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Kyle Kulseth Apr 2016
Lines drawn.
               Erasers
kept tucked in back pockets.
I'm circled. I'm shaded.
Smudged out,
separated.
You'll redraw the floorplan
schematics are changing
and I've
               got the handbook.
     regulations tossed out windward.
               Wearing out
all the reasons for more sensible feelings.
The seasons change fast here,
I'm sure you'll be leaving again.

               And you'll go
any place
that the latest squall takes you,
expecting I'm waiting.
But I've got blueprints of my own.

"Go anywhere you choose.
I won't care about the news."
The headline that I'm writing
and I wish that it were true.

So roll me up with the rest
of the shabby, used up trash.
Emptied cups and smoked-out butts.
All that's good has been unwrapped.
               I'm cellophane.

Life spans.
               Placeholders.
Not even a memory.
It's notched up. It's useless.
Refused
and ablated.
I'll toss out these blueprints.
**** all these schematics.
And you
               wrote the last word
     scrawled out in constructed language.
               Wearing out
every patience for these senseless intentions.
I'm fenced off. You flatter
yourself and you're leaving again.

               And I'll go
right back home
to my tiny apartment
where four walls await me.
But I still don't want you to leave...

...'cuz it's easy to believe
that you're beautiful beneath
these buzzy, dimming bar lights,
squinting through this hazy scene.

I've seen
               this one before.

I know the script
like the way to my front door.

But, with constructed language,
our meaning will languish.
And I'll fade back to static.
                                   Again.
WARNER BAXTER Dec 2013
life is a chain of choices and chances
yOu have to make 'EM and take 'EM

if yOu don't STAND for something
yOu'll fall for anything

when yOu SET your GOAL
yOu Feed your SOUL

life shouldn't be measured by breaths taken
but by the times life takes your breath away


put a SmiLe on some ones fACe today
take pride in knowing yOu put it there


I THINK therefore I AM over qualified
and that's why yOu work here

NO it's not ignorance nor arrogance
I'M just smarter than yOu

DO not belieVe or eVen read eVery word that I haVe written
Do NOT believe everything yOu think

remember yOu are special, just like everyone else
remember to take your smart pills and STOP pretending
to be STUPID,        that's just DUMB


that's Mr. AzzHOLE to yOu (ays - oh - lay) it's Esperanto
and YES it is part of my charm, thanks for asking

the dAy DreAm is the free thinKer's nighTmaRe
what do yOu thinK?         NeVer MiND


perjury murdered imagination, without an ASSULT rifle, without
2nd amendment RIGHTS, without maSS media or an iNterNet CoNNectioN

it's NOT what yOu accomplish
it's what yOu OVER come

I didn't say it was your FAULT
I said I was going to BLAME yOu

life is like SkiPPing with a Peg leG
at night it's like Sleeping with SciSSorS


HAVE FUN*


if you feel offended by this please read again
with your name in each rant, then take two (2) smart pills
and go back to sleep*


hehehe
WARNER BAXTER Jul 2015
I am so smart, I can fool myself
but I am too stupid to figure me out.
What's your problem?
If you don’t stand for something,
You will fall for anything.
Now pick yourself up, get a number and wait for your turn.
I think, therefore I am over qualified.
And that’s why you work here.
No, it’s not ignorance nor arrogance
I’m just smarter than you.
Were you born deficient or are you just stupid today?
Do not believe or even read every word that I have written.
Do not believe everything you think.
Remember you are special, just like everyone else.
Remember to take your smart pills.
I can see you had an extra bowl of stupid for breakfast this morning.
Then stop pretending to be stupid, that’s just dumb.
When you leave home, don't forget where you live and
don't forget your pants, again.
Ask me about my ability to annoy anyone any time.
That’s Mr. A$$hole (aays - ol - aye) to you, it’s Esperanto.
And yes, it is part of my charm thanks for asking.
Are we having fun yet?
The daydream is the free thinkers nightmare,
what do you think? never mind
Perjury murdered imagination, without an assault rifle,
or second amendment rights, without mass media
or an internet connection. What's your excuse?
I didn’t say it was your fault, I said, I was going to blame you.
So, how does it feel to be back on the hamster wheel?
C’mon man really?
Dan Same Sep 2019
I Deserve to Die, A shout of Joy.

