Dinosaurs were in existence for 160 million years.
**** Sapiens have been in existence merely 200,000 years.
Will humans remain the dominant species on Earth... or are we simply a phase of life that will eventually be replaced? ...and if so, how so? Will mankind extinguish itself? Or is mankind -is the aspect of life itself- some type of chess game played by the Gods of the universe? By Gods of the universe... do I literally mean spiritual Gods and anointed souls... or do I mean the physical and chemical forces that construct and compose the world beyond the world that we live in.
What about dimensions?
Are the crossable?
Should I mention; they say that human beings are the most intelligent creatures alive. We exist and thrive off energies and vibes yet how many of us utilize the potentials possessed within us? Does that make us less intelligent than they say?
But who is 'they'?
Who believes in the extraterrestrial?
Who believes in Magic?
Are dreams a portal to things unforeseen?
Is there a higher power, or are all things reasonable and explainable through the documentations of science?
Have you ever pondered the wonders of Faith?
Does everything happen for a reason, or are all things coincidental?
Knowledge is Power and Evolution is Revolution.

every moment
is continually shedding itself;
sloughing off the skin of time,
dying, into the past,
to freshen in exposure,

this moment.

to live, really
to breathe, by
impermanence.

constantly transforming,
the body is never solid,
here, there, as atomic flashes,
electrons popping in and out
of existence,
an appearance made,
to depart, in a flicker.

all turns off, like this,
always, eventually,
momentarily.

threshed and stripping
bare chaos
voraciously burns,

returning through extinguish
on smokey black horizons.

sinking, into
tendrils weaving,
knitting by fray,
tapestries engendered
by enveloping decease.

you feel this
don’t you?
unconscious
as much of it may be.

it is the nearest of near,
and dearly intimate,
passions corrosive kiss,
oscillating, opening,
to retract, in flow,
pushing in
to pull away,

thanatos is eros
together, apart again,
together-apart,
here-going.

the heart is aware,
supremely aware of this happening,
even when the mind is fooled
by apparent stability,

and the soul surrenders to
it's inevitability,
even hungering for
divine destruction,
as basic an urge
as the creative impulse.

to be composed
is to be subject to decompose,
fertilizing compositions
in cosmic chasms.

our lungs darkly shining
with every fall of the chest
mirroring,

each breath
one breath closer
to the final breath,

each exhale
a letting go
of what can’t be held
forever,

the expelled
foreshadows annihilation,
on the fading road, towards
this mortal coils entropic end;
a preparation.

to live, surely, is to meet loss
over and over,
to love, fully, is to grieve
again and again,

there is a deep
melancholic knowing
that exists in all living things,

water drops
tears like rain,
leaves fall
like sighs,

everyone,
and everything
dies.

our melancholy
might be sacred
could we truly embrace,
and feel, this reality:

death is the ever present condition.

Nothing of them remained
We came and found ashes
We found nothing but ruins and ashes
No flesh no hair or lashes
No fires, flames or matches
What was there
We are in oblivion
What is there
But ruins and ashes
Anything/fire/flame/ash/ dust/gone
The place was deserted and empty
Except for our presence
Until
We were present no longer
The white sky turned grey
The green fields turned black
The quiet chats turned to screams
The lively souls were drained of existence
We were in the middle of it all
We were being perished  
We were burning
The flames swallowed us whole
The flames ate down everything
The fires were put down
Anything/fire/flame/ash/ dust/gone
Nothing of us remained
They came and found ashes
They found nothing but ruins and ashes
No flesh no hair no lashes
No fires no lighters no matches
What was there
They are in oblivion
What is there
But ruins and ashes
What will there be but ruins and ashes
"Everything will burn and catch fire"
That's all ashes desire
Everything/fire/flame/ash/dust/gone

How do I go
When my absence melts you
How do I turn away
When I am immersed in you

What else can I see
If you are all my vision
What can draw my mind
If you are each thought

Are you truly alone
While you are surrounded by fears
Are you left without voice
While you scream in silence

Is there a limit to my rekindlings
As I extinguish with each last look
Is it possible to breathe
As lungs fill with endless calls to you

At what point could there be too much us
Though there is never enough
At what point is pain exhausted
Though the void of apart is limitless

Where is the end of empty
Can it be found when we are cleft
Where do we cease to touch
Can we be disjoined at any point

Why do we bleed with stilled hearts
Must away be bottomless
Will actuality ever come right
Do we survive, or die trying

موت خود مرنا چاہتی ہے۔
مگر اُسکی بےبسی دیکو، اُسکا صبر دیکھو۔
تم بےبس نہیں ہو لیکن، تم بھی زرا صبر کرلو۔

میں جانتا ہوں زندگی ابھی بے مقصد سی ہے، بے معنی ہے۔ اور مرنے کی خواہش ہے بہت۔
لیکن خواہشات کا مرنا ہی خُدا کی اصل عبادت ہے۔
تُم بھی اِس اِک خواہش کو ختم کرلو۔ صبر کرلو۔

Translation:

Him: I want to die

Me: Death itself wishes to die
        But look at it's helplessness, look at it's patience
        You are not helpless though, but you too be patient

        I know that life is now purposeless, meaningless.
        And the desire to die is overwhelming.
        But the death of desires is the true obedience of God.
        So you too extinguish this desire (of death), be patient.

it won't matter in the end
how brightly your light shines
or how deep into my heart it delves.
it'll never be enough
to extinguish my darkness
so i'm afraid my darkness will extinguish us.

I

Where the quiet-coloured end of evening smiles
     Miles and miles
On the solitary pastures where our sheep
     Half-asleep
****** homeward thro’ the twilight, stray or stop
     As they crop—
Was the site once of a city great and gay,
     (So they say)
Of our country’s very capital, its prince
     Ages since
Held his court in, gathered councils, wielding far
     Peace or war.

II

Now—the country does not even boast a tree,
     As you see,
To distinguish slopes of verdure, certain rills
     From the hills
Intersect and give a name to, (else they run
     Into one)
Where the domed and daring palace shot its spires
     Up like fires
O’er the hundred-gated circuit of a wall
     Bounding all,
Made of marble, men might march on nor be prest,
     Twelve abreast.

III

And such plenty and perfection, see, of grass
     Never was!
Such a carpet as, this summer-time, o’erspreads
     And embeds
Every vestige of the city, guessed alone,
     Stock or stone—
Where a multitude of men breathed joy and woe
     Long ago;
Lust of glory pricked their hearts up, dread of shame
     Struck them tame;
And that glory and that shame alike, the gold
     Bought and sold.

IV

Now,—the single little turret that remains
     On the plains,
By the caper overrooted, by the gourd
     Overscored,
While the patching houseleek’s head of blossom winks
     Through the chinks—
Marks the basement whence a tower in ancient time
     Sprang sublime,
And a burning ring, all round, the chariots traced
     As they raced,
And the monarch and his minions and his dames
     Viewed the games.

V

And I know, while thus the quiet-coloured eve
     Smiles to leave
To their folding, all our many-tinkling fleece
     In such peace,
And the slopes and rills in undistinguished grey
     Melt away—
That a girl with eager eyes and yellow hair
     Waits me there
In the turret whence the charioteers caught soul
     For the goal,
When the king looked, where she looks now, breathless, dumb
     Till I come.

VI

But he looked upon the city, every side,
     Far and wide,
All the mountains topped with temples, all the glades’
     Colonnades,
All the causeys, bridges, aqueducts,—and then,
     All the men!
When I do come, she will speak not, she will stand,
     Either hand
On my shoulder, give her eyes the first embrace
     Of my face,
Ere we rush, ere we extinguish sight and speech
     Each on each.

VII

In one year they sent a million fighters forth
     South and north,
And they built their gods a brazen pillar high
     As the sky,
Yet reserved a thousand chariots in full force—
     Gold, of course.
Oh, heart! oh, blood that freezes, blood that burns!
     Earth’s returns
For whole centuries of folly, noise and sin!
     Shut them in,
With their triumphs and their glories and the rest.
     Love is best!

The dog firmly placed his chin upon the old
man's knee, stirring him from sleep in his chair.
The only light in the room coming from the
television screen. The dog's gentle message
being, "Time we go to bed" dear friend.
A ritual event occurring more often now
and most likely tomorrow night again.

