Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
DJ Thomas  May 2010
Gift Wrapped
DJ Thomas May 2010
We each have a voice and life, it is how we use them not how we might!  

Stop glaciers melting
Huge population movements
Death of progeny


The small reductions in carbon emissions being targeted for 2020 or 2050 - are thought to little to late to slow global warming.  The melting polar ice and glaciers together with our changing weather patterns are now fact. The resulting loss of river systems and rising sea levels will mean the desertification or flooding of agricultural lands and famine, then the migration of populations - starting with the skilled and rich seeking safety, to escalate into the terror of armed bands
warring over water, food, women and land.

By 20 20
Lets hope for twenty twenty
A 20 20


There is now the thought that the huge physical change wrought by global warming can be charted by the escalation in earthquake and volcanic activity.  And that this may eventually trigger huge eruptions in the American and Asian continents,
destroying civilisations to create a planetary volcanic winter.

Again fire and cold
The cycle repeats itself
Destroying nature


Was there a civilisation in deep history before the flood, prior to and during the last ice-age?
This has been researched and written about in great detail during the last twenty years
and many now believe it already proven by scientific review of documents and
thousands of archaeological finds, also by scientists having used the exactness
in the astronomical alignments of ancient monuments
to recalculate there greater age.  

Dead sold souls herd us
Lost mindless finger puppets
Vapid witless words


Sadly, the majority put their reliance and faith in
the actions of lawyer-ed politicians, most of whom evidence
a fixation on their own welfare,  selfish self-glorification needs
and an unwillingness to rock-the-boat once in power*

Politicians thwart
Party politics deafen
Propaganda’s herd


Putting off all radical action required until after the next election.  
Many have gifted away the necessary legal control and power to take national radical action
to a political or trade grouping of nations - in effect retaining only national rights
to go to war, put up taxes, borrow and spend monies.

Please no rhetoric
Complete local transition
Forget politics


We each have a voice and life, it is how we use them not how we might!

Living we give voice
So one voice might yet be heard
All being, believe!


We are left holding our eco-inheritance and children’s future in the palm of our hand.
Please let our love and imagination drive us each forward to make change.


Biosphere a greenhouse 
Target the impossible
Please gift some life soon?


So, we each of us have hard personal choices to make, which will encompass both positive and negative
benefits in terms of our time, lifestyle, health and wealth.  I chose to base my choices solely on how it
might benefit the eco-system and the lives of our children.

My choices are grouped under five headings: transport, food, home, lifestyle and further action. They are:
-  

Transport: Rail; Bus; Coach; Bike;
(I pass woods in bud - a Red Kite hunting twisting, unhurried moments).  
To give up ownership of electric / motor vehicles
and to avoid air travel where possible.


Highly vaporous.
Emissions farting -
barrelling vipers
.

Food: To eat meat/fish only once a week at most;
(Slaughteramas greed - industrial carcase-ed meals. Sheep full of cancer)
To study fast methods of vegetarian cooking; buy local organic foodstuffs;
visit local farmers markets and farm shops; grow my own when possible
and help friends establish vegetable/herb gardens.
To not ever feed, cleave and eat!


Fat shopaholics,
a deadly consumerism.
Cancers meat to eat


Home:   A cottage sized for me, friends and neighbours,
overlooking a wooded valley and trout stream.
Like me a little untidy and basic
.

Crossing the shallows
trout fingerling feed at dawn
White dots steep hill path

Dusk - eight painted queue
river paired mare and foal
Foliage lined dark black


Well positioned to capture the morning sun, airy and light.  
Yet insulated to stay cool or warm. With easy access to mountain bike trails
and long distance bus routes, plus several end-of-line train stations
in energetic cycling distance over the mountains


A differing beat
Quickly fading doubled steps -
pulling separate


Life Style:* A thinking poet mountain biker, living organic
not part of the great noisious noxious ribbons of hurtling tired.

