Members
Storyteller, bibliophile, actor, and adventurer reveling in the lusciousness of language.
Poems
Raymond Johnson Apr 2013
Memories
Raymond Johnson
Apr 2013
The brain is a pretty rad little doodad. Sitting atop your neck, buzzing with blood and budding thoughts like an apple tree in spring.
I think it's fascinating that we're still quire clueless as to how it really works.
There's one particular part that still fascinates me, namely, memory.
Memories are the cranial equivalent of keeping a diary or writing in a journal. a collection of feelings and happenings of days gone by and words once said.
There are a few journal entries, if you will, that stand out to me. Ones I made with a girl... let's call her B.
If B were here right now, I'd look her in her big brown eyes and ask her:
Do you remember?
Do you remember the divine way the curves of your body fit into mine was we lay in an amorous embrace amongst the blankets and downy pillows?
Do you remember the way I told you a million times that I loved your hair. Your angelic, graceful hair, even though you thought it was too long and too messy?
How we walked through the forest for hours, talking about nothing and nonsense, and how we sat on a log for what seemed like eternity until I manufactured enough courage to finally kiss you?
They say that elephants never forget, and every time you cross my mind I feel my nose getting a little longer and my skin turning a little greyer.
Do you remember? Because I sure as hell do.
Do you remember how adorable you looked in those pajama pants of mine that were about a foot too long for you because you forgot to bring your own?
Do you remember how we sat on a bench and watched the birds flit from feeder to feeder as the sun waved us a crimson farewell?
Do you remember the feeling of your lips upon my lips, and the simple fact that it is impossible to properly describe that in any banal combination of 26 tired characters?
Do you remember the bittersweet intermingling of the smells of my eighty dollar cologne and your forty dollar shampoo?
Do you remember the way we looked into each other’s eyes? The vast universes of possibilities leaping from neuron to neuron behind those irises?
Wonderful memories. Pleasant memories. You couldn’t ask for anything better than these kind of memories. But there’s more. And there’s a reason why they’re just memories.
I remember the way the blood drained from my face like your used bath water circled the drain in my bathtub, and how my heart went on strike and stopped beating when you told me we couldn’t be together.
I remember how similar the crunch of the leaves and twigs under our booted feet sounded to the cracking and shattering of my sanity as you drove away on that sombre day.
I remember all of the dreams my brain pumped out of its pitiful pineal gland in a futile attempt to travel back in time.
I remember the empty spot in my bed and the gaping and gushing hole in my heart that still exists
To
This
Day.
But for all of these melancholy memories, these rotten ruminations, the beast of anger has yet to rear its matted mane.
In fact,
I thank you.
I thank you for this sadness, this regret, this longing, and this acute absence of rage,
For it is proof that I am alive.
I thank you for this sorrow, for this awful ammunition, for inspiration to machine masterpieces from the melancholy.
For what is light without darkness?
What is life without death, and love without loss?
So thank you.
I look back on our shared seconds not with eyes full of misplaced malice and fury,
But with gratitude.
Because even through tragedy
The heart survives.
I think it's fascinating that we're still quire clueless as to how it really works.
There's one particular part that still fascinates me, namely, memory.
Memories are the cranial equivalent of keeping a diary or writing in a journal. a collection of feelings and happenings of days gone by and words once said.
There are a few journal entries, if you will, that stand out to me. Ones I made with a girl... let's call her B.
If B were here right now, I'd look her in her big brown eyes and ask her:
Do you remember?
Do you remember the divine way the curves of your body fit into mine was we lay in an amorous embrace amongst the blankets and downy pillows?
Do you remember the way I told you a million times that I loved your hair. Your angelic, graceful hair, even though you thought it was too long and too messy?
How we walked through the forest for hours, talking about nothing and nonsense, and how we sat on a log for what seemed like eternity until I manufactured enough courage to finally kiss you?
They say that elephants never forget, and every time you cross my mind I feel my nose getting a little longer and my skin turning a little greyer.
Do you remember? Because I sure as hell do.
Do you remember how adorable you looked in those pajama pants of mine that were about a foot too long for you because you forgot to bring your own?
Do you remember how we sat on a bench and watched the birds flit from feeder to feeder as the sun waved us a crimson farewell?
