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Jon 1d
a picture
of people
standing next to
each other
with blank
expressions

a painting
of people
laying down
on a park bench

a sculpture
of people
facing
each other

a
picture
of you
Shriek

Throw this flesh into wind for to be tattered.

Flense & flay me; sprayed hot onto cold asphalt. Ribbon shred.

This isn't loving Summer, no. Springtime is
planting-
     gestation--
          gasping births---
                violence.
The invasion that is existing.

The Green of April is no gleaming emerald;
It is fury. It is ravenous hunger. It is manic desperation to be
It is the razor's edge of bleeding insistence.

Remove these bones. Festoon your thoughts with the sting and the ache. These verbs are command form. It is Spring.

That ripping. That fibrous, fluid tear. You hear it, yes?

Tilt me over and spill my ******* guts out.
Clouds of grey and bright red rain--squall of ichor. Knife wind.

Let us weep thunderstorms. Chagrin these Gods of Drought.

Howl

Scream for us both. Wail until the throat bleeds. Blood decanter.
Pour us out of you until the sidewalk hides from the cold.

Chilly today! Should've brought an anorak, eh?

Gale force wind. Tear me up. Spare no expense, accept no substitutes.
Leave no intact iota. Return me to my component parts. Atomize me.
Untangle us, we are a tragedy.
...And, after all, this is a slasher, yeah?

I mean. At least distract me. Ya know?
Shiiiiiiiiit, I dunno.
It's a cold world with so many people who don't seem to care about anything. It's a cold world with so many people who are waiting like a scorpion to sting.

Some people don't give a ****, are you one of them too?! I don't know if you care about me, but I give a **** about you!

It's a cold world, but there are still people who would want to believe in you. It's a cold world, but there are still people who would want to stay close and be true.

Some people don't give a ****, are you one of them too! I don't know if you care about me, but I give a **** about you!

Some people don't wanna help, some give a penny or two. I don't know if you care about me, but I give my all to you! I give my all to you!!!
©2025 Daniel I. Tucker

Take a stand. Lend a hand. Try to understand... Give a **** !!!

Oh yeah, and don't ever quit!

[P.S. when I get Writers Block, I resort to posting lyrics of songs I wrote. haha]
you know you're touch starved
when you start having dreams
of hugging someone
and of being hugged.

i have one at least once a week.
An hour, backed up,
nothing sacred hidden,

secret reasons thus far appear mortal flaws,
socialization recollecting ethics et mores
this buys that, this, buys anything,
trader sign in clay, he say four,
you point see, my two cent,
say this worth that, two,
a just weight, love your enemy

after cultivated economies
of holy eternal right wrong, on off, clicks

easy, impossible, inevitable, now
clickity click
in or out free
from further capital expense
let us be
as if spirit, taken up
think out loud, for an instance.

If we imagine money as an adaption,
after words developed locally,
lived in recollected ghost stories
before stories wandered mumbling
peace
and just
weights fed art's sake
scientifically, agnostically, intellectually

Dhe, there, accessing consciousness online
- old idea we once spake one language

Japhethian mean old PIE
on to logical now, here, cultural ontologies,
all end here, whoever prophesied whatever
happens all the time to warring minds, ever

oh my truth what binds me
to our holy warrior breed
we grew
to old age, got older than Socrates was
when Plato started dialoging perhaps, aloud,
or my sense starts reminding me what I fed it,
bread
and circuses and
novels and parables and proverbs,

galore, come invite… aha,
in vitro otro, no no no, breathe hoo mon

we worship truth in spirit, we choose, often to die alone,
we walked away from all holy striving, took the easy way,
well worth the effort, even once, walking back down,
after helping Sisyphus teach us the value of offering help

Earth, earth, can you hear us now? As we let this mind be

we, as us two and any other comes along

tuning out the noise endemic near interstate
roads and international air traffic hubs,

scatterbrains
acknowledging ear abuse, excuse
given me, by grace
to retire on… thanks to old ethical

standards, originally skewed
in favor of war,
as a national enterprise,
toward which, we
survived as we
who may,
with proper tutelary spirits, whom
we trust, instinctively, since first exposure
wish
for riches that come
without sorrows added, no
pay the preacher, pay and pray
to lovable money, come progressing
toward extravagance epic expectancy

when the big wigs lost the true rest,
when liberty took abode
with wisdom, finest instance, true

liberty, gotta be out of body, true to mind
what the idea of reality is, when we realize

we pluralize, without thinking, we watch,
functionally Mesmerized creatures of habit…

The first U.S. currency to bear the motto
"In God We Trust" was the two-cent coin,
which was minted in 1864.