Pressured paced life -
impossible  commitments.
Organic living


Further Action: *I intend to give up meat not because of the terrible cruelty involved in ten billion or more animals
being slaughtered every year to feed the human race, but due to
: 1)  animal farming being a major factor in the burning of 50 million year old rainforests at a rate of one and half acres per second to generate huge volumes of greenhouse gases, destroying the richest habitats on Earth and a principal source of oxygen; and 2)  that these billions of farmed animals
are themselves a major source of greenhouse gases
.

Burning rainforests
Feeding to cleave open and eat
Subsistence farming


With ongoing intensive fishing, the world's fisheries already in crisis and climate change,
it could be that we will run out of wild-caught seafood much earlier than 2030!


Conserve energy -
and natural resources
Don’t waste foolishly


Each of us might have a different view of what globalisation is,
for some this word encapsulates the dangers of our global fast food culture, omnipresent brands,
popular culture, changing diets and the growing use of packaged processed foods
.

Freedom to act sought
Globalisation's curses
Octopus suckers!


For many it is the illegal international trade in endangered species of flora and fauna,  
second only in value to the $350 billion a year global drug trafficking trade that now services
perhaps more than 50 million regular users of ******, ******* and synthetic drugs
.

The label 'globalization' can cover the: spread and integration of different cultures;  
industry moving to low per capita income countries; sweatshops supplying this seasons branded goods
to retail outlets worldwide;  complex international interleaved financial trading instruments being developed
by banks and financial institutions to trade worldwide, create profits and pay huge bonuses, without risk to themselves
.

Globalisation -
orchestrated profiteers,
betting our losses


Many see globalisation as being the beneficial spread of free trade, liberty, democracy and capitalism,
involving the efficient allocation of resources and capital through the spread of technology.
Unelected international bodies and institutions such the World Bank actively promulgate globalisation,
a '‘world government’ promoting close economic ties between nations
.

Enculturation
Our sad indoctrination
Globalization
  

The anti-globalisation movements dislike the corporate and political nature of globalisation,
protesting the resultant harm done to the biosphere, a more rapid and extensive deterioration of the environment
and the unintended but very real consequences of globalisation: the erosion of traditional culture
resulting in social disintegration; a breakdown of democracy; the spread of new diseases;
changes in diet; increasing poverty.
.

I view globalisation and it's propagation as leading to the final destruction
of the world's cultures and civilisations by locked us into a
dogmatic world political doctrine secured through
trade and political alliances of states, institutions
and corporations that remain hell bent on
imposing this world governance. Such
that individual countries governments
cannot consider making substantive
radical change to avert the planet
being pushed into a natural cycle
that will end the human race
.

Caged in Fools World
The people hear heroic call  
Each one a hero
!

The peoples and cultures of the world need perhaps just one western country to
break the legal chains of globalisation and adopt a radical economic regeneration program
designed to make the total transition to a dynamic culture of localised
clean communities centred on the individual not competition*  

Only one tool
National taxation for -
economic change.


Here I begin discussing how global, regional and national economies might
be based on the growth of small organic local economies.
not the repeated foolishness involved in chasing lower cost base manufacture -
each time at great cost to the economy it has migrated from!
Then a further culture becoming totally reliant
on the transport of foodstuffs and goods -
I can here you saying
:

"Oh **** this guy is -
talking about change, changing -
the world we live in!"


Yes, I am and do we have a choice?  But such change will be organic and involve business
in the restructuring and regeneration of economies till we share green economies.  
In small part his is already happening slowly!


Unlock taxation,  
survivals powerful tool.  
Needed now for change!


This is why we need to consider doing something that many of today's
plutocrats, economists, bureaucrats and politicians, would dismiss out of hand or
discuss endlessly in terms of perfectly competitive markets, perverse economic incentives etc


Major solution
National taxation change
Human extinction



WORK in HAND

This haiku sequenced eco-haibun is an ongoing project being penned day-by-day by many that care and take action. Your reactions are all welcome, thank you


**Take back control now.  
Cease all squabbling, achieve act - decisively!

Globalisation's, global control cut away.
Diversity sought

Promote well being.  Act with imagination -
for ecology!

