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zebra Aug 2018
the witches
they don't take no ****

feminists with a wand
made from a femur
wrapped in ***** hair,
fingernails, and spit

no
not good little passive girls
although amused by a good spanking
for laughs that titillate
from a red wicked dicked old man
with slippery fireballs
like a spicy cherry pepper
that slurps filths coves
through a black tongue
and open-mawed bite

******'s queens
oiled torsos and bond fires
drenched ornaments for laughing snakes
that spread like spider webs
while the whips flash licks
hells tender blood kiss

insatiable prayers
and
******* rituals
mixed like bones in broth
with intricate sigils and saliva red
menstruum her holy sacrament
that shapeshift crones into young girls prancing
and bind water to stones

her spell can crack your skull
like a mules kick
and melt your eyes
like nuclear skies

no
the witches
they don't take no ****
It's such a quaint notice to understand
The very point on why Friendships are made
And you in Cheer, though Special beforehand
Was just a Concern I had to obey
This thrice on Crop's Best; And opened before
Such that Stubborn Mules fail to socialise
They only eat grass - aloof and demure
And a Good Partner most unqualified
We shared the News once. That a Good Exchange
Of Certain Facts the Telly won't disclose
How frustrating when we need a wide range
And once we did just adds to our Remorse.
Freakish Things they are, Roaches in the Brain
Unless we sweep this, infest they remain.
#tomdaleytv #tomdaley1994
Andrew Sep 2017
Oh, what I would give to be nine and benign
Because as I grow older the flow of concepts grows heavier
And swirls around me rapidly
Creating a whirlpool
I can feel the world pull
In the gravity of ideas
Given weight by words
That brings down birds

We look up only to see Jupiter
And we live on the Earth's back
Weighed down like mules by it's presence
Carrying conflicting considerations
Ideas inflicting incineration

The rain precipitating from the clouds in our minds
Develops a lofty humidity within humanity
And the leaves on the trees point downward
Erecting walls
To trap us in our gravity garrison
Plotting ways to crush each other
Time becomes the most effective method
As we wait to weigh down wanderers
With a point of view
In our gravitational pull
To make them our mule
Carrying our concepts
To strengthen our impact on the maelstrom

As our brain gets bolder
The water gets colder
But this ocean keeps spinning
Keeping the frigid water from freezing
And the gravity of what we think
Is the gravity that makes us sink

From concept cradle to gravity grave
Tranquil transcendence is what we crave
I'm going to go through with it
This just has to be done
It's all going to stop
Chasing our tail around
For The ****** Dollar
It's all the same in the end

Passionate and proud
At the burst of a cloud
Rain falls in whispers
All today and into the night

When the wild are on the verge
Of some kind of taming
Who cares who you are blaming
How much does it matter that some are unaccountable

Not that you can get away with ****** and wars

When it's time to take your artwork
And put it in a frame
The picture is yours
It's the painter who takes the claim

When it's time to die
What's in it for the stars
Maybe a big wake and
Miles of lined up long electric cars

The mountain's shadow
Keeps the place cool in the summer
Not 'till the volcano spews it's guts
Will you lay down and burn
Or vaporize just in time

It's over with the death of the Star
'What is and was will be  bleaker and bleaker
A place you'd turn your head away from

When we have this chance to change into living without borders
What does that mean a shot of the The New World Order
An evocation of imaginations of and for the somewhat rich and the richer  
A full and complete Police State, militia walk the street, Their bidding done

No way to travel but by foot
And the odd old bicycle  
Horse and mules being bred
To save the soles on your leather boots

All the waters contaminated all the crops hollow not fit for an animal

We go this way or we go that
Who will drag us down or
Who will bring us up
Vibrational  influences could save us all

We can't keep trying to tell ourselves that the Government
Has our best interests at heart because they don't
If there is war among the classes it's a way to distract us
But it needs to be done and I'm bringing my 'A' game
Terry O'Leary Jan 2014
as the PROPHETS of profits, WE lead and WE’re fair
while WE’re living the life of the poor BILLIONAIRE
– silver yachts, pearly castles, cash (plenty to spare) –
with the world on OUR backs... ah! the burdens WE bear!

being HAVES (not the have-nots) as nature decrees
means WE’re certainly the better (they’re vermin on ******).
if they pray for a lift in their dark fantasies,
WE just kick ’em downstairs, get ’em off of their knees.

yes, WE offer great jobs (much too busy OURSELVES!)
for maintaining the toilets, restacking the shelves,
and WE teach ’em to fear god and play with the elves,
thus dispelling ideas where the dark demon delves.

though they build mighty bridges, twin towers and more,
peddle pizzas and popcorn, sell guns door-to-door,
still they gotta have BOSSES to tell ’em the score
else WE’d never be needed, WE’d thrive nevermore.

when OUR profits are plunging, they do their part too
for they dine on the dole! yes, no hullabaloo!
soon OUR fortunes  redouble, rebound and accrue –
since WE fare well without ’em, WE bid ’em adieu.

