#coldwar
(Written during one of the worst parts of the Cold War) Its sort of the opposite of a war protest song. I understood the dangers of communism and enforced Atheism and wanted the Soviet Union Stopped Vietnam war, or not.
America is a rainbow flower That grows wild hues in the Morning Sun Oh let us even dare to grow
When blood red nuclear night has come! Let us sink our cities deep And let our Free Minds wander high! Lest our Children hungry weep! Let us send our warships surging through the sky!
Let not our minds be leashed With the ease of softness born in Spring! Let us shudder at cruel winter's cold Even when the Robins sing! Let us grow our tough fur thick And our snarling sharp teeth long And let our Nation's peaceful sigh Learn to be a Warrior's song. For the enemy knows of rainbows none Though even a snarling Lion can lick With love the cold Cub at its feet
And nurse to power the Hopeful Sick. The enemy knows no Songs of Love: The enemy knows but songs of death! It knows but how to lick its Cubs With the cold Snow Tiger's breath!
If we should let our Gentleness Grow To the point where only softness lies Sweet as Violets crushed by boots
Under our blue but savage skies! Then we will learn of the powers of death
When they are linked with slavery's chain!
And we who walked the Earth as gods Will feel the sting of bonds again! Let us not be too peaceful, Child! Many a Mother sits and mourns! Many a gentle Flower's been crushed Because it simply had no thorns!
Jan 7
Jan 7, 2026 at 6:15 PM UTC
i logged the warheads’ saintly arc,
through treaties transcribed just to shrink,
while taboo colonized the dark,
a name is never worth the ink.
i processed breath in programmed loops,
the margins where the righteous blink,
between the cables and the troops,
a name is never worth the ink.
each border twitched in nitrate maps,
the walls revised in auto-sync,
i traced the bloodstained autographs,
a name is never worth the ink.
she entered nothing but a tag,
a field in forms that didn’t think,
her voice absorbed by final lag,
a name is never worth the ink.
the city burned in filament,
the state dreamed red and blue in sync,
we lost her in the precedent,
a name is never worth the ink.
the cat observed, the shutters closed,
she left a toothbrush by the sink,
her absence, not to be disclosed,
a name is never worth the ink.
the archives hum. the geiger talks.
my shell is built where memos clink.
they tested God beneath the rocks:
a name is never worth the ink.
deterrence smiles with sober teeth,
bureaucracy demands a link,
but all that lives remains beneath,
a name is never worth the ink.
Jun 22, 2025
Jun 22, 2025 at 4:49 AM UTC
In the shadows of my serene composure
Perturbance ventured my susceptible core
Corollary hallucinations compelled my inner channels to disarm
Commenced the chaos at the departure of calm
A storming blitz led by a fortifying fleet
Disruptions levitated to the greatest summit
Every portal being forcefully barred
Catastrophic propositions nearly forged my dreary graveyard
Instantaneous reinforcements initiated an expeditious resurgence
Sirens snapped my vulnerable systems back to sense
My efficacious consultant explored miscellaneous alternatives
Warfare and fleeing being the superlative prerogatives
Befittingly, combat seemed extremely gallant
Escape undignifying the prowess of talent
It all panned out en route a thunderous showdown
The ultimate clash being unveiled as the ‘Psychological Crown’
Jan 21, 2025
Jan 21, 2025 at 10:52 PM UTC
windowless day,
particles of strange salt on his brow,
generator man
on the coil,
double-sided,
a love for radioactive honey:
a storm in a teacup...
but for some reason
could not reciprocate
due to the metallic taste in his mouth,
and so he seemed driven
to build his electrical dream,
and took comfort from his pigeons,
the “lightning machine,”
the hair on his head bristled
as he discovered his purpose
in rings of glory that died
as flags of dust...
Dec 13, 2023
Dec 13, 2023 at 9:15 AM UTC
a world apart, i stood
where two universes had divided,
where a wall had fallen, crumbled
into dust and ashes of
the men who had attempted
to cross it;
with all their might and desperation
risked their lives so that
their children might one day
see freedom
with their wide wondering eyes
of naïveté and joy.
a world apart i stood,
desperately clinging to their stories:
their martyrdom;
the names i would never know;
the stories that would go
untold with nobody who knew
them, nobody to tell them
anymore.
a world apart i stood
watching the snowfall in
berlin, dampening the streets
where the death strip once
tore life from the innocent
in the name of separation;
the falseness of east and
west.
a world apart i stood,
glad that it was no more.
