"facilitated" poems
She might laugh if she read this
at the flat little version of her
that lives in my mind.
She may laugh
at my comparison of her
to a hideous sea spider
but hear me out
it could be touching.
David Foster Wallace wrote:
*“Since pain is a totally subjective mental experience
we do not have direct access
to anyone or anything’s pain but our own;
and even just the principles
by which we can infer that others experience pain
and have a legitimate interest in not feeling pain
involve ******** philosophy—
metaphysics, epistemology, value theory, ethics.”
*"[Lobsters] do have an exquisite tactile sense,
one facilitated by hundreds of thousands of tiny hairs
that protrude through their carapace.
Although encased
in what seems a solid, impenetrable armour,
the lobster can receive stimuli and impressions from without
as readily as if it possessed a soft and delicate skin.”*
and so
“We lift lobsters out of the bag
or whatever retail container they came home in
…whereupon some uncomfortable things start to happen.
However stuporous the lobster is from the trip home, for instance,
it tends to come alarmingly to life when placed in boiling water."*
As much as I cannot comprehend the pain
of the exquisitely tactile lobster
in a *** of boiling water,
I wonder if I could
walk a mile in a lobster’s 8 minuscule shoes
and I wonder
what it might mean or not mean to her
with her armoured yet acute exoskeleton
to be back at home with her father.
They might try to butter you up
or snap elastic bands
around your oversized claws
and use a wooden spoon
to try and nudge your thrashing, clinging arms
back into the ***
but remember:
lobsters can live to be over 100 years old
and grow to over 20 pounds in size
which is very large for an aquatic insect
and remember that they are marine crustaceans of the family Homaridae, characterized by five pairs of jointed legs, the first pair terminating in large pincerish claws.
And DFW famously said,
“Everything I’ve ever let go of has claw marks on it.”
and he's not a lobster either
Apr 28, 2015
Apr 28, 2015 at 6:18 PM UTC
Antagonism
burgeons back bad blood.
Compatriots, courtesy can cool contentions:
doubly, disrespect demands decisive
execution. Early efforts evolved
fatuously, force facilitated farcical fighting.
Gambling gents gleefully gored
hedonistic harlots. Harassing
ignorantly, igniting
jealously,
killings
listlessly- liars lament
momentarily. Meanwhile, monetary
nuances
of opulence obscure
prime problems.
Quarries quake
running red. Remembering
solitarily- stoic steeds stand silent, sending
thoughts,
unbidden, unbeknownst.
Violence:
we were
xanthic,
yellow years yaw…
Zymotic.
Jun 22, 2013
Jun 22, 2013 at 11:57 PM UTC
There's a mansion on a hill
I've seen it numerous times
But,
I've never been inside
It's said to belong to an old woman
Who is very selective
in who enters her domain
Either you're an insignificant servant
And you slip inside
Through a back door
A tiny molecule diffusing
from high to low concentration
Or, you're a personal servant
Then, you gain special access
Still, through the back door
Water molecule
Diffusing through osmosis
After that are ordinary guests,
aided by the butler
through the front door
Facilitated diffusion
Molecules carried or channeled
And finally,
the VIP's
Welcomed by a great procession
Through a special VIP door
People,
invited by the madam
with great effort
Active transport
From low to high concentration
Requiring added energy
But despite this selectivity
of who can and cannot enter
That old mansion on the hill
And the jobs it provides
Is essential to the livelihood
Of the people in this town
Just like the cell membrane to our bodies
Sep 23, 2018
Sep 23, 2018 at 1:43 PM UTC
|
Cubism brought the
omniscient narrator
into the visual arts &
|
traveling far enough
from the center of the
universe makes the universe
seem actually tiny &
finally, imperceptible,
all that is time-travel, god &
ordinary life: is relativity,
the math of the diameter;
quantum mechanics, that
of the circumference
|
the Russian avant-garde
of the 'teens & 20's
applied these principles
to typography to serve
the supposedly omniscient
Soviet State;
|
an early cold war
project of the NSA