’stead of wishing for welfare and standing in queues
or parading with pickets (look! holes in their shoes!),
they’d be better off scabbing to save union dues.
while WE whistle and warble, they’re singing the blues.

whether heroes or hoboes, like spiders and lice
they just crawl all around us in life’s paradise,
but WE’re patient, big hearted and oft sacrifice,
spewing charity, kindness (though each has its price).

if they’re beaten or punctured or suffer assault,
are unhealthy or crippled or walk with a halt,
or ******* or helpless, it’s all their own fault –
just like US they should worship the DOLLAR exalt’!

protesters and loud mouths, you’ll find ’em aplenty
some older, some younger, the worst not yet twenty.
they’re shameless and brazen (unwashed, soiled and scenty)
impugning the prestige of brave COGNOSCENTI.

if they’ve got clashing colors (or shades in between)
or opposing beliefs in the hidden unseen,
well, WE’ll always exploit it, deflecting their spleen,
for with god on each side, would WE dare intervene?

WE maintain many methods to keep ’em in chains –
daily rags and the tube spin OUR circus campaigns:
“to pretend you’ve a voice”, an announcement explains,
“you can vote and decide on which ONE of US reigns”.

OUR policemen protect US, they stay on the ball
(they arrest ’em, no questions per law’s protocol,
and then jam ’em in jail with their backs to the wall) –
if you’ve lucre for lawyers there’s justice for all.

down the ROYAL road of justice WE march all alone
– WE condemn their defiance, set ways to atone –
since WE’re sinless, unsullied, WE cast the first stone
(while WE cloak REGAL fetor with eau de cologne).

politicians, bald bankers, grand idols galore,
attend meetings, fete banquets in which they explore
how to rid US of rodents (the weak and the poor) –
well, just round up the riff-raff, dispatch ’em to war!

ah! OUR wars are, well, just...... just a thing of the past
........... and the present............... and future... WE sure make them last!
if they frown as they gaze (Armageddon!) aghast,
then WE smile back with pleasure, OUR treasures amassed.

useless ranting and raving (in rags, when they’re clad),
leads to losing their teeth (my! their gums are... egad!).
WE’re unselfish, indulgent, WE’d never be mad
if they drowned in the sounds of themselves feeling sad.

as the paupers are princes in midnight’s domain,
they have pipe dreams to lose, certainly nothing to gain
if they’re hoping OUR fortunes will wither and wane –
for “WE’re here by god’s will” as WE often explain.

yes, they wish to be US, with OUR wisdom and grace,
keeping up with ol’ CROESUS, maintaining the pace.  
but perverseness or rancor? they’ll see not a trace –
for WE hold ’em at bay with a fist in the face.

WE’re la CRÈME de la CRÈME, yes! the proud UPPER CRUST,
and OUR clothes are the finest, OUR hair never mussed –
WE imbue ’em with piety, duty and trust
and they’re fed bread and water (if feed ’em WE must).

but they’re thieving, aggrieved, want a piece of OUR PIE
and request WE endure ’em, see EYE to black eye.
since they live in OUR land where OUR strict rules apply,
they must feast on the crumbs that We cast to the sty.

though OUR largesse and bounty WE don’t mean to flaunt,
yet the pittance WE pay ’em they surely can vaunt –
salty peanuts and pretzels (what more could they want?)
thereby keeping their kiddies so healthily gaunt.

yes, there’s room for the rabble (the back of the bus)
’cause WE treat ’em like equals, so what’s all the fuss?
all can rise to the top (yes! it’s always been thus),
to the suites in OUR penthouse (to sweep up and dust).

while OUR CHILDREN have tutors, the finest of schools
(being bred for the forefront, THEY’re nobody’s fools),
their own school of hard knocks teaches: “follow the rules”,
building brawn ’stead of brains and broad backs strong as mules’.

and to keep ’em in line (to ensure WE prevail)
WE now monitor phone calls and read all their mail
(civil rights? what a notion! at best a detail!)
and if worