"instigating" poems
mea culpa
mea culpa
mea maxima culpa
hear the song of the innocent
hung upon the cross
for the crime he has not commit
forced to plead guilty
by the precepts of society
whilst the crooked
stood at the base
shedding crocodile tears
eyes holding silent leers
feigning innocence
instigating chaos
taking into their advantage
dividedness, our ignorance.
here, the song of the innocent
nears its end
with his last, a doleful verse
"It is done"
Oct 11, 2017
Oct 11, 2017 at 8:08 AM UTC
Red faced and wasted
I saw you naked
And fell in love
With your ancient body
Gone is the impulse to run
And all i can do now
Is to write simply
Lies and truth
Mixed together
Like oil and vinegar
We are fumigating
Our own bodies
Remove these carbon copies
And quietly daydream
About the faces of lost
Summer lovers
Fundraisers say goodbye
To yesterday's vacations
Just as we long to cry
We catch ourselves
Smiling for a moment
What do the turtles wish to communicate
Are we awake in our shells
Or have we fallen into the spell of limitation
Consternation and ************
Facts and figures receive their adulation
While we attract only tender triangulations
Please finish up your investigation
I blame you for instigating this comedy
A catalyst of abomination and dichotomy
Which followed me into retirement
Let's give banquets back to the government
And return to ancient lands
Devoted to camels and drunken apologies
It's apocryphal
Pornographic phantasmagoria
Fantastic fan-fictions
Describing sacredly sadistic rituals
Glorious duality
Radically alters our expectations
Yet manages to satisfy your frustrations
In dissimilar situations
We liberate our agitation and consternation
Over magazines and barnacles
We are more conspicuous
Than an empty gap in the sky
Made by two constellations
Taking a long vacation
Intrepid sailors raise their sails
And navigate by stars and compasses
Renaissance dancers are porous instigators
They initiate our imitations
We dream of political sovereignty
To remediate these tragedies
I breathe warfare and cleanse the air
Of apathetic non-negotiaters
Harboring criminals like butterflies
Sometimes the means do justify your eyes
Targets never argue
And bullets never lie
Finances and fiancées
Certainly have some value
Yet we underrate our skies
Miles of lost continents
Drift out from your skin
We begin an embargo
Hoping in the future we will win
Metaphysical furniture
Effects the state of mind you're in
The record players turned down
But you heat me up to begin
May 24, 2019
May 24, 2019 at 4:05 PM UTC
for so many years
a wall stood in Berlin
separating families
instigating fears
Trump wants to do this again
this time on American soil
like Mexican migrant workers are what’s wrong in this country
and aiding the less fortunate is the greatest of sin
we eat of their sweat, feast on their toil
and blame them for draining the economy
this land was theirs before manifest destiny
the injustice makes my blood boil
I really am thinking the man needs a lobotomy
watching him spew insanity from the pulpit
driving the frothing crowd of idiots into a frenzy
these hypocrites turn their backs on 30:19 Deuteronomy
a den of wolves is no place to raise up a kit
and this anti-hero is about to feed the masses to the fire
his election will be the true end of America
and we will all drown in the proverbial ****
but I think you should vote for him as the earth is already down to the wire
climate change and fukushima have us all in the cross-hairs
the incoming asteroid to end all life and the oil dollar crash
enough to make this ole doomer perspire –
Aug 18, 2015
Aug 18, 2015 at 12:30 PM UTC
Me
A human with needs
Hunger,
Lust and love
None will fill the void instigating justification
Insignificant, comes out as pride
Fix your jaw line and become one with life
We have a Long time of unexpected rides
Sep 11, 2016
Sep 11, 2016 at 5:08 AM UTC
I go to public places to be alone...
I sit amongst the crowds,
listen in to their instigating alluring words,
Exhaust myself with the false pretense of social-comfort
And think about death.
As it has always been and how it will always be-
More potent than human interest, temptation, enticement or fulfillment.
In the depths of these crowds I surround myself with
The culture of the unconscious.
Nothing has ever mattered but the collected cognizance of
The fact that no human being has the internal ability to become immortal-
And nobody who belongs to the crowds worries about that. As,
To be comfortably existent means to be uninformed about your own
Insignificance.
When I am aware of my own body I am more afraid than when I am not.