was to fund the arts
as propaganda
|
1950's & early 60's
America saw unbridled
expressions of mass,
individual, artistic &
intellectual
creativity:
facilitated in large
part by the invention
of LSD by the CIA
|
so far the greatest mind
of recent times has been
essentially a disembodied
brain; RIP Stephen Hawking
|
the future points to our brain
being salvageable from the
polluted mess of the body;
|
Under Gretchen Carlson
Miss America is to be judged
on brains alone
|
_That's Avante-Garde, *****
Aug 9, 2018
Aug 9, 2018 at 8:45 PM UTC
When you have met the point of intersection where doubt doesn't exist in the mind
And you have left evil eye and imprints of the dead at the center point
At the moment that the high self is just slightly altered and the total manifestation begins to trickle down into the autonomic functions of the ego
It begins an infantile form of self forgiveness that is void of nested spaces that house an association to the systematic map of words and actions that held trial and judgement
Somewhere in the particular dimension Hecate facilitated the depths of soul to be worn about the outer rims of the aura while fastened securely to the glow of high heart chakra
And the soul can depict the source form energy peering into its center with white eyes
Aug 29, 2016
Aug 29, 2016 at 9:52 PM UTC
"I would say I care about women's rights, but I wouldn't call myself a feminist"
"I think men and women should be equal, yeah, but I don't want to be called a feminist."
"Does that mean I can hit you?"
The word feminism rattles like a cracking cymbal crashing
just hard enough on pavement to scratch it
but not hard enough to break.
The word feminism manifests itself in our culture
in poisonous ways,
like the food dye in our candy'r
parabens we cover our faces in,
we don't say this word cos' it's scary
we don't want to make too much commotion
while white men in black robes orchestrate the court system
and have police by the neck, inserting money like a candy machine
we fear the word that gives us a step to bring equality
while white men in suits ask us "how we doin'"
and we don't admit that we're angry,
women don't show anger, it isn't polite
when the men in the subway puts his hand up our skirt
and says "hey baby you like that"
no, he doesn't ask if we do, he tells us out flat,
insinuating our satisfaction is a product of theirs
reminding us with a hand on public transportation
that anyone who has a **** can be one and we can't do ****
because we aren't supposed to be angry, it isn't polite
The word feminism manifests itself in delicate ways
we can't ask for too much, they won't take us seriously
****** intergrity? girl, try again
the right to not wear a bra?
Where do you think you are? this is america
An opinion
one that they hear
that isn't facilitated
out a white man's mouth
into a white man's ear
we aren't a filter
won't you raise your voice?
**** being polite,
please, make some noise
The word feminism manifests itself in ways you can't see
if you fear what it might make you lose
you haven't much yet by the hands of the man
so why are you choosing not to grab your sister's hands?
Stop saying sorry when someone interrupts you
stop moving out of the way for men who don't move
put your female foot down, don't say excuse me
you're a woman, angry with every right to be
stop fearing the word feminism
for the connotations are flurries
the word denotes storms we're starting
join us
Sep 28, 2016
Sep 28, 2016 at 9:30 PM UTC
Hand on the good book that I never read,
I swore my loyalty though you know I like to fib,
Even as your see the guilt gushing beneath my skin,
I’ve been holding the prosecutor’s hand, with another on the switch,
A spineless snitch waiting for the green light to fry you for what Benjamin did,
So sorry this couldn’t have been different,
But the chair only seats one according to our governance,
And I’m not the victim with a scheme preached as providence
So sorry for the inconvenience
But I want to feel the pulse of the pompous cease,
And watch the stillness of eyes that once blinked,
When they found the oval throne of a tyrant
Instead of the virtuous,
The one who was to lead us,
So who’s stopping me from strapping you to that seat?