Do you remember the feeling of your lips upon my lips, and the simple fact that it is impossible to properly describe that in any banal combination of 26 tired characters?
Do you remember the bittersweet intermingling of the smells of my eighty dollar cologne and your forty dollar shampoo?
Do you remember the way we looked into each other’s eyes? The vast universes of possibilities leaping from neuron to neuron behind those irises?
Wonderful memories. Pleasant memories. You couldn’t ask for anything better than these kind of memories. But there’s more. And there’s a reason why they’re just memories.
I remember the way the blood drained from my face like your used bath water circled the drain in my bathtub, and how my heart went on strike and stopped beating when you told me we couldn’t be together.
I remember how similar the crunch of the leaves and twigs under our booted feet sounded to the cracking and shattering of my sanity as you drove away on that sombre day.
I remember all of the dreams my brain pumped out of its pitiful pineal gland in a futile attempt to travel back in time.
I remember the empty spot in my bed and the gaping and gushing hole in my heart that still exists
To
This
Day.
But for all of these melancholy memories, these rotten ruminations, the beast of anger has yet to rear its matted mane.
In fact,
I thank you.
I thank you for this sadness, this regret, this longing, and this acute absence of rage,
For it is proof that I am alive.
I thank you for this sorrow, for this awful ammunition, for inspiration to machine masterpieces from the melancholy.
For what is light without darkness?
What is life without death, and love without loss?
So thank you.
I look back on our shared seconds not with eyes full of misplaced malice and fury,
But with gratitude.
Because even through tragedy
The heart survives.
https://soundcloud.com/blaxstronaut/memories
James Bradley McCallum Jul 2013
Brood of Vipers
James Bradley McCallum
Jul 2013
The curtain on the
CPAC convocation rolls back,
as the revolution
in Tahrir Square boils.
America’s theater
of deadly political
absurdity commences;
to witness demagogues
recite holy scripture to
evangelize a religion of war.
A heavily invested
audience marvels
at the marionettes
pirouetting on strings
jigged along by hands
of invisible puppet-masters
donning dark masks of
clever 503C llcs
disguised in self serving
hues of red, white and blue.
This grand folly of masquers
conceals a fatal pantomime,
a cast of reactionary characters,
Neo-Conmen auditioning for
the leading role in a lurid play
of a deadly nation projecting
a dying imperial preeminence.
The martinets engage zero
sum games where the victor
belongs to the despoilers,
and the merchants of death
richly confer multimillion dollar
reasons for being, underwriting
the gilded egos of candidates
and their infatuation with the
vanity of feigned power.
These master rhetoricians
skillfully lather up the crowd
by pandering to basest
xenophobic nationalist
instincts and fantasies
of laissez-faire proclivities.
Slathering on the partisan
pretense in layers so thick
a master chef, armed
with the sharpest Ginsu Knife
couldn't slice a hock tip
of blood red meat
hurled into the crowd of
gobbling Republicons
howling and yodeling
it’s derisive acclaim.
The rankled party line,
gibberish talking points
are hammer blows of
incessant propaganda,
so cocksure that any room for
doubt is crowded out by the
phantasmagorical McMansions
of hyperbole they ***** in
the pliant minds of their
gibbering minions.
The candidates preening for
president show off their
falangist affectations
in eager duels of oratorical
one upmanship; constantly
jockeying to outflank their
other Neo-Conmen opponents,
always concluding their brutish
diatribes with a solemn
denouement of a Republicon
psalm ending with a
Holy Hosanna Hallelujah
to the Ronald Reagan
Heavenly Buddha.
Punchline of the holy Amen
“what would Reagan do?”
to remind the faithful
to remain the faithful
bearers to the fiction
of dead Reaganism.
Evoking anything
Ron and Nancy
induces sanctioned
comportment of a
slow simmering
******* eubellence
providing a welcomed
relief of repressed
libidinal energy.
The mention of Goldwater
sends GOP acolytes to
pause in reverence,
envisioning Barry and
Ronnie looking down
from heaven upon the gathered,
inciting immediate ruminations
of falling dominos and
the viability of a
tactical nuke strike
against Ayatollah’s
underground
uranium factories.
