"catchall" poems
Defying the consensus of complacency,
And the enantiomorphic political practicality,
Candidates embrace their vacillating indexicality.
Spouting thrift store self reliance sapientiality,
Telling lores of cultural compatibility.
Hope filled promises of economic suitability,
Aligned with institutional feasibility.
Packaged in over-inclusive catchall empty signifiers
Strewn across all media screens, communal utilitarian plan flyers.
Requesting no need for responsiveness,
For a vote no longer dictates precedence,
In the age of social media endemic presence relevance.
PFL
Jul 3, 2016
Jul 3, 2016 at 3:40 AM UTC
When humanity first became aware, the world was a scary dangerous place.
Everything was a mystery, nothing but survival at stake.
We created gods to help us make sense.
Gods became the catchall to explain the unknown.
Gods became religions to hold things in place, to offer control.
Due to human isolation, religions evolved differently all over the place.
From the gods in Valhalla to the ones in the sea.
We all had different ideas of what the gods must truly be.
Religious wars down through the ages killing millions in the name of god, what a disgrace.
Today, humanity is spread around the globe, hundreds of religions all over the place.
Killing, still to this day because god wants it that way some would have you believe.
The naivety of humanity just stunning to see.
No one truly knows the Creators intent, though many religions would tell you they do.
Power and control is all they really know. The few telling the many what to believe.
The world can no longer go on in this way.
Religions are constructs made up in human minds, difference due to many things.
Somehow I wonder if the Creator would really want to see us behave in this way.
There’s is no guarantee the Creator made an afterlife you see.
It’s a comfort to think so but there’s no guarantee.
One wonders if the Creator has turned away after seeing what we’ve done to each other and our place.
As we move forward in time business as usual will only enhance our disgrace.
Humanity must unite under one common theme, humanity for humanity’s sake it must be.
We must grow and mature as soon as we can. Treating each other and our world with respect and dignity. There are many who would smile and call this naive.
We must smile in return at their immaturity, realizing their way is now done, from here a dead end.
Would our creator be displeased if we evolved in this way?
How could that possibly be?
Dec 2, 2016
Dec 2, 2016 at 4:12 PM UTC
The dork just stood there, Man!
Peeling back his mask
Then folding it back down again.
What a chancer!
Breaking in klangers;
Tip toeing through hoops;
Belching on tap;
Crapping on sand paper;
Bleaching hot tap,
With water-eye presentation
Flown from afar
In the cargo hold for Mr. Black,
Mount Nero;
Cnoc Dubh.
What's the fuzz?
what's the craic?
Let him have it
In 2's and 3's
End of:
'Life's a breeze'
Corporate jingomuggery
Daylight shrubbery
Catchall quantum thuggery
"Put him back in the hold"
Goodbye Mr.Black,
Mount Nero;
Cnoc Dubh.
What's the craic?
What the fuzz?
Jul 30, 2010
Jul 30, 2010 at 3:12 AM UTC
You've likely pondered
The reason you're here,
The reason behind
Anything at all.
It's commonly wondered,
You needn't fear!
You're trying to find
Your own life's catchall.
Well, I can tell you,
But are you quite sure
You want the surprise
Revealed and unfurled?
You've already come
This far, I suppose.
Hopefully, you'll be
The next one who knows!
The purpose of life
Is continuance
Of what gives purpose,
Our own existence
Depends upon you
Keeping life going,
Helping our own race
Continue growing.
Now, that's merely one
Interpretation
Of our life's meaning,
Yet our damnation
Lies in our people
Still populating
This overcrowded,
Ever-increasing
Race of all humans,
Raised to reproduce,
But what's our limit
Before we're reduced
To being unable
To help ourselves
When we're overwhelmed
By how deep we delved
In this instinctual
Desire to expand
The booming birthing
Of our race, so "grand"?
Too much of something
Good is quite simply
What needs avoiding,
Lest the impending penalty...
Feb 4, 2016
Feb 4, 2016 at 3:13 AM UTC
Poetry was born out of artless desperation
Even though I've gone down that road a few times
I like to think I’m not there yet-
Where light only comes through a forgotten window
Where nobody can ever hear my screams
Where I can’t pretend
Now and then I catch these sounds
A dull clatter of banal days and drowsy storms
I can wash my head clear of all the change
And break a rule or two, deceive the pain
Lapsing back is pitiful but I laugh off the warning on the pack
The truth is so much simpler than the way it manifests
Such a beautiful waste of time
If only my version of events could hold out for a while
You’d notice how quiet the leaves were
For people like me and you
How happily I could just drown in a moment’s cacophony
But you were just going through usual motions
Being a catchall for your vagaries tore away my being
And you abandoned every shredded figment of my soul
You suddenly break into my poetry which failed to be about me again
How I wish I could draw simpler pictures in my head
Have sillier dreams and slap on a sickly smile for all time
Never gaze into people again, just the vague tendencies of passers-by.
Mar 11, 2015
Mar 11, 2015 at 2:03 PM UTC