I deserve to Die
My life is a lie
A flippant lie
I Deserve to Die

I Deserve to Die
In this world full of Love
I fly like an unguided dove
I Deserve to Die

I Deserve to Die
If I could tell myself the truth
I may be a better youth
But, I Deserve to Die

I Deserve to Die
Too weak for this battle
To grip for this struggle
I Deserve to Die

I Deserve to Die
The song I hear in the morning
The door opened in the evening
Ready to Die
I Deserve to Die

I Deserve to Die
The depressing things I tell myself
The worthless value of myself
I Deserve to Die

I Deserve to Die
Not a prayer
From a player
But I Deserve to Die

I deserve to Die
But who cares?
The limitless growth of the stairs
I Deserve to Die



Who will save from my grief?
Jesus?
Do I even believe?
Maybe not!
Maybe I do!
I’m not sure
I Deserve to Die

I Deserve to Die
But I don’t want to
Will I have to?
Do I need to?
I Deserve to Die

I Deserve to Die
Shall I help myself?
Maybe,
Maybe,
I shouldn’t Die

Well, I Deserve to Die
But He went ahead and Die
Now I can’t Die
A new beginning,
A new life,
Lord I Deserve,
Will you let me Die?
Hear my cry
Save thee
I Deserve to Die
Don’t allow me to Die.  

I Deserve to Die
But I need to escape
Open the gate of life
Hear my cry
I just need a way
To run away
I Don’t want to Die
I cry…


                                                          ­                                   Esperanto
Ian Beckett Nov 2012
Sunday-empty Auckland my pre-breakfast escape,
Sheep-spotted mountains in early morning mist,
Whangarei marina for a cauldron of cappuccino.
Shop of metal sheep starts a day of Kiwi weirdness,
Of customer requesting glassblowing lessons, and
“All Blacks” silk boxers, unworn by players I hope.

Driving to Dargaville for Mr. M. Ujdur museum treat,
That late gum-digging, Esperanto teaching, vintner.
Beside a colossal collection of accordions with muzak,
Playing an instrument-impossible Whiter Shade of Pale,
Plus coins and buttons and stamps and Scotsmen,
Left feeling stunned, like I was tripping on acid.