The host of Neo-Conmen,
new age Falangist pitchmen
belch from the dais,
in ever increasing alacrity,
the stirring drum beats
and slick videos,
of glorious warriors
winning the battlefield
with the rippling glory
of the Stars and Stripes
flowing in a continual
loop behind them.
Romney,
Bachmann
Gingrich
take center stage,
goose stepping
to the roll of piercing timpanis.
Words slither
out of their mouths
like poisonous snakes.
Lies, hiss through
their teeth.
Open mouths
expose Black Mamba
fangs, dripping with venom.
Eyes squint
as their reptilian brains
implore the besieged
to flee from the
light of truth.
Seeking refuge in fear;
yet on the ready
to coil and strike;
while trembling
in ignorance,
exalting loathsomeness
worshiping violence;
they remain
poised to unleash
first strike armies;
boastfully evoking moral
platitudes of Bush Doctrine
prerogatives.
Trembling in ignorance
worshiping violence
exalting fear,
these dogs of war bay
to unleash armies
against the
Godless apostates
that threaten
to expose the
stasis of their
Capitalismo-Judeo-Christian
view of the world.
They have hijacked
the great faith traditions
to serve a narrow
political aim
and relish any
opportunity to
demonize Islam
in service to their lies.
Watch as they
they crouch down
on the dais to
open the nest
of vipers welling
deep within the
bowels of their souls.
They find relief
by excreting their
spawn of deadly asps
into the veins of
cable news networks;
scoring political points
with the terrorized
children of Faux News
capturing battalions
of straw men villains
to rise atop meaningless
straw polls.
They agitate for a second
American revolution
by injecting the venom
of fear and lies
into the body
politic.
Ron Paul
stands alone,
perplexed why
American's love
war as much as
they hate civil liberties?
Cheney and
Rumsfeld brood.
The people of
Iraq and Afghanistan
fail to embrace their armies
of liberation that run up
unfortunate collateral damage
body counts required to sustain
the American way of life.
Ever the defender of
democracy and liberty,
Gingrich slams Obama's
condemnation of Suleiman
"hes an able diplomat."
Gingrich forgot to add
that Suleiman is a
skilled torturer and
an able tyrant any self
serving democracy would
be proud to call ally and friend.
Cheney and Rumsfeld
remain flummoxed.
Their armies of liberation bogged
down in the marshy Blackwaters
of intractability; trying to solve
the conundrum of the diminished
equity returns of asymmetrical
warfare. Spinning the math
to justify building aircraft carriers
to **** a gnat.
The families of dead soldiers
surround them and wave dime
store flags hoping the plastic
eagle remains fixed atop the pole.
Perpetually smiling
Michele Bachmann
raises the specter
of Muslim Brotherhoods
taking over Egypt.
The persecution of Christians
and the escalating war on
Christianity have the Crusaders
up on their seats waving Excalibur
once again.
Gingrich pink cheeks
flush with the cash
of a Zionist casino
entrepreneur
doubles down, stacks
his chips high.
“The Israeli Embassy
in Cairo was overrun
by angry mobs.”
“Is this a precursor of
cancelling the peace treaty
signed with Sadat?”
“The pullout in Iraq hands the country to
radical Shiites effectively handing our
hard won victory to Iran.”
“Israel is threatened and will not
permit Iran to acquire nuclear
weapons. A nuclear empowered Iran
will not stand!”
“We mustn't let do nothing Obama
threaten the safety of our good ally
Israel.”
CPAC willingly holds the deadly asp
to the breast of a proud nation.
Urging, coaxing it to gently sink
its teeth into the sacred heart
of our dear republic...
John Lee ******
Crawlin King Snake
CPAC 2011
Matthew 23
Brood of Vipers
jbm
Oakland
2/10/11
CPAC convocation rolls back,
as the revolution
in Tahrir Square boils.
America’s theater
of deadly political
absurdity commences;
to witness demagogues
recite holy scripture to
evangelize a religion of war.
A heavily invested
audience marvels
at the marionettes
pirouetting on strings
jigged along by hands
of invisible puppet-masters
donning dark masks of
clever 503C llcs
disguised in self serving
hues of red, white and blue.
