#diversion
Here is just another thought
Going down the stream,
Just another thought.
Leaking from a tap
With the label "purity"
Just another trap
The obsessive mind gullibly bites the lure,
Obscured by clouds connections,
Concealing the large picture.
How every blast creates a reaction!
Panic attacks to draw the attention.
Where’s the crack in the grand ***** wall,
So we can strike down the reservoir?
Diverting the river that must belong to all
Before our eyes - wider worlds shrinking small;
Cradled by the uniformity of lies that appease,
Those grazing in the dunes still tarry at ease.
It’s no wonder!
Insecurity has grown into a most lucrative market
As danger becomes the currency on which to place the bet;
Release the flow from the control that profits hold fast,
Question the junk food that's become the pasture of our mass.
Continuous diversions
Feeding everyone’s greed
Fulfilling false concerns -
So easily believed!
How every blast creates a reaction!
Panic attacks to draw the attention.
Will the facts in knowledge’s downfall
Let us unshackle the repertoire?
Mar 28, 2021
Mar 28, 2021 at 3:49 PM UTC
And the cicadas’ noise became music to her ears
Throbbing, slowly vibrating
to her feeble pulse
Like some musical nymphs
invading her quietude
A sudden foray into her tangled thoughts
A hearty diversion to her stubborn gloom
Aug 9, 2020
Aug 9, 2020 at 8:04 AM UTC
to the edge and back (inverted diversion)
——————————————————-
*your life may throw you curves,
mine, straight edge blades,
lines galore, like sidewalk cracks,
jumping from safe to safe place
but always teetering tottering on
edges, like verses in the next poem,
trying to make it just to the next line
without falling in cracks, China bound
you can follow my lead, don’t though,
if I could, would willingly plunge, deeply,
for there is no safety in safe spaces, only
in the holy dark, cracks is the true safety
you seek, where poems roll on a highway
like Reno tumbleweed, humble before snow
capped mountains, these are the contrasts
where you birth procreations, poems yours
and mine die in childbirth,
returned to sender,
returned for retuning,
despair not, they’re coming
back to this world
guises in a different colored skin,
a different alphabet, script,
the meaning yet unchained and
unchanged, despite the*
inverted
diversion
Jul 25, 2020
Jul 25, 2020 at 9:05 AM UTC
Creaky door
Old cardboard
Young boy, Alone
Aerosol poisons
Catacomb blue
Dripping.
Dripping.
Dripping.
Nose close
I.n.h.a.l.e
More.
I.n.h.a.l.e
Aerosol elixir
E.x.h.a.l.e
Despair Gone
Creaky door
“Are you ok?”
I’M FINE.
-
-
For now.
Mar 19, 2018
Mar 19, 2018 at 7:30 PM UTC
the upshot constituted a figurative straw
that broke the virtual camels back
where yours truly fingered as scape goat,
who meekly, passively, and subserviently
felt the stinging crack
of wooden, smooth,
and oblong paddle and stands pat,
asper innocence, though now
(myself more than two score years
orbitz around sun) remains more defiant
for purportedly causing Roberta -
not her real name flack
and clears that blot (now a composite
of petrified spitballs) as a hack
writer of poetry, feels jilted like Jack
donning many major protagonistic ruffian knack
nursery rhyme roles, which fables never didst lack
for upstart precocious, kickstarters impish grin,
as if he just wolfed down a swiped Bic Mac
and goose that laid more than one golden egg
McMuffin running from the Giant,
with spindle shank for each leg,
and sliding down the beanstalk, which didst peg
world wide web Marathon record
suddenly the envy of Queequeg,
which way word ness
far off course from the theme of this work,
hence hold tight
to hazmat bag of **** pin jay dreck,
while poetic license allows me to twerk
intended story aye (captain...
oh captain) moost not shirk,
lemme reel yar attention
back to the classroom of missus Labosh,
hood didst whistle and perk
unbeknownst to me, my scrawny derriere
unaware what quaint, hence danger didst lurk
for letting passivity
find me singled out as the bona fide ****
wishing Moby **** could swallow
hook, line and sinker
with a slight even Steven crane
of his neck, every mother plucking bird brain classmate
deemed Scott free, and Chutzpah didst gain
while this smart *** wannabe took a crash course,
sans weltanschauung "Artful Dodging
Spitball Shooting Maven" in the main
quite heavy on Physics and Trigonometry as became plane.
