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ConnectHook Feb 2017
Drums in the darkness: a jungle clearing
fetish masks and gibbering lips
grass skirts, headdresses, face-paint leering
nocturnal trances, gyrating hips.

A medicine man, by spirits possessed,
grunts while the powers invade his mind;
the dancers shriek, as if distressed
by a presence in shadow not yet defined.

It’s only Rock’n’Roll
REVOLUTION  BABY!
Up against the wall, burn all it down girl, smash the state, armed love, light my fire, here comes the new order, impending chaos, a new dawn, when all is one and one is all, etc, etc.
Oh yeah, man. Rock’n’Roll is so REVOLUSHUNARY ! It’s all about, like, Freedom … and Change…  and – uh…

But let us pause for a moment and consider: spoiled sons and daughters of the upper and middle classes, children of the land of plenty gyrating in the psychedelic sun or cavorting in nocturnal cavern-clubs; masses of ****** teens chanting in arenas, banging their heads to guttural nonsense – raving narcissistic drugged-out youth, flaunting their rebellion and paying good money to confuse their brains while they do it in the road, mocking the ****** standards of anterior generations while projecting bad attitude and donning costumes of calculated shock-value – self-anointed anarchist prophets, metal-head barbarian wannabees and metro-queer Gothic prettyboys… these are certainly interesting cultural phenomena (symptoms?) to study. But PLEASE don’t call it revolutionary change. Revolutionary change would mow down these bourgeois decadents and ridiculously-attired hipsters with machine-gun fire and then herd the rest into reeducation camps. Revolution is organized death at the hands of tyrants, thugs, and bureaucracies… Rock n’Roll is about – uh… downloading tunes to your i-pod, getting high and disobeying authority figures. To hell with Rock and Roll. It’s just a lot of syncopated slave music at its “get your groove on” heart. (I mean “slave” in the greater Greco-Roman and Nietzschean sense of the word – not in the recent context only. Think Hellenistically for a moment). Rock’n’Roll and all of it’s “shock the bourgeoisie/anti-patrician” offshoots is music of the lower chakras, gut-music, 3 or 4 chord fuzzed-up anthems to carnality punctuated by ******* grunts, plebeian hoots, hillbilly yells, ****-strutting shrieks, lecherous leering slavering animality, and undulating serpentine harlotry. Ooooooh – how revolting it truly is – because it commodifies revolt, repackages the same old inarticulate teenage rebellion OVER & OVER & OVER, intensifying it slightly each time, tweaking it for each distinct youth subculture and acting as if it actually had more significance than it does (remember – I also love the music – bear with me -we’re analyzing here…). Rock music is an opportunistic infection – and a power-aggrandizing freak show. It monopolizes your attention with its pounding adrenaline-rushing excitement but then can’t figure out what it wants to say to you. You mistake its verses for Wisdom and Truth – especially when you’re high or drunk or tripping. But in the end, it’s just words and rhythms with a lot of “ooh yeah” and “woah baybeh” and “c’mon now child” – or worse. It messes up your diastolic cardiac-rhythms and induces slight panic and disorientation that you mistake for liberation and enlightenment. Then you go out and BUY the GOODS ! Lucifer is reliving his glory days as the instigator of an abortive coup attempt against Heaven and God Almighty. He is mumbling in the *****-blocked tracheae of dead false prophets and departed drummers. He is strutting on the glittering stage amidst cheap pyrotechnics at a show where no one gets in for free – and no one gets out alive. The Prince of this World is bringing out his new product line next spring. The ****** androgynous freak – the glowering little dictator (the ghost of a dead insect) tries to convince himself that he is alive by cultivating the adoration of godless youth who salute him in unison like a bunch of **** faithful at a fascist rally. Rock and Roll is stupid when you think about it.  I’m ashamed I like it so much. Classical music is probably better for your mind in the long run.
Feb 2017 · 705
Verses for N. Greenbaum
ConnectHook Feb 2017
✡  ✞ ✡  ✞ ✡  ✞ ✡

Never been a sinner – I never sinned 
I got a friend in Jesus
So you know that when I die
He’s gonna set me up with the spirit in the sky…

                                 Norman Greenbaum



Judah’s gelt in fuzz guitar
cymbals cling

Spirits rise as souls descend—
hippie ears ring

Babylon’s theft: the temple bereft
earthly vessels

****** apostles; Jesus people
(Jacob wrestles)

High theology, low symbology
dealer slang

Green the budding branch, the buzz
symbols clang

Sixty-nine/seventy: youth unheavenly
overjoyed

False revival. In survival
shines the void.
Norman Greenbaum wrote Spirit in the Sky in 1969
great video of a beautiful song:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZP9sF08WS_A
Feb 2017 · 1.7k
View from the Mortal Portal
ConnectHook Feb 2017
★ ✰ ✪ ★ ✰ ✪ ★ ✰ ✪

The Baby-Hole, her baby-hole!
Turn back before you lose your soul.
Those walls of pink, those gates of pearl
grant entrance to each boy and girl
who come through this organic portal:
newly-born and merely mortal.

Mystery to be dignified—
explored, adored, objectified:
the baby-hole’s expanding chasm,
promising celestial spasm,
is limned in deliquescent love
and fits the soul as hand in glove.
Beware her tantalizing pull
where poetry turns vaginal.
From depths profound, God can create
(where man would merely *******,
hitting Mother Nature’s high note
as the gamete turns to zygote).
Semi-seconds’ spurting passion
years of living baby fashion.
After pleasure’s jest, gestation
thus augments the population;
teenage dads recalibrate,
unsure just what to celebrate.

Yet, if they knew the daring risk
their ***** endure, they’d slip a disc;
to realize what threatening odds
confront these flagellated gods:
(see Luke in Star Wars, [number IV]
battling fascists in the war
alone in the zone to shoot the shot
that blows the death star up. Let’s not
miss out on noting, in this theme,
life’s true conception. So the team
of X-wing pilots flew the run,
eliminated one by one
save Luke, who penetrated deep
the death-star’s ovulated keep
and overcame the egg’s defense
and hit the mark. It all makes sense.
The spheroid bursting in his sight
depicts Conception's glorious might).