As the man slowly stood the dog pranced towards
the door, to go outside and do his required business.
The man also to the bathroom did retire, brushing of
teeth and to attend to his own urgent business.

Six years of twenty four seven companionship had
bonded them forever, each knowing the other as
only best friends or family can, both fully habituated
to the other's needs and routines.

The dog sat upon his own bed, close by to the man's
bed,  patiently waiting as he always did. The man leaned
down and took the dog's face and head into his hands,
forehead to forehead they paused while silent endearing
messages were, like every night, conveyed and mutually
affectionately received. Love as real as any.

The man climbed aboard his own bed, donning his CPAP
mask like a pilot before take off and arranged himself
in his fully-automatic-adjustable bed, then clapped his
hands twice to extinguish the lamp on the bedside table.

"Good night buddy, we'll have some more fun in the
morning." the man murmured, closing his eyes to sleep.

Another day ended as most now do, as will, all their
remaining shared tomorrow's.

I dig deep
For some hidden hope
To find the strength I've always had
When I was up against the ropes

Because that’s exactly where I’ll be
As I'm running away
To the only dream
That’s kept me mentally sane

I'm finding an escape
From the people around me
And the day to day life
That creates my boundary

I’ll find a place
Where I can hear my own voice
And it won’t be distorted
By the societal noise

I’ll climb each step
Ignoring the blood on my hands
And distance myself
From that which fears what it can’t understand

And now that I'm here
I’ll find what sets me apart
From a white picket fence
And a little green yard

The American dream
Might be a safe aspiration
But what does it become
When it drowns the dreams of its nation?

So I’ll escape into the truth
And leave my chains behind
So they can see what it means
To be truly alive

I’ll sit on a hilltop
And watch the lives they all lead
Working jobs they hate
to buy **** they don’t need

being ordinary
is the addiction they feed
as they smile coldly
and say **** they don’t mean

one morning they’ll wake up
and see the hole in their chest
and realize they made up
all this nonsense

but they’re not bad people
they just never learn
cause on their way to the top
they’d watch the world burn

and instead of trying to extinguish
these self-mutilating fires
they’ll turn their heads
to their frivolous desires

but I’m still searching
for the bigger picture
because maybe if I find it
I can hang it on my refrigerator

So I wont forget
Because I need to remember
As my story settles down
Into the pages of forever

But all I feel
Is my judgment slip away
As black and white
Fade into shades of gray

And all I feel
Is the hypocrisy settle in
As I see myself
Committing the same sins

So I’ll resign to the life
Of a numbing vaccine
And continue trying
to put out my fire with gasoline

I’d positioned myself
Away from it all
But now prepared
For the inevitable fall

My knees start to tremble
My skin feels colder
as the weight of the world
bears down on my shoulders

my front foot slips
and the back one slides
and I fall into the hole
I dug with my pride

and all I see
is the faces I left behind
and suddenly that hope I’m looking for
........
is much harder to find…

give me the pleasure of knowing
that i can please you in ways that not even you can
i want to detain your innermost secrets
i want to become more familiar with your body than you are
tell me your favorite fingers
    let’s discover your favorite toy
i want to know which spot makes you shiver
i want to know which spot makes you moan
   i want to know exactly what type of stroke makes you shake
i want to know which spot makes
                        your eyes
                            your hips
                                 your head
                                             roll
                    so that i know precisely when to roll you over
                            and vivaciously assault you from behind
                                   while i croak romantic entities
       and watch them travel down the notches of your spine
       and wrap themselves around your earlobes
and curl their exclamatory hands around your throat
                            and reach around your body
     and diligently massage your ****
           while the planes of your forearms give out
          due to the weariness of supporting not only your body
but also the head on your shoulders
whirring with the fact that this moment is almost
too large for you
         just like the member pumping
              in and out of you is
and just like that member
               these moments were at first
               difficult to swallow