This grand folly of masquers
conceals a fatal pantomime,
a cast of reactionary characters,
Neo-Conmen auditioning for
the leading role in a lurid play
of a deadly nation projecting
a dying imperial preeminence.
The martinets engage zero
sum games where the victor
belongs to the despoilers,
and the merchants of death
richly confer multimillion dollar
reasons for being, underwriting
the gilded egos of candidates
and their infatuation with the
vanity of feigned power.
These master rhetoricians
skillfully lather up the crowd
by pandering to basest
xenophobic nationalist
instincts and fantasies
of laissez-faire proclivities.
Slathering on the partisan
pretense in layers so thick
a master chef, armed
with the sharpest Ginsu Knife
couldn't slice a hock tip
of blood red meat
hurled into the crowd of
gobbling Republicons
howling and yodeling
it’s derisive acclaim.
The rankled party line,
gibberish talking points
are hammer blows of
incessant propaganda,
so cocksure that any room for
doubt is crowded out by the
phantasmagorical McMansions
of hyperbole they ***** in
the pliant minds of their
gibbering minions.
The candidates preening for
president show off their
falangist affectations
in eager duels of oratorical
one upmanship; constantly
jockeying to outflank their
other Neo-Conmen opponents,
always concluding their brutish
diatribes with a solemn
denouement of a Republicon
psalm ending with a
Holy Hosanna Hallelujah
to the Ronald Reagan
Heavenly Buddha.
Punchline of the holy Amen
“what would Reagan do?”
to remind the faithful
to remain the faithful
bearers to the fiction
of dead Reaganism.
Evoking anything
Ron and Nancy
induces sanctioned
comportment of a
slow simmering
******* eubellence
providing a welcomed
relief of repressed
libidinal energy.
The mention of Goldwater
sends GOP acolytes to
pause in reverence,
envisioning Barry and
Ronnie looking down
from heaven upon the gathered,
inciting immediate ruminations
of falling dominos and
the viability of a
tactical nuke strike
against Ayatollah’s
underground
uranium factories.
The host of Neo-Conmen,
new age Falangist pitchmen
belch from the dais,
in ever increasing alacrity,
the stirring drum beats
and slick videos,
of glorious warriors
winning the battlefield
with the rippling glory
of the Stars and Stripes
flowing in a continual
loop behind them.
Romney,
Bachmann
Gingrich
take center stage,
goose stepping
to the roll of piercing timpanis.
Words slither
out of their mouths
like poisonous snakes.
Lies, hiss through
their teeth.
Open mouths
expose Black Mamba
fangs, dripping with venom.
Eyes squint
as their reptilian brains
implore the besieged
to flee from the
light of truth.
Seeking refuge in fear;
yet on the ready
to coil and strike;
while trembling
in ignorance,
exalting loathsomeness
worshiping violence;
they remain
poised to unleash
first strike armies;
boastfully evoking moral
platitudes of Bush Doctrine
prerogatives.
Trembling in ignorance
worshiping violence
exalting fear,
these dogs of war bay
to unleash armies
against the
Godless apostates
that threaten
to expose the
stasis of their
Capitalismo-Judeo-Christian
view of the world.
They have hijacked
the great faith traditions
to serve a narrow
political aim
and relish any
opportunity to
demonize Islam
in service to their lies.
Watch as they
they crouch down
on the dais to
open the nest
of vipers welling
deep within the
bowels of their souls.
They find relief
by excreting their
spawn of deadly asps
into the veins of
cable news networks;
scoring political points
with the terrorized
children of Faux News
capturing battalions
of straw men villains
to rise atop meaningless
straw polls.
They agitate for a second
American revolution
by injecting the venom
of fear and lies
into the body
politic.
Ron Paul
stands alone,
perplexed why
American's love
war as much as
they hate civil liberties?
Cheney and
Rumsfeld brood.
The people of
Iraq and Afghanistan
fail to embrace their armies
of liberation that run up
unfortunate collateral damage
body counts required to sustain
the American way of life.
Ever the defender of
democracy and liberty,
Gingrich slams Obama's
condemnation of Suleiman
"hes an able diplomat."
Gingrich forgot to add
that Suleiman is a
skilled torturer and
an able tyrant any self
serving democracy would
be proud to call ally and friend.
Cheney and Rumsfeld
remain flummoxed.