Therefore, show the matrix honor.
Shoot and leave—your star’s a goner:
nurture growth while life allows you,
while your star can still espouse you.

Seek her core of hidden gnosis
don’t just set off cell mitosis…
not, that is, unless you are sure
that the three of you won’t end up poor.
★ ✰ ✪ ✰ ★ ✰ ✪ ✰ ★ ✰ ✪ ✰

Yes - this poem was inspired by the ******
of the first Star Wars movie.

The original version with **** graphics is here:

https://connecthook.wordpress.com/2015/04/23/view-from-the-mortal-portal-gynecological-activism/
ConnectHook Feb 2017
Just want to unpack a new metric here, folks.
I’m all about making YOUR brand user friendly and empowering others with the tools to do the same. These tools I’m sharing not only help you think outside the box—they actually let you DISMANTLE the box and then REASSEMBLE the box around yourself until it becomes a COFFIN ! Remember, it’s all about YOUR BRAND getting maximum hits. COFFIN is the new cradle—so every hit your site takes, every ‘like‘ your page gets, every ‘tweet’ you hear from every birdie in God’s green trees is like another nail in your coffin.
Take this new metric, use it, share it; unpack the toolkit I give you, and think outside the box as you reassemble it around your mortal self and watch your webpage TRIPLE in HITS.
Remember: **“COFFIN!  It’s the new CRADLE!”
Anyone else had enough of the Data-Driven society?
Feb 2017 · 938
Burning Berserkley
ConnectHook Feb 2017
☭ ⛧ Ⓐ ⛧ ☭ ⛧ Ⓐ ⛧☭ ⛧ Ⓐ ⛧ ☭ ⛧

Incensed by mighty Milo, you act brave
then rage and bludgeon, shutting down dissent
while Mario Savio shudders in his grave.
Behold: another shameful sad event.
Youthful useful idiots on the attack,
pawns of global capital dressed in black:
Bernie's Berserkley: raze it to the ground
and Donald will be twenty-twenty bound.
Georges Sorel, amused, looks on in silence
at your half-baked proletarian violence,
infantile intifada, civil war,
a glimpse of what the future has in store:
you are the fascists you've been waiting for.
Mario Savio was an American political activist
and a key member in the Berkeley Free Speech Movement.

Georges Eugène Sorel was a French philosopher
and theorist of revolutionary syndicalism.
His notion of the power of myth in people's lives
inspired anarchists, Marxists and Fascists.

from: wikipedia.org
Feb 2017 · 508
Berserkley Limerick
ConnectHook Feb 2017
☭ ⛧ Ⓐ

Violent dimwits, who riot en masse
remain dimwits, no matter what pass.
Whether paid agitators
or mere perpetrators,
they need a swift kick in the ***.
☭ ⛧ Ⓐ ⛧ ☭ ⛧ Ⓐ ⛧ Ⓐ ⛧☭ ⛧ Ⓐ
Free speech movement HA HA HA HA
Go to hell, useful idiot anarchists.
(...or maybe they were extreme right provocateurs?)
in any case, Mario Savio must be very pleased.
ConnectHook Jan 2017
Brother and Sister Citizens:
Our fatherland consolidates. Let us salute, as One, our terrible destiny, lately manifest as the gathering force of an orange sun now glowing, after eight years of lightless gloom. Now we shine, now we merge our individuality in one to discover our collective future in Trump. As one wave of Greatness we now stride over the ruins of Hope & Change, into the American Restoration. Let us, each one, offer a straight stick of noble hardwood for the mass.

Donald our axehead is now tightly bound with us in a shared sacred duty, projecting his keen edge from the national bundle. Let us, together, grow tired of winning until all worthless cancerous cells are neutralized and disposed of. All that is not full of the Will to Greatness must perish before us. Clad in the shining raiment of victory let us serve with American fervor our new leader.

Women, mothers and nurturers of the mystic rebirth
are welcome in our new nation.

Sweep away the cobwebs of the old weakness, hail the conquering hero, he who fearlessly bears the Roman fasces into the courtroom as judge, jury, and executioner. Let the cities and nations of unbelief tremble and plead for mercy.

Poems shall be composed as bridges are built to span the years.
Stanzas shall spontaneously fall into place and march with military precision.
Every capital line shall converge upon our captain.

Hail the crown of Donald T.
Hail the mighty orange flame
Hail the age's consummation
(Voters have themselves to blame)

TRUMP shall smash the global Hydra
TRUMP shall avenge our national shame.
TRUMP shall restore our families' honor;
CONQUER (in his deplorable name) !

Captain TRUMP, the cord that binds
TRUMP the axe-head and the judge.
Leader DONALD, light that blinds.
Our final King: let none begrudge.

LOVE UNDER WILL ☻ !
(was that fascistic enough 4 U ?)
☻☻☻☻☻☻

Since you people love to throw the word around
so loosely and so predictably...

Fasces (/ˈfæsiːz/), (Italian: Fasci, Latin pronunciation: [ˈfa.skeːs], from the Latin word fascis, meaning "bundle") is a bound bundle of wooden rods, sometimes including an axe with its blade emerging. The fasces had its origin in the Etruscan civilization, and was passed on to ancient Rome, where it symbolized a magistrate's power and jurisdiction. The image has survived in the modern world as a representation of magisterial or collective power.
Jan 2017 · 1.5k
Stoking the Pussyfires
ConnectHook Jan 2017
♀  ♀  ♀

Hey you! In the ******-hat,
frumpy feminist dressed in pink;
we men (what do you make of that)
would love to know just what you think.

We've heard of "***-hats", anyway.
But we can see the other side:
it's orificial bombs away
as bridegrooms now behold the bride.

Gynecology on parade:
how weird. You think it makes your point?
It's more a vaginal charade,
and promises to disappoint.

You say your cap evokes your *****;
feline foolishness, I say.
It's cat in bag when fems get fussy
showing patriarchs the way.

Show us yours and we'll show our own.
Well actually, it's kind of cold
to whip it out right here downtown...
We'll grant you this: you chicks are bold.

Your choice-aborted progeny,
disposed of in the clinic's trash,
might blame you for misogyny—
though spared the curse of diaper rash.

We'll keep abreast of all you do,
chanting, marching, fists in air...
yet still, you seem a silly crew
aflush with zeal (and ***** hair).