I watch myself from a blackening screen,
as I destroy what I was born into until it becomes
A habit instilled within both perspectives.
I let the crowds ruin me with glances and words and drunken love
That they will not remember.
I exist as a vessel, and let the pain of my future determine the pain of
My present.
I seek to hide within the dark of a night like this that has experienced my absence and enjoyed it but,
Their glances make me feel so present...
..I can only hide within myself
by pretending that I am outside of myself..
Watching from a blackening screen...
Oct 22, 2014
Oct 22, 2014 at 5:55 AM UTC
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.
Feb 16, 2016
Feb 16, 2016 at 12:01 AM UTC
Surreptitious incitement,
Deliberate grazes,
Salacious gazes,
Languid depravity,
Lazily gnawing at my cravings.
Nudges of adoration,
Filling my concavities of falsehoods.
Seemingly small pensive moments,
Instigating momentous intrigue.
Cavernous aches where your heart should beat against mine.
Brushing against destitution,
While we wrestle involuntary solitude.
Day dreams leave me shamelessly wondering,
For you are abstract,
Asunder,
Yet even quixotically,
You leave me enamored.
Oct 24, 2013
Oct 24, 2013 at 5:59 AM UTC
Try as I might
To ignore the insufferable
Clamorous racking my brain
All too audible
Are these despicable
Sickening shrill
Voices wicked, malicious,
Insipid kids still
Instigating and baiting
Me closer to spill
My contempt vitriol
Seething passion to ****
Every little last filth-frothing
Mouth to feed dead
Bottom-fed in this
Stress-induce cesspool are bred
In an **** of virulent,
Ignorant stench
Still entrenching my senses
In sieges of tension
And drenching my clenching jaws
In reprehension
Spat out in the face
Of this whole human race
But mostly just this
Poor excuse for its waste
Nov 23, 2018
Nov 23, 2018 at 6:10 AM UTC
A subcutaneous doubt musters and you itch
The shore line depression is here without hitch
A sea of harps instigating an emotive atrophy
You discharge and you dive with certain alacrity
There is a boat afloat out in the briny of spite
Oar-less and holey amid the bark and the fight
You plunge and you quaff as you leave quiet behind
A clamber and a climb and inside you will find
Ruckus and roar as you rock with each crash
Thunder and hail as the waves tempestuously lash
Gladden with the grim elation preserves you
Mirthful and drugged whilst the wet pours through
To the most aphotic of waters that drags you deep
The boat now just wood unto rocks in a heap
Too eager to leap and now too weak to swim
A stoical sink under madness to dim
The seashore despair was a lie to itself
The still and the shielded brimming with wealth
Never attempt to weather a storm
Of a storm as endless as that of that storm
A wish that you stayed a want that you listened
You’d still be where her green eyes glistened
Where love and the good is now once tendered
Most is best left as how it’s remembered.
Jun 11, 2013
Jun 11, 2013 at 9:02 PM UTC
The eighth deadly sin is co-existence.
That is what the bible forgot to tell us.
There are scriptures of love, connotations
Of how the heart works and how it beats and what forces
It to start and stop but,
none of them explain what it goes through, when
It beats for another human being.
The arteries from the heart in a hand do not only carry blood,
But also, thoughts as fugitives of elegance which
need to be released.
The structure within them carries itself within each existent-form
On earth, and veins and arteries were made to be intoxicated
By the supplies of it in the form of what their minds choose not to remember.
It was made that way by the antagonist of memory, and
the screen on which it is displayed onto becomes eternally shattered by its strength of other loved analgesics.
Within the shards of the shattered screen is a motivation of malice,
That expresses ******* within the blood as it is circulated around of the body.
When the empathetic assemblance of the sharpness in
Both the blood plasma and the glass shards become
Heightened by the knowledge of an instigating love for illness,
It is too late for the body to blame it on anything but the contents
Of its own mind.
Eventually the walls of each blood supply will transform into thin layers of restriction,
That allow everything in,
but nothing out.
Poison is planning, and self-infection is the key to only replicating happiness.
So because of this,
whenever a man holds a human heart in the creases of his palm,
He has no choice but to bleed on it as well.
This is not for anyone else but himself...
I have learnt that today.