  let me stop
         and take a moment to admire the way sweat
gives your curves a flattering spotlight
and provides the candles in the room more reason to
      applaud and reach their crowns in the air
            almost as if to detach themselves from
their own wax and join us
                      in order to extinguish
                                             the fire deep within themselves
            by allowing me to drown them in their own juices
                                                        ­just as you have
        i want to admire the way sheets of sweat
                                       glaze your skin
           in the same way your juices glaze
           your opening

let me enter you
    as you pucker your mouth
bite your lip
and beg for more
i want to know exactly what makes you
denounce me to the dirtiest of things
give me a title only worn by those wearing sweat
  and exhalations

scream my name
pull those eyebrows together
and spread those legs further apart
and let the part of me
that isn’t me
(but is me)
deeper inside of you

let me carry you to ******
             afterwards i'll lean down and bury my mouth
between your legs
and taste what meal your supplementary pair of lips
  have prepared for me
i want to digest my libidinous progress
and mount this triumph in my heart
as the first of many
powerfully lecherous
conquered temptations


k.n

Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, I bring to you a sad affair
Someone who evokes such fury, yet one who faces deep despair

For this, the accused who faces death, or lives according to your decree
Who makes no statement with dying breath, yet silently invokes her plea    

What crimes are done by this lost soul, what evil deeds did she aspire?
And where the witness of her death toll, the evidence that guilt requires?

No crime recorded, no victim slain, no trace of ****** or robbery
No voice of condemnation raised, none here to force a guilty plea  

She has no wrongs in her short life, has no deceit within her soul
No hurt has she, nor human spite, no determined selfish goal  

But one accuser, here today, one joined in life and woven fate
This one though will have her say, and claim the life she helped create

This witness claims to suffer pain, and a prison, should the accused survive
That her life will ebb and be restrained, and sadness would always reside

For some accusers have been defiled, by monstrous beasts of lust and hate
Others young and so beguiled, are induced by charm, so participate  

Others spy disease and defect, and cry acts of mercy to prevent
They choose to extinguish and protect, rather than one day regret

And then are those alone who strive, who cannot toil with life's results
And so instead, they choose their lives, and cry for freedom do exult

But where in these stands the accused, silent and awaiting fate
Her breath and freedom she is refused, for all the reasons the witness states

Is she alive, does she have form, within her soft and warm abode?
Where her heart beats, and fingers form, and from miracles she is wove    

Was she not also one defiled, is she not young and helpless too?
Would malady she reject, and death instead would opt to choose?  

And would not her life loneliness cure, and make a future with great light?
And comfort one who gave her life, and join her purpose true and right

For the accused can offer more than this, should she be allowed today to  live
Has so much that she can share, so much love and joy to give

For in our world, where children die, through hate and fate and evil men
We cherish those we lost too soon, and yearn to see our child again  
  
But what of the accused today, what future do we her deny?
A nurse, a doctor or a friend, a mother of so many lives?

How sad the accuser, so resolute, yet desperate to belong
In a world where our rights are so absolute, that they obscure the wrongs

And what she gains through this sad act, she loses so much more
A legacy of love and hope, a daughter who will adore

And so good people of the jury, I ask that you reflect
Upon the life of this dear child, so amazing and perfect

For my client has committed no crime, no evil deed or word
Is blameless and so innocent, and would not have caused this hurt

I ask therefore for mercy true, that her life be now redeemed
That she might live, and love and learn, and so pursue her dreams


"Your eyes saw even the embryo of me."  - The Bible

422

More Life—went out—when He went
Than Ordinary Breath—
Lit with a finer Phosphor—
Requiring in the Quench—

A Power of Renowned Cold,
The Climate of the Grave
A Temperature just adequate
So Anthracite, to live—

For some—an Ampler Zero—
A Frost more needle keen
Is necessary, to reduce
The Ethiop within.

Others—extinguish easier—
A Gnat’s minutest Fan
Sufficient to obliterate
A Tract of Citizen—

Whose Peat lift—amply vivid—
Ignores the solemn News
That Popocatapel exists—
Or Etna’s Scarlets, Choose—

How does it feel,
when you polish silvers
On your abominable veins?
Can you see the stars,
or broken paradise?