But must it always come to this:
biology devoid of God ?
Exteriorizing, hit and miss,
the secrets of your aging ***...
({i})  (|)  ({i})

inspired by some of the bizarre costumes and slogans on display at the January 21 Women's March on Washington. March on, ladies !
Jan 2017 · 1.3k
Gog: Prince of Limerick
ConnectHook Jan 2017
A stern Russian ruler named Vlad
made his minions and satellites glad
when he told them to choose
between true and fake news
(but the fakers still furthered the fad).
☭⛧✿ ✝ ☃ ☪ ☠ ☮ ☯ ☢ ✌ ♚

By all of these heavy-handed tactics, President Putin has not only brought Russia back into play as a world power, he has also secured his position at the nation’s helm. This world has a lot of authoritarian rulers. But Vladimir Putin is one we need to keep a particularly close eye on. His track record, his nationality and his ideology indicate that he could—and I strongly believe he will—fulfill a linchpin Bible prophecy that was recorded millennia ago.

source: thetrumpet.com (Feb 2014 ed.)
"Is Vladimir Putin the Prophesied ‘Prince of Rosh’?"
Jan 2017 · 640
Auguries of Inauguration
ConnectHook Jan 2017
Masked back-packing militants descend on DC.
The instigators' antics indicate true agitator's instincts. When the rest buy it, the best... riot ? Putin set the precedent by rootin' for the President. As for the protestors -- are they seeking to serve justice or just the Secret Service? Joined by thousands of patriot motorcyclists, the black-masked boast of hikers may be lost on a host of bikers. Hmmmm... the silent verve of our veteran friends proves that the violent serve wicked ends. The verge of silence may mean a surge of violence.
While snowflakes melt down, the state will clamp down as militants storm town. Eastern sages know: a mean Taoist turned teen Maoist may raise the base rating for race-baiting just to get a rise. Erasing a different face is not the same as facing a different race (and many of these mad Taoists seem a tad Maoist to me...) Opening the trunk, one forgets that elephants remember: when the mob rules, they rob mules. Democratic icons are stubborn things. Until the bandits are punished let's banish the pundits to the hinterlands of fake news.
        It's inauguration time, Dumbo.
Clenched-fist troublemakers will use any mass gathering as an excuse to undermine civil society. Social media and the irresistible lure of virality have only strengthened their incentive to "FSU" (f—- s—- up). Here's another thing you can take to the bank: "Mainstream" protesters on the streets of D.C. will look the other way at these lawless vandals who leech onto any available cause. Their common goal is not "social justice." It's destabilization and disorder.

from: www.frontpagemag.com
Jan 2017 · 837
Patriarchal Limerick
ConnectHook Jan 2017
Those radical change-agents Femen
set the men-folk to hawin' and hemin'.
When the girls bared their best
all the boys were impressed.
(Keep abreast of the movement, you womyn).
inspired by the radical Euro-feminist group
Jan 2017 · 757
Martinizing the King
ConnectHook Jan 2017
♛   ♛   ♛

Martin Luther, righteous King,
made the Reformation sing.
Popes and peasants, out of key
turned it into misery.
German beer and Roman crimes
made for most uncivil times
much like our own. We must confess
rights and wrongs we yet possess...

Half a millennium later on
a Baptist pastor and his son
took this noble Saxon name
and furthered the Reformer's fame.
Some revisionists deny
St. Martin Luther's role, and try
to minimize theology
in civil rights chronology.
The second Luther of my song
inspired—but did not last as long.
Social Justice notwithstanding,
King's successors need re-branding.
Politicians steal his mantle,
cloak their lies in his example;
agitators claim his glory
pushing God out of the story;
educators sing his praises
but some people's conduct raises
doubts about that dream of King—
and hope... and change...  and everything.
martinize  (Verb)
to use the Martinizing dry-cleaning process

from: www.yourdictionary.com/martinize

When chemist Henry Martin introduced a new solvent to dry clean clothes in 1949, One Hour Martinizing was born.

from: www.martinizing.com

⛧ ♛ ✪  ✰ ♚ ♗ ☭ ♝ ⛧ ♛ ✪  ✰ ♚ ♗ ☭ ♝
Jan 2017 · 1.4k
Pressing Limericks
ConnectHook Jan 2017
BREAKING LIMERICKS BREAKING LIMERICKS BREAK

STOP the PRESSES while we pop the strésses !
EXtry, EXtry, read all about it:
Fake news pays dues to sing rural blues in red-state hues.
Nanny-state networks choose to accuse & civil fury ensues!
See special edition on CIA sedition :

          The rural red states stand accused
           By the quingdom whose queen they refused
            it's so hillbilly-larious
             all of them various
              voters now left unamused.

FAKE NEWS: it's the virus du jour
of the affluent liberals. The poor
are more prone to believe
it's a plot to deceive
and no government offers a cure.
Jan 2017 · 2.1k
Ode to Connecticut
ConnectHook Jan 2017
(Tune: “Londonderry Air")

Here in the vista of three hundred years we stand,

Our torches kindled by thy guiding light.

A Pilgrim host, we come to thee from every land,

With joyful hopes, well girded by thy might.

Connecticut, beloved State, all hail to thee;

Tower of might against a flaming sky,

The heav’ns resound with praise, ring out with victory.

God speed you on and all your glories sanctify.

Through summer heat and winter cold thy honor stands,

A bulwark gainst the mighty hosts of sin,

Till love shall spread to earth’s most distant island strands,

And Heaven’s righteous ways o’er evil win.

Connecticut, advancing through the changing years,

May knowledge guide thy sons and daughters fair,

And honor, truth and wisdom banish all our fears,

Connecticut, while we thy many glories share!

The years shall pass across thy mighty mountain walls,

Against the gold of every setting sun,

A newer host, well-born within thy ancient halls,

Shall bear thy standards of new glories won.

Connecticut, our fathers kept thy honor fair,

Thy reach of love they widened to the sea.

We shall keep faith, where they fought; we, too, shall dare,

Connecticut, for aye we pledge our hearts to thee.
...although with the taxes one pays in this quaint New England state
the poem should be titled “Owed to CT”.