Creating employment -
with local utilities, local food and transport

Incentivise tax,  to create local benefits.
Gain prosperity

Income taxation -  value added tax, aged -
dangerous mistake

Local licensing.  Lead don't follow excuses.
Saviour taxation

Imaginative - energy, food and transport -
local licensing

An alternative - energetic strategy,
greening business

Organic foodstuffs - out compete processed food.
Life promoting health

Healthy government - a healthy population. 
Zero income tax!

Locally taxed - by distance it travelled -
and category

Products bar coded.  Point of agreed production -
and category

Local added tax, by distance it travelled -
and category

Local energy, initiatives supplant.  
Replacing at risk

User energy, capture and storage.  
Eco-dwelling plan

Local water works,  supplanting initiative.
Replace the at risk

User water need.  Capturing and storing half.
Securing supply

Communications, local initiatives.
Protecting our needs

Local healthy food, life saving initiative.
Planting guaranteed

Sort unemployment, local work available.
Agriculture base

Radical transport - initiatives needed.
Change made possible

Season’s colours blur - in ageing contemplation
chilling warm breezes

Ganges dried mud - dust
Armed hungry thirsty tide
Generations despair,  lost

Our politicians -
squabble condemn progeny.
Flee panic and die

HAIKU SEQUENCE FINISHED

HAIBUN PROSE BEING ADDED
Day by Day
This haiku sequenced eco-haibun needs prose and additional haiku added day by day.  Contributing comment and reactions considered for inclusion...

copyright©DJThomas@inbox.com 2010
a  May 2015
bedroom
a May 2015
the double-glaze and blackout curtains shield me
from the world's uncertainty.
the panes of glass so sure not to allow its overside to retreat and
seep its liquid coldness to reach me. it's neither
cold nor warm at the touch, unlike me.
i am protected by the double gaze and blackout curtains but
some force that differs from the one that is currently causing
the tree outside sway dangerously close to my perch is
causing my mind and body to be insulated
by a layer of ice.
goosebumps prickle and my arm and leg stubble
raise themselves.
but my mind does not provide for itself thermoregulatory
reflexes, i
must withstand the shiver of my memories.
Dogs take new friends abruptly and by smell,
Cats' meetings are neat, tactual, caressive.
Monkeys exchange their fleas before they speak.
Snakes, no doubt, coil by coil reach mutual knowledge.

We then, at first encounter, should be silent;
Not court the cortex but the epidermis;
Not work from inside out but outside in;
Discover each other's flesh, its scent and texture;
Familiarize the sinews and the nerve-ends,
The hands, the hair - before the inept lips open.

Instead of which we are resonant, explicit.
Our words like windows intercept our meaning.
Our four eyes fence and flinch and awkwardly
Wince into shadow, slide oblique to ambush.
Hands stir, retract. The pulse is insulated.
Blood is turned inwards, lonely; skin unhappy ...
While always under all, but interrupted,
Antennae stretch ... waver ... and almost ... touch.
MJL Apr 2019
Tibetan Brimstone butterflies wave wings madly at their paradise valley
In the beginning, before the beginning, and in the beginning
Their shaken snow globe makes them flutter in wild exuberance
As they reveal a mountain, then no mountain, then Kunlun again
Peace, followed by chaos, and then by peace
Mother Luna's kaleidoscope of enlightenment
Protected by the hooded one
Holds all worlds and shakes the four seasons
Nothingness, creation, abiding, destruction
The wheel of time
Moves the wind as it’s blown by vast circles of water
Aqua marine is washed again by golden earth
And in the center, the great opal mountain song of La
Nature's peace
Beyond white leopard snows, icy winds, and empty husks of death
Butterflies are born again
Shambhala’s mindful beat opens passage for light through darkness
Poets squint and ride on wings toward the hidden sunset kingdom
Watching another world's Avalon alive beneath a blue moon
Insulated chrysalis of love for all seasons
A fisherman, a carpenter, a shepherd, a merchant, a caterpillar
Discover a lush, isolated, peach grove
Nosing thickly scented nectar and purple primrose honey
In the jade valley of the kings, queens, and beggars
They meditate under the Bodhi Tree
Deep brown ****** lines are carved into their soft olive skin
Smooth hands are made rough, and then smooth again
Young, then old, and then young once more
Wisdom setting beside Queen Spirit Mother of the West
Sharing a bowl of her rice milk in harmony
Being in the realm between man and nature as Kalachakra turns
For six years the caterpillar eats of fig
And then the wheel breaks for flight one last time
Radiating light as she sheds her glorious wings
Here, the snow globe explodes flying petals of wild exuberance
Revealing a mountain, then no mountain, then Kunlun again
Transcending all, turning tears into the suns joyful rays
As they rise, then set, and then rise again
Nirvana
Beyond our Lost Horizon