The possum cull with prizes seemed almost normal.
Mateuš Conrad Nov 2016
some say it's called dart-eyes, a kaleidoscopic venture
that might leave you myopic, oddly enough i know
that people say a lot of far fetched things,
   and the excuses are usually metaphors,
there's the literal cardinal,
the literal spanish inquisition,
  and metaphors of demons in the bible -
          i still want to experience a fully
theocratic world: where man's words come
forth from man, and god's words come from
the mouth of god... again: poetry without
a god is like biology without chlorophyll,
   no one even suggested a kneeling process and
ardent prayer to be invoked,
     all it took was a spare thought away from
the daily commute and the daily invigoration
from some sort of ethic, oddly enough it always
ends up being an ethic of work...
   i guess that's why in the west everyone is
nearing an addiction thoroughly apparent that's
named workaholism... once the relationships
fail, the only saving string of hope is work,
an absurd work ethic, because wouldn't you
take a syringe filled with ink and do shifts in an
office beyond the norm, thus entering the world
of night shifts and anything else antisocial?
   people can't really be friends, we're fired up
toward formal relationships and what's guiding us
to these relationships is hierarchy...
              oddly enough the Aztec or Mayan
pyramids don't have that sort of feel to them,
they don't prescribe interpretations of hierarchy,
quite the opposite,
     ask someone who doesn't have a conquistador
heritage to explain that they are:
  the gallows... guillotines... the tyrant is not
buried within, these aren't caves to entombing a
tyrant with all his riches...
      there are no chambers in these structures...
they were intended as architectural symbols of
common law... those presumptions European
*******... human sacrifice? a myth...
these were sights of capital punishment,
you stepped out of line: you'd get your heart
carved out and your body would drop from
the execution altar down the steps for
           the scavenger mob to tear you apart
even further: had you transgressed communal
consent... justice has to become overpowering
but that does not mean we carve a mount
Rushmore akin to the statues of the valley of
the kings of enthroned pharaohs...
  much of ancient Egypt lingers in what we
call "modernity"... esp. in America...
             and the world is currently establishing
itself into cold war ii (i said that once,
can't remember when)... and until this is firmly
established, that it's clearly accepted that we're
dealing in a cold / intellectual war, then
we'll pass all that intelligence and engage in a hot war /
and emotional war, as characteristic overflowing
of populism, which at present times: has
all the coordinates, but no proper vector to
allow a congregational march toward impeding
dangers... but better a second cold war than
a third world war... so much of ancient Egypt
in America... the washington memorial for one...
what's the other name for it? ah... obelisk;
or what the pagans built to counter the fear of
impotence: well... we've established a bountiful
supply of humans... can we do a floral pattern
now? oddly enough we embraced tomb-pyramid
builders from the north-eastern side of
Africa's brain-dead region, and trusted
conquistadors wiping out a people that used
pyramids to stress the importance of law:
i can't see no reason to think that those pyramids
were intended for human sacrifice...
capital punishment? well, d'uh... because wasn't
Golgotha so unspectacular as to be less
than what it was? had they crucified him in private,
in some back-alleyway crucified to a door,
would history open its doors to the advent of
Christianity? don't think so.
what i'd really love to see is people with
necklaces of silver, and the thing dangling on them
would be a different torture mechanism...
an iron maiden... it's like prescribing pain is
necessary... it's a dogmatic ruling on a once upon
a time
(even the briefest) chance of happiness...
but even then certain philosophers say:
why be happy, when you can be interesting?
how interesting do you have to be so many times over
to not even wish for a stillness of neither want
nor drive to go beyond what you already have?
i don't know if this is an adequate comparison,
but in terms of interesting...
   a movie (side effects, 2013) utilises only two songs
in its official title:
   the focal point of a ******
       is staged to a "sleepwalking" woman preparing
a dinner for three (only two people are in the apartment),
the song? thievery corporation's the forgotten people...
i knew the band prior, and i've seen the film
before... but i never bothered to watch the credits...
i remember the odd couple who'd sit in cinemas and
engage in watching the end-credits, always the one
odd bunch: as if saying thank you to all the people
involve... a quick stroll through a graveyard is probably
comparably akin....
   and the other song? Bach's
   orchestral suite no. 2 in B minor, bwv 1067 -
     but i can't remember whether it's actually featured
in the film, simply because there's no focal moment
in the film where it can be heard as prominently as
the first song... and then there's thomas newman in
between (no surprise);
but a film like that is a meditation...
             if only two songs are used, chances are
the dialogue will have many strengths, because there
will be a multiplicity of consistent reinterpretation,
a bit like talking into a Tate Modern and seeing
Rodin's the kiss statue (inspired by Dante's divine
comedy), sketching it from the northern perspective,
the southern, western and eastern perspectives...
    i've seen few films that accredit a very minimalistic
soundtrack... on that note, how songs could literally
be translated into film titles: side effects - the forgotten people,
  dead poets' society - carpe diem, american beauty -
any other name, are there others? there probably are.

but that's nothing compared to last night's antics...
   some people climb the Everest... clap clap clap...
some people design super-suction vacuum cleaners...
clap clap clap...
                    from time to time i solve sudoku drunk
(no clapping)... but there's a narrative involved,
the narrative goes when you try to map out solving
one of these 81 "rubic" squares... applause for
speed with these babies like applause for premature
*******... aren't they compatible?
   we all have limitations, mine came yesterday,
when i allocated superscript numbers to the journey,
quiet literally an optical tangle, i should have used
       things like ª ' “ ‘ ¨ † above the plotted line...
but it only takes one mistake to ground you
   and then you have to go back and make minute corrections,
as the notes themselves suggest (crazy eyed darting):

exhibit a.