I don’t recall where I found this statal poem but it is very old.
I like the straightforward prayerful tone of this one.

I'm not originally from CT,
but I now reside there for better and for worse.
Jan 2017 · 793
Qui Transtulit Sustinet
ConnectHook Jan 2017
“Qui Transtulit Sustinet !” Motto of light!
‘Neath the folds of that banner we strike for the right;
Connecticut’s watchword oer hill and o’er plain,
“The Hand that transplanted, that Hand will sustain.”

“Qui Transtulit Sustinet !” On the broad fold
of Connecticut’s banner this motto’s enrolled,
and flashed to the sunlight on mornings bright wings,
A promise of glory and honor it brings,
The promise of One who ne’er promised in vain,
“The Hand that transplanted, that Hand will sustain.”

Ay and surely it well has sustained us thus far,
in peace and in plenty, in want and in war.
When the foe has attacked us in battle array,
Then Connecticut’s sons have stood first in the fray;
And faith in that watchword inspires us again,
For “He who transplanted will ever sustain!”

And now, in the darkness of treason’s black night
‘Neath the folds of that banner we strike for the right!
For the RIGHT !  ‘Tis OUR COUNTRY we’re marching to save,
The dear flag of The UNION in triumph shall wave!
Faith swells every heart! Hope fires every vein!
“And Thou who transplanted, Oh always sustain !”
A poem inspired by the state motto of CT
written by S.S. Weld in 1862
http://tinyurl.com/jlqnouo
(you connect...I cut ☺)
ConnectHook Dec 2016
I, ConnectHook
DEMAND recognition as The Most Boring Poet of all.
You’ll never touch me so don’t even TRY.

Don’t even bother dipping your quill again,
you mere drip on the mildewed scroll of antediluvian parchment,
you cuneiform Cunégonde, you proto-Canaanite pottery fragment,
you keyboarding failed clown
and archeological relic unworthy of preservation
in a third-rate underfunded Albanian museum…

I, and I alone, dragged myself up from the protoplasmic slime
to BORE you.
I transitioned from amphibian to anthropoid
before your mama even MET the postman.
I stood upright upon the ****** battleground of evolutionary struggle
and SELECTED MYSELF (naturally).
Now pass that banana right over here.
https://connecthook.wordpress.com/2013/08/29/planet-of-the-smartphones/
Dec 2016 · 928
Obliterated Upon Impact
ConnectHook Dec 2016
retrieved from the wreckage / the box reveals the final seconds / descent into panic / end of the line of flight / true disco / the call of the empty air / an unknown diva singing out her heartache / pastoral idylls in smoking ruins / the once-green Sahara / the herdsmen’s piping to the vanished flocks / it’s all there in the black box / the pilot’s final glimpse / earth rising / the ultimate kiss of terra firma / semiotext(e) / disco-bolo / temporary autonomous zones / islands of intensity / siren song of the eternal queen / spades & clubs / vistas of urban sadness seen in passing from  a car window / something lost, found, and lost again forever in the early 1990’s / woe to those who hear too much in a cheap dance tune…
Dedicated to the Voice of Empyrean Epiphanies, the Queen of Spades and the Mother of Kushite Soul-Mamas, who placed the black box here after it was taken from the depths where the wreckage of the plane was found by sonar in the Indian Ocean near the ruins of the ancient submerged city.

(These lyrical ravings inspired by Martha Wash, the voice of Black Box, singing "Everybody Everybody" in 1989)
Dec 2016 · 1.8k
Christless Present
ConnectHook Dec 2016
you don't dare
unwrap the real gift
hidden under layers of hype
too hard to discover it
beneath mounds of plastic
under the glare of neon
falsities projected
aimlessly scrolling away your soul
Godless Yuletide  
Christless Noel
sterile feigned joy
useless worthless feelgood frenzy
sentimental superficiality
televised consumer fables
cute trendy on the screen
market-driven fakeries of fake snow
Mammon's medicated stress-fest
passive-aggressive goodwill
American commercialism
angelic Antichrist malls of lost souls
waiting for the next explosion
trying hard to feel the warmth
in the winter chill
of hearts hardened
against the Christ
of Christmas
unwrap the past
to find the present
in your sold-out future
Christ is Lord
Here we go again.
Where the hell is the Messiah ?
Could that be Him at the top of that tree?
ConnectHook Dec 2016
You have always encouraged us, your deplorable neighbors, to be open-minded, to be tolerant, to build consensus and to appreciate diversity. In light of recent electoral events, we think you have a golden opportunity to practice what you so tirelessly preach.

    We sense that you are upset, bewildered and disturbed by your new president. We are sorry you feel that way, and hope we can make the next four years easier for you. Please keep in mind that many of us irredeemably deplorable clingers endured eight years under that community agitator, although he had not received our vote. We also put up with the grating, strident scoldings of that woman senator and ex-Secretary of State for a long time. While we certainly despised many aspects of their agenda, we did not march, chant hateful slogans, or smash up any property. We did not inundate electors with pleas to switch, nor did we threaten even one. We did not melt down on YouTube or fill Facebook with melodramatic profanity-laden tirades. Please pause to consider this. Perhaps it is time to be tolerant and to appreciate the political diversity of our Democratic Republic. Calling people fascists, racists, misogynists and bigots is getting old now. Instead of telling us what our values are and why we are such bad citizens, why not join us in some small way as fellow Americans on a quest for greatness?

   Yes, we know. It bothers you that that we do not get all our views from NPR, MSNBC and the NYT. We are aware that our vibrant variety of news sources is not pleasing to your erudite sensibilities. (And please forgive us for not being as apocalyptically alarmed as you are over "Global Warming"). We are aware that the tactical failure of vote recounts, pressuring electors, and throwing infantile tantrums has left you feeling hopeless and without a game plan.

   Mother Russia is also concerned about you, for you are in fact as dear to her as as any of her adopted children. In your deeply troubled state, she longs to embrace you. Maybe this is an opportunity for you to seek solace in Orthodoxy and to delight in the richness of timeless Christian ritual. This would be far better activity for your souls than crying over lack of gender-fluid bathrooms and easily-procured abortions. Mother Russia is grieved by your confused notions regarding faith and family. Rather than celebrate perversity, why not participate in true diversity and join us in making our sovereign nation great once more?