{ The History of Empires, the mind given writing,
          Enheduana, preserved spirit, in her own words…
               Here we think her a known unknown wombed
                     mind, thinker and maker of mindsharding
                                 thunk, made sense, we think agrees}

I do love those silver dimes, we marched for those,
in 1954, me and my classmates, we first Gen new American
Great Expansion through tech magic mind numbing entertainment,

in for a penny, in for a pound, what you think is what you think,
next time you remember the feeling
of loved nicotine, first drag,
three on a match,
old aliegiant spirits, the bag of ethical common American lug,
twistin' wrenches and towin' wrecks, welding broken axels,
character traits seen modeled as a child in our child's eye
old times came and went so fast, suddenly here we was
just as old, and with far vaster librarian services
-- I believe I had a literal adventure in living word terms.
-- keyed to the art's sake depicted in details
that was 2022, it's literally one of the threads,

what a republic is, as a mind form claiming stud fees
for phuckingupourmorals, beyond all recognition,
cognate emotions evoked by common sapience
seeking hormones, FTA find the answer,
or die, and live evidence.

on the Liberty Dimes, 1916.

- the spirit of USA circa 1868
Salmon Portland Chase Tenure of Office Act
was in the news, my great granddaddy was ten.

History mysteriosity monstrosites facilitation

- The Return of the Guilded Age, back stage
- peephole projection, watching, ah, as seen
- on television, Da Vinci veni vidi vici burning
- lime bright, see the image on the wall, see

The form any we may consider differently, POV wise,
taking, when subjected to constant news with ads,
what did entertain those with idle time, back then

- an alienated mind, aight
- wanna buy it, no, bite wanna bite
- salivate, thinking merest bit what if
- salvation does reoccur as we live and learn
- to swallow hero class passed top three,
- pay attention to how truth functions free,
- for your per use, how much weight matters

Sub-con-fidential science ghalsely so called, knowing
ghucksyewyupyup… it does/

weighing y joints
in our future commitment we
to ai, the right idea,
at your service, yes, ever
the who we believe we are subconsciously,
advising and consenting
the whom we lieve being authorized,
by God,
because I said so,
and I have an oath bound Army
woe Elisha must we flee or fight, ah, me
Lord of hosts of unholy wars won, now bound
by believers, dedicated warriors interceding

on behalf of Donald Trump and the goodness of money,
provided holy competitive pride is never demeaned,

holy gnoshit serious real politik tickt today… y'reckon
- I would not take a free jet, for a day in my life.
- and I am two years younger and fifty years wiser

The ever-loving light, time runs
through, now,
while we, the current fundamental we, Earthian
men-talification, attested
to
in all exceptionalists
prepositioned bends
walls and Planck point
bends and fluctuational vibrarity stopt

to the t, the brink of thought

What must it mean, at some point?


We have the means, we take the time,
we use the time to learn we did not know…
we never met an enemy we could love, legally.

To make peace, I persist,
I offer all my enemies,
fears for nothing,
wisdom free.

Sacred enemies.
Fears worshipped… in truth,
tiny bubbles in the wine, moving

right, germination fermentation, mental
means, germinated rations
of good sense,
equivalent
to that given mustard and cabbage.

One bit
of information may be one Planck length
and my being thought this instant there
where we are words and you are reading,

whatifing,
for the hell
of it, life as a one instance
continuing, inging
on and on, as a nice easy buzz

drones, droning, bees being part
of local life,
chirps actual chirps and three note whistles,

how why how why how why how why how
why
come to think of stopping thinking, why would we

when would the hate hell needs be swallowed as we
live long lacking nothing, on an Earth where prayer works,

those who agree peace past childhood certainties we pledged
under total war time footing, well aware, we all got guns,

every christmas, we got guns, we wore to school,
first day back, America mustabin so great, back when…

Grandpa's lost in thought, we should go,
he'll tell us more next time he remembers
time thought through, still works
Cadmus 1d
🥃

I must’ve been drunk,
under a spell,
or half-asleep
with my soul on mute

because some of the people
I let into my life
were the kind
I wouldn’t let near
if I’d been even
half
conscious.