Their armies of liberation bogged
down in the marshy Blackwaters
of intractability; trying to solve
the conundrum of the diminished
equity returns of asymmetrical
warfare. Spinning the math
to justify building aircraft carriers
to **** a gnat.
The families of dead soldiers
surround them and wave dime
store flags hoping the plastic
eagle remains fixed atop the pole.
Perpetually smiling
Michele Bachmann
raises the specter
of Muslim Brotherhoods
taking over Egypt.
The persecution of Christians
and the escalating war on
Christianity have the Crusaders
up on their seats waving Excalibur
once again.
Gingrich pink cheeks
flush with the cash
of a Zionist casino
entrepreneur
doubles down, stacks
his chips high.
“The Israeli Embassy
in Cairo was overrun
by angry mobs.”
“Is this a precursor of
cancelling the peace treaty
signed with Sadat?”
“The pullout in Iraq hands the country to
radical Shiites effectively handing our
hard won victory to Iran.”
“Israel is threatened and will not
permit Iran to acquire nuclear
weapons. A nuclear empowered Iran
will not stand!”
“We mustn't let do nothing Obama
threaten the safety of our good ally
Israel.”
CPAC willingly holds the deadly asp
to the breast of a proud nation.
Urging, coaxing it to gently sink
its teeth into the sacred heart
of our dear republic...
John Lee ******
Crawlin King Snake
CPAC 2011
Matthew 23
Brood of Vipers
jbm
Oakland
2/10/11
James Bradley McCallum
Nov 2015
cable news video brilliantly captures
the blood washing Parisian gutters
glittering in City of Lights sparkle
images of carnage coagulate in my mind
clotting my heart with searing resent
in desperate need for release
from the abject scorn
that boils within my veins
I flip the channel to
watch a Predator marathon
but light entertainment
fails to satiate my restive soul
I turn down the volume
and click back to News
My iPod is audio ready
to soothe the savage beast
with some righteous death metal
I blast my earbuds,
Culture of Death's new CD
prepares me for real action
ever at the ready
digital recreation
has me *******
my controller
mustering up my
Call of Duty
comrades
I am a recognized
high score battlefield hero
taking out godless apostates
in the global war on terrorism
I'm usually eager to
baptize Iraqi jihadis in a
Holy Ghosting
bloodbath
but tonight
Black Ops kills
fails to thrill
my controller and I
stand down
opening the gun case
I cradle my Bushmaster
the smooth barrel and rugged stock
feels so right in my hand
it pleasures me to know
I am one of the good guys with a gun
I relish the fear and respect
I garner during open carry
troops to McDonalds
the hairs on the back of my neck
sometimes titillatingly rise
one day I hope to
take out an active shooter
at a movie or the supermarket
that would be way cool
I place my Bushmaster
back into the cabinet
and carefully rearrange
one of my Glocks
yet even with this
considerable armory
I still feel insecure
it may be time
for a trip to Walmart
to secure another Glock
*** more ammo
my heart recovers a bit when
I think about tomorrows recon trip
to my tree stand in the Jersey Highlands
Bear season starts soon
for the past few weeks
I've baited the area with
Dunkin Donuts and bacon grease
I've detected lots of bear ****
can't wait to drop one of those suckers
I visualize one in my gun sights
should be easy pickens
my CD ends with
some real raucous ****
removing my earbuds
I turn up the volume
on the News
footage from last summer's
Black Lives Matter demonstration
runs in continuous loop
members of the
New Black Panther Party
are yelling into the camera
a woman in a black burka
her eyes squinting angrily at me
from underneath her cover
sends shivers up my spine
when we take our country back
they will be served some
Second Amendment justice
News flashes Ted Cruz
condemning Muslim
refugee resettlement,
in a Christian Nation
only Christians should be
allowed in...
