Words are explosive.
And we drop them without feeling, never knowing the aftereffects and never caring.
Sometimes these words tear through like bullets, and suddenly our bodies have become war zones.
We are fighting with verbal weaponry over everyday things,
"The dishwasher should've been emptied."
"Your grades are too low."
"You hate me? I hate you too."
I've dropped the F-bomb enough times to rival a thousand Hiroshimas, with worse destruction to match.
The tears in my mother's eyes, the anger in my father's throat, the returning hate in my brother's voice.
We've turned linguistics into lashes,
goodbyes into grenades,
inside jokes into IEDs.
We are slowly killing ourselves and everyone around us with mouth-made machine guns and silver-tongued bullets.

Over time, our words start to lose meaning.
The more we use them, the lower the shock value, as if we've become accustomed to seeing missiles fly past our windows during breakfast.
"I love you" becomes an everyday thing, a once destructive phrase that left mouths open and knees trembling, but now contains the emotional value of a Kleenex, that can be replaced by another, just at the tips of our fingers.

My world is a war zone but I want peace.
I crave to have meaning.
I've been through enough fights to know now that I should think before I speak.

I want to capture my words.
To run through fields and bottle them up in Mason jars, ensnaring them between my hands like fireflies,
taking them home and only letting them go out when they need to, so they don't lose their shine.
And when we're sitting there, laying in each others arms, sheets tangled into an underground jungle, I take the glass jars down from their shelves and slowly unscrew them.
They settle on your skin, twinkling stars embedded into your body, reflecting the light through jail-cell eyelashes.

We must learn to turn our backs to the world's war zone.
Only then can we fully love.

Way down yonder in the paw-paw patch
Bang in the first measure
Came the congenital seizure
Skewing the first invention from scratch.
The campfire skied its sparks
Into the ghost-ridden void,
The skittish tchotchkes
Of paradox and entropy
Quirks and tics as dumb as bricks
Until a headstrong mongoloid
Started groping for rhythm
In the quavering spasms.

Oh, but it was a jawdropper
A bang-up tour-de-force
A horrorshow time-warper
Of Luke and Kirk and spice,
The good apple ran the table
Till the old goat hacked the matrix
And the young hawks did their mind-tricks
Of a tessellated cat’s cradle...
And paparazzi made the odyssey
From planets Claire to Z
To dish how cosmic *******
Trysted protomolecule
As the major ghosted ground control...
In all, a very large array
Of bingeworthy groundhog days.
Lukewarm confabulation
Of the smoking embers
From the essential tremor
Ceaseless oscillation
Between good cop and bad copper.

And the girl scouts chorus
With cheeks full of S’mores
“For all of your fables
Of hobbits and hubbles
And sabering at windmills
You will never untie the volition
Riddled into the convulsion,
Nor how the campfire kindles
Nor be one of us.
You will always ***** the pooch
Halfway to the paw-paw patch.”

Nurse Dipso-Etheromaniac
And Dr. Thorazine-Brainiac
Shoved their two-part invention
Cold turkey into the clockworks,
Cleft lip
Fetal eyes
Flipper-fingered
Riddled with the shakes
Cold-shouldered him to another dimension
Where muggles punk ETs,
And their whiskey wizards
Serve up mock elixirs
Not some hair of the dog to undistemper
The secondhand DTs,
His doggo superpower.

Bill Grogan’s goat
(Bam bam bam bam!)
Was feeling frisky
(Bam bam bam BAM!)
Chased three red skirts
Across the galaxy...
“I knew you were one of the ***** boys
But why do your hands shake like that?
They flipper and gibbet all over the keys”
The sour-smelling teacher spat.

And the mean girls echoed
With tongues of acid
“See how they lurch and squirm!
You will never get to the paw-paw patch
You will never find dear little Susie
She will never teach you to hulu
And you will never two-step
With dear old Johnny
With fists of wiggle worms.”

He touched off the fireworks
Torching all your pomp and cirque
In some skullduggery
Of **** and villainy.
I, Dropout
Outcast
Clonetrooper
Mutineer
Hitched a ride north of the watchtower
Where imperial walkers with hooves of ice
Stomped the land flat, and late-blooming
Summer never shakes the phantom menace
Of the winter that is always coming.

