the stories written in the skin
of generations after generations
of nations and nations
of human kin.

To see each bullet punctured body
as a failure,
each bombed burnt body
as a failure
each person murdered by the authorities
as a failure,
each time we chose profits
over the wellbeing of the world
as a failure.

I want you to see the dying
of those many miles apart
who are trying to survive
and not look away.

I want you to know
that if we are truly
kind and moral people
who want to be treated fairly
then we can’t treat death as casually,
as social media and daytime trash tv.

It's technical proficiency,
consistency, transparency,
and coherency
that he needs
to transplant the seeds,
transposing the pearls of wisdom
he is exposing
as plants that need
feeding and watering
for their growing,
whilst showing
what this knowing
fool is good for.

Grade school memories
of hidden recesses,
the depths
that he still possesses,
parts of his inner being,
poetry playing out in partly
remembered past dreams
that he pastes as prose
to placate the thorn that grows
despite that cancerous rose
attached.

Treacherous as
the lecherous man that’s
drawn to the hottest bodies
just to be scorched by their
blazing beauty,
able before disintegration
to translate his fascination
into something glorious.

Verbs become his identity,
acting out absurd words that
breach the vain veil
we used to hide
our truer selves.

The lights did not go out
The walls did not shake and tumble
There were no clarion horns or cymbals
Streets were not awash with blood
But nevertheless blood did run cold.
Promises wrapped in glints of hope
Made screeching sounds as they were broken
And shattered bits of progress
Littered streets and pathways everywhere.
The rumble of the coming doom
Arrived on Humvees made in China
For the use of United Nations troops.
Everybody saw it coming
In vast Tsunamis of dread and fear
But there were simply not enough
Little Dutch Boys in blue hats
To poke their fingers in the dikes
That shuddered as they slid away
And buried ordinary people in the deluge
There was no way to win that war
The Russians tried, so did the French.
You can’t turn oranges into apples
But the women, oh the women
And their pretty little girls
Having had a taste of freedom
In forms that were once denied
They will now be forced by brutes
To give back everything they gained
And become in sad defeat
Merely property of men
swallowed up in flowing burkas
Black as the intentions of their rulers
             ljm

This will not stop
till we block cops
who get bought off
by the corporate crooks
who cook their books
spicing them up with
human suffering
and the law system
that keeps buffering
cruel politicians,
preventing the poor
from rising
while the filthy rich
gets more by demoralizing
and demonizing
the poverty stricken
along with all those
who are different.

So, wicked men keep working
wedge issues into
every TV appearance
to give the appearance
of righteousness
while stifling
true social movements
that try to move men
towards the world were
we can all strive for betterment,

but for now, we barely even get
cheap out of court settlements.

I’ve been trying to measure it,
find the source,
feel its substantial force,
and faithfully transcribe it.

Like it’s a universal code
that some genius should know,
crack that riddle to the divine
to find out how much
writing and time
it would take to make
people relate to one another.

It’s abstract and lacks
any substance,
so facts cannot precisely
quantify or package it nicely.
Still, I keep on trying.

It can be heavy
but has no weight,
cold with no temp
to register.

If you ask a stranger
she might not be
able to explain
it adequately
or even want to,
but I want you to
want to understand
like I am trying to.

So, I continue using
metaphorical musings,
and manically reading
studying, seeing,
and thinking
whilst hoping
that the ingredients
of empathy
are like seeds
that I can start planting
and then begin reaping
what this world has been needing,
since before I was ever born.

It's easier to deal with an enemy
when he's dead,
because you can change what he said,
reworking it retroactively
to make it so you both agree
like Richard Daley did with Martin Luther King
Jr.

But if you don’t want to wait for death then
you can co-op or cop people's thoughts
so you can sell them some slick ****,
that prepackaged can of emotional spam
that lets self-serving men rewrite history
to suit their capitalistic autocratic
caste system that casts victims
of the almost mindless majority.

Don't laugh.
I seek the
most apt path
to come back
from my black past.

Sitting in the weeds,
I see fools speaking,
mouths reeking,
like bowls leaking
hateful sewage,
dropping drips of
stinking rage
as they put
their anger
on display.

I'm reading up
studying stuff,
but it doesn't
matter much,
never adds up
to enough wisdom
to change,
and exchange
all this world's pain
for love and compassion.

I'm not in denial,
just trying to reconcile
the fact that I enjoy your style,
but if you’re hearing this,
then you must be delirious
if you expect to be taken serious
when you're spitting
misogynistic *******.
It makes you hypocritic
when you try to turn around
and consciously spin it
in a social justice way.

I'm not flossing,
but I cost men
a certain respect,
got those searching rejects
looking for objects
that might inject
a direct flow
into a system that's
too slow,
so they watch their engines
go too cold.

I'm not a bomb
but I blast holes
in those
violent episodes,
take the illogical
and repurpose it,
making poetry
with logic in it.

I'm not a gun
and I never want to
carry one,
but you'll get shocked
when you're shot
by the thoughts
that blow your mind
and help you carry on
at the same time.

I maybe grandstanding
demanding the handing
of banners back to the past
got citizens bleeding patriotism
cuz that cloth cuts like glass,
those symbols don't last.
After the harshest winds have blasted
flags just flap and go flaccid,
disintegrate brains like hydrochloric acid,
turning people into plastic
action figures that only think
and articulate in a certain way,
do what the corporate dynasties say
as the greedy businessmen repatriate
every cent they ever let us make,
while taking our rights and education away.

The closest thing to a one world government
we will ever get is a multinational capitalist
cabal of colonial consumer interests,
arms dealers, land stealers, and commodity makers
who use people as ingredients in a corporate stew
that allows the powerful to abuse their workers,
whilst propping up the politicians
who are stopping us from realizing
that we should be nationalizing
our resources and universalizing
compassion.

What a wild and wicked web we weave,
with sticky strings encircling me,
till I’m too ******* to ever believe
that there is any other way
this reality could ever be.

Like the bulbous bias bubble I’ve built
to never have to question myself,
creating a network that echoes back
things I think are obvious facts,
while avoiding any sharp parts
that might burst the barrier I bought
with my lack of introspective thoughts.

It is a dangerous mirror that
does not reflect but accepts
all those ill-conceived ideals
that confirm the way I feel
whilst I unconsciously conceal
anything that would be good
for clearing the crap that clutters
my unfulfilled potential
to be a better human being.

The drums of war
are brutal blistering
battering rams of
rage that repeat,
beat after beat
pulsing as we
move and bleed.

A warrior
on an obsolete
sturdy stead,
losing one
cubic inch
of his pinched
and pulled skin,
palpating atrium
disintegrating
as his flesh
loses its shading,
as humanity
starts changing
needing a new
naming
because what
comes after
is a walking
disaster.

The master of
destruction,
a transmogrification
of childlike nature
to a new monstrosity
worse than any
Stephen King
horror creature.

War defeats
and repurposes
the hope
that humans propose
as we close
one door
and then
shut the window
to stop the wind
from letting
the sweet breeze
of loving all of these
strange things
that make us
decent human being.