The ten o'clock hour on Sunday nights was made for mystery and blistering works of imagination and hardline poetic reality .. For the fifty and above , writers that have felt the fire and burdened their share at the crux of painful sentiment , walked the streets of purgatory on many a lonely night and lived to tell it about .. People that can pick out hidden meaning from ******* , that know the difference between love and tantric *** , ones that have learned to hide their cotton candy soul within a steel resolve , writers with bone dry eyes and little time for Friday night teenage angst wannabe jargon !

I take it that a spray of Sun occults your face,
like watching in a squalid cinema, something a slapstick would
conjure a stylistically dumb image, or the prattle of
bunkum hubbub drowning loudspeakers in plazas.
You know there is a part of you that goes missing
  every time you hear me pass carefully under the care
  of toppled light, and there is a part of me that engages
the dark in this straining mutiny. This is such a troubled time
on the hardline; a martinet on the other cheapened end
of a totaled horizon hollering at gentrified space, eyes sternly
fixed on the mattress, conspicuous in urbane manner, something
shadows bade with hands, lifts up all the ragamuffin days:
   to capture you in such moment, such oneness, of no complication,
like a clean Yamazaki on the house, or a metropolitan district
   augured with rubicund crisscrosses, streets sidereal in measures,
an aggressive ******* at the end of the curb, the spanked curve
   of the mordant asphalt, and the rise of body heat from yesterday’s swelter;
  something only I could have thought of in white thighs of little ladies
    and peering birds for collarbones: look at this, maddened, retaining
    nothing but age.

War is natural

As we have laid down our history, so we now can see its evolution, alongside the flora and fauna

Each moment of discovery , every epoch of enlightenment, the archaeological evidence stares  back at us,
The hardline facts are undeniable, the rise of aggression control and power run parallel to the advancement of our race

Our time now, so blighted by an international arms trade that has no borders and no jurisdictions , a collective desire by world powers to amass and then to mobilize, a common fear shared by enemies of old.

We fund this,  we have done for too many years, we have suffered to provide for others great riches, we have furnished their attitudes towards us

We are gifted nothing in return, some of us do have more than others, some countries more developed than others,
What I have, you have not, but in return, that which you do  have , so many of us yearn for

Safety , security, prosperity, content convictions
I'm sure all of this could have been obtained through the enhancement of peace without restrictions

We as a global community deserve, so much more, and to governments of all nations we implore

It's really easy to write
Like you're for the hardline right
And far-flung conspiracies.
Easy to address as a member of the left
Like you believe in extreme liberalism
And wild ideas.
And then there's a center,
Or so I've heard.
For the intellectual or versus,
For the institution or against;
For the fascist,
For the anarchic.

It's all so archaic.

Rising.... networking, recruiting. Intolerance and bigotry given life in a fractured society

Far right thugs airbrush Belsen, Auschwitz and Treblinka dismiss and deny their stock reply. Sleepwalking in a trance as jackboots march on the street.

Beware their poison and lies sincerely sold within smiling eyes. Boot boys controlled by faceless insidious masters, puppets of the Rights agenda. Glory and genocide merge in a nightmare vision, wrapped in a Swastikas flag.

Hardline view becomes mainstream media. One nation spouting division, deportation verbal *******.

Global awareness coming, is it too late? The unthinkable brought to be. History repeating ,lessons unheeded. Innocent maliable brains with falsehood and hate are seeded.

A final solution? Not in my name . Fight for what is beautiful and right. Fight for OUR race.... The Human Race.

the dreary land is windswept by a gust from the west
the cloudy sky is a sign, an even braver wind is approaching
when the west met the east they sat down in a field and had a picnic
they feasted on the lives of the land dwellers
the feasted on the lives of livestock
then they feasted on each other until there was no more of either
and what sight I was to behold when the earth stopped shaking and the ground grew cold
I felt the winds of change
and they seemed to say
let go of previous past possessions and obsessions, the hardline connections to your past will weigh down your hourglass
revel in the memories but march up against the great meaningless hourglass
climb the hill
we cannot live in the past.

The job is wrangling
a constant cascade of containers
filled with everything I can imagine
some totes more full than others
on a never ending conveyor belt
all must go to their appropriate cart
softer objects like clothing go on top
while the hardline items go to the bottom.

Unloading these bundles
becomes a tedious tennis match
where the score remains the same
stuck playing a familiar game
every tote must be dealt with
before they start piling up
and lights start shining
as everything shuts down.
I scan the baskets; I scan the carts
never letting items drift apart
crossguard meshing prevents spillage
the contents pressure the straps
I'm always expecting a collapse.

Once a particular cart has been filled
I push it away and carry back a new cart
to be filled with new items of the same nature
I hope people get the things they need
but every day something else breaks
every day something goes missing
those customers will have to wait
on me to do better next time
I hope I can too
I don't want to be taking
the same orders for
the rest of my life.

I've been labeled a freak , a hippy an a
"hayseed"
A guitar picker , a second hand musician , a free
spirit in torn blue jeans
Neurotic , dangerous even stoic
A 'stoner' , a drug fueled guinea pig ,
a soldier and a poet  
A 'touched' brother and family member
Father , grandfather , anxious , lost , -
melancholy , ****** up an destined to be unremarkably
remembered
I've worn suits , coveralls , overalls -
uniforms and battle scars
Attended a hardline baptist church , ridiculed religious
organization , studied buddhism plus
everything in between in pursuit of -
my famished spirit
Temporarily snared in wrinkled flesh
Always wondering what lies next*....