"inoculate" poems
Different
lines on the thermometer,
when it happens,
it moves all by itself.
Deliberately
random restless waters,
terrestrials standing on their banks,
recidivists having deposits
and withdrawals
at an inflated rate.
Dungeoneering
--the amplified gesture
means a convenience charge,
elevate me later.
Defibrillation,
I'm on the existential end
of viral paradise,
"the files you have on me"
are a trail of stolen pebbles,
sure to inoculate my final
walk into the sea.
Apr 29, 2024
Apr 29, 2024 at 12:15 PM UTC
This time is precious,
every moment infectious.
One minute in a parking lot,
parking cigarettes in the dirt,
outside a library no less.
And from one minute to the next,
shaking hands with a councilwoman.
Just her presence,
was a good omen.
This is a community meeting,
ahead of a strike,
on May 15th.
Our fight?
Our cause?
Wage parity.
The resource vitality,
of every worker,
and every family.
Every human deserves dignity.
Repeat it with rapidity.
We are all created equal.
This is a civil rights sequel.
You can't survive on $7.93
And if it were up to me,
No job would pay less than
FIFTEEN.
The rich can't inoculate,
what they didn't anticipate.
Fry cooks, cashiers, drive-thru tellers,
(these ain't no "bums" or beggars!)
They met up with activists,
and labor leaders.
They've walked off the job
and into the streets!
They've come out,
to take a stand,
to shake off their chains,
and make some demands!
$15 and a union!!!
If you haven't taken notice,
I don't what you've been doin!!!
I hope McDonald's, Wal-Mart, and retailers galore,
value the profit-producers,
running their stores.
The notion upon which,
both capitalists and socialists can agree,
is that labor produces value according to theory.
The media are watching,
in case you need reminding.
Watching you rake in BILLIONS,
while paying and STEALING,
POVERTY WAGES.
We call this condition,
hard-working ENSLAVEMENT,
with pay-as-you-go debit card "paychecks"...
And all this "part-time"
just to make sure workers are best
nickel'd and dime'd!!
But what you don't seem to understand,
is that this movement is long overdue.
Do we need a historical inflation review?
And this $10.10 business?
Please!
What is this 1993?
You can't sanitize,
Baptize,
nor televise,
this struggle.
These are a people who've had enough.
'Ya Basta!' they say! 'Enough is Enough!'
Enough struggle,
enough hustle,
Enough putting in muscle,
and your time, and blood,
and sweat and tears,
many with children,
many for years,
without a pay bump that keeps pace,
with the basic cost of living these days.
Still a minimum wage,
of only $7.93?!
I say 'Ya Busta!'
if you ask me.
May 21, 2014
May 21, 2014 at 5:56 PM UTC
What if I could seize this morning..
this moment where I ride my bicycle through the dawn and rising sun
crisp cool diving into spring water air
like jumping into new skin and every part of you can feel again
frost on the blades of verdant grass
frozen fire red leaves in the trees
line my path like lights on a empty runway
the world is ice and fire
and I live life with the contrast turned up
as I push faster through a moment in paradise
tired muscles broken body but I can almost go fast enough to catch the wind
I can kiss the dream I chase, I can brush it with my lips
the sweat makes it sweeter because I've earned the high
dizzy sweet rush and shadow dappled cracks blue turn path
faster and earth smells like a dream potential for something anything
What if I could give you this..
would you take it and put in in a bottle
shoot it up into your veins with the icy blue needles
push the pain away with rhapsody
spider webbing through your system and ebbing like fading stars on city skylines
Would you instead
drink it a tiny bit at a time
inoculate yourself from the horror and the red ripped raw black hole in the world
feed it to the nothing like an answer to the pull of gravity that never stops
the scream of anger and pain you always feel in the box where you shoved it down with
empty words
and fatal flaws
a drip of morphine
in the bright darkness of space
Could you build it into your soul
that broken patched up smashed shining tattered crystal
spin up this perfect fall day and make it part of your tapestry
a place upon your maps and pages that stays the same like a lake of serenity
where you can find solace
peace
can you be a place with no ceiling
only endless sky blue purple stars
can you be an ocean without end
with unfathomable depths and monsters down into the red hell deep
like I have become
Can you see me as I am
a nothing something without end
a stream of thoughts on a cold fall day
could you be an answer to the silence?
if I could give you this moment...