   Liberal progressives, we have need of your enlightened and broad-minded creativity in these troubling times.

Sincerely,

a brainwashed dupe and minion of Vlad Putin
⛧ ✝ ☃ ☪ ☠ ☮ ☯ ☢ ✌  ☮ ⚔  ♥ ☭ ✪ ⚢ ⚧ ⚩ ✿ ⚥
♫ Oh Lord, Kumbaya.... ♪
Dec 2016 · 885
Love-Lines: AZ
ConnectHook Dec 2016
Hast thou entered into the springs of the sea?
or hast thou walked in the search of the depth?
Have the gates of death been opened unto thee?
Hast thou perceived the breadth of the earth?
declare if thou knowest it all.

       Job 38: 16-18

Oh that the desert were my dwelling place,
With only one fair spirit for my minister.
That I might forget the human race,
And hating no one, love her only.

       Lord Byron,Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage

I walked alone into the waste
in search of rivers—not a taste
of water could I find
to liquidate my mind.

Under the sun in vanished lakes
alive with scorpions and snakes
I sought within my soul
her limpid watering hole.

The mogollón once hunted here
as piñon pines disclosed the deer
but now not even bones
remained among the stones.

Scattered beads and the odd spearhead
my visionary soul misled;
the moment was my home
and I was free to roam.

Burial caves of ash and silence
spoke in tones of bygone violence—
grinding stones lay broken:
her archeological token.

I found a *** within a niche
still balanced well, despite the pitch
as if the owner’s urn
awaited her return.

Amidst the fragments, free at last
in potsherd patterns of the past
I followed ancient streams
through arid zones and dreams.

Exploring a dry riverbed
unraveling her golden thread
while stepping off a ledge
descending from the edge,

I almost trod upon a snake
and quick adjustment had to make.
Reluctant viper-battler,
I flinched. It was a rattler.

As my right foot continued down
I saw the scales and dusty brown;
Mere inches from its head
the imprint of my tread!

The serpent was too cold and slow
to strike a poisoned morning blow
The sun still in the east—
I swerved and missed the beast.

The desert’s charm advanced from there;
She showed me sights I barely dare
to tell lest I sound singed . . .
My mind she so unhinged.

I stood before the gate of vision
rapt in shadowed indecision
gazing in the maw,
unsure of what I saw:

A ruined mineshaft’s empty grin
that mocked and whispered: “Come within.
The words of Job are here
in wisdom born of fear.”

Necropolis; a gaping  portal…
Feeling less than weakly mortal,
deep I stared inside;
allured yet terrified.

A passage to the depths of dread:
the Book of Job, the sleeping dead.
I barely now recall
yet understood it all…

Still thirsting through her arid land
divining truths in shifting sand
I ventured on in vain,
beseeching God to reign

The javelinas mocked my quest
beguiled me onward, further west
where Dutchmen hide their gold
and Apache tears are sold.

Her rainbow shades and distant mesas
silhouetted, paint her face as
nobly as the lands
her presence still commands.

Her beauty smiled: a virtual face
of glyphic pre-Columbian grace
decentralized desire
in sublimated fire…

She led me to the springs of life
my moonlight maid and desert wife;
my nights upon the mountains
in search of spectral fountains.

Ex-nomad of the mythic west
my unfound treasure now confessed;
her deserts had me smitten…
for her my poem’s written.
ARIZONA ! (put on your rainbow shades...)
https://connecthook.wordpress.com/2014/04/12/love-lines-az/
Dec 2016 · 1.7k
Satya Yuga: Oakland
ConnectHook Dec 2016
Kalifornia sub-let of the love set / squatting in squalor to dwell in splendor / Temporary Autonomous Zone ignites ignoble night / misfit labyrinth of fire / in dearth of ****, the mirth of Death / coming to Crowleyan conclusions / smoking to get lit / the flaming maze, maiming, flays / demonology of **** vs. methodology of death / distinguished Burning Man, extinguished / idyls of the idols reduced to ash / Light My Fire / sitting shiva vs. dancing shiva / rave on
They provoked him to jealousy with strange gods,
with abominations provoked they him to anger.
They sacrificed unto devils, not to God;
to gods whom they knew not,
to new gods that came newly up, whom your fathers feared not.
Of the Rock that begat thee thou art unmindful,
and hast forgotten God that formed thee.
And when the Lord saw it, he abhorred them,
because of the provoking of his sons, and of his daughters.
And he said, I will hide my face from them,
I will see what their end shall be:
for they are a very froward generation,
children in whom is no faith.
They have moved me to jealousy with that which is not God;
they have provoked me to anger with their vanities:
and I will move them to jealousy with those which are not a people;
I will provoke them to anger with a foolish nation.
For a fire is kindled in mine anger,
and shall burn unto the lowest hell,
and shall consume the earth with her increase,
and set on fire the foundations of the mountains.

[Deuteronomy 32]
Dec 2016 · 524
Auric Limerick
ConnectHook Dec 2016
All that glitters (as Wisdom has told)
may turn out a deception, resold
to the gullible masses;
mistaking the brasses
for shining electoral gold.
How's that decadent empire thing working for you?
Dec 2016 · 930
Faux News
ConnectHook Dec 2016
Fake news indeed:

Is this a fox in the hen-house or a hoax in the fun-house ?
It’s news to them that it’s views from us. Weaning ourselves ***-for-tat while we wet-nurse the networks net-worth, they pull the wool over their own press-cards, spinning yarns fit to knit a seamless weave of tailored narrative (free alterations post-laundering, free press with dry-cleaning). Ironing out the irony, the ship of state suddenly mixes metaphors: a freak gyre of Greek fire, leak-proof talking points for caulking joints on a sinking vessel, a showboat floating fake liars, gloating, into lakes of fire. Let us light a naked fuse to the faked news until their networks ignite like an information overload. Fake news indeed. News to me…
      now watch them form a phalanx as we farm the faux links.
Greek Fire:
an incendiary weapon which appears to have been developed around the seventh century [...] It appeared to ignite in water, and pouring water on it caused the fire to grow even larger...
from: wisegeek.com

Gyre:
1. a ring or circle.
2. a circular course or motion.
3. a ringlike system of ocean currents rotating clockwise in the Northern Hemisphere and counterclockwise in the Southern Hemisphere.
from: thefreedictionary.com
Dec 2016 · 744
For All the Saints
ConnectHook Dec 2016
For all the saints, who from their labors rest,
Who Thee by faith before the world confessed,
Thy Name, O Jesus, be forever blessed.
Alleluia, Alleluia!