How does it feel,
to feel joy upon pain
That you inflicted?
I can make you cry
As much as you hurt you

Come,
If you run out of pins
Or run out of fingers
I’ll break the metal wood
And sculpt the night endlessly
To fix smiles upon sorrows

Then comes hell,
When you nod over
The marching fire
Cracking little demons
That lavish inner devotion
For the broken and unhealed

High water,
Rises to drown you
Drenching you in exchange
For stakes to the heart
Built of gloom and your drowsy hair

Come hell or high water,
I’ll pursue you away
From your battles of fables
And vacant splendors
Perfumed by corruption,

Abandon abundance,
Abandon crooked vows
Abandon lusted graveyards
Abandon all hopes
Abandon promises you plead yourself

But come hell,
Or high water
Who am I?
Just a labeled hero
With broken limbs and faded eyes

As long as I still
Can walk with,
Or without you,
Then come hell
Or high water

Right, left, back – what?
Flames flicker to the rhythm of
Your feet
And waver
At the ripple of my laughter.

Your palm pressed to mine:
Fire soldered to water.
I twirl and
Your eyes
Extinguish mine.

-bes-

While satellites come close and leave,
whole moons and the swirling dust
of reflective obeyers,
it arrives from distance.

Running a course through weight
from a pencil-thin horizon brow,
it might have streaked across darkness.
With the dead shines behind,
washed clean in a trail of wild flame and
then fallen, bolide broken into cascade.

Or rising to collide,
only skim the surface.
Ruffle the sheets of land,
wrinkle fertile leas and parched sands.

No, to strike full and shudder
the core and extinguish
light and life.
With unswerving smite.

From underestimated range
and unmeasured haste,
a peacock tail drags far behind.
Each one diamond dolefully eyed.

Is this eccentric orbit
the only the path seen?
Fastened to your celestial belt
and looped in an endless trajectory.

The woman paid money-
Three hundred it’s said-
To help change her life
But she ended up dead.

A voodoo priest promised
To alter her fate,
but all he accomplished
was speeding up her due date..

The candles were lit
on his bedroom floor there.
The priest and the woman
Shortly after went bare

“Oh, Father!” she murmured
“You’re sure looking swell!
Now come do that Voodoo
That you do so well.”

As they bounced on the bed
A candle placed there
Fell down and ignited
Clothes piled on a chair.

The supplicant woman
And the priest, now defrocked,
At first didn’t notice
while they were hip locked.

But first they smelled smoke
And then they saw fire.
They had no clothes and no means
to extinguish their pyre..

The voodoo priest’s roommate
Was ironing pants
When he heard the commotion
It didn’t sound like romance.

When he opened the door
To go to their aide
A strong gust of wind
Added fuel to the flame
A blazing inferno
engulfed the whole room
what had been their temple
was shortly their tomb.

The tenants all fled
As the night burned bright red
They had only the clothes on their backs
Reports said.

When you next do the voodoo
That you do so well
Skip the part with the candles
And you may live to tell.

As we dance gracefully in the heat of the moment
We burn for more than we could imagine
We dance without care
We cry heart out
And till we can’t
For it’s all burnt
Too late to extinguish

Memories
are like fire,
they can execute
or inspire,
satiate
cooked on a plate,
deforest
when
filled with hate.
Running like lava
through
varicose veins,
embers smolder
ready to ignite,
or extinguish the
remembrance.

there's a raging flame
contained to a wick in glass
the wax keeps it company
but it's melting too fast

i extinguish the fire
my hands start to burn
i don't mind this time
it's my turn

Lover, I was never a creature of euphonious language, but, in the sincerest way possible, I want to trace the lines in your palms with my fingertips I could blindly transfer them onto paper like my native language; there is something that tells me that there are otherworldly creatures that breathe life into every speck of dust floating by your window in the early morning so they can be assured that every particle feels the blessing of seeing the loveliest of nonsense spilling from your lips in a low mutter; I have dreamt of a world where I am stringing harps with every word you said that I grabbed with my grimy hands and condensed into velvet strings and in this world I play you a melody and I do not tremble and you are immortal. However, I do not quarrel with this reality that is given to me, for I know that it is an honor to have been placed on this earth in the realm of your existence, to have the privelege to see the way the sun glows this new shade of warmth when it is bathing your shoulders — like a lover with kisses made of milky light, it kisses you into a divine sort of oblivion that I cannot help but envy and admire, I know we do not realize the true beauty of things until they are broken but I have haggled my soul to never see you crack, and God knows I would extinguish the flames behind my eyes so that they are reduced to low-burning coals, in the hopes that you and everything delicate that follows close behind will at least hover just beyond my grip, still not too close because I have always had trouble keeping a gentle grip on heavenly things and you are a piece of every form of divinity that I can bear to break down into fathomable thoughts; so, here I love you from worlds away — yes, from worlds away, I love you.