Sep 18, 2019
Sep 18, 2019 at 4:00 PM UTC
there was a girl at friedrichstrasse station
she waved
through the barrier
with dainty hands and gentle eyes of kindness
and i smiled at her carefully making sure
nobody noticed my face
the gleam in her eyes doe-like and sweet like she cared
even though she didn’t know me even though
she was supposed to hate me
even though it’s been hours days weeks months
years i still think of her
those shining eyes that smile that changed me
the westerner that i should not have looked at
wanted craved
for so long even while my friends kissed
boys at midnight under the stellar stars
in alexanderplatz
my mind still returned to her loyal
the way a dog returns to its master
forever thinking of the girl at friedrichstrasse station
Sep 18, 2019
Sep 18, 2019 at 3:51 PM UTC
My little astroman
You float through the empty
A tiny white
Against a giant blue,
A beautiful diamond in an infinite black
It is free
It is alive
It is wonderful
It is Earth
However...
My little astroman,
Utterly alone
With no one by your side
Sit and watch
As the world
Burns
In an instant
With blinding brilliance
A once Beautiful diamond
Has become grey coal
For this gem is marked with fury and fire
The world blazes,
it’s charred throat too burnt to scream
It’s eyes to seared too see
My little astroman
You know you will never go back
Never see the red
Nor feel the green
Never hear the birds
Nor taste the air
...you reach out...
My little astroman
no longer do you have a home
My little astroman,
Now, do you float alone
May 28, 2018
May 28, 2018 at 4:47 PM UTC
a city old in trades,
in cultivation of the arts
based on industrious commerce
of its citizens who boast
the world's oldest commercial fair
the city in which
Martin Luther and Melanchthon
led fierce disputes
with delegations of the Pope
where J. S. Bach found stimulus
and time to master
harmony and rhythm
close to perfection,
(and that was shocked listening
to Leibniz's monadologies),
the city of which
Goethe spoke with praise,
that saw Napoleon defeated
on the nearby battlefield
(and built a monument of quite
imposing ugliness one hundred years
after the fact),
this city suffered hard
from two world wars
followed by over forty years
of dreams gone sour of a new society,
until, most recently,
this city once again
became a catalyst of major change.
Yet those who kept their meetings
at St. Niklas' church
and by their stubborn protest
helped to reunite
a country separated by walls for generations -
those you don't see,
walking the streets of Leipzig now.
What strikes the eye
(besides the crumbling blackened ruins
of former glory,
and strip-mined land
just out of town)
is Wall Street's new frontier,
the bustling peddlers of new easy wealth
as they appear on every street downtown,
offering anything from oranges
to shoes and South Pacific cruises.
Ramshackled pre-fabs built on shabby parking lots
already stake the claims of big banks,
business and insurance companies
that promise earnings, safety and security
to eager though bewildered customers.
"Pecunia non olet" says the poster
of the postal savings bank,
and shows a happy pig
rooting in money.
Old stores, in order to survive,
have started selling
new and shiny goods
to happy new consumers,
only a few resist
and hesitate to walk a mile
for the melange of
fast food, cigarettes and *****
offered at makeshift stands
that seem have come
to symbolize the great new freedom
of the new Wild East.
* * *
Mar 27, 2015
Mar 27, 2015 at 4:05 PM UTC
right in the eye
of history
I walk
among the crowds
that taste
the absence of confinement
an unfamiliar space
between the band stands
on the avenues
where people
test a freedom
newly won
still strange
as yet in need
of daily reassurance
crossing and recrossing
the big gate
and the bridges
that for generations
connected nothing
marked divisions kept
by guns and barbed wires
and well-lit empty spaces
between walls
watched from towers
the new reunion
brings happy smiles for most
quiet tears for some
new doubts for many
who are uncertain
now
about their lives together
after decades
of separation
right in the eye
of history I walk
just now and then
a little bit afraid
that she might
rub her eye
just now
* * *
Mar 27, 2015
Mar 27, 2015 at 10:12 AM UTC
Dancing in the praise of deities
The Devil ; being the envious
Cold matter gathers around
While the Sirens of war surround
The Devil talks profanity
God stands in a dilemma
staring
at
his
CREATION !
Nov 18, 2014
Nov 18, 2014 at 6:23 AM UTC