Somewhere in the interstellar distances
Of Kantian prairie perturbed by auroras
Like those night-blooming skyflowers
I glimmered back into existence.
I drank with wildings dropped with the dead
And vaped the contrails of the mad rocketeers
(Kid Rambo, Def Louie, Jedi Freddy and Manny
Steampunk Sal and Wig Out Johnny)
But never found sweeter ******
Than the next bridge to burn.
I, callow flamethrower
Of Shiva, the destroyer.

Marshall Gunpowder Jehoshaphat Miller
The bad apple of the force
Hatchet-faced and porkpied
Dead by ****** suicide
Born again old-schooler,
Packing halitosis
From ossified canon
Skywalked me down.
Gospeled me like Luke
And knee-capped me with a curse
Shame; the oldest mind-trick in the book.
I served out my prodigality
In Ludovico therapy
Which for a half-life, somewhat took.

Headlong into retrograde
I crashed the zero-sum arcade
Fed a quarter into the supercollider
And with some crazy tic of the wrist
Spooked the ball’s trajectory
So it champagne supernovaed
And spat out the shabby ghost
Of a birthright lottery.
Thirteen golden statues.
But as the digits flipped
And the mission crept
As it does to one and all
Faster than a cannonball
I flashed back to renegade.

And the made girls chorused,
With cheeks full of Botox,
From their partial-view suites
And partner-track perks
Of bottomless cups
Of shut the **** up,
“You nearly made the grade, you!
But then you had to mouth off job-hop Hulk
Out, which finally betrayed you.
Now Security Guard Miller
Will escort you off the premises
For a reckoning with your nemesis
Regret, the silent killer.”

True, for a season I was a bluepilled moon
Marooned with space junk
And cypherpunk
Doomscrollers
Of deadend might-have beens,
Like the lunar sonata’s
Primal whisper of futility,
Until it tripolars
Into ultraviolent agitato
And hits escape velocity

Now loosed from orbit of the Goldilocks planet
I tumble through space in dumbstruck rapture
Of hurricaned stars and thundercloud nebula
I tremble in the thousand-parsec stare
Of the headless horde of dark riders
That stampede the stony hobbits,
Through the looking-glass of lightyears past
I see monstrous galaxies in ungainly copulation
Blushing Hiroshimas of atrocious release
And multi-sunned planets where misbegotten
Beings shudder into self-consciousness,

While I drift toward the event horizon
To be gobbled into the enigma
With a little gasp of gamma
Hammerstricken wires frisson.
Where the eleventh measure of the first invention
Counterclockwise corkscrews
Way down yonder in the paw-paw patch,
After a very long array of groundhog days
My skeleton crew bunch into alignment
Like that hunch of spooky entanglement
Or just possibly like that eternal dissonance
Quelled by a quanta of true arrogance,

In a clockwork grotto
Grows a chrysalis F-sharp
Where fingers at last Goldilock
Into queasy equilibrium,
To my dumb surprise
The dark sac butterflies
And there is Susie
A little tipsy
On hard compatibilism,
With hips of pulsars
And hands of auroras
She hulus like the time warp
Not spasm without rhythm
But otherworldly vibrato.

Chem in Food, and Lies on Air

ChemTrust.
LieNews.
Just look around —
Obedient fools
Eat poisoned ground,
And cheer the rules.

A world so bleak,
Where madness reigns.
If thought’s not weak,
Then break the chains!

Withdraw within —
Your soul, your shrine.
Don’t bow to sin —
Let truth align.

The final storm
Will cleanse with flame.
Farewell, deformed
Fascistic game.



---------------------



Chasing the Carrot

In a world turned upside-down,
Fools keep marching round and round.
Burdened, dazed by life's "great mission" —
Endless loops of blind ambition.

"Seek your happiness!" they cry...
"Try again!" — the same old lie.
But repetition, said and done,
Is the sign the mind is gone.

Each new try, a fresh torment —
Nothing gained, just punishment.
Only fools believe the tale
That through pain, joy will prevail.