it was an inevitability
that we'd unearth the evidence
to validate Einstein's theory
of general relativity.

three cheers for the
method of science,
an appliance that
liberates and enlightens,
suffocating the miasma
of dogmatic parasitism.

pariahs can't stand beneath
the weight of empirical data.
a culture of imperialism
intoxicating inane idiots,
inundated by asinine philosophy.

ideologues instigating turmoil—
vainly believing
an intergalactic being
created the cosmos
in seven days for the
predestined elect.

to insist inanely that the legacy
of our existence could be measured
in seven millennia
is to extinguish the light
from the majority
of our neighboring galaxies.

you read the opening lines
of your holy text too literally.
open your mind to the poetry
of a reality that no deity
could ever breathe into existence.

we are not special.
our fate is tied to a
planet choking on CO2
and you deny the truth
in the same breath you
disparage any challenge
to your impotent,
imaginary friend.

**** sapiens—
mere animals
cursed with
conscience.

if you would deny
the ancestral history
of our evolutionary biology
simply on the premise
that it's “only a theory,”
then i'd invite you to put
your vain hypothesis
to the test and take a long walk
off a short bridge.
perhaps the theory of gravity
will provide with you some clarity.

you and i
were made by satan,
doomed since we were born,
destined to go to hell.
you will burn holes
in my skin with your mouth,
and i will not
extinguish the flames
on my skin,
demons are impatiently
waiting for our arrival
after death.

I'm sorry God, but they've taken you prisoner.

Their words indubitably once streamed from your lips,
as your fingers projected beams of light,
falling from the Heavens:
people dumbly read your signs so literally.

They've closed you in a book and recalled your name
when such mentioning benefited their own name,
hypocrites they are;
for there was never a hypoChrist
capable of making wine a commodity
and bread a demon,
unless it is gluten-free.

How your intentions are clouded in veils.
****** in your name.
To glorify you.
Pushing scared young lovers--two men-- against barbed wire fences
and insisting they are sinful, foul--better off dead.
Maybe the hate is right
because it wins ten times out of nine.

God, they constantly judge each other
when they don't believe in the "right" version of you.
And they represent a new hipper you for the youth:
they want to understand you, when really they just
want to be understood.

Some days I walk past strangers and wonder,
"Who do you want me to be?"
Am I not Muslim enough unless I cover my hair?
Am I too Moz-lim if I say Allah and mean God--
just God, not whatever inane misnomer you'll tell me I really believe
you to be.

I think you tire of our piddle paddle,
how we puff up our chests, only to blow out a tiny breath of air,
that in one instant you can extinguish:
the candle had no choice.

We think we give the world meaning.
We feel so special when we hear ourselves think,
but sometimes, I wish you'd speak instead of all these false prophets.

You struck the match
You birthed the fire
The room was dark
Our bodies brighter
I was breathless
I was high
From hello,
Until goodbye.

You called me nightly
You let me in
Awakened a sense
Of fun and new
A comfortable
Abode for two.

I didn’t know love
Could be defined
By chinese buffet
And ripened peaches
I didn’t realize love
Was at the door,
In the pool, down
the road at the farm
Or even the dusty
Old piano where we’d
Play the music from
Our favorite games.

You, I,
We never saw it coming
Even though it was
Achingly inevitable.
We were never
Conscious of the bigger
Thing - just good friends,
Great friends, best friends.
I didn’t know our time
Would run short.
You talked of the future
You made me smile
I’d sit beside you
Talking life, sad because
School was coming up
And you lived far away.

I didn’t know I loved you,
Even up until the end
Dragging our feet in the sand
Ocean’s breath on our backs
cold, because the sun
Was setting and so was summer.