Mar 14, 2018
Mar 14, 2018 at 1:13 AM UTC
Oh Donald Trump may be an angry, narcissistic fool;
A racist, a misogynist and all-round half-baked tool.
Upon his nation and the world, he represents a curse,
but all of that's okay, you see, for Hillary was worse!
Oh Hillary, she had mad cow and syphilis and rabies.
She drank the blood of virgins and she lived to dine on babies,
and from her eyes shot laser beams while on a broom she flew.
In every way she's crooked, for The Donald says it's true!
She once was witnessed soaking in a lava-filled hot tub,
where she was playing footsie with her pal, Beelzebub!
To the Gulf and Caribbean she released the hurricane.
She brings the earthquake, fire, plague, and drought and flooding rain!
Although she now is history, with influence no more,
we must all hate her while The Donald's failings we ignore.
So while Trump spews his hate and puts all progress in reverse,
we must embrace his evil ways... For Hillary was worse!
Nov 18, 2017
Nov 18, 2017 at 6:15 PM UTC
me and her we barely talk
like spies for different governments
I've tried extracting information
but I'm cut off, passing out
and I wake up every time
17, heart-broken with silence
blank stares scan my every evening
somehow I am still invisible
turning this into a cold green light
to explore the dark corridors of my heart
my thoughts turn to microfilms
and battle plans and secret blueprints
my cover's hanging by a thread
I'm now a fugitive with everything to lose
a secret agent in love with their handler,
the disembodied string of signs on glowing screen
how much emptier than this is it possible to get
because there is no home
and you can't just go back to the agency
one wrong step and charges vary
from espionage to treason
and there've never been any right moves
at all
so now it's back to basics
Jul 24, 2017
Jul 24, 2017 at 2:50 PM UTC
If you live in the US,
Your tax dollars fund
Drone strikes, that
**** children, and a
Military, that
Bombs hospitals, but
Oh, well
Football's on,
Whatever.
Dec 16, 2015
Dec 16, 2015 at 12:23 PM UTC
Adrift in dark and foreign tides of time
I sought to live among the winsome stars.
Between the shadows of the elder moon—
In mountains lost from any source of light—
I wandered lost below the purple sky
Unmoved by that well-expected night.
Oh fate that leads to live the dawn of night!
Oh life, that filthy pool to squander time—
But what a joy to see the starlit sky!
The sun consuming dust from foreign stars,
To see the ocean's mirror cast out light—
Project an image of our lovely moon.
Indeed I feel I hide behind the moon,
In shadows cast by dreadful ghosts of night:
And curse my eyes if I walk into light.
Forgotten shores of childhood lost in time,
Embracing seas of solitude in stars—
A well-known fate in death of burning sky.
Will death thus raise me to the highest sky
Or drive me to the loudest raging moon?
I’d rather find diversion in the stars,
Forsake my wisdom of that sacred night
Than face the painful claws of passing time—
I find demise when I stare into light.
I was revealed the mysteries of light,
Yet hide below the comfort of the sky
As I transcended boundaries of time,
Forever hidden in the woeful moon
And blind upon that everlasting night,
Hunting pleasure in the short-lived stars.
Illusionary joy, deceitful stars:
You guided me to death away from light!
And whence was born this novelty called night?
I thought that safety reigned below the sky,
That I could hide from truth behind the moon—
I curse the painful wings of passing time.
When sunless time arrived upon the sky,
And Moon became a frozen lake of light,
Woe to me, whose night devoured the stars.
Aug 14, 2015
Aug 14, 2015 at 2:24 AM UTC
Sometimes when I wake up,
It never really feels like I wake up,
Numb
May 31, 2014
May 31, 2014 at 7:14 AM UTC