News breaks back to footage
from the concert venue
highlighting the
blood stained mosh pit
News flashes ISIS Jihadis
riding in Humvee's
routing the fleeing
Iraqi army once again
News highlights a smiling Putin
firing off Caspian Sea cruise missiles
into the bleeding Levant
examples of decisive leadership,
if only Obama could grow a pair
News flashes to a Rose Garden Obama
bragging about killing Jihad Johnny
the drone strikes and
active bombing campaigns in:
Syria
Iraq
Libya
Somalia
Nigeria
Mali
Yemen
Sinai
Afghanistan
Kenya
Congo
and other unspecified locations
are working says the Muslim Prez
By the looks of Paris
any real American Patriot
would think not
we need to send a message
a quick strike fix
some major shock and awe
to placate a nations troubled soul
if that offends any Christian
turn the other cheek
wimp, so be it
I say go
Old Timey Testament on their ***
let our vengeance is mine God
**** them all
**** them all
**** them all
Culture of Death:
Cystic Dysentery
Barry McGuire:
Eve of Destruction
The Doors:
The End
jbm
11/17/15
Newark
the blood washing Parisian gutters
glittering in City of Lights sparkle
images of carnage coagulate in my mind
clotting my heart with searing resent
in desperate need for release
from the abject scorn
that boils within my veins
I flip the channel to
watch a Predator marathon
but light entertainment
fails to satiate my restive soul
I turn down the volume
and click back to News
My iPod is audio ready
to soothe the savage beast
with some righteous death metal
I blast my earbuds,
Culture of Death's new CD
prepares me for real action
ever at the ready
digital recreation
has me *******
my controller
mustering up my
Call of Duty
comrades
I am a recognized
high score battlefield hero
taking out godless apostates
in the global war on terrorism
I'm usually eager to
baptize Iraqi jihadis in a
Holy Ghosting
bloodbath
but tonight
Black Ops kills
fails to thrill
my controller and I
stand down
opening the gun case
I cradle my Bushmaster
the smooth barrel and rugged stock
feels so right in my hand
it pleasures me to know
I am one of the good guys with a gun
I relish the fear and respect
I garner during open carry
troops to McDonalds
the hairs on the back of my neck
sometimes titillatingly rise
one day I hope to
take out an active shooter
at a movie or the supermarket
that would be way cool
I place my Bushmaster
back into the cabinet
and carefully rearrange
one of my Glocks
yet even with this
considerable armory
I still feel insecure
it may be time
for a trip to Walmart
to secure another Glock
*** more ammo
my heart recovers a bit when
I think about tomorrows recon trip
to my tree stand in the Jersey Highlands
Bear season starts soon
for the past few weeks
I've baited the area with
Dunkin Donuts and bacon grease
I've detected lots of bear ****
can't wait to drop one of those suckers
I visualize one in my gun sights
should be easy pickens
my CD ends with
some real raucous ****
removing my earbuds
I turn up the volume
on the News
footage from last summer's
Black Lives Matter demonstration
runs in continuous loop
members of the
New Black Panther Party
are yelling into the camera
a woman in a black burka
her eyes squinting angrily at me
from underneath her cover
sends shivers up my spine
when we take our country back
they will be served some
Second Amendment justice
News flashes Ted Cruz
condemning Muslim
refugee resettlement,
in a Christian Nation
only Christians should be
allowed in...
News breaks back to footage
from the concert venue
highlighting the
blood stained mosh pit
News flashes ISIS Jihadis
riding in Humvee's
routing the fleeing
Iraqi army once again
News highlights a smiling Putin
firing off Caspian Sea cruise missiles
into the bleeding Levant
examples of decisive leadership,
if only Obama could grow a pair
News flashes to a Rose Garden Obama
bragging about killing Jihad Johnny
the drone strikes and
active bombing campaigns in:
Syria
Iraq
Libya
Somalia
Nigeria
Mali
Yemen
Sinai
Afghanistan
Kenya
Congo
and other unspecified locations
are working says the Muslim Prez
By the looks of Paris
any real American Patriot
would think not
we need to send a message
a quick strike fix
some major shock and awe
to placate a nations troubled soul
if that offends any Christian
turn the other cheek
wimp, so be it
I say go
Old Timey Testament on their ***
let our vengeance is mine God
**** them all
**** them all
**** them all
Culture of Death:
Cystic Dysentery
Barry McGuire:
Eve of Destruction
The Doors:
The End
jbm
11/17/15
Newark
lots of hate going round since the murderous tragedy in Paris....
let cooler heads prevail.....
be still and know that I am God....
let cooler heads prevail.....
be still and know that I am God....