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NewCaleBoy Aug 2018
the extermination of the straight white male

soon we will be gone and the remainder carried over into zoos for
“safekeeping,” our DNA and ***** harvested for science purposes

you will be pitched advertisements

send $ to San Diego Zoo so they can save the few remaining
white rhinos (which they neglect to mention are in preserves in Kenya and the Sudan, but send $$ a way)
and the last three straight white guys
(surfer, techie, and an aborigine)
to preserve the species so the world can modify their cells
to stop sexism, racism and other male diseases
gonna maybe mate them with the rhinos,
which will be expensive cause of all the rhinoplasty,

so send me some
money, money, money

yup
1.1k · Mar 2014
The Conclusion, Strained
NewCaleBoy Mar 2014
Not what you think,
The shrinks, the drugs
Wore out, me and them,
Now we just exchange regards,
Used crying towels
All agreed,
So much the better
For me and the State

Nobody's fault,
These fault lines,
Run so ******* deep,
From California to New Caledonia
Where I've gone to hide from
Lunacies, visionaries, one pill cures-all-defeats
Laugh tracks and reruns,
Death defying boring English documentaries
On gardening and milking cows,
Video cassettes, lunettes
The Internet,
Might as well do it almost all

The conclusion reached,
Strained from an armada of words,
Tankers, tugs, cruise tours,
Man o' Wars,
Totals cannot be reach,
Too many words,
Saying the same but different,
Saying the sane but different,
Saying you sunk to the bottom,
only up, the only autoroute

Almost laughable,
Heal thyself,
The End,
So here I am
Twixt any two continents,
A continental on a rock island
Far from mon pays natal,
Here, I am unnoticed
Midst the stones of Noumea,
Talking to myself, one last time,
Hoping for kind words en Anglais ,
Pourquoi pas?

This then the conclusion,
Strained from a life diluted,
Writing Poetry in English,
Looking for just a few-more words,
Kind, gentil, let me try this
Genre,
Why not?

Heal Thyself
The conclusion, strained

March 2014
NewCaleBoy Feb 2019
am a human tool, a drawing pencil, shedding skin cells and lead from the no. 2 pencil in my saliva

am **** and blood, skin and hair, all come-go, return re-tuned,
at their own chosen speed, gen of regeneration

am cracks and orifices, filling and emptying obediently,
to the tidings of the grieving gravity of my moon's decisions
that govern the lunatic cycle

you may kiss me with all your heart into a robust welcoming,
scorn me with spittle and deem unfit, I know the difference
and it is inconsequential

am, see me as combustible or flat, airless and empty,
as a new or a two day old birthday balloon, or an abbreviated haiku, that makes the reader gasp for the reasoning for breathing

think of me as a meme who responds to the touch of your
nippled forefinger,  but my powers are unlisted, therefore unlimited

for I am neither cyber or cypher though aesthetically they
appear as parts of my humanity, a human machine
forever reprogramming to new stimuli sensulating, such as
the temperature of your breath, the many disparate odors of you,
the curve of your eyes, the wetness of moist places

inputs that bear emergent newborn children notions in my
chested cavernous gas chambers, the bellum bellies of my brain

my digital describe in thousands of computers do hide,
but to comprehend the interacting calculations that are
my constancy and my inconsistencies, you must make a tour
if you are awake between midnight ~ dawn when from wells,
the visions, the fluids and the words are drawn

they,
the residuals of a man's ******* between
other humans, akin, and the thriving discourse between
man and gods of invisible powers,  
that offers insanity
as a viable solution, to cracking the coded human DNA,
we exchange in silence from need,
to translate ourselves
to each other
3:17am
11-29-18
NewCaleBoy Aug 2017
the verve of my support (can you?)


the nerve centers,
from whence came
the sugar cane mountain highs
and
the undulating re-marks of my abysses,
shutting, shuttering and shuddering
nadirs and epogees

the pen drops, the mouth moves silently,
reading lips the new sign language,
as the verve of my support is certified loopedinsane

surrounded by affection and beauty,
my visions and wonderful miscomprehensions,
grow dulled from over exposure to my sun's illness

the talk cure for what ails is to no avail,
hum to myself - it will be ok
but can't decide if those words should be followed by a
comma or a period or a solar ellipse
an oval between you and I
a constant space

can you?

— The End —