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 Feb 2016 mb
Got Guanxi
Print screen my whole being,
in the cadence of seasons changed.
Generation X's sweet heartbreak.
Strangers share the pain.
We walk the walk online,
nowadays,
in these times that are a changed.
Changing no more - subtly maybe.
The footfall of history stored,
in Google baby,
& terrabytes & ram.
A virus called.
And the rhyming stalled,
until;
Man made museums in nothing, but,
soldiered components,
smaller than the eye can see.
Nano moments,
lost in scrolled screens,
likes and comments,
compassion shared
around,
the world,
until forgotten;
fads
fade
away,
into familiarities.
Then we logged out of life,
and left reality behind smokescreens,
of PCs
HD ready, on blue days -
Blue Rays,
now smaller.
microsized.
Our brain waves microwaved.
Attention spans,
in the palm of our mouse shaped hands.
Say goodbye to the old days,
guilty as charged,
in
the strife of low battery life;
running out of charge.
had this concept inside me for a long time - still needs work x

Update - thanks for feedback on this - I've changed the title as the last one wasn't really pc.
Then I changed it back
X
 Nov 2015 mb
Penthesilea
Depression will stay inside of you, it will be a part of who you are, and it will be an extension of your soul.*
*So you have to learn to live with it.
An excerpt from my new spoken word poetry piece :)
 Dec 2013 mb
Charles Bukowski
we are always asked
to understand the other person's
viewpoint
no matter how
out-dated
foolish or
obnoxious.
one is asked
to view
their total error
their life-waste
with
kindliness,
especially if they are
aged.
but age is the total of
our doing.
they have aged
badly
because they have
lived
out of focus,
they have refused to
see.
not their fault?
whose fault?
mine?
I am asked to hide
my viewpoint
from them
for fear of their
fear.
age is no crime
but the shame
of a deliberately
wasted
life
among so many
deliberately
wasted
lives
is.
 Dec 2013 mb
Charles Bukowski
It's never quite right, he said, the way people look,
the way the music sounds, the way the words are
written.
It's never quite right, he said, all the things we are
taught, all the loves we chase, all the deaths we
die, all the lives we live,
they are never quite right,
they are hardly close to right,
these lives we live
one after the other,
piled there as history,
the waste of the species,
the crushing of the light and the way,
it's not quite right,
it's hardly right at all
he said.

don't I know it? I
answered.

I walked away from the mirror.
it was morning, it was afternoon, it was
night

nothing changed
it was locked in place.
something flashed, something broke, something
remained.

I walked down the stairway and
into it.
 Dec 2013 mb
Charles Bukowski
if you’re going to try, go all the
way.
otherwise, don’t even start.

if you’re going to try, go all the
way. this could mean losing girlfriends,
wives, relatives, jobs and
maybe your mind.

go all the way.
it could mean not eating for 3 or
4 days.
it could mean freezing on a
park bench.
it could mean jail,
it could mean derision,
mockery,
isolation.
isolation is the gift,
all the others are a test of your
endurance, of
how much you really want to
do it.
and you’ll do it
despite rejection and the
worst odds
and it will be better than
anything else
you can imagine.

if you’re going to try,
go all the way.
there is no other feeling like
that.
you will be alone with the
gods
and the nights will flame with
fire.

do it, do it, do it.
do it.

all the way
all the way.
you will ride life straight to
perfect laughter,
it’s the only good fight
there is.

— The End —