Oct 21, 2014
Oct 21, 2014 at 9:29 AM UTC
Political system
Bred off disagreement
And those instigating change
Only do so out of hatred
People just regurgitate
Networked Ignorance
Align yourself
With the Great Jumbo
Or the all Knowing Ass
What a circus act
Jan 8, 2015
Jan 8, 2015 at 4:48 PM UTC
It starts
In the pit of my stomach
Roiling raging roaring
Noxious
Overtaking thought-stragglers
Forgotten words
And half-remembered smiles
That stumbled too slowly
Down the road to Rational
And It swallowed them whole
Before slithering forward
Searching for prey
It feeds
In the depths of my conscious
Eclipsing encircling engorging
Bittersweet
Splish-splash-splattering
Viscous globules of poison
And turning the knobs beneath
My television-eyes
Until everything around her
Is of the deepest green
It beats
A pulse beneath every word I speak
Replaying recreating reminding
Me
Of every word and move
She makes
Her hands on his shoulder
Her voice in his ear
It paints
Her
In shades of
Emerald-forest-field
Until her skin
Matches It
And to me
She is the color of the
Lime-green curtains
In our window and
I cannot see her
Through the verdant haze
Or speak because
My voice gives me away
Every time
As
It consumes
My thoughts
Instigating infuriating
Little red ant
Crawls over my heart
Hiding from
Rationality
In a cloud of olive-dust
Little blood-spark
Sticking stabbing stinging
My bitten tongue
Longs to be set free
From Rational
Longs to be controlled
By It
Longs to ask her
Why exactly she’s
Playing performing pretending
Not to know
When she should
That he’s
Not hers...
He’s mine.
Nov 27, 2012
Nov 27, 2012 at 3:31 PM UTC
Bringing up a child, can be difficult,
Especially one with an vivid imagination.
Constantly doing things that get him into trouble,
Always wanting to know "Why can't I".
Usually having band-aids on his knees and elbows.
Supposedly doing what he was told,
Even when no one is watching.
Instigating Trouble!
Sassy attitude towards danger,
Always the first to take a dare.
Immediately, regretting decisions while airborne.
Dirt encrusted jeans and shirt his daily uniform.
Setting sights on the next big adventure with,
Ooops! That didn't go as planned, as his next words.
Today you bear the scars of yesterday.
Holding court, showing them off
Attention from the girls who want the bad boy.
Trouble should have been your middle name.
So, I just wait for the next call from the E.R.
Would have thought you'd have learned the first time.
However, you do make me proud.
You will always be my baby boy.
Aug 6, 2010
Aug 6, 2010 at 7:56 PM UTC
So, here's the cache:
Make sure
**all & any & every
single move you make
you won’t regret***
in years or even days
keeping you at 3am
in the bath wide awake*
***So
as a preventive
bound tight to this vow, I stay***
**say what you mean
& mean what you say**
*Like champange with *******
you'll have been overcame with duende
for this phrase*
*& it’ll keep your subconscious feeling clean
while you continue to slay away
at just your normal hygiene for today
or maybe a few disarrayed prey
it'll even help trick it when you actually are totally aware
you’re instigating & quite quietly steering
some rather nasty foul play*
*but besides the fact the move’s today
and still, I attempt to cajole
and I’m now regretting not only an action
but a whole section
an entire chunk of my life spun out and
became some mangled & ******** black hole*
*& the worst part is, its long past,
I mean it's looooong since slipped outta my control
& it's long past me being the one looked to for decisions
& its long past when I sorta lost
all & any & every
bit of possibly existing trust*
*& long past, I just now noticed it all
mid-through one of countless attempts to self-console*
because when I went crazy, everyone still called me Superman
***Because when Superman bumps his head,
who’s gonna get past the*** Super ***in Superman
and ****** pick him up and put him back on solid ground?***
Because that’d really **** if Superman wound up dead
Because no one thought the dude that shut down the Ku Klux ****
Could be uncrowned &
end up all bled out & drowned
Apr 5, 2018
Apr 5, 2018 at 7:38 AM UTC
You say that you hate it
No longer be playing
All those misbehaving
Watch out
'cause you're slaying
Relationships fraying
Lose more every day and
No train at the station
Don't matter
Not waiting
Full force
Instigating
No more being patient
Before, vanished; They went
Without dedication
It's not a vacation
Sent to the space station
Left out in creation
Just imagination
A mere calculation
One thing
I'm just saying
Been set back and waiting
But now time to weigh in
This angst
On displaying
While you out here hating
Think those you erasing
You're simply replacing
Your demons need facing
Not running and chasing
A loop
You've been placed in
Self-made your own prison
But not by decision
Somewhere lost your vision
Sent back to beginning
So stop and just listen
Remove hesitation
There will be frustration
No capitulation
And not giving in
Beyond preservation
Give birth to a nation
A 'star'
Who is facing
Each day with a 'win'
Sep 11, 2019
Sep 11, 2019 at 9:26 AM UTC
Would it not be wonderful if all human beings on Earth came to understand that each is as divine as the other--indeed, that all, all creations in the infinite Cosmos are imbued by their maker with the same indelible divineness of their same maker?