Since my crime caused the scene
Since your fathers where the ones who put your sons to sleep
Coming from the cranial cracks of the insane,
Those that tried justified slavery while promising us all equality
I am the reason they put price tags on humans
And why this isn’t the land of the free
I’m the governor forcing your loyalty
Or I tell everyone you’re a traitor before finding you guilty,
I’m Uncle Sam’s mistress,
The thought process of social unrest,
When the enemy was a homegrown threat,
When Plymouth protest turned to disobedience,
I was with the Protestant,
I’m the crack in the Liberty Bell,
The judge, jury, and judicial jezebel,
The King, the colonial, the freedom fighter, the insurgent
I’ve once facilitated your independence,
I was your lust for a better existence
Since the struggle against a parliament
I’ve been dealing you an idealistic hand,
Since the election of the forty-third,
I am the notion that this isn’t the promise land
Like a revolutionary remedy
I am the idealistic ******
The enemy of our mentalities
The thought of defying the constraints this reality
Apr 6, 2012
Apr 6, 2012 at 2:38 AM UTC
Down no plains of flowing grass
up no hills of trees that stand
what tips your hat?
where is your flaw?
disillusioned taste
defused for all, mimicked
in the voice of a flower
through hearts of trees, outstretching
complex, limbs hidden
simply facilitated
in common goal, conditioned
used for all;
how do you stand?
quite so tall
in divined obsession
it seems to find all
nurtured and withdrawn
concealed in fixation
no one finds your flaw
for there’s none at all
yet from deception, true love finds all
in this shambled; shrine,
not flawed in design
nurtured from unseen
confronted with existence.
Aug 1, 2016
Aug 1, 2016 at 3:20 AM UTC
Hand on the good book that I never read,
I swear my loyalty though I’ve been known to fib,
Holding the prosecutor’s hand with another on the switch,
Waiting for the green light to fry you for what we did,
So sorry it couldn’t have been different,
But the chair only seats one,
I apologize for the inconvenience
But I chose an existence,
While they strap you in for a crime I committed
I swear to tell the truth,
Or at least what I feel is best
I am the pen and scribe,
The governor seeking your obedience
I’m Uncle Sam’s mistress,
With the thought process of social unrest,
When the enemy was a homegrown threat,
I was with the Protestant,
Swore to tell the truth,
I've been known to fib,
I’m the ******* of Lady Liberty,
The child of Benjamin
The judge, jury, and judicial jezebel,
I’m the means to an end,
The King, the colonial, the insurgence,
I’ve once facilitated your independence,
I am your lust for freedom
Since the struggle against a parliament
I’ve been dealing you an idealistic hand,
Since the election of the forty-third,
I am the notion that this is the promise land
The thought process of the patriots
Feb 27, 2012
Feb 27, 2012 at 12:08 PM UTC
lasing fallacies
facilitated by flunkies
fictionalizing facts
for freedom
re-done interiors
inferior to craftsmanship of old
offer glimpses into consciousness
of the common folk
squandering birthrights
for a burger richer in trans fat
and bacon flavoring
atop an evangelical spire
I peer into soulless zombies
seeking connection
with my kin
only to have reality slap me back
as wolves are kin to pugs
but they cannot coexist
storm clouds gather
night falls
tears drop
I am alone
bone dry dust bowl
harboring fuchsia scorch marks
landscape scars
fracking remnants
humanity’s blight
my line of sight tracks trite sprites
pixie wings and bath salts
eating dog faces for jesus
or worse
feces
out of hunger
horrified I recoil to a safe spot within
again
with old friends
in the din
I win
Aug 28, 2014
Aug 28, 2014 at 1:39 PM UTC
Good things come to those who wait
Well I’m done waiting.
I’ve waited before.
I’ve been heartbroken,
I’ve recovered,
I’ve looked and looked and been around,
I gave up,
threw in the towel.
And then I was found.
By You
you who are so far away that distance includes a time difference
Limbo.
is not a state of mind!
It is a heart breaker, Chest beater There are not enough words in the world Minutes in the day
To express my frustration
With You
The universe
My weak weak resolve
To wait for you
I’ve waited before.