Thou wast their Rock, their Fortress and their Might;
Thou, Lord, their Captain in the well fought fight;
Thou, in the darkness drear, their one true Light.
Alleluia, Alleluia!

For the Apostles’ glorious company,
Who bearing forth the Cross o’er land and sea,
Shook all the mighty world, we sing to Thee:
Alleluia, Alleluia!

For the Evangelists, by whose blest word,
Like fourfold streams, the garden of the Lord,
Is fair and fruitful, be Thy Name adored.
Alleluia, Alleluia!

For Martyrs, who with rapture kindled eye,
Saw the bright crown descending from the sky,
And seeing, grasped it, Thee we glorify.
Alleluia, Alleluia!

O blest communion, fellowship divine!
We feebly struggle, they in glory shine;
All are one in Thee, for all are Thine.
Alleluia, Alleluia!

O may Thy soldiers, faithful, true and bold,
Fight as the saints who nobly fought of old,
And win with them the victor’s crown of gold.
Alleluia, Alleluia!

And when the strife is fierce, the warfare long,
Steals on the ear the distant triumph song,
And hearts are brave, again, and arms are strong.
Alleluia, Alleluia!

The golden evening brightens in the west;
Soon, soon to faithful warriors comes their rest;
Sweet is the calm of paradise the blessed.
Alleluia, Alleluia!

But lo! there breaks a yet more glorious day;
The saints triumphant rise in bright array;
The King of glory passes on His way.
Alleluia, Alleluia!

From earth’s wide bounds, from ocean’s farthest coast,
Through gates of pearl streams in the countless host,
And singing to Father, Son and Holy Ghost:
Alleluia, Alleluia!

[William How 1864]
Most other lyrics become cringe-worthy in the shining light of this...
Nov 2016 · 1.3k
Semper Fi(del)
ConnectHook Nov 2016
An oppressive and bearded dictator
has expired, and we sing "see ya later".
The intransigent pride
on the Communist side
makes Miami Cubanos' joy greater.
♥ ⛧ ☭  ⚧ ♥ ✿ ⚢⛧★ ⚥ ♥
good riddance to bad Marxism
Nov 2016 · 1.8k
Workplace Violence Limerick
ConnectHook Nov 2016
A ****** midwestern Somali
was feeling and acting quite jolly.
This homegrown jihadi
employed his own body
in hacking (not cyber). Thanks, Ali.
News from Ohio:

The alleged attacker, Abdul Razak Ali Artan, was killed by police, but not before driving a car into a group of people and then attacking victims with a butcher's knife, said Monica Moll, public safety director at Ohio State. FBI agents had joined local police in investigating the incident. Eleven people were injured; all are expected to survive

Artan was born in Somalia and living in the United States as a legal permanent resident. Investigators discovered a message he posted on a Facebook page before the attack in which he expressed anger about the treatment of Muslims around the world, according to reports from multiple news outlets, citing unidentified law enforcement officials.
ConnectHook Nov 2016
Many worldlings (whose ways we bemoan)
hope their lives we’ll approve and condone.
But we couldn’t care less
for the views they profess;
we just wish they would leave us alone
♥ ⛧ ☭  ⚧ ♥ ✿ ⚢⛧★ ⚥ ♥
Greetings, Worldlings.
Nov 2016 · 1.0k
Eight Feet to Freedom
ConnectHook Nov 2016
Poetry ought to do things right
and document reality
but modern muses lose the fight
celebrating diversity.

Out-doing themselves, our leaders all
legitimize perversity.
Who gave them this satanic call
to demonize normality ?

The Washington nobility
who build a babel here on earth
display a versatility
for showing all their dubious worth.

They can't go One-World fast enough
discounting Christianity.
The matriarchy's mom is tough,
enforcing femininity...

Milk of mammalian global beast
(humanist animality)
From Nanny's withered poison breast
infects us biologically;
maintaining infantility.
♥ ⛧ ☭  ⚧ ♥ ✿ ⚢⛧★ ⚥ ♥
not sure about the title on this one...
ConnectHook Nov 2016
Be careful all you free-versin’ poetic hook-up artists and practitioners of unprotected textual *******. There are pernicious poetic maladies out there online. Casual cruising of ****** sites might infect your soul with bad verse. The wages of sin is death; but I would spare you AND your muse any viral  regrets.

Random coupling with unstructured lines you just picked up at some postmodern poetry site is NOT a healthy lifestyle in the long run. Go ahead–-call me a Victorian *****. Make fun of meter and rhyme schemes. Hoot at message-oriented versification. Throw inchoate drivel in my face… but when you come down with a compromised semantic system or an embarrassing case of nihilistic verborrhea, don’t come crying to me.

This has been a poetic public health reminder.
A poetic rant for HP.
Nov 2016 · 1.1k
Dose of Your Own
ConnectHook Nov 2016
My liberal friends, who love to preach
who deign to enlighten and to reach
the lower orders with their light
to guard what’s left and set things right
must deal with recent facts unkind
which threaten the Progressive mind.

Your narrative took a massive hit
so **** it in—acknowledge it.
Your media, misinformed and lame,
now limping, has to bear the blame
for polling as they hoped to hear
leading (and speaking) from the rear.

Indeed; you claim we won by Hate?
in this you tend to under-rate
your sanctimonious fusillades.
Your nemesis, against great odds
was voted for by US, and won.
(So sorry that God’s will was done.)
Our diverse voters clinched the fight.
You thought we had none on the Right?
Hispanics? Thirty-odd percent.
And black votes came in (heaven-sent),
more numerous than they were for Mitt
so shut your pie-hole. Deal with it.
Without them Trump could not have won;
we’d be deprived of all this fun!
The people did not buy the goods
you foisted on our neighborhoods.
And patriots now meet brand-new friends:
political correctness ends
when Truth joins hands with common sense.
The truth will ALWAYS bring offense
to smug elitist hypocrites
and democratic counterfeits
projecting their neurotic fears
upon the Right. Oh the things one hears.
We’re fascist and unfit to live,
we eat our children; never give
a **** for the poor or a prayer for a soul.
The “War on Women” our evil goal.
We hear ourselves described as bigots.
Bilious brew–and we must swig its
bitterness in constant sips
as insult pours from your spiteful lips.