© 2019 MJL
I loved the 1939 movie, Lost Horizon, and it's story of Shangri-La. It drove some interest in reading about Buddhism... Could we be butterflies reborn? How wonderful that would be... Young then old, then young again. All at once nature and man, one with our universe. Those who seek wisdom find salvation... The caterpillar here is a beggar who finds ascension. Cycles represent the wings flapping. There are also references to universal religious themes.
Joeysguy Aug 2014
Why I Volunteer at Meals on Wheels
By Joeysguy

Why I volunteer at Meals on Wheels,
I do it to help people receive meals.

I had to get a photo id
This is for the people’s safety

At first I thought of it as just something to do
After that first day I realized that wasn’t true

I deliver a meal to the elderly and I do it with care
Some of the elderly may be in a wheelchair

The hot food is carried in a hot insulated bag
The cold food is carried in a cold insulated bag

It’s a good feeling to volunteer  
The people appreciate that we care

I knock at the door and yell hello
I also check on them before I go

A stranger had said to me, thank you
She was thanking me for what I do

It’s a good feeling to volunteer
This is something we Americans do to show we care
Graff1980 Dec 2014
1.
Such vehemence
For immigrants
Border patrol
Vigilance
I never knew
A human being
Could be illegal

2.
A child should never be taught to hate
And human beings must never be insulated
Or inoculated against the horrors of war


3.
There is no liberation in this economy
Debt is a slower and slightly grayer
Variation of slavery
No more cotton fields but prison labor
Tell me where is our great modern emancipator?
I’ll split the hairs, I’ll split an atom
And never leave the bedroom.
I most identify with December,
Not because of the crushing temperature
But the lack of cosmic dawdling
Is no more mesmerizing than a frozen phoenix.

And as she arrives by train from Phoenix,
I study who she appears to be, the atoms
Composing her auburn hair with dawdling
Authenticity shout “Take me to the bedroom!”
While the wedge of geese in this temperature
Head to the Southern Hemisphere’s December.

The common chill of this morning in December
Prevents us from rising from out the covers like a phoenix,
And our blankets like ash defend us from the temperature
That stills the vibrations of the atmosphere’s atoms.
I curse the insulated walls of the bedroom,
Trapping in heat and discouraging our dawdling.

A rafter of turkeys outside my window are dawdling,
Printing their runes on the documents of December
Between the thickets surrounding the bedroom
While the sun, golden like the plumage of a phoenix,
Awakens in my bones every dormant atom,
Instilling in me courage to brave the temperature.

I follow her, dressed, from the bedroom
And her footsteps serve to punctuate the temperature
Like the smoldering beak of a phoenix
Too busy being risen for dawdling.
She leaves, by train through the chill of December,
Me daydreaming of fission. The splitting of an atom.

I’ll split an atom daily, safely within the bedroom
And sleep through December’s pitiless, hollow temperature,
Waking only for dawdling until Spring is a phoenix.
James Nigh Nov 2011
i’m not afraid of blood and guts
but am of the notion of separation
perspicacity’s domain is under my shoe
where adoration once lived
but it was late on the rent.

the doubts recede back into the ontology they sprang from
a paradox not unlike verbiage and emotion
tied together with razor wire and feathers.

i’m playing a hand of poker
where the cards are made of shame, disgust and jealousy.
the king’s looking at the queen with disdain
and furrowed eyebrows
he plans on uxoricide in her sleep.
it’s her fault for not saying “good night"
when i drew a pair of aces.
the jack and the joker are plotting raiding the medicine cabinet tonight.

but chemicals have failed us.
everything has.