0    0    0    0    0    2    7    0    0
0    0    0    0  ­  4    0    0    2    0
2    0    5    1    0    7    0    0    8
0    9    0    0    0 ­   0    2    0    1
7    0    0    8    0    0    0    6    0
0  ­  0    6    0    7    0    5    0    0
4    0    8    7    0    0­    1    0    0
0    1    0    0    0    5    0    0    0
0    0 ­   9    0    1    0    3    0    0

   exhibit b. html that doesn't allow subscript
            or superscript notation, hence the brackets
   denoting movement (pending)


9 (24)    0          3 (23)    0    8 (5)    2    7    1 (2)    0
1 (12)    8 (8)    7 (9)      0    4          0    0    2          0
2            0         5            1    0          7    0    3 (13)   8
8 (7)       9        4 (18)     0 5 (33) 0    2    7 (1)      1
7            5 (16) 1 (14)     8   2 (20)   0    0    6           3 (21)
3 (19)    2 (17)  6            0   7           1 (15)  5           8 (6)    0
4            3 (27)  8           7   0            0         1            5 (28)    2 (26)
6 (30)    1          2 (22)   4 (31)    3 (32)    5    8 (3)    0    7 (11)
5 (29)    7 (10)    9    2 (25)    1    8 (4)    3    0    0

      it is no surprise that the notation played a key part
in having failed to map out the route taken,
       when you're using numbers in a puzzle
  it's almost an inevitable path to failure,
since you're making superscript "bookmarks" at
high concentration, and without any distinction to
what the puzzle demands, hence you go "cross-eyed"
  in solving the puzzle, and superscripting your progress
using the same symbols that are required to solve it,
but given that the puzzle involves 81 slots
  with 9 x 9 identical components (only so rearranged
  to be not contradict the rule of the puzzle
i.e. 9 symbols in each square of the nine in total,
   with a 9 x 9 variation on all linear arrangements not
involving two similar symbols, i.e.
   1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9, rather than 1 2 2 3 4 5 6 7 8) -
what became a hope to correct the mistake, but given
the intricacies of the progress, all the more harder to
recount steps and subsequently move forward with
   the spotted error...
hence a refresh, and the need for schematic,
given that there are 81 slots in total, with
     27 already in place, and given that there are 26
units of alphabet... how handy to actually persist in
using these characters, but adding diacritical variations
to make up 54 necessary, without invoking
      a 10 or a sz...

exhibit c.

0    0    0    0    0    2    7    1ą    0
0    0    0    0 ­   4    0    0    2    0
2    0    5    1    0    7    0    0    8
0    9    0    0    0 ­   0    2    7α    1
7    0    0    8    0    0    0    6    0
0 ­   0    6    0    7    0    5    0    0
4    0    8    7    0    ­0    1    0    0
0    1    0    0    0    5    0    0    0
0    0­    9    0    1    0    3    0    0

exhibit d.

nb. α = 1, ą (ogonek) = 2, á (acute) = 3, à (grave) = 4,
â (circumflex) = 5, ä (umlaut) = 6, cedilla missing,
   ã (tilde) = 7, b = 8, c = 9, ć = 10, č (caron) = 11,
ĉ (circumflex) = 12, ā (macron) = 13, ç (cedilla) = 14,
d = 15, e = 16, é = 17, è = 18, ê = 19, ě = 20, ë = 21,
f = 22, g = 23, ǧ = 24, ḡ = 25, ĝ = 26
         (now i figure, could have used Greek... d'uh!
ahh, i'll use it for the finishing touches),
        h = 27, i = 28, ı = 29, í = 30, î = 31, ï = 32, μ = 33
j = 34, δ = 35, k = 36, λ = 37, ł = 38, τ = 39, n = 40,
ń = 41, ñ = 42, o = 43, ō = 44, ø = 45, p = 46,
q = 47, r = 48, s = 49, γ = 50, φ = 51, χ = 52, ψ = 53, ω = 54.