I didn’t know matches
Could die and fade.
I always thought they
Led to magnificent flames.
It hurt too much,
The pain, the loss,
The start and end -
I miss you, friend.

You broke the match
You killed the fire
My heart is dark
My outlook darker
I was breathless,
I was high
From hello,
Until goodbye.

we labor under an oppressive thumb
not realizing the very leaders
we exalt will use that power to
hold us down

we've armed them with
the greatest of weapons
blind conformity
empty apathy
unquestioning obedience
what we believe in is a puppet

as our so-called democracy devolves
we increase in callousness
masses designed with a singular purpose
to extinguish original thought

accept or die
embrace or be ostracized
belabor the point
that your purpose is to labor forever
another slave along the chain
another cog in the machine
bent-kneed
stooped before some
corporate conglomerate
a faceless superpower
pulling the strings behind the scenes

politicians bought and paid for
shouldering the burdens of the
Fortune 500 companies
who helped them purchase their office
beholden to back alley deals
and smoke and mirror gimmicks

artists traded rebellion for comfort
now they ply their craft for profit
to appease the brainwashed masses a
morally—and financially—bankrupt populace

they catalogue our every thought
metadata ensnared in the dragnet
mass surveillance a tool to bend the whims
of the people to their rulers

we **** black kids in Ferguson
as they walk down the middle of the street
shoot 'em down as the snack on skittles
and sip Arizona ice teas
they forbid us to feed the homeless
lock us in a jail cell if we dare to disobey
city ordinances designed to keep the
City Beautiful looking beautiful
but i see beyond the thin facade

expose war crimes
thanks for your service
Chelsea Manning
that'll be 35 years in federal penitentiary
hack a surveillance network spying on
activists and protesters
can't have that
that'll be 10 years at State
Jeremy Hammond
blow the whistle on the panopticon
thanks Edward Snowden
but we've grown to adore our own shackles

fear
24/7/365
fear this fear that
fear god fear death
fear Muslims fear blacks
just don't fear the rich white straight
males in their 4k suits and crooked smiles
pay the white-collar Wall St. Bankers no mind
the 1% who've left us all behind
as they lurk in the shadows
ruining everything

a fearful electorate will bow to the
whims of its masked dictatorship
and march without thought to the beat
of the war drums

**** them
**** all of them
ISIS Pakistan Iran Syria
all the Muslim savages in countries
whose names we can't even pronounce
render weapons to tyrannic despots
so we can pretend we
don't have blood on our own hands
torture extrajudicial assassination
extraordinary rendition drones bombing
civilians in record numbers
all cards we've stowed up our sleeves
in a war that is designed to never end
fight terrorism with terrorism
revenge not justice
but if our army is abusing children
then who the **** are the bad guys

confront the ambivalence that
roars like machine gun fire
violence is never the answer
and i refuse to stand by and watch
as we wreak havoc upon this earth

our leaders are liars
our gods are frauds
we're going to have to save ourselves

the answer does not rest above
a utopic afterlife in the clouds is a farce
we've been led like sheep to the slaughter
obedience and reverence have crippled us
if we want heaven
we'll have to raise hell

stand in solidarity with our brothers and sisters
in direct action cooperatives
nonviolent civil disobedience
insurrection against the State
anarchy is the answer

beat your swords to plowshares
and seek peace

Held captive by her agony
Her quill, the hero's sword
She writes like a damsel in distress
With freedom as her reward

Her knights in shining armor
Are the words that set her free
They surround her pain in one accord
To slay her misery

This dragon known as "Heartache"
Has left the poet maim
The words she writes will heal her soul
And extinguish the dragon's flame

The sword once more in the poet's hand
Gathers together her knights
Each hero lands a lethal blow
Whenever the poet writes

The poet lays her weapon down
Rescued from all her pain
The damsel closes her eyes to sleep
Her dragon finally slain

Why do you* love
                       Something that only makes you cry.
Why do you ignore
                      The voice that lingers to say goodbye.


How do you ****
                       Something that is not alive .
How do you extinguish
                       The flames that oozes from the eye.