Like a donkey, chasing dreams,
Fed on lies and shallow schemes,
While the Goat, all sly and slick,
Leads it to the final trick —

To the slaughter, blind and still,
In this world where truth is ill.



---------------------



Fu-Kung-Fu

Your kung-fu? More like Fu!, my friend —
The stink is strong on every end.
The filth that rules from way up high
Makes all this madhouse multiply.

And down below? There’s sludge galore —
This world’s a mask, a shape-shifted sore.
Step wrong, and you’re knee-deep in slime
Unless you purge the rot in time.

That rot wears such a lovely face,
All dressed up in charm and grace.
But shame is gone — it's not the trend;
It rides its wave right to the end.

And that wave wants to swallow all
In oceans where the liars call.
To truly live and make it through —
Your shield must be Fu-Kung-Fu.



---------------------



A Song About “Happiness”

I’ll soon write a song —
Full of peace, full of light.
Where I rise from the wrong,
Cling to good, hold it tight.

But that song will be born
With a needle in hand,
In a ward — mind all torn —
In a world gulag-planned.

Genocide everywhere,
And it’s not even new.
Try to grasp joy — if you dare —
In a storm made of untrue.

All this “truth” is a lie,
All this pain — by design.
Monsters rule from on high —
And call madness “divine.”





---------------------



The Press

Life slows to a crawl,
Like a press that grinds —
Bleed, or feel no fall?
Bleed — and maybe find

Not death, but a spark,
While the bloodless fade —
Zombified and dark,
Flatlined and afraid.

Pressure’s rising still,
Till we’re dust and bone.
Not “a little chill” —
No. Just fear alone.

CowID gave a taste
Of what’s yet to come:
Fascism embraced —
And the press rolls on.





---------------------



So-called “Feedback”

“It reached the top!” — that worthless pest
Will “fix it all” at their behest.
Not fighting rot, not taking stand —
Just greasing slides to filth and sand.



---------------------



Voluntary Disposal

It’s not that painful, if you choose:
There’s war and junk to light the fuse.
Without the fools, Earth takes a breath —
Insanity just breeds more death.

They want us gone — it’s "for the best!"
The wicked lie, more well-dressed.
But now it’s not just lies — it’s slime,
Fed to fools in filth and grime.

The beasts grow bolder, day by day,
Their truth? Obey — or fade away.



---------------------



"Common Sense" Is Killing Us

"Common sense" is what we’re taught —
But with patterns, minds are caught.
Heart forgotten, lost its voice —
That shuts down the deeper choice.

What’s beyond is sealed away,
And without it, minds decay.
Heart grows weak, and so does soul —
Emptiness becomes the goal.

Feelings fade — replaced by schemes.
Fools push "logic" over dreams.
Blind and broken, they persuade —
And torture others in the trade.



---------------------



The Track of Destruction

A life of stripes, so dull, so gray,
Where black and white both have their say.
The price of motion, clear to see:
In shadows deep, you’re bound to be.

You fall into the darkest night,
And think that gray’s a hopeful light —
But in the gray you’ll disappear
If you don’t shout the word "No, here!"

To schemes of Hell, to motions planned,
Laid out in lines, throughout the land.
The final stop — "Decay’s design,"
Erasing fools through grand design.

Through madness, they have found their way,
As "CowID" marks the break of day.
The mind is crushed, the truth undone,
The track’s been set — the race is won.





---------------------



"The One" — A Hassle

The "one true love" is such a bore,
It's worn out in films, it’s all a chore.
Where are the fiends of wicked ways?
Where’s the thrill in their wild craze?

The ego of some foolish girls
Has grown so tiresome in this world,
That only Addams’ joy and cheer
Can pierce through all the whiny fear.

The rest is just a hormone rush,
A youthful thing — a fleeting crush.
The real intrigue’s in the low,
The ebb, not high, the way we go.

Breakdowns, tragedies, and snide —
In these, life’s meaning seems to hide.
Can’t even catch a single phrase
In "love will find us" endless maze.





---------------------



Thoughtlessness

Thinking’s hard, and thinking’s scary —
It shatters the image you’ve grown.
If you think too much, they’ll carry
The tale that your mind’s overthrown.