we only find solace in the prayers of children
and the rain.

comforts that we once cherished
now have sharp teeth
and will lacerate you
before the sun sets.

a sick kind of lycanthropy
turns ex-lovers’ blood
into gasoline.
but we still sat on the porch and drank it
as solar flares bounced off our hips
and turned altruists into hypocrites
sweet, honest mistresses into liars
and vegetarians into fire eaters.

not much of a difference, you say?
well, the jacks have turned on one another.
it’s a battle of epic proportions
and the queen woke up just in time to slay the king.

the kingdom is in chaos.
while we weren’t looking
the peddlers turned into cannibals
and the priests now feast on peace
and tranquility.

a young, beautiful maiden
asked me to dance in the street
but i said it was too loud.

our imaginary children have been forsaken
by forgotten gods
and the beautiful music we were going to dance to
is just static.

was it always this way?
maybe we were just blinded by wanton hopes and long abandoned desires.

or maybe the king really killed the queen.

it’s darker now
and the sheep have turned in.
so have the cats and dogs and birds and plants.

but i’m still playing poker
and the static fills my head
bereft of any plans of retreat.

pride is not without a mighty downfall
nor is confidence without cracks in the tinted glass.

we all fall down.
some just more than others.

but you can only dig your hole 6 feet until the dirt comes back on top
and sometimes you can never clean it from under your nails.
and it is sentient.
it patiently collects there for days, months, even years
until it decides to strike
enveloping and suffocating
in a whirlwind of pent up rage and violence.

the children are gone
the laughter is gone
and the joy too.
the birds are without song
and the trees are without leaves
and love does not stay.

she has given up the fight.

i walk to the window.
it’s pitch black
because there is no moon.
it has deserted me along with all my
friends, lovers, acquaintances and guardian angel.
i think they’re all at a bar
making jokes and laughing at my expense.

it’s absolute zero outside.
i’m insulated by bitterness, sarcasm and apathy.
the girls stay warm
in facades
of trust, loyalty and love.

i sit back down
to play another hand
but something happens.

the kings, queens and jacks
are whispering and conspiring
shifty eyes, toothy grins
and all.

as i flip through them,
they begin making small paper cuts on my fingertips.
it doesn’t bother me
at first
but before i know it
they are moving up my arms.
not pain, just stinging.

then i’m in a state of complete paralysis.
i can’t brush them off or run outside.
i’m laying on my back
on the floor.
every time i muster a laugh
they go deeper.

they’re at my shoulders now
working their way down
at a 45 degree angle.

i know where they’re headed.

i forgot my heart is by my knees
but they can smell it

they keep working down my body
and each cut hurts more.
by the time they get to my thighs
it’s excruciating.

i mentally scream
for a God
who isn’t there
but i have a plan.

two more seconds
and i will will my heart
to stop beating
my lungs to stop pumping.

i begin to fade out
and my last vision
is one of them
maniacally frenzied
and beating at each other
in the air.

then

just blackness.

the abyss is looking back at me
and it doesn’t like what it sees.

i have saved my perfect mistake for last.
Mateuš Conrad Aug 2016
that's a trinity of nouns in that one symbol 0,
that rhombus to a square (omicron) -
zero, nought, oh... and then there's fifteen-love
in tennis, and also nil - so that's more than
a trinity... never mind...

i know why Islam is attacking, a scene from
Hellraiser Hell on Earth, the church scene dialogue:
- my child, what's the matter, what on earth's the matter?
- i have to get back to my apartment, back to the window,
  but they just keep coming, they just keep coming!
- who keeps coming?
- the demons! the demons!
- demons? demons aren't real; they're parables, metaphors.
- then(,) what(,) the(,) ****(,) is(,) that?!