Oct 19, 2013
Oct 19, 2013 at 4:38 PM UTC
What is loved,
now is cumbersome to engage.
Some sort of lethargy resists my path.
Reaching a state of catharsis is draining now.
Not emotionally but physically.
Stuck in this house, with no way out.
Quarantined from a virus.
But I’ve come down with one that leaches my creativity.
Writing this poem is hard. It feels plastic.
Even though I’m writing clear what’s so elastic.
It stretches around me so true,
But when I speak it, it lies and makes me blue.
I need freedom to return to my soul.
And an inoculate to cleanse it of this toll.
These two ailments leave me,
Chained and restrained.
Mar 23, 2020
Mar 23, 2020 at 3:52 PM UTC
Eye of covid
Lipid drops
Sterile cauldron
Now promulgate
Inoculate the many
Blood scouts raising the alarm
Bugles blaring, heat ascending
Cavalry storm an affray
Time to reinforce
Stock up munitions
Train rapacious phages
Prepare the garbage trucks
Its an invasion
Man the barriers
Do not let them pass
Subjugate and destroy
Covid fall on thy eye
Jan 3, 2021
Jan 3, 2021 at 7:43 AM UTC
Boulevard royalty mingling with animals in open cages
Instances become signposts for alleged tolerance
But it’s time to go back to the gates of where we’re from
To tell of speculative social forays to an adoring audience
Seamless air pockets provoking thought, constructing
miniature crosses piercing walls where painful paintings were hung
But you decided being a crow was better than being a rooster
There is no difference but black is the color of the song being sung
Passionately significant but intellectually deficient
Sensitive jealousies masquerading polemic tendencies
Dreads worn for life not for the fears of who would notice
An intrusive memory loss was all that could save their enemies
As ludicrous as foot stools for wheels or sleep when morning breaks
Social dynamics treated reservedly by contemporaneous mocking birds
Philistine rounder’s no more or less competent than square faced priests
Believe me, the time we forget is only because we cannot say the words
The story ended before the introduction did because they never met
The pre-text may be questioned but the post mortem changes nothing
The only evil that is selected are outrages that inoculate us from shock
Warm friendliness does not sink the rocky rapids that are no longer asking
Confounding lines of judgment and reckless carriages await their turn
Canon or pulp; equally intriguing depending on which way towards the sun
Systematic folding chairs gaze at danger but in the manner a priest would
He swallows before telling the congregation he is not a man or the one
The reconstruction of peace begins with a soft breeze and earth tones
Necessary or essential, it is all the same for the time it takes to be sane
Within the sacrament principle we beg pain to restrict our movements
Linguistically inexperienced emotionally spent will we ever be the same
Dreams of flying with leaves under wires calmly watching man fall short
Incantation pastoral discovery of what aspect we could never know
Until you feel nothing between lovers except what is written on the heart
The one who walked away will never know the one who told them so
Apr 21, 2015
Apr 21, 2015 at 10:29 PM UTC
Epitome of
criminal justice
here behest
craft only
mojo will
sail in
lofty waters
of gran
why her
tides shall
demand that
her government
shall inoculate
then a
mission to
reap harvest
in law.
Mar 27, 2017
Mar 27, 2017 at 9:04 AM UTC
Continuity we embrace not,
For change; we voted.
Expectations raised to the sky,
Hoping tears dry off our eyes;
Ought heaven exists on earth,
With our ablaze fire alter ice.
Our illnesses; we hunt for immune,
Our poorness;
Messiah we seek to inoculate.
With idle promises; ye woo us.
Thought struggle has ended;
In the cause of all.
For our problems;
Ye are cognizant.
Bad governance, ye feed us;
Expectations pull beneath the dust;
As animals, ye treat us;
Our aspirations ye brutal.
©Toure
Jun 10, 2018
Jun 10, 2018 at 7:12 AM UTC
Often I've envisioned
The demise of man
And placed myself as patient 0
The vector of the plague
Pestilence on my finger tips and soars on my cheek, I stumble around and infect and decay and inoculate hundreds of people a day
I watch as the disease spreads and the ones you love die. And know it was my fault... at least in some Way.
And as we all slowly die, and join the wandering gangs, it's the ending we deserve for all our sins and disdain.
Dec 29, 2024
Dec 29, 2024 at 3:54 PM UTC