before i begin the puzzle... there's a reason why a caron
g (ǧ) might exist, and why a grave z might not...
   and why there's a piquant difference between
an acute z (ź) and ż - depending on the aesthetician,
who decides to move away from the national linguistico-aesthetic
dogma... for example the name George,
orthodoxy states you must learn the aesthetic version
of Grze'gosz... but you would also be able to write
the alternative: Ǧegoš - given that rz is equivalent to ż,
    and given that there is no grave accenting of z,
but there is the acute (ź), perhaps you could consider
the dot a convergence point that could assimilate
sound, immediately over the caron g... of course none
of these remarks are intended for application: because
they would never reach a consideration in a learning
curriculum of any nation, a whimsical idea derived from
the remnants of the esperanto experiment...
  from what i can see, ǧ would equal grz, and
the reason that rz exists at all, and it equivalent to ż
is because a grave version of z is missing, and that
the acute z (ź) exists, and there is no point of balance
that otherwise is the foundation of the caron...
  i wouldn't have thought focusing on such "trivial"
signs above letters provided so much pecking-orders.

exhibit e. focal points in greek notation

9ǧ    4ñ    3g    6o    8â    2    7    1ą    5τ
1ĉ   ­ 8b    7c    5p    4    3q    6ń    2    9ł
2     6γ     5      1      9r    7    4n    3ā    8
8ã    9    4è    3s      5ψ   6ω    2    7α    1
7    5e    1ç    8      2ě    4ø    9ō    6    3ë
3ê    2é    6    9λ    7    1d      5    8ä    4k
4    3h     8    7     6χ    9φ    1    5i    2ĝ
6í    1    2f    4î     3ï      5     8á   9μ    7č
5ı    7ć    9    2ḡ    1     8à     3     4j     6δ

thus completed: there's a reason why the majority
of the narrative is done utilising diacritical marks,
i could have used many more distinct symbols,
but the point is: there are very few focal points
that can be ascribed distinct markings,
most of the puzzle is done on the basis of "crazy eyes",
i.e. darting eyes - focal points do emerge after
much darting about the squares, notably when
a linear sequence is completed, or whenever one of
the 9 squares is completed, or when all nine squares
contain nine 7s or 8s...
      or that's one way to go about not having any whiskey,
the rain pouring outside, and the night stretching
into a near eternity -
            
exhibit f. narrative of correction, actual excerpt

it began at h, i.e. labyrinth corner no. 27,
******* trainspotting! this is going to be like reading
the time for the next train to arrive at Waterloo!
  5(28), 5(33)?, 5(28),
  6(30), 4(31), 3(22), 5(33), 33? 9(38), 4(34),
  6(35), 4(36)...
6(41) < 4(40) < 5(39) < 9(38) < 9(37)....
       4(42) < 6(43) < 9(44) < 4(45) < 5(46) < 3(47) < 9(48) < 3(49) <...>
   6(58) > 9(51) < 6(52)...
        longest period spent on 3(13) / ā -
   and the notation that gave way to this spiral?
5(33), which actually ended up being 5(53) / ψ.
Let’s face it:
Vietnam was a purge.
An undeclared yet official
War on largely Black, Chicano,
Mostly urban, poor White-trash--
Any of that unlucky-cohort--
Coming of age, mid-60s America.
A purge yes, but 'Nam was also an
Intelligence Test:  them that went,
Particularly those who never returned,
Those scoring at least two standard deviations out,
Outside normal, therefore inferior genetic make-up,
Those the country could surely do without.
“Three Generations of Imbeciles Are Enough.”
www.genomicslawreport.com /.../three-generations-of-imbeciles-are-enough... So wrote Justice Oliver Wendell Holmes, Jr. in Buck v. Bell, a 1927 Supreme Court case upholding a Virginia law that authorized the state to...”
I couldn’t have said it better, Justice Holmes!
The Nam: those of us who did survive were
Nonetheless, mangled and traumatized,
In both body & spirit.
We knew right away we’d been duped,
Particularly those gun-friendly southern boys,
Hunting ***** for sport and Country, now contemplating
Remorseful acts of mass homicide 40 years ago.
The real poindexters of our generation, of course:
Got a medical deferment, or
Stayed in college, or
Went north to Canada, or
As I did, joined the Coast Guard, unfortunately,
In addition to my nightmare Indochine,
My personal Disneyland Jungle Cruise,
Based on Joseph Conrad’s
Congo Nightmare Novella--
Heart of Darkness.)
And Józef wrote it in English.
Which was for the native Pollack,
His third language after Polish & French,
Which is probably a good time to
Encourage each & every young punk
On the cellblock to make good use of their time:
Learn a foreign language., e.g.
Why not Spanish?
Given Obama’s farcical, unrestricted border policy.
Soon to be a pervasive lingua Esperanto.

