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Zywa Jun 2019
I cut a hole to find a little
hole, water is flowing out
of the concrete, I cut in it
until I'm spent and then

I cut further, a bigger hole
in the concrete, sorry dear neighbours
sorry for your ceiling too
but there's a leak and I could cry

for I can't put my finger in it
everything is so well arranged
with pipes and working faucets
which I unfortunately have to close now

it's a problem for all of us
I don't give up, I don't want to
be the owner of a leak
the dikes must be plugged
For Magda Sosnowska #1

Europe

Collection “Half The Work”
Homunculus Jan 2021
**** if I know.
I scarcely understand much anymore.
I am but a puddle of coherent reminiscences
oozing across the floor into decoherence and
diffusing into maximum entropy.

We are in Hell:
all is Maya,
all is Mara,
all is Dukkha.
Yet, we are slaves
who love our chains.

And I am a lifeless, fetal,
**** economicus,
mortifying de rigeur
in the ossified skull of a
long forgotten **** sapien.

If only those kinship instincts could've
survived the havoc we've wrought.
Look at what we've done.
Look at what we do.

**** for money.
**** for oil.
**** for land.
**** for 'justice.'
**** for God
**** for 'the cause'
**** for the sake of killing,
and pave over what's left.

Leave a few trees and bushes for our
dystopic terrarium.
'Our Synthetic Environment,'
old Murray[1] called it.

Now, walk into the forest.
Be there. Stay there.
Do you feel it?
Any of this nonsense we call
'civilization'?

Or
is it that you feel something more. . .  
poignant?
More true?
To a point where our heated debates
appear as no more than frivolous diatribes?

When do we stop all this narrative solipsism
and get to the ******* point?
None of this is real.
Our thoughts are not our own.
Have they ever been?

The Spectacle [2] reigns supreme
as we idle spectators
speculate idly upon it.

Borges's fable of the cartographers [3]
has reached its apotheosis,
and we are its unwilling
and unwitting victims. . . .
A bit too much wine is the culprit here, I suspect.

1: Murray Bookchin, radical social theorist and major figure in the ecology movement.
2: "In societies where modern conditions of production prevail, all of life presents itself as an immense accumulation of spectacles. Everything that was directly lived has moved away into a representation." - Guy Debord, Society of the Spectacle, 1967
3: The Borges story, credited fictionally as a quotation from "Suárez Miranda, Viajes de varones prudentes, Libro IV, Cap. XLV, Lérida, 1658", imagines an empire where the science of cartography becomes so exact that only a map on the same scale as the empire itself will suffice. [source: Wikipedia]
GQ James Dec 2020
Why hate on me when you can love on me,
The hate is getting deeper and deeper,
You don't wanna see me win,
Only happy when I'm down bad,
The way we treat one another is just sad,
We are brothers and sisters,
Let's make a friend instead being enemies.

It ain't gotta be so animosity between us,
Let's get along and not go to war,
Put the guns down and pick up the bible,
Homicides increasing,
Economy decreasing,
Let's create a new season.

The community bleeding,
Let's stop the bleeding,
Why your family starving and you eating,
Let's all eat and break break together,
Let's stand together,
Stop the separation.

It's a war zone out here in America,
We some animals in this jungle,
Caged in,
Locked up,
Throw the key away like we ain't humans,
We humans so let's stop acting animals,
We are better than the how the world see us.
THE HATE GETTING CRAZY.
Zywa Sep 2020
Blockages at work
outages and oxygen deficiency
waste in the blood

The management focuses
on the future and closes
doors and windows against
mosquitoes and moths

Bypasses and bitter pills
do not help, so just one more
reorganization

We have meetings, hear each other
cackle, we croak our croak
play for time and hope and celebrate
the colleagues who say goodbye

I don't postpone it anymore
I will make my own way
create my own failure

My hands are still cleaning up
but my head is already absent
and I make beds in my heart
for those who are dear to me
Collection “Mosaic virus”
Arcassin B Jul 2020
By Arcassin B

Stupid to believe that everything will be alright,
stupid to believe that our people will stand and fight,
stupid to believe that the state will get better,
stupid I believe the most high carrie's us through weathers,
but whatever forget what my belief system is,
you don't have to tell me that I'm crazy or tell me
that I didn't pass high school just to show that whatever that
I tell you is a conspiracy,
even if i was a scholar you wouldn't believe in me,
I remember days where I didn't believe anything,
not the end of the world,
still don't believe in good love and wedding rings,
I believe in manifesting things,
so while you sit there collect depressing thoughts,
I let my mind sing,
my third eye ain't awake , I don't see nothing,
I'm probably blind like the rest, over nothing.




©abpoetry2020
http://arcassin.blogspot.com/2020/07/i-dont-see-nothing.html
C F Tinney Jul 2020
I dress up and smile
and treat you like I love you

You eat it up
and feel worth

but if I met you in the street
I would could ignore you

It's only because you meet me at my job
my 9-5
that I have to act like you are worth everything

When I come to your 9-5
you have to do the same

As though we are not men and women
we play this sacred game.

If I saw you in the street
I would ignore you

But when you come to my 9-5
I must adore you

Or risk getting my pay
so I can eat and live and be

This dance of men and women
this capitalistic ritual
that makes the world turn
and kills the inner being
of those who dance
for each other

It is a lie
Anais Vionet Jun 2020
American citizens in “bread-lines” to get little boxes of food. How desperate do you have to be to join that line? The sad, generous, little boxes of nutrition. We are all human, we all need our next breath and our children’s next meal. We all need shelter.

It’s a carnival of pleasure to mock human need. Tell me my mistake.

Watch our President’s Daily Briefing. He doesn’t mention bread-lines. He chooses not to. How counterfeit is his competence. No “fire side chat”, no promise of hope. How mean is this fat, grubby, “rich” man who s*s on golden toilet seats and ignores starving Americans’ desperation.

The tyrant’s plea, as the collapse begins, is “I’m not responsible”. Tell me my mistake.

We have lost our immeasurable strength. We are become callous. We are robbed, of our better, more generous selves by narrow focus, by zero sum greed. Our collapse will be just, like verse set down in primitive times when the margin of error was clear and understood.

It’s a calm discrimination to choose carelessness. Tell me my mistake.

This unfolding viral nightmare is but one of the fires along the tree line. The encroaching environmental disaster, the loss of our political system’s integrity, the militarization of police racism.

Maybe China will do better - if I’m reading my score card correctly, it looks like they’re up next as the world’s great superpower.
about the corona virus response - and other things - like Trump
Carlo C Gomez May 2020
Matchsticks
And a little wind

Are

Hearsay
And the coming blasphemy

By the numbers

The sign says
"Open for Business"

Opinions are mixed

As are the numbers

Let's give the world a spin now and see what burns
Aaron Mullin Apr 2020
living with
dying with
scars

inflicting ~ conflicting
scarred landscapes en-
trained and eroding

pain transporting
grain by grain
these mountains re-framing
and eventually flowing
on to base level and the
Ocean of love

life without scars is anomalous
like a Sun with no aurora

perfectly imperfect
just as life is:
beautiful
a beautiful reminder
of mortality
mirrored in the fluid
dance of the eternal

heaven sent or heaven spent

its never misspent
in post-recompense
morphic resonance

So...
stand
hold space
think about direction
wonder why
then
get ready to fly
Written on Mount Shasta
November 2014
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