But I thought I had found you!
Been found.
Brought back to the place I had been before
I was like Eve,!
in the Garden of Eden (pause)
Love is like……
Being high
But you still get the paranoia It’s just not as intense
I’ve been heartbroken before
They say:
Distance makes the heart grow fonder?
But no one ever said what it did to the mind
Sleeping patterns, social skills and drinking habits?
I could have loved you.!
(But for that I needed time)
You could have been the love of my life
(Feelings grow)
The one ( a concept we trivialised)
Our relationship was facilitated
By my own temporary living situation
PAUSE
This limbo is never-ending
You drive me ******* crazy…
Crazy to ****
In blue Yves-St Laurent.
On top of covers,
Never under.
I guess the issue is
LETTING GO.
I don’t want to
It’s not fair
I just found someone who cares
About music, and books, haircuts
Me.
My needs
My pleasures
You chased ME
Right into my own mind Heart Body and soul
You got me
All of me;
My virginity
You said you didn’t do goodbyes.
I’ve never had to say goodbye;
But I think that we should have
Instead of this awful purgatory
That I’m wallowing in
Doubt, pity and swallowing
.My feelings.
Because this was meant to be easier (plea)
For you at least.
I
I just wish I was a vampire
So I could turn my feelings off
And recover
And I can’t fully address the heartache,
The recovery
The looking looking, getting around
Giving up, throwing in the towel
Because like a child
I am putting my foot down
I don’t want to be found
I already found you!
I will make my way back into your heart.
I will cross oceans.
I will succeed
Doubt and fear
Of my own instabilities
Abilities
Or lack of…
I have never been as uncertain.
I hope you’re happy…
That you make me feel this way…
Not that I regret
The time that WE spent.
I loved being we.
I hope that you would have grown to love me.
Jan 9, 2013
Jan 9, 2013 at 10:58 AM UTC
words from a conversation we had days ago echo in my mind turning into a lullaby, softly coaxing my eyelids shut. welcoming deep sleep to my weary heart.
each part of our souls intertwine to create a perfect panoply facilitated by the moon.
you and i under the same sky, all of a sudden the displeasures from the day before slowly melt away into the dark nighttime.
in the syzygy of our cosmic hearts we bask in the ethereal glow encompassed comfortably by the stars and moons.
involved in a state of a constant somnambulism so i never have leave the blissful reality conceived in my subconscious.
dreamers indulgence, walking hand in hand, free and filled with halcyon in the safety of sleep.
Apr 10, 2019
Apr 10, 2019 at 9:55 AM UTC
we'd all like to have
that nice cushy job
where toiling can be given
a mammoth fob
those who've landed
in these plum positions
will be assured of the
best working conditions
few if any missions
do get facilitated
the office is a place
of nil being slated
an extended lunch hour
management takes
whilst busy bees are
hauling the heavy stakes
company CEO's lounging
around in boardrooms
penalizing the labourers
who are pushing the brooms
wouldn't it be great
to sit constantly down
and not keep polishing
the boss's idling crown
Apr 5, 2018
Apr 5, 2018 at 9:57 PM UTC
Are we acting within the laws of Thermodynamics?
Is this why the forests are felled
and the earth scoured for its ore?
We can not act randomly against the stochastic forces of nature.
Our agency has facilitated the beginning of the end,
fewer and fewer possibilities present themselves
and we're closing the doors to our future
before we ever knew of their existences
Nov 16, 2016
Nov 16, 2016 at 1:18 PM UTC
Weak static creates an uncomfortable tautness in the air.
A sound emitted from the screen is heavy, weighing.
Muted light grips to ions which imperceptibly moss over the dusty glass monitor.
A world within a dish.
Slapdash pixilation.
Fragments—just fractions, part in snaps.
No image takes form in the storm of digitalized points, indistinctive refrain is absently composed.
The apartment, thick with a cloudy green hue.