There are an estimated 4,300 "different" religions on Earth, each praying to the same God, but calling their same God different names.
Yet, there can be only one maker of the infinite Cosmos.
Why, therefore, do we continue this false notion, this illusion, through millennia, fighting wars over these illusory differences, killing millions and millions and millions of other human beings because we are unwilling to see truth, let alone embrace it?
These fake differences at best keep all of us on Earth separate, divided, and thus cause us tragically to see those of us with different skin colors, different physical features, using different languages and dialects, having different customs, at best appearing different from ourselves, and at worst, instigating untold killings of "others."
If ever you saw a beautiful painting, no doubt you would have seen in it many differences: colors, forms, shapes, contours, all of which collectively you might have found at the least interesting, at most beautiful.
But what if you saw only a white canvass with nothing on it?
Would you find that beautiful, engrossing, mesmerizing, even to any extent satisfying?
But this is the canvass racists, neo-Nazis, white supremacists, white nationalists, the KKK, the Proud Boys, and so many others like them, want hanging in their houses.
Hate, unconsciously of themselves because they were never loved, is their religion. And just like their religious forebearers of the Middle Ages, they are now fighting their Crusades against others who appear different from themselves, but ironically and tragically are not.
TOD HOWARD HAWKS
Jan 26, 2021
Jan 26, 2021 at 2:08 PM UTC
Eve convinced Adam
to eat forbidden fruit
in the Garden of Eden
Helen of Troy's face
launch'd a thousand ships,
her lips instigating warfare
Sumptuous curvatures of
women's hips and bossom
lure honorable men to disgrace
How dare that trollop
where a pair of trousers
accentuating her buttocks!
The micro-hemline
corralled a wandering eye
to the elegant calve muscle
The female figure is
warmth and seduction,
yet devilish and misleading
History and myth
reaffirming sweet satisfaction,
but reeking of disaster
Aug 16, 2015
Aug 16, 2015 at 9:48 PM UTC
My life's a dichotomy
Pure business is what they see
Hair slicked back
Professional, hot ****
Smiling proud, ************
Look at my doctorate!
Charming sociopath
I'll grin like you've never seen before
"It was a pleasure talking to you," she'll tell me
And in my head, I'm ******* screaming
I'm dancing with devils and entertaining ghosts
Tempering and instigating demons with liquor in a paradox I've yet to understand
Engendering masochistic tendencies
Because I deserve no better
Apr 14, 2015
Apr 14, 2015 at 6:14 PM UTC
i spent the afternoon thinking about that one night.
the night you told me who you would be
and all the things you'd do. all your plans.
i admire everything about you.
i cant stop thinking
about the smell of your breath
and the way your iris resembled crisp craters,
but the color of ice.
i've never smoked a **** so old.
25 years of instigating emotions.
with the sound of blues in our ears
and the taste of whiskey on our tongues,
we're fading fast.
half asleep on the couch,
and unsure of which subject to speak,
you accompany me upstairs.
dusk struggles to find its way through your enormous window
clothes go from the hangers of bodies to piles on the floor.
long awkward silence as we both pretend to sleep,
neither knowing why.
tension calmly breaks in an instant
and this time,
the moment is stretched
into one long sigh of relief.