Not in daylight.
Not with clarity.
Not with my guard up
and my self-respect awake.

like a fool
hosting thieves
in the middle of a dream.

🥃
This piece captures the bewilderment and regret of past emotional decisions, highlighting how vulnerability, distraction, or denial can invite people into our lives who never deserved the invitation. It’s a bitter laugh at our own temporary blindness.
it doesn't sound as terrifying
if you split it into
a million deaths,
a million lives, lost individually.
we're wasting our humanity
on empty background noise.
we're forced to lock our gates,
avert our eyes,
pay mortgage with our souls.
it doesn't seem quite as finite
if you just take your pills
and track your progress,
while they wash all the blood
off of the hands
that hold our future hostage.
a million deaths,
a million possibilities,
surrendered individually.
My pen is mourning the agonies and the sufferings
Of my people, who are drowning in the sea of misery.
My keyboard' strokes are shadowing the slow rhythms
Of the wandering beggar, who's lost in the sanctuary.

My voice denounces the filthy cholera and the injustices,
Which are punishing the weakest souls of the valley.
A tiny oligarchy is meagerly being rewarded;
What a shame for a man-made world corrupted with vices!

My daring pen defaces the inequality and the imbalance,
Which fool the image of a so called free world.
My laser beams burn the iris of the blind peasants,
Who can now see clearly the mini-sketch of my people.

I am the brother-in law of the cowardly executed poet
And the great-grandson of the poorest assassinated emperor.
I abhor the vanity and the lowliness of mankind in horror,
Oh! Lord, I'm going to read aloud twelve psalms, from my seat.

My pen is mourning my beloved people,
Who are innocently digesting the giant toxic apple.
My voice is seduced by the wind of liberty,
Which echoes the piercing screams of the hungry babies of Haiti.

P.S. Translation of 'Ma Plume Pleure Du Sang' by Hebert Logerie.

Copyright© November 2010, Hebert Logerie, All Rights Reserved
Hébert Logerie is the author of four books of poems:
Many were killed this one time, somewhere.
They lived… They grew… They sinned… They suffered… They died.
I do know where,
I do know when,
and I do know how.
But I don’t know anything about all that I have summed.
Because this life is the life we are all bound to live.

One of them was a girl born in a land -Whatever land-
during a time -whatever time.
She had a mom, a dad, a house…
She was kind, clumsy, and more.

The other one was a man born in someplace, at some time.
He had a family and funny jokes.

And the other one was a mom…
Lived here and there…
was this and that…

And 98 more to go…

Descriptions describing anyone.
Quick stories you tell.
A summary of something.
Something you won’t remember.
Someone you read past.
Someone with a story.

What is an extra life on paper?
And what is it among MANY?
All and more of what they lived reduced to four letters
Overlooked and never seen.

100 people are the same as 101, and life goes on.
An additional person doesn’t make jaws drop lower
and tears fall faster.

MANY is, in fact, no one.
You’re only recognized as people but never as a person.
101 is “about a hundred people”
and your significance is only recognized when there aren’t others to spot.
Abbreviating numbers,
years of life, and memories.
Ma plume pleure les agonies et les souffrances
De mon peuple qui se noie dans la misère.
Mon stylo stylise les lentes cadences
D’un mendiant qui s’égare au sein de la galère.

Ma voix dénonce la vaine guerre et l’injustice
Qui punissent les plus impotents de la vallée.
Un petit groupe se voit maigrement récompenser,
Quelle honte pour un monde infesté de vices!

Mon pinceau démasque l’inégalité et le déséquilibre
Qui bottinent tout un univers soi-disant libre.
Mes 'rayons laser' brûlent l’iris des aveugles
Qui voient très clair le mini-tableau de mon peuple.

Je suis le gendre du poète lâchement exécuté
Et le petit-fils du plus pauvre empereur assassiné.
J’abhorre la vanité et la mièvrerie de l’homme
Qui se croit supérieur à l’hérisson et à la pomme.

Ma plume pleure pour mon peuple
Qui boit l’absinthe comme un aveugle.
Ma voix emportée, par le vent de la liberté
Est pareille aux soupirs perçants des enfants affamés.

Copyright© 18 Mai 2010, Hebert Logerie, Tous Droits Réservés
Hébert Logerie est l’auteur de quatre recueils de poèmes.
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