Stripped, pink shoulders, a flush which spreads in a subtle frenzy—
Bleeds across an exposed chest.
Vulnerable core.
Noticeably contracting, beating the high concentration of life from one source
Into branched capillaries.
Into plush, coy lips—
Hush.
Sinews tear, a dark liquid pools, liberated from perforations.
Flowing from the source and staining porcelain teeth.
Indulgence.
The innate capability to devour proves true outside feasting.
Femininity of unbridled ******* and echoing amusement,
Eternalized.
Cataplexies pressed and dried upon blank, white pages which prove difficult to turn—
only facilitated by the hand of time.
A vast expanse of briny depths outstretches further than what’s perceivable.
Waves rock a feeble coo which escapes from child’s lips at the spectacle of a mother.
Cri de Coeur
Mar 1, 2015
Mar 1, 2015 at 12:28 AM UTC
our relationship has dryed like paint drys on a wall
I see pictures with living eyes,
making statements of their lives
I see statues pass and go,
judge me down from head to toe,
Sends a shiver down my spine,
im so glad that she is mine tonight
apart we are drained of joy like a dry river too deep to walk too empty for boats
and he dictates my life,
i facilitated to prove him right,
standing overhead my dreams,
fills my head with tortured screams
sends a shiver down my spine
im so glad that she is mine tonight
May 9, 2016
May 9, 2016 at 8:11 AM UTC
There was a difference you know
on the path that facilitated our growth
I'll never leave you
after I left you a long time ago
It wasn't your fault I know
you didn't know that I found myself without you
May 21, 2014
May 21, 2014 at 3:46 PM UTC
He stalks and low crawls across the space.
Eyes wide and focused upon his prey,
a millions years of instincts throbbing
through his brain and sleek body.
His toes and claws flex with the coiled
anticipation of a hunter predator.
In a sudden burst of energy and blinding
speed he launches his attack, at the last
moment I pull up on the bait and he springs
three feet high into the air front claws extended!
For the next fifteen minutes the three month
old still a kitten, and I engage in our twice a
day ritual dance, a sparing inspired and facilitated
by a little feathered stuffed toy blue bird on a sting,
and I the puppet master.
His resolve is limitless, he will never quit, in
pursuit he springs and jumps circles in mid
air until I eventually end the affair for his own
good, when he begins to pant mouth open.
Then it is cat nap time. Sometimes for us both.
Mar 19, 2021
Mar 19, 2021 at 5:55 PM UTC
In darkened alleys and vacant parking lots,
Liminal spaces; an astral plane most physical
Broken bones, raw bruises, and blood clots
This is where I wish to throw the first punch; atypical
And insane, I just want to fight
Scuffed knuckles and bleeding noses, I’ve got some sort of plight
Where hatred turns to violence
Hungry blade in hand and dash of rogue; like a lioness
I’ve got to feed my body’s desire
This disturbing anger burns inside me like your funeral pyre
Poor, little girl with emotions on mute
Dreams and dreams of taking on the world
Come on, take me the **** on, deep down I’m a brute;
Brass knuckle dusters and a switchblade twirled
One look at you and it’s all weapons activated
All this rage facilitated
By the **** I take with a smile
As is the style
Of a lady too scared of dried blood consequences
Who feels too much with all her senses
But with the sun down and midnight rears its ugly head
Where moonlight trickles through tin plated shanties
That’s when the darkness is heavy as lead
In my heart, I feel the turmoil and I become a useless vigilante
Too drunk on violence to care for justice
And I got a lust for us
For us and a good and ****** fight
Just you, me, and my one-sided rage
Let’s knock you out like a ******* light
But maybe if we burn some sage
I’ll be purified of this urge
Because every time I see your pretentious face
I get this despicable desire to purge
You of this plane of existence
But Baby, that’s why you need to learn
Respect me or expect resistance
And deep down I yearn
That you never do
So I’ll be justified
When I get to throw the first punch; beating you black and blue
But just know I tried
I tried to lock up these feelings
Beneath a pretty and innocent smile
When my brain is Hell and I got my reasonings
And you’ll be my first trial
Of anger and violence
Where words fail and I don’t believe in silence
At least not until you’ve screamed
And in the afterlife that you’ve dreamed
Feb 8, 2018
Feb 8, 2018 at 6:47 PM UTC
In your attempt to understand life,
Misleading yourself, pushing to fight,
Your unguided system fails and falters,
You consistently pass the blame to others,
And in our sentience and own free will,
We chastise beliefs of others still,
I implore you to be mindful, perhaps,
For real intelligence seems too much to ask,
How can you believe that you are owed,
What in this life has shown you so?