What do you wish
                      To see in the shadows, the memories cast.
What do you hope
                       To gain by dwelling on the past.


Where do you find
                       The strength to escape the ratchet quicksand.
Where do you** go
                       Once you are out and are standing on solid land.

A pin point
Of liquid silver sound
Trickles from

Open sky

Low under leaden feet
The cheated generation
Lies
Present and correct
Rank and file
Row upon row

Dark sockets gape
Where eyes once flared and flinched
Bled and oozed
Then locked their grateful lids
To extinguish Hell

For good

Beneath the sun's glower
I raise mine to
Squint
At the lark

Ascending

I awoke one morning
To light beating through the window,
The steady hum of the city
In my bones. I was in a manic mood
Before noon, half-dressed with my hair
Standing straight from a nervous hand.
My chest throbbed with a warm weight,
A smoldering ember that expression could extinguish only.
I wrote and cried and bled
To get the vibration I was feeling
Down on paper. In vain I spewed
Collections of letters, contorted and foreign
My mind was
Shooting up skyscrapers and
Strolling down streets of shine;
I could but lust at a copy of Gatsby through a puddle of cheap wine.

I suddenly found I couldn't take my walls,
Any longer.
I forced open the window
And the city flooded my room,
Sending papers sailing. I resonated
With the silver river
And all of me cried for release.
I scrounged together clothes and wet my hair,
Then bolted out the building.
I was embraced by the world and twirled along,
Hull to hull with the lonely lot.
We, the builders of this landscape,
The elemental moving force
That hollowed these ashen canyons.
Day by day we toil along our track,
Carving deeper and wider, shifting specks,
Seamlessly, we are one-
     Crisp dress shirt and an expensive smell, cracked black work boots and a ponytail.
I raised my eyes to the brilliant glare
Of the segmented sky and considered the beauty of being
A drop within a trickle.
Rushing, rushing, I flowed around corners
And broke against departmental shores.
I sought my gaze in a fifth avenue reflection but found only lips.
If people are the sea then I am the mist.
Understand me-- I felt not love for others,
But a crushing connectivity.
Drifting, drifting, I was swallowed whole by anonymity, crew and ship.




*Critiques are very much appreciated.

Meditations Over the George Washington Bridge
For Tyler Clementi

1.
I could hear the faintest of notes crying in the wind,
As if your fingers were still nimbly holding the bow,
Striking chords on your violin,
As my car rolled over the George Washington Bridge.
I think about how beautiful this is,
This feeling of suspension, how life is held
So taut on these wires, how simple it is to find
Weightlessness over all this water. My mind questions,

Did you second guess yourself? Did you know you
Were worthy of being held, cradled in more
Than just cool air and metal grates and wetness.
But I guess some higher being knew you better,
Than anyone did or could. Knew how those fingers could string
Harps and violins and heart strings, and you,
You were more than all of this, this wasteland
Where desires and kisses are taken for mockery,
And your love can be twisted against you
To make you feel light enough to float away into sleep.

2.
You flew that night. I could tell. Spread your arms like wings
Like a firebird descending into waves, looking to extinguish
Itself, and to take the world with it, to burn out the innate
Inhumanity of human beings. What they found floating
On those waves was a mere carcass, the shelling of your being,
You shed the unholiness of your skin off to alight yourself,
And blaze us with our ignorance.

They were too blind to see you flew that night, let yourself
Unravel into the sky, ripping through the darkness like a seraph,
Like some holy being, some light meant for a higher calling,
But I know what you did, I could see the shadow of you in the night
Gracefully floating. You, you are a testament to language spoken
And silenced, to the words stuck on tongues prying themselves
Through gritted teeth, you birthed meaning to the need for some sort of justice.

3.
You served your time well,
You messenger,
You,
You young,
Holy creature of God,
And I wonder as I pass over
Your take off spot,

How long you will string
Your notes over us
And how you would have fit
Into the Philharmonic
And looked walking up
For your degree

And how long your memory
Will haunt me
And how long your memory
Will stay a lesson learned
For us all.

You were forged in fire long before
their warm breath ever caressed your neck,
and you will continue to engulf the world in flames
long after they have tried to extinguish your light.