shows you how much people over-read the unearthing
of the Nag Hammadi library in Egypt,
simultaneously with the unearthing of the Isaiah script
after he was cut in half... so i guess this is a competition:
getting crucified (with so many eager Philippine Phillips
eager to address the Olympic record of a day on
the crucifix) - oh wait... didn't the saviour travel to Egypt
in fear of Herod? funny we should find the unorthodox
and therefore more prescriptive writings there...
all hell broke loose in psychiatry in the 1960s...
we had R.D. Laing cite the gospel of St. Thomas...
it's like that Hellraiser narrative... people really took it
seriously... a final testimony of mankind...
the Order of the Templar's Idol: the Bahomet -
that's why Islam is attacking... oh forget the king controlling
the pawns... Iranian women are having none of it...
they're mobilising pawns as we speak, day by day...
every single ******* day... they're mobilising men
against the abomination... supported quiet clearly
by a fear of striking emotion with language...
in Oxford, just recently, there was a ban on denoting
social status of Mr. and Ms., i too would have favoured
the idea of demonic possession, and the joke of the
town is transgender... for whatever feminism does,
it's insulted under the horse's galloping hoof and a
statement by the suffragette: Emily Davison -
she's being insulated... you little ******* are playing
the puppets of Iranian women, that's why you can't see them!
under their niqabs they're playing the boss...
who gives a **** whether they drive their cars!
do i have to be the ******* Greek around here?
ever talk to a woman about homosexuality over a glass of wine?
no, i bet you haven't... prostitution ain't that bad, after all...
but talk to a woman high on ******* about transgender...
see where civilisation ends up at... it won't be chess...
it'll be chess with a blind man, changing the rooks...
you can't be that ******* gullible, but you are, so i'll continue...
these are acts perpetuated by men by argument of women...
they're attacking Christendom (forget western culture,
that's pig ******* deep fried gone and dusted with
Trump as with Ronald Reagan)...
they're attacking because when the library of non-orthodox
Christianity emerged, it was like the Soviet Union
collapsing: a wild west... sure we lost a few good women
to the slavery of the brothel... but in return we learned to
make people obedient in being wrong... can't go
against archaeology... sure... shift the pyramids just a little
to the east and you'll get Auschwitz chimneys puffing...
hell, you might even get the wild idea of the hanging gardens
materialised.
so with that demon story... i'm starting to look at it:
well, thank **** for feminism, but, wait, oh, the insult...
the slap in the face... and then the defence mechanism
of politically correct speech... the transgender movement...
to me that's a perfect safety mechanism for Islam to attack...
this is Christianity 2.0... this is neglecting poetry,
this is the necessary ambiguity of language...
given that people are actually practising trans-gender
ergonomics rather than saying: well, if ambiguity has a case...
i'll just wear a t-shirt... but no! but no! castrate the *******
and send him off to Siberia! you know that Islam
is perpetuating war because of this, Islamic women are
laughing at us... one was noted for the childish example
of tongue-out-of-cheek pointing beneath the veil: hell bound.
the Jews of Europe never made use of political
correctness in the realm of speech - but we don't
have Jews in Europe, America is thriving,
we're stuck with Muslims teaching us German guilt...
i'm not French, nor the mythological Swede kept neutral
even though receiving parts of the Marshall Plan
rejuvenation program of the war torn parts...
the part of me with Mongol just says: well,
Golgotha Pyramid of Baghdad - later known as
the Laughing Cranium Dynamo of Baghdad.
but they really did take the metaphors too literally...
just read the Gospel of Thomas...
it's all there, trans-gender and lubrication -
defending trans-gender rights just insults women,
those in favour of defeating the western cause are obvious...
all that care for feminism gets the cold-salmon fillet slap
across the case... get the **** back into the water!
king in chess a mere cameo extension of pawn -
queen in chess a marooned combination of bishop rook and knight -
or the ****** diversity, mantis and black widow,
the abstract, looking down onto a board...
but in the mammalian realm? the reverse...
oh ****** i'll mobiles... fascism against fascism...
i'm looking up... and what i see i see as what Horace said
to me in the 21st version of the Diverting Comedy -

vivere si recte nescis, decede peritis.
Lusisti satis, edisti satis atque bibisti:
tempus abire tibi est, ne potum lagrius aequo
rideat et pulset lasciva decetius aetas.