"slow" barely escapes your shuddering, pre-occupied lips;
your voice makes me crave every part of your being
both physical and unseen
Dec 10, 2012
Dec 10, 2012 at 8:08 PM UTC
who holds the leash
of the pigs in the streets?
follow the paper trail:
dead presidents
never fail to be the culprit.
it's not who
but what.
the police always
serve and protect
capital and property.
why else would they block
off a jewel store
during a peaceful rally?
they may not be
our enemy,
but they
certainly
aren't our friends.
they are the strong-arm
of the State,
fodder on a frontline
devised by fascist elite.
the boys in blue
with low IQs
are oligarchs' favorite tools
for bludgeoning
dissent and pummeling
free expression.
useful idiots—
truncheons designed
with punishing dissidents
in mind.
we may well be
the 99%, but they have badges,
guns, and a license to ****
emblazoned on the blue shield
slapped on their chests,
stoking overzealous
racists to respond violently,
a cacophony of bloodshed
seems to be the only language
they know how to speak.
smash the fraternity
that acquiesces to criminality.
white men in pressed suits—
who's speculative spending
lead to economic catastrophe—
get off scott-free
while black men are imprisoned
for possessing an ounce of ****
not even the blind would fail to see
the "just us" system excludes
the majority of humanity.
all lives matter?
only ignorance could present
such a fictitious narrative,
a self-congratulatory hyperbole
disregarding contemporary reality.
private prisons designed for profit,
institutionalized bigotry instigating
a new form of slavery.
when mass incarceration
lacerates our communities
and exacerbates the conditions
of the working class,
the only dignified response
is to stand up, fight back.
we no longer
have a need
for this blatant idiocracy.
if we truly want to call this country
"the land of the free,"
then we must say,
loudly and clearly:
abolish the police.
Feb 9, 2017
Feb 9, 2017 at 12:09 AM UTC
Her hands lay gently joined,
her breathing breaching the fortress of a bedroom’s silence
clasped as one, in the very early morn,
her fingers move in motion, wavering, *********
recalling a violin instrument, an unseen youthful memory,
her internality rumbles with a quiet litany,
an indecipherable host of jumbled mumbles,
a cacophony accompaniment to her quietude of steady breathing
I,
study her, as I have done so many mornings prior,
once more, capriciously slipping back inside/beside our bed,
to restart My Sunday morning quiet-like, for as is my wont,
have awoken with the morning dark, treading room to room,
filling my Winslow Homer’s Macintosh mug, with 19.7 fluid oz. of Jamaican beans freshly ground, an instigating odor, a fragrancy
most contradictory, soothing, nonetheless, a steadying, yet a
blaring wake-up call
She, clad my in-her new festive plaid pajama top,
a creamy fabric that begs for my I-dare-not stroke,
is easy prone and that,
pleases me, for I wish to bed beside her, letting her rest
till her mind texts her body, no more! or the mumbles grow
grow nagging onerous and stirring and when her disposition is
well-disposed, she stirs too,
after her fashion
with a dancer’s grace, her arm slowly rises, resting airborne,
fingers arrayed, splayed and Balanchine arranged, (1)
pointing upwards,
lingering until
the arm falls impromptu, sudden,
as a crescendo striking an apex,
her risen hip-mound,
imitating a bell’s clapper woke reverb,
and she sleeps no more…
<>
Sun Jan 15 2022
in the wee daylight hours
Jan 28, 2023
Jan 28, 2023 at 10:35 PM UTC
89.2
An animal that was there all along
is recently discovered,
recognized for behaviour now considered odd.
A lizard sheds it's skin to avoid predators.
101.89
So what constitutes a mass,
the accumulation, or the loss?
We continue to find faults of our own in order
to forgive the faults of others and their own.
Justice is when everyone is a victim.
To dilute the issue, to divide the tissue
is the diplomacy a broken line speaks in equal measure.
92.16
Children of immigrants
dust off their melanin when it trends
Pain fabricated as public art
as an act of instigating peace
as if war were not reason enough
static
the wound is not lost though the skin changes
predators and victims and recently discovered animals
share station on the radio
As wheels
spinning in traffic
Mar 11, 2017
Mar 11, 2017 at 6:40 PM UTC
supple skin braille
concave instigating
letterpress caress
crescent palms grasp
milkrose hourglass
suppressing sand
as we
glide the sky
midnight to bright
Venus dimples
when she smiles
from behind
Apr 15, 2017
Apr 15, 2017 at 7:38 PM UTC