We’re rigid, white, misogynistic
(my, how you wax antagonistic.
Thought you were all about tolerance
and doing that Multi-Kulti dance…)
We’re gender-biased (and repressed)
unkind, unwise, uncouth, unblessed.
What-- since we don't like Globalism,
technoid One-World Kommunism
we dwell in some hateful **** state?
(You blather on…it’s getting late
to re-use all your left-wing smears
which barely reach our deafened ears.)

As young folks like to say: tough *****.
You’re stranded outside the holy city.
Our vast right-wing epiphany
out-sung your PC tyranny.
The Doctrine of Divine Election
is incontestable.
Nov 2016 · 881
Poems in Rabid Secession
ConnectHook Nov 2016
Dedicated to the agitators of Oregon.
(We all want you to secede, baby !
)

Let it BURN while you feel the TRUMP.
I hope Soros pays you well for your efforts.
Here's my one-man backlash
to the whacked-out blacklight
of the whitelash blackout.
So don't try to whitewash the knockout,
blockheads.

¡ JUST SAY NO to one-world GLOBALISM !
PS: Good luck smashing capitalism
(along with other peoples windows, cars, and heads).

http://tinyurl.com/zv6l2ev    

Put THAT in your url bar and SMOKE it !
Nov 2016 · 897
The Wages of Limerick
ConnectHook Nov 2016
You readers, who visit these pages
are a fan-base that rarely engages.
So until you hit like,
you can all take a hike;
for I'm paid in poetical wages.
Don't even bother.
Nov 2016 · 2.1k
Maple Leaf Limericks
ConnectHook Nov 2016
You're progressive; and so you must denigrate
our triumphant victorious candidate.
Yes, you shot off your mouth.
Now you're trapped to the south
of the land where you promised to emigrate.

Before your resolve starts to stall,
you must heed the Canadian call.
Pack your bags and go forth
to your home in the north.
(or climb over that Mexican wall).

It's the END ! Now the Right will resurge,
and a new coalition emerge.
A Canadian rental
might help with your mental
well-being. We'll play you a dirge.
Hey folks --
there are some good deals on flights to most major Canadian cities right now. Discounts are being offered if you cry and stamp your feet then use foul language to insult our new president Donald Trump. Use the word "misogynistic" and you get free drinks and a window seat!
Bon voyage ☺
Nov 2016 · 541
TRiUMPhant Limerick
ConnectHook Nov 2016
Your Facebook page, laced with profanity
shows a mind on the verge of insanity.
You got ******* -- while we toast
what you suffer the most:
unforeseen presidential calamity.
Please don't have tantrums on Facebook.
You are all big boys and girls.
Just relax and get with the fascist misogynist program.
And don't let my stirring poetry prevent you from buying yourself a one-way ticket to Canada. Or Mexico. Or anywhere...
☺☻☺
Nov 2016 · 810
Unelectable Limerick
ConnectHook Nov 2016
By your witch we're considered deplorable;
but we love our new king. He's adorable.
We have learned, from your spite,
that your souls are not right
and your media truly ignorable.
I can get you all  black armbands and grief counselors if you want.
Let me know if you need someone to take care of the pets when you leave for Canada ☺
Nov 2016 · 1.7k
Deplorable Limerick
ConnectHook Nov 2016
The election is upping the antes
for a White House surrounded by shanties.
May we brace for a fall
when the winner takes all.
(Let the other side **** in their *******.)
♥☭✪⚢⚧⚩✿⚥⚤∅⚧
To hell with Globalism !
Hillary for prison 2016 !
Never Trump !
Long Live Rome.
Nov 2016 · 885
To a Progressive Poet
ConnectHook Nov 2016
Your poems read as staggered prose;
the rhythm of the words escapes you.
One assumes, un-mused, you chose
a free-verse prison to run into.
You are modern. And it shows
in lack of structure, meter, beat.
Your emperor, set free of clothes
meanders on unsteady feet
exposed as naked, fending blows
from anarch subjects bored to tears
by cryptic, existential woes
and dreary imagery. One hears
within the verbiage you compose
a load of godless free-form tripe.
The lyrical ebb achieves new lows;
the scent is somewhat over-ripe…
∅⚢⚧⚩✿⚥⚤∅⚧∅⚢⚧⚩✿⚥⚤∅⚧
from my poetry blog:
https://connecthook.wordpress.com
Nov 2016 · 637
Incendiary Bestiary
ConnectHook Nov 2016
Unlocked, loaded, let your words flame paper
set arson to thought-control, combust news.
Pyro-dissident: touch fire to their views
Reveal new topographies, mind-shaper.
Spark a candle—a single thin taper.
Subvert what the worldlings dare not refuse.
The herd will always revile or accuse;
but contours alter for you, landscaper—
so chastise darkness. Proclaim what is right.
(When their stable burns down due to your light
or smoldering, implodes, it's not your fault.)
If the status quo will not acquiesce
then muster another frontal assault.
There's no shame in a flame; just incandesce...
TREY GOWDY ROCKS !
ConnectHook Oct 2016
In spite of all that has been said
transparently undetected,
Alinsky and the departed dead
may vote as the resurrected.
INFORM thyself: 
 http://tinyurl.com/gwkvjbq
Oct 2016 · 2.0k
Stable Fire
ConnectHook Oct 2016
The oil lamp cast its noble glow,
while shadows darkened all around,
on leaders in the global know
whose darkness by its light was found.

Just then, the lantern's leaky wick
flared up. The whole benighted place
ignited like a Wiki-Leak
inflaming each tyrannic face.

