-

~since the Past is a memory
supported by evidence  
of what was once "now"–

~and the Future is a mental
projection forward since it
has not yet happened–

figuring for the nerve impulse
latency to the brain, which
in turn must process
this information—

we therefore experience
the Present in Past tense,

relying upon the Future
to fuel a continued
existence.


Meanwhile...


s jones
2021


.

The corporate Kool-Aid
is not made to save
but made to play
big money games.

Business interests,
all of those investments
put men in bad positions.

Twisted ambitions
move forward towards
more and more
without exploring
what the opposite
of profit is for.

Infinite growth of capital
is impossible.
We will fall
like dominoes.

To gain people must be adept
at acting bereft
of any decency
of behaving without any empathy,
and if they get caught
other enemies of humanity
will grant them clemency
because they make the policies.

What was once illegal
becomes law you see,
but only for the real wealthy.

It is a sick form of necromancy
that resurrects bad aspects
of previous political ideologies,
and condemns good men
and women to poverty.

Today is dull gray
with dark shades
that portend
bitter ends,
as I keep yelling, telling
humans what’s coming.

Instead, of people listening,
I get the busted lip
of a trusted friend
trying to **** in
and help again.

Why should I
be surprised
when I get
a back hand
and black eyes
from those guys
whom I'm trying to save.

They’re not my enemy
but when I look and see
a crowd of red hats screaming,
ignorance blooming and seaming
to overcome any sort of reasoning,

I wonder who are they
and how did they come to be
people who suffer bigots so easily?
How do they let the greasy
****** con-men con them
into hating other women
men and children?
How have they not learned
their history lessons?
How do fools gather
more like minds to them,
then abuse the innocent
whilst using and confusing
the voting populace?

In the past I thought I had this
perfect proposition to position
myself as an artist and arbiter
of the truths kind hearts hold dear,
but it has become crystal clear;

In observing I find uncertainty
turns towards dark side
Jedi knight philosophy
but a little expanded when
uncertainty leads to anxiety,
and anxiety leads to fear,
which then translates into hate,
when one man comes to justify
corruption, and cruelty in the guise
of business suit wearing guys
even when it’s just with lies
they elevate and celebrate
the pigs who make them feel great.

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.