                 (you alone bring no bettering of life,
allow others to live, who can beyond your incompetence
to likewise aim at the laurel crown of economic competence
of mortality. you have used enough of allowances:
you ate aplenty, drank aplenty, it's time to go,
so that the hasty youth of what's to be drank, ahead,
for the good per se, not ridicule nor ordained itself better)
.

well, i'd put Bukowski with Horace as alike...
maybe that's why i chose Horace, above Virgil, Ovid
or Homer... it's the ******* drinking, the honesty of
drunks... as sober men we're nothing more than lost cabarets...
but i am seriously about the above cited Horace...
no matter what feminism does to women right now,
in the economic realm... equal pay and what not...
women are doubly insulted, a frame of mind from
neglecting reading poetry, where poetry could have
incubated words into an internal reality of speaking
about femininity and masculinity, we're talking
real, the Ten Plagues & Transgender... the ****'s that about?
that famous citation found in Spinoza's Theological-Political
Treatise, chapter 14 (faith and philosophy), aphorism
no. 12... god and the trumpets and Mt. Sinai...
concerning? the voice of god gave the Israelite audience no
philosophical or mathematical certainty about
the diabolical "certainty" of the Catholic omni-plus
geometric and quizzical knowing of dates and time differences
between Moscow and the Galapagos islands...
well, never mind that reference... i'm frightened that we're
actually hearing the moaning and groaning from Golgotha
just now... when poetry dies... and people take religiously
indoctrinated language without keen interest in poetry... hell spawns...
at the moment it seems the re-establishment of Israel
is working miracles against the Valley of the Shadow of Death
that Europe represents to the Jew's memory...
and in that Koranic reference, Jesus is the Messiah...
what, with a few of our men attempting metaphysical
acrobatics in the genital region? why not?! added to boot
France tickling the guillotine with its tongue.
W A Marshall Apr 2014
by: William A. Marshall