The Media pitched their low-ball gloss
and tried to polish up the mess
by spinning such a global loss
as sure electoral success.
♥ ⛧ ☭  ⚧ ♥ ✿ ⚢⛧★ ⚥ ♥
www.connecthook.wordpress.com
Oct 2016 · 550
Polls Apart
ConnectHook Oct 2016
The refiners of social controls
offer surveys and candidate polls.
Though it's really old news,
for they share the same views,
it will further immediate goals.
♥ ⛧ ☭  ⚧ ♥ ✿ ⚢⛧★ ⚥ ♥ ⛧ ☭ ♥ ⚧
Oct 2016 · 1.1k
One World Limerick
ConnectHook Oct 2016
The notion of nations united
gets the globalist liberals excited.
Their party of Babel
is ******'s own rabble
(we're left with the Right uninvited).
❤➳∅⛧♚⚢⚧✰⚩✿⚥∅⛧❤
One World !
Now the whole earth had one language and the same words. And as people migrated from the east, they found a plain in the land of Shinar and settled there. And they said to one another, “Come, let us make bricks, and burn them thoroughly.” And they had brick for stone, and bitumen for mortar. Then they said, “Come, let us build ourselves a city and a tower with its top in the heavens, and let us make a name for ourselves, lest we be dispersed over the face of the whole earth.” And the Lord came down to see the city and the tower, which the children of man had built. ...   [ Genesis 11:1-32 ]
Oct 2016 · 3.6k
Debatable Limerick
ConnectHook Oct 2016
Trump's nemesis beamed from the stage
while she simmered with well-suppressed rage.
Their unkind dialectic
seemed purely synthetic;
results will be harder to gauge.
y'all come on over now !
https://connecthook.wordpress.com/
Oct 2016 · 2.3k
Of Debatable Importance
ConnectHook Oct 2016
Italic drumroll...
imperial cavalcade with Roman horns, eagle standards raised;

♪ ♫♪♫ ♪♪♫♫♪♪♫♫♪♪♫♫♪

ALL HAIL !
Ye screen-fed sacrificial citizens, seething simpletons and volatile voters:
attend now, with republican fervor, tempered by democratic zeal, to the golden-tongued orator of our epoch, gallant guardian of American greatness, avatar of avarice, the Jeffersonian gentleman, anointed autocrat and Sultan of Swell, windswept Wazir of Wonderful, emissary of towering eminence in empire, The Anti H-Rod: Donald J. TRUMP !

(
Plebeians look up from their circus-bread for a second—)

And may Our Sovereign Savior & Almighty God also bless his worthy opponent and adversary HILLARY (
"H-Rod")

(
Patricians murmur, nod; a few salute*)
Let the circus roll - (yawn)

https://connecthook.wordpress.com/2016/10/19/of-debatable-importance/
Oct 2016 · 364
Limerick Unleashed
ConnectHook Oct 2016
A Limerick was once so well-written
that the muse AND her dog were both smitten.
The poor dog had to *** -
and he sniffed round my tree
but my rhyme was unbarked and unbitten.
*****************

The defining "foot" of a limerick's meter is usually the anapaest, (ta-ta-TUM), but catalexis (missing a weak syllable at the beginning of a line) and extra-syllable rhyme (which adds an extra unstressed syllable) can make limericks appear amphibrachic (ta-TUM-ta).

[from Wikipedia]
Oct 2016 · 719
Sacrificial Limerick
ConnectHook Oct 2016
There was a cold limerick one time
whose rick was cut off from its lime.
While not quite a Lime Ricky,
its flavor was tricky
and sacrificed taste to the rhyme.
*****************

To most New Yorkers, it means a cherry-tinged treat. To many New Englanders, it's a fizzy raspberry soda. For the purist, it's all about the lime—and only the lime. One thing's certain: The lime rickey is the soda fountain's comeback kid.

A refreshing mix of lime juice, fruit or sugar syrup, and seltzer, the lime rickey owes its origin to its alcoholic forefather. Sometimes referred to simply as "a rickey" or "gin rickey," the drink was famously concocted at Shoomaker's bar in Washington D.C. in the 1880s.

http://www.seriouseats.com/2015/04/lime-rickey-soda-fountain-history.html
Oct 2016 · 1.6k
Imperial Limerick
ConnectHook Oct 2016
The Empress now waxes delirious.
With her legions in tow, she's nefarious.
While they major in minors
she pitches one-liners;
the media's hers. It's hilarious.
MSNBC=ABC=CBS=FOX=CNN
Meanwhile, Russia asks citizens to locate nearest bomb shelter...
Oct 2016 · 2.8k
Irredeemable Limerick
ConnectHook Oct 2016
Deplorable: that's her election
as it veers in a ****** direction.
Though some mention Lewinsky,
it's really Alinsky
revealed as her true predilection.
http://tinyurl.com/gwkvjbq
Oct 2016 · 1.3k
Africa
ConnectHook Oct 2016
And Isaac went out to meditate in the field at the eventide:
and he lifted up his eyes, and saw, and, behold …
GENESIS 24:63*

You remember, oh Isaac, the face of the bride

From the Genesis foothills of dreaming’s beginning

Arriving with dusk as the sunset was bringing

The camel-bells music, the end of the ride?

The nomadic return of a hope that had died

Like a riverbed flooding and suddenly greening

A promise fulfilled, flowing into the evening

The song and the rhythm of life undenied…

I remember the landscapes, the names, the dark faces

A golden Havilah of biblical places

the handclapping chants overcoding a mystery.

Timeless recurrence; eternity imminent

Israelite graves I beheld on that continent;

Songs of Rebecca: the morning of history.
♫♪♫♫♪
Biblical poetic reverie based on memories of voyages in northern Kenya.
https://connecthook.wordpress.com/mine/africana/africa/
ConnectHook Oct 2016
Governments fall from sheer indifference.
Authority figures, deprived of the vampiric energy they **** off their constituents, are seen for what they are: dead empty masks manipulated by computers. And what is behind the computers? Remote control. Of course. Look at the prison you are in, we are all in. This is a penal colony that is now a Death Camp. Place of the Second and Final Death. Desperation is the raw material of drastic change. Only those who can leave behind everything they have ever believed in can hope to escape. Don’t intend to be there when this ******* goes up. Nothing here now but the recordings. Shut them off, they are as radioactive as an old joke…
from The Western Lands (1988) by William S. Burroughs.

https://connecthook.wordpress.com/2016/10/07/material-seven-souls/
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