#tropic
Some people still don't understand the power of the internet
nor the consequences of social media
they're incredulous when society reacts negatively to someone
if it's someone they like, that is
then that incredulity fuels their perpetual outrage
little things like buzzwords change over time
political correctness becomes cancel culture
and those people say Tropic Thunder couldn't be made anymore
but those people were saying Tropic Thunder couldn't be made
when Tropic Thunder was made.
Those people have truncated perspectives
and provide truncated answers
to non-existent questions
then wonder why filmmakers don't respond to the criticism
of someone who watches ten movies per year
and their half-baked commentary on the film industry
that has more to do with their political agenda
rather than any real concern for creative liberty.
Apr 23, 2021
Apr 23, 2021 at 4:58 PM UTC
Awash in dancing sea glass light
I watch the ocean late at night
But I have never been
The only ocean that I know
Is filled with wintry frozen snow
That God did not intend
I wander cross it in a fright
While tripping often as it’s night
And slipping on the snow
An owl wings above my head
Reminding me of seagulls led
By merchants to the coast
A barrel loaded to the brim
And sailors singing salty hymns
Assault my ears and nose
I grasp the rough hewn timber rail
And hear the snapping of the sail
Among the clapping waves
The salty air upon my tongue
Turns dark and rough and then we plunge
Upon a pitching swell
A glowing branch lights up the sky
I see it though I’ve closed my eyes
And shines upon some hell
I know it from my darkest fears
And shun such moaning from my ears
All thought has lost its perch
Wait, no more am I staring out
Aloof, aghast, about to shout
Now I see ice-glazed birch
They shiver slightly with the cold
A breeze picks up and takes its hold
On sounds from far away
A quiet whisper fills my head
The voice that wracks a soul with dread
And grabs me by the feet
I stand there frozen to my spot
But seeing only driftwood rot
And float away from me
The icy hand that grasped my throat
And pricked my skin and thinned my coat
Now plays his lilting harp
I fall into a deepened sleep
His lullaby like counting sheep
And nod off in the snow
When I awake, a tropic storm
Has thundered in to greet with warm
But hellish gusts of air
Jan 13, 2020
Jan 13, 2020 at 6:07 PM UTC
you're my tropical paradise,
my favourite way to lose control,
my most potent addiction and
the fluorescent spark inside my heart-
when i take a dive into your oceans,
your thoughts and words are coral reefs-
your touch is tender and your kiss
is as sweet as the nectarines you pluck.
i hear angels in your tangerine voice
remnants of you in every memory-
tokens of your pearly white incisors
biting down on my satin pillow skin.
i'll rearrange my insides to fit you-
carving space and toss the rotten flesh out
i treasure your bronzed, sinewy arms and
the way you give out smiles so easily.
your fresh-soil gaze cauterize me,
burning unsolicited marks on my soul
and i could spend the rest of the universe
kneading my hands into your sunflower silks.
Jan 6, 2019
Jan 6, 2019 at 9:13 PM UTC