a hawk without feathers,
skin, hollow bones,
its avianness severed by the wickedness it knows,
it sits upon a house,
the house that's always stood,

(by the cave with the painted walls,
after the massacre
     of the neanderthals;
by the agora, where the voting took place,
     in sight of which they signed
     constitutions
     and other contracts in black typeface;
by the workplace;
by the banks;
downtown,
     between the metal-glass towers,
     footpath from it
     to the corridors of power)

out of time, it is: a Wormwood,
where men gather to unaffix themselves from the good.
the hawk has eyes of malice,
it watches as you come to the door,
inside, it smells of money, might and phosphor
us.

What man under modernity, is free?
Comparative to the peasantry preceding
We must seem to be
Shackled to a strange form
Of self-induced slavery

Paradise is a state of mind
In a place where there is plenty-
A place where on your down time
Things look more than just pretty.

Paradise can mean a lot of things,
It can be multiple places.
The coming & going of years
Passing over different faces.

Paradise can bring you fortune-
Her smile may even give some fame,
But she levees a heavy tax
For all who stand to gain.

Paradise takes your heart & soul
Just to make you feel at home,
Not knowing whether you’ll get to leave
Feeling broken or as a new whole.

Paradise is a vacation-
Paradise is a job.
Paradise is exploitation-
Paradise is a massage.

Paradise is a place to enjoy
As others are made to suffer,
With money standing in between
To play the role of buffer.

Paradise is a cup of coffee
Paradise is a broken promise
Paradise is a rolled up leaf
Paradise is a stolen profit

Paradise is whatever you
want it to be,
As long as you make it yourself
& don’t steal it like a thief.

There's a segment of the Christian fraternity
arguing vehemently to reject modernity
saying we should be one way for eternity
until it's their turn to go to the infirmary
then stop worrying about things infernally
and start rationalizing things internally.

They exacerbate Christianity's misuse
on legislating social issues
imposing their will
through force and ****
then when they see people leaving the church
they don't think it's from all the pain and hurt
they think it's a ******* problem with the music or the youth group
maybe people don't want to go somewhere that'll abuse you.

They reject modernity because modernity rejected them
and yearn for a time when society favored men
yearning for a culture that would favor them more
and share their hatred of the person next door.

They conflate traditionalism with regression
to give off the impression
they've just been taught different lessons
and are part of a harmless collection
but it's all the same **** in different packaging
in this society they've run savagely
did they think that after all that ravaging
we'd forget through apathy?

Why plunge us back into primal schisms?
Could it be they're just fans of tribalism?
They feel their side has the right numbers
yet they're rapidly diminishing
they want the giant to awaken from its slumber
for a genocide finishing.

These people need to find a better way to live
which is apparently something Jesus can give
but I'm not seeing that on the end of their shiv
pointed at me to make me not sin
so that their side can win
at something that isn't a game
I wish they'd see it the same.

They can grow a beard and work out
they may be able to dish the hurt out
but the simple phrase "reject modernity"
simply reflects their immaturity.

stormless nightscape
neon lightning
car-thunder and auto-hum
the dark doldrums
sky scrapes
violence even in brightest daytime
the city is
its own weather system
tempestuous / slum
lashing / victims
of architecture: humans undone
slithering, slithering
we,    slugs of no sun

The word of God
Is neon now-
It screams odious
Love to the silent
Collection of limbs
Beneath it.

Iridescence
Falls in irradiated
Waves, reaches the
Sedate, the wanderers
Of Asphalt Nightmares,
At last.

They can hardly hear it
Over the mumble of voices.
They shift, leave by way
Of saturated, naked streets
Steeped
In weariness.

The new God is
Neon- but all the same
Unheard; It's violent lights
Looking to the morally
Righteous; finds
No one.

Sine arte
A satire against modernity in the arts

O modern beast our captive arts release,
The laws of Nature wished your reign to cease.
What beauties does this modern art restores
By turning vestals young to Russian ******.
How strange the painter draws his new reforms 5
Reducing Nature’s shapes to foggy forms.
All, I may add, by rambling thoughts conceived
If Nature’s order’s razed the goal’s achieved.
‘‘What then?’’ A tasteless judge if dared to ask,
To which the answer wears pretentious mask: 10
‘‘Dear Sir! ’Tis art, all ***** mere symbols made,
And *****, though crude, denotes the father’s shade’’
Go Man admire the fruits of twisted state,
Interpret ***** as something deeply great.
Let ***** Cupid stab his precious heart 15
To make our poesy more interesting art.
Let Cyrus wreck the might of Shakespeare’s throne,
And use her tongue to lick his hallowed stone.
Thus, give the verses blank to frenzied beasts,
Or let Rihanna burn Miltonic seats. 20
A simple critic might her craft enjoy,
But witty minds oft do their gift employ.
New Cornus comes with broken tools to teach
Yet none can bear to hear postmoderns preach.
They mumble days upon the wage and race 25
For them the world’s a strife, that is the case.

Will there be a time when
All this technology ends

When the screens go down
We all mute the sound

Will we return to a time
Not forged in financial design

When the ROI and the GDP
Big money banks we no longer see

Or the interest rates and credit lines
Hidden fees and holdback fines

And tell them, when I turn my shoulders to the night,
I sent you to discuss the market's yield's human right