I stepped off the world
today,
off the broken streets
that winter has damaged
and municipal assessments
off the political gluttons
and performative marks
off the know-it-alls
and wild dogs roving around
with their ****
noses in the air
it’s not pretty
they cover what they don’t know
so that they look good
I head back down the dark hallway
to get a more primitive angle
off of privileged confidence
they are vulnerable
basic caretakers pursuing opulent corsages
to free them from their anxious quotas
and ******* rules
telling me how to wipe my ***
and how to use baby wipes
jointly acting like they run things
from their phony utilitarian bus stop
and cutting-edge applications
their personal band plays a cheerful tune
in the background
as they search for a bigger
advantage and more likes
even though we all share the same horror
youth is about mistakes
and making money
and choices with one eye here and now
the other eye on prevalent professions
students and maintenance men
bureaucratic puppets and academics
farmers and auditors
sales greasers and coaches
writers and board members
somewhere they end up there
carrying a liability
and it creates a vibration in my foxhole
but right in here baby
deep down within me
inside my tomb
I transfer to a silent
place away from
rambling rotting fungus
I step off of it
not always methodically
and then back into faults
and louse packs
I can only assume my rock
that sits in my hole immobile
next to the ****** candy wipes
unless I push it up ontic peaks
nonbeing begins to doubt me
and grips part of you so don’t
think that it doesn’t
I cut it with my knife
obliquely
finding unfortunate contagions
and courage down in the vault of silence
it is there or it isn’t
it is what keeps my will interested
far from the ones moving rashly
without it you would leap from bridges
through minefields I remember
a certain detachment
an uneven and sick progression
paperwork and a number with
a D affixed to its file
the ceiling became the nightly norm
this plastic vacuum-packed
wedding gown made of white silk
made weird noises
in the back of my closet
like it was weeping
the kind of dress
only worn once
it smelled like her that closet
retelling me each time
I opened the private door
making fake crinkling sounds
an icon of pure young tenderness
love expense and faith
eventually cooked and burned  
but it is too early
those individuals that gloat in pictures
and dream about their prince
they are busy playing with
their hair and organic shoulder bags
driving around in furnished cars
the uncorrupted ones
constant courses to come and
subsequent interviews
nailed skintight dresses
soon to be colored sweet red
with danger competing
well you had better feel lucky
because when you plunge into
future swamplands
incompetence and repayment
of what to do with it
and how then to
fill up your cup
without spilling it
all over your soul
don’t tell me how
to live my **** life
now is your time
to reason and shake imperfection
interruptions
over and over
those that listen to your intrusiveness
false performances in chic coffee shops
it is not sustainable there
but you play the part to maintain
your chair in the cooperative
you will miss it
neglecting real evil
because you were talking too much
maintaining your image
Bradbury whispers
from the counter,
“You can't make people listen
they have to come round in
their own time wondering
what happened and why
the world blew up around them
it can't last.”
and numbness above nightly cocktails
distracted dub tracks
ultimately attending
hectic personnel meetings
in drenched swamps
spinning with heartless ***** jobs
unconcerned about safe comforts
two things balance them out
people and things
all part of it out there in the world
and they approach like a train
suffering shocks
unemotional images in chambers
some actually never return
from the beatings
but this isn’t the end
this is a commencement
for me
the forecast is water-resistant
they hurry snatching their
body spray and shower gel
on mirrored reflections
that scowl back at them
all alone there
in their glass steeple
family photos
thinking they have nurtured something
more than endless gossip
and ****** strains
much more important now
bent into independence
pausing with the approaching sunrise
as it splashes powerfully
inside their speculations
pride doesn’t care
if you think you are not puffed-up
at all you are
who in the hell are you kidding?
nothing to cling to
essential oilskins and manuscripts
credit problems
and autobiographical *** packed expressions
corner office windows
and diplomas
behind high-back chairs
trying to copy Sunday magazine’s
hottest statement
to fill up their life
a reminder just who the comics are
but it does not register
until that day
when it becomes intolerably vile
beneath wreckage
and burnt ruins
they find his
caring donation
clinched in the saviors grasp
jutting through burning garrisons
there is no truth more senior
than this truth here and now
but they can’t all be imparted
in this culturally planned folklore
I see them
when I am walking away
from the insulated bubble
down the street
like recruits in boot camp
and zealously rich parents
who send their youngsters
with luggage and loans
nearby like idols
salesman explaining things
as they nod like they are approving something
perhaps autonomy
from fathers and mothers
who stand with them astutely contemplating
the whole arrangement
they stare at the marble floor
I observe the run-through
the glittery entertainment
and documented departments
for happy pilgrims
who are insulated
for now
all of
America’s
gubmint hatin
yahoos, pining
to get their
country back,
should grab
yer rifles, stock
up on ammo
and giddy up
down  to Texas
to join the
secessionists
headin out
of the Union

Rick Perry
promises to
keep his promise
to close all the
gubmint departments
he can't remember
the names of

Ron Paul will
finally be liberated
from the tyranny
of his federal
paycheck and
can return to
his district to
practice medicine
unencumbered
by the acceptance
of medicare
payments

Ted Cruz will
move to coronate
his Cuban born
daddy as Viceroy
for life of the
western hemispheres
newest banana
republic

the last act of
of the Compartment
of Education will be
to turn every
public school
into a Holy Ghostin
Jehovah meetin
house

Judicial magistrates
will criminalize
poor people
or just make
them slaves
and all prisons
will be turned
into profit driven
plantations,
overseen by
the local
Sheriffs who
will be paid
time and a
half and 15%
of all profits

unfortunately
the Cowboy’s
will lose it’s
moniker as
America’s Team
if rattlesnake
booted
Jerry Jones
can’t make a
deal to turn
his stadium
into a sovereign
independent
territory as a
protectorate
of the USA

To assure
national purity
Texans will
build a Jericho
style wall to
define the boundaries
of their heavenly
kingdom and outlaw
all trumpet playing
within earshot
of their perturbed
borders

The Eyes of
Texas as the
state anthem
will need to
be reworded
The final stanza
will be changed
to "Until Gabriel
blows his nose"

keepin the ungodly
out and the chosen
people safely
insulated within
the shining
Lone Star State
will rise again
as a solitary
confederacy
of dunces

Music Selection:
The Eyes of Texas

Oakland
11/18/13
jbm
11/19/13 marks the 150th anniversary of Abraham Lincoln's Gettysburg Address... to hold the article of freedom in such disdain sickens me...

— The End —