A world of thoughtlessness and decay,
Degradation’s now the law.
Surrounded by fools? Then away!
Run fast before they make you raw.

From all the ties and obligations,
Be touched by thought’s clear, shining light.
There are no “good” circumstances —
The world is doomed, it’s lost the fight.





---------------------



Religion

Born from fear, a shielded need,
A death for Reason, dreams that bleed.
An empty hope, a fleeting call,
For in its grasp, we lose it all.



---------------------



Idolatry

We bow, we kneel — it's all the same,
In ashrams and this world's cruel game.
Without idols, we are left to stray,
For fools are lost in empty sway.

A Führer twin with empty news,
The void has sunk to its lowest views.
There, we'll embrace the lies we find,
As idiots wade through filth and bind.



---------------------



Don't listen to the "voice of reason,"
If you're unsure, don't heed the season.
If by the virus of the mold,
Your mind's been caught and bought, it's sold.

Any effort's doomed to fail,
When a dull template leads the trail,
Wounding all the clever schemes,
Driving clarity from dreams.



---------------------



In Hell

Endeavors all are vain,
Clarity’s but murk and stain,
Each step a march toward death's embrace,
Your path from Dread to DREAD’s own place.



---------------------



A guessing game for clueless minds,
Tests at school — what’s left behind?
Endless toil, then pour a drink,
At nightfall, the world’s on the brink.



---------------------



Economic cattle

Money, money, money, money —
Savage, vile, a void inside:
If you’re lucky, it’s neurosis,
If not — you're just a lower guide.



---------------------



Independent thinking as opposed to borrowed knowledge

If you won’t think, just take the noise,
A flood of info, dull and cold,
Your spirit weakens, mind decoys,
And wisdom shrinks, its power sold.



---------------------



Political clowns and the so-called "army"

A general and a clown: the fight,
The clown’s the one who takes the lead.
The people fail to see the blight,
Of systems, herds, and all their greed.

They worship strength, though misguided,
Loving "business talk" so grand.
Through the ages, still divided,
Bringing ruin with each hand.

Clowns will inject their vile concoctions,
Stronger than the CowID tide.
A hundred Hiroshimas, in their actions,
When reason’s dead and truth’s denied.



---------------------



Negative selection

Separator of whipped cream,
Or in the sewage, dark and grim?
What remains when all is drained?
Perhaps life's meaning, unchained?




---------------------



Vanity of vanities

Vanity of vanities brings,
Nonsense to the mind it clings.
A mindless fool, corrupt through and through—
Run for cover, it's the thing to do.

Though the media will find your hole,
Fewer fools will lose control.
The fascist's creeping, vile and sly,
He'll flush us out—but not tonight.

Global fascism's drawing near,
"Vanity of vanities" disappears.
The world has turned to a madhouse place,
In lies, in fear, in crude disgrace.



---------------------



What will happen after CowID?

Doctor Mengele, idolized,
Will soon be praised if this survives.
What’s left of this world’s disguise?
In madness, chaos slowly dies.



---------------------



Queen of Queens

Queen of the Infernal Realms,
Total Lies sit on her throne.
The High Priest—Lucifer,
Mind and honor, both overthrown.

The Queen cannot be replaced,
She’s ruled since the world began.
Without deceit, no life to face,
Not even the fool or beggar man.



---------------------



No great honor it is, ‘midst the twisted and blind,
To be called a "thinker", "enlightened and clever".
If you’d rather let struggle and hardship refine
Your pure craft — then be sold-out and soulless? Never.

Push the mob to the back of your mind and be done;
It’s but fuel for satire and barbs that you’re hurling.
That parade of buffoons, that grotesque marathon —
Flee their praise — it’s as filthy as sewage swirling.

Their threshold of madness keeps rising each day
Like Bubka’s old records at peak elevation.
These are no longer people — just herds gone astray;
You’ll fulfill your true work only in isolation.



---------------------



Uniqueness, like a virtue's claim,
The Path will wipe mistakes away,
Where conscience fuels the burning flame,
Its goal: the fear, the world’s decay.

Few will leave this foolish place,
And even fewer, when you see,
Reach that point — they hold a trace
Of gods, in their divinity.



--- Total 25 poems. ---