How can you believe your existence has worth
Yet still acknowledge the cosmos’ lurch?
What trait of yours has been engrained
To allow you to think you’re anything?
How small minded must we all be
To disregard something we all can see?
We are a
Pitiful
Sorrow filled
Sack of
Worthless Dust,
Flying through time,
Believing we must
Find the existential,
Break new ground,
Your hollow ideals fail you
As death’s bell sounds,
-
You are a measly grain of sand,
Soaring on a spec of dirt,
Through a playground.
Your problems don’t matter,
Your emotions will have no effect.
You’re dying, cancer of the earth.
Your useless, meandering thoughts,
Fickle, fodder for space and time,
Only temporarily facilitated by
The meat suit you currently occupy.
You will die,
Your memories will fade quickly,
Your name forgotten,
Correctly bludgeoned and blotted out
By the fact that you don’t really matter.
You and I will rot like everything else.
Aug 31, 2016
Aug 31, 2016 at 7:25 PM UTC
I am not one to criticize your method of self-abuse. examples of god set examples for. all babies are early. all babies are the death of blanket statements. sending a body to hell weighs the same but is not equal to holding the bloodless ***** of the poor man’s number one squeeze. from what you tossed off, I took this: twins are gay. and how your father’s suicide was facilitated by your grandfather correcting his aiming of the garden hose at a hornet’s nest. what I left were the sounds of war presented as souvenir eggings of the same fog swallowed house. and my mother, the missing headline of my emergence.
Sep 23, 2014
Sep 23, 2014 at 2:32 PM UTC
One day the dead shall wake
And all the Earth shall quake
From the ruin, new life shall spring
And good news, the destruction shall bring
Amid the new life
Judgement shall purge strife
The good
The evil
The rich
The poor
The sick
The healthy
Awaking,
Appealing,
The reckoning hath come
With the world reeling
Before the holy might
Underneath a holy light
Both acceptance
And refusal
An apocalyptic happenstance
Facilitated by
Divine will:
Absolution,
A change of resolution,
A revolution,
Hailed by the triumphant call of a trumpet
Divided the fallen stand
Raising to their full height
Beneath the ruling gaze
Of an Angel
Of a God
But until the fallen stand
We must wait
With the weight
Of our sins
Casting our own judgements
Upon each other
We lash out
We cry
And we lie
Our own sort of entropy
Chaos
Achieved through order
We live,
We die,
We love,
We lose,
And one day
We may have it all
Or we may lose it all
But first we must stand
And then we must fall
So, we may rise once more
As per the bidding
Of Judgement
Of those whom we do not know
Feb 8, 2018
Feb 8, 2018 at 5:24 PM UTC
The Facilitators also need Facilitation
To facilitate the ones ....
Who cannot be facilitated ...
In order to facilitate more ..
Jul 14, 2018
Jul 14, 2018 at 3:34 AM UTC
Haunting glades
ruffled by wind
starlit serenades
envelopes souls unwound
the darkness's Æthered aura
on these marrowed hills
the silken moons glazed glow
belays the nights chilling light
correlating perused solitude of
preluding constructs
condemning intentions and
facilitated goals
Nov 12, 2016
Nov 12, 2016 at 6:09 PM UTC