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Dalton Rees Nov 2015
And the man with the battle-bruised segmental fracture fists turned to the cylindrical tree
And asked,
“As you are a wise tree of such a unique shape, I must know if I am the self of tomorrow’s past or the momentary projection of a conscious spirit swimming in a perceptual slew of today’s virtues?”
The tree shed a leaf and observed a drop of rain, now multiplying.
“What difference does it make? Your existence in this interchanging moment is undeniable, when all else, consequently, is.”
The tree paused and saw a ray of electric energy pierce a nearby farmhouse, setting fire to its mahogany foundation-
“We serve witness to a recurring pattern of chaos, always singularly consistent in form while simultaneously imploding within itself against a vacuum.”
The man walked home and thought on this until the wrinkled hands of tomorrow drowned this form towards oblivion.
Nov 2015 · 520
Three Haikus
Dalton Rees Nov 2015
"Angel Moroni"
In Salt Lake City
I hear most greenery is planted
Artificial desert bloom
"Comic Relief"
Oh Captain, My Captain
Robin Williams stands triumphant on table
Dead poets rejoice
"Introspective Primate"
Visits to the Zoo
Great Ape gazes despondent through glass
Greater apes are we?
Haikus are a lot of fun
Nov 2015 · 477
The Spaceman's Perspective
Dalton Rees Nov 2015
Once upon a time in the lonely vacuum of space, the martian drew his telescope and observed the human race.
He stared in confusion as they created the first fire
dancing around it, with awe and desire.
Soon they built structures and created the concept of
"yours" and "mine"
Constructed shining gold tower to appease the divine.
Some got by off of what they could find, others denied sustenance to
enlighten the mind.
The psyche categorizes, loves, and despises-
Creating a logical framework, eliminating surprises.
Their ideas grew toxic and they created defining labels,
Some drank from silver spoons, others from the slavemaster's ladle.
Their gadgets surpassed the advancement of their brains,
they tortured others for information
electrocuted the "insane".
Men in decorated suits unveiled weapons of mass destruction,
the self-conscious folk invested in liposuction.
Killing machines with the efficiency of the wheel,
children losing their hands for contemplating to steal.
Now, the one's who preached for love and acceptance
were inevitably shot or beaten into repentance.
**** compromise, we have the hydrogen bomb.
What if insurgents had loving moms?
A single tear dropped from the martian's eye
as the end was near for his friends in the sky.
A violent altercation between brothers and sisters
was the epitaph of the blue planet
as it cracks and blisters.
Fading into space
Dalton Rees Nov 2015
Cosmic vibrations and toxic inclinations
Burning eyes suggesting prolonged stimulations,
I prop open the window-to have a cigarette,
But I fear the Red Queen beside me will chop off my head.
Now, I knew from the beginning that she was one of a kind,
The way she would crack open my psyche and see what she could find.
Strange chemicals in the savage desert sun-
The way she would place flowers into the barrel of a gun.
Down the rabbit hole, to the dark side of the moon
You are the mechanism to which wildflowers bloom.
An act of passive resistance, you place your palm to a tree
A testimonial expression of what it’s meant to be.
In a world of hate and violence, in the midst of a thermonuclear war,
You are the one that I retain my sanity for.
Wipe the tears away from your atmospheric eyes,
Planetary currents under a starlit sky.
Although you are gone, I will always wait
For Alice to return to the Mad Hatter’s domain.
An aged love poem
Nov 2015 · 394
Dalton Rees Nov 2015
We live in a time of minimalist art, self-expression absent of heart
What ever happened to consciousness expansion-
Peace, love, and direct action?
Focus your attention to your smart phone
Plead for virtual affection so you don’t feel alone
What ever happened to just getting ******-
Smiling, laughing, contemplating a universe unknown?
Your closed-minded conception condemns you to your head
Your solution to conflict consist of a mechanism that spouts lead
What ever will you do when there is no more blood left to shed?
“I don’t know,” he replies, “but the bad guy’s dead.”
Burn all the books, discard all the knowledge
Submit to manual labor, don’t go to college
Accept ignorance and we’ll treat you well:
A house, a car, and guaranteed freedom from hell
Your God is fake, and my God is real-
And the Devil, he’s looking for souls to steal
Digest all of my words with fear and absolute acceptance
You’re the sheep, he’s the Shepard, and I’m a virtuous point of reference!
Big brother is watching, don’t you dare act out
I see your fire inside and I demand that it be put out
Individualism is dead, all hail the corporate agenda
You need to fear the terrorists because they’re out to get ya’
I see you’re hurting inside, take an antidepressant
Provided that you have a prescription at the Candyman’s discretion
Buy my product, I guarantee it will fill the void
You’re a cog in a self-mutilating machine, your existence- devoid
Now, I’m not a prophet, I don’t claim to be right
But you must know that you will lose your humanity if you don’t put up a fight
Fear not the creatures that go bump in the night
They’re subsidiary threats to the men behind the curtain, demanding subjugation with a smile
Controlling the switch to the light
A sizable length attributable to the broad subject matter of the title.
Dalton Rees Nov 2015
Glossy-eyed children taste toxin-doctored water from plastic red cups
as popular hits of the day intertwine with impure intentions and blind approbation
for strangers-
obscured within the cherry-colored lenses of Dionysius’s shroud.
A languid form stumbles though an ocean of slurred words and victorious howls
Into a water room with four walls, a broken door, and a single reflective glass, sounds of the century now low and intertwined with the domestic petting zoo steadily beating against the door
Still broken.
Tired eyes through orbital vision and a weary process of cognitive recognition
Finds within the glass a conception of self, foreign to the observer and comically out of place.
Segmented ideas find meaning in convoluted streams of thought as the spoken word
Is devalued and meaning is limited to fain attempts to *** a smoke, bro.  
Radiating self-righteous belligerence and misattributed
the two-dimensional protagonist clumsily plunders the kitchen
for processed sugar bars and handfuls of stale Wonderbread
before projecting discarded toxins into the potted plant near the high-traffic doorway while snapback youth formulate attributable hashtags and millennial responses to
a situation typical to the time of uncertainty and blissful absence.
Come morning, we’ll eat scrambled eggs in sunlight
And romanticize about a Kodak experience, now elapsed by a self- more stringent.
I found myself observing Greek Life from the inside, recognizing a truly disappointing atmosphere bumbling to the tune of cut-rate light beer and the stalest of personalities.
Nov 2015 · 261
Dalton Rees Nov 2015
Once in a while, I try to watch TV,
So many offers for material things,
Never a shortage of ****** innuendos and hypocrisy.
I break the remote in half, wondering if it will bleed.
Then another melancholy appeal to save dying animals in need.
In a surge of humanity, I sprint outside.
The wide-open world seems like a perfect place to hide
From the subliminal blitzkrieg demanding audience in my mind.
A desperate effort- to leave it all behind
Passed the concrete jungle, to a higher elevation,
A healthy distance away from the fast food nation.
I no longer find release in *******, no longer solace in mere stimulation.
I find myself in the canyons below the towering trees,
I’ve found asylum within a cool terrestrial breeze.
The sun upon my face, I drop to my knees,
A concession from the universe for a lone consciousness in need.

— The End —