My politics? Sign me up for a little T.A.D.,
Manning a 50-caliber machine gun on Donald’s Wall.
Donald Trump:  A Modern Hadrian?
Don’t get me started on politics.
Take a Spanish class.
Finally, you’ll know what those
Grease-ball Mexican landscapers are
Saying behind your back, right in front of you.

After the Army, & after college on the G.I. Bill,
That’s when I joined the Coast Guard.
OCS in the 1970s was a difficult (read:
Lower Standards) recruiting time for
The Armed Forces of the United States,
Including the U.S. Coast Guard.
OCS: The Oklahoma Cook School we joked.
Officer Candidate School: graduating
Nautically savvy 90-Day Wonders,
Inculcated with conduct becoming &
Other archaic, chivalrous values,
Imprinted with Chain of Command obeisance,
Etched deep an acolyte’s primer on class-consciousness.
Blimey! What a difference after my previous
Two years stint as an Army grunt which leads me to
An overwhelming question: Why do Officers live
Better than enlisted pukes?
The Military: last refuge for scoundrels,
Escape artists & last bastion of medieval feudalism.
Officers! Welcome to the Aristocracy.
Mazel Tov,
Bienvenidos!
It's the Class Structure,
The dominant organizing principle for humanity,
Since the dawn of human history, perhaps longer,
Consider, if you will, “Alley Oop.”
“Alley Oop” Lyrics | MetroLyrics: (www.metrolyrics.com) “There's a man in the funny papers we all know . . . Eats nothin' but bearcat stew, A mean motor scooter & a bad go-getter . . . King of the jungle jive.”
Even longer if we go troglodyte era,
Some mean-mother, some swinging
Foucault’s pendulum set of *****,
Some club-wielding Duke of Earl—
Simply put: some Alpha Male,
Sticking it up whatever polygamous
Multiple Missus *** just happened to be
Bending over within my field of vision at
Any given moment.
I am the block’s biggest, baddest, meanest cat,
Made right by might: physical power &
Will to use it.

Then came Divine Right: Dieu et mon droit.
French for “God and my right.”
Conceived by the shrewd ones,
Those staying out of trouble,
Cringing in the corner of the cave, AKA
The inherently weak, concluding, at last, with
Marx: “The history of all hitherto existing
Society is the history of class struggles.”
Mateuš Conrad May 2016
† really is a poor man's Nike tick, or the three stripes
of a.d.i.d.a.s. (Korn ref. mind you),
here on testimony, yet again the Kaiser
i quote: 'logos are the Esperanto of
marketing'...
so † is the poor man's logo...
                          capitalism can shove too
many at you, like the star of david,
or the scythe moon of islam encapsulating
the star of the north (Venus) on several flags...
why are the Arabs born in the 1980s encapsulating
the zeitgeist of disillusionment our generation
feels towards our elders? they're the only ones
with ***** to commit the crimes they commit,
because our generation is down-trodden
they feel remorse when they rebel,
stick a strawberry flavoured ****** on that
***** and shove it up my ***, will you?
i might just taste the strawberries after it has been
into the black hole of digestion - i might just
turn to stellar daydreams of moonwalking
myself into a stable suburban family-friendly
U or PG rated movie afternoon. like ****, ha ha.
the arab youth, they're the Zeitgeist of our generation,
1980s orientated, they see the scams and the bluffs
and the insurance policies, the missing retirement
plans akin to B.H.S. sort-of loosing them
when the head of the company sells it for £1
and blows all the pension policies on a yacht to
enter a wrestling-match with some rich russian oligarch
(oiled up ~lark... could have written -gark):
and i have the bigger peanuts, because i befriended
an elephant and charged against the Macedonian horde
throwing Alexander off his horse.
swear to god i caught a bottle of water that
Fieldy threw into the crowd, and noticed that i caught it,
back in the day at London Arena - where
they filmed the video for some Slipknot song and
i was almost crushed and constipated; yep,
when the Docklands was the answer to Wembley.
so yeah, what's with that coco the †, cha cha cha
Chopin and chaps and shoo?
well... i do remember having to endure being made
fun of in primary school for my pronunciation,
i only started learning English from scratch at 8
and was fluent before all the ****** natives could
say something like onomatopoeia,
i was made fun of after i said PUMA
rather than PJUMA...                on my way to swimming
lessons (yeah, learned to swim on my own)...
retards inserted the J... told you Jesus only made us
"try" and speak politely... and that turned out to
be a Patti Smith song... although American Head Charge's
rock n' roll ****** cover of her's i prefer.
TERRY REEVES Feb 2016
I USED TO THINK THAT DOGS THOUGHT IN ENGLISH,
BUT, OF COURSE, IT COULD BE GERMAN OR SPANISH,
IF YOU TELL THEM TO SIT, THEY MAY NOT RESPOND,
JUST RUN AWAY TO THE BACK OF BEYOND;
I'M LOOKING UP 'SIT,' IN RUSSIAN, 'GET OFF
THAT ****** CHAIR,' IN CROATIAN AND 'COME
HERE, THERE'S A GOOD BOY' AND 'WELL DONE,'
PERHAPS WE JUST NEED AN 'ESPERANTO' SO
THAT THEY WILL ALL DO AS THEY'RE TOLD,
OTHERWISE WE WON'T LET THEM COME IN FROM THE COLD,
'STAY,' IN SWEDISH COULD MAKE THEM PEEVISH,
'FRIEND,' IN SWAHILI COULD MAKE THEM AN ENEMY,
WE DON'T WANT THEM TO BARK, MOPE AND PINE,
DON'T FORGET THE MAGIC COMMAND - 'NEIN, NEIN, NEIN!'
SOMEONE TOOK THEIR DOG TO SOME GERMAN SPEAKING FRIENDS SO THAT IT WOULD HAVE A BETTER UNDERSTANDING OF COMMANDS.  AMAZING!   'NEIN,' = NO.
Mike Essig Dec 2015
It is usually best to avoid
crushing hopelessness, to swerve
and defer disaster, but even so
the world is well and truly ****** up.

Seek solutions to this conundrum.

Try to avoid curiosity, a pernicious
strain of insanity that conjures up
irrational fears of orangutangs
with meat cleavers, lethally ascetic
Tibetan monks, bathroom carpets
of abandoned razors or Big Macs
rife with E. Coli.

Avoid metaphysical musings that lead
to questions of coleslaw, vegan
water parks, the Team Quadraplegic
Gymnastics squad and the horrors
of the Hilary Clinton Naked Network.

Seek refuge in the present tense to
escape the interrogation of mirrors,
the crafted answer, dacryphilia,
remedial rage, landslides of therapy
and memorizing each month's horoscope.

Consider that mercy is on back order from God.
Remember the best lines of an unread book.
Nap on a battlefield; haggle over imaginary debts.
Set fire to the umbrellas of passing strangers.
Stop to watch the loudness and burn the recovered dead.

Call up new magic for a dying world.
Find beauty in the irradiated glow of burning cities.
Try not to bounce existential checks or notice
the crumbling of distant walls, ruined outhouses,
and the immense bleakness of forever and ever.

Take up training small rodents and lighting holy fires.
Ignore the broken stars, long dead and beyond grief.
Discover the pleasure in erasure, enjoy the biology
of strangeness. Walk many miles without a map
beneath innumerable ladders carefully detouring
around immense flocks of rabid cassowaries.
Throttle the recalcitrant blue sky's silent throat.

Listen to the melody of car wrecks and smashed guitars.
Abandon assumed corpses to dreams of endless cold.
Appreciate futures you cannot believe in but never visit them.
Learn to diagram sentences in Esperanto then speak with toads.
Ignore the slot machine odds against your deepest desires.
Hide beneath the ravenous trees from time's famished maw.
Seek sanctuary in toothy optimism and complete amnesia.

Follow these impossible instructions to the letter
and you will become non-valent, invisible, immune
and no longer notice the world is ****** up
beyond redemption. Go on, give it a try.

  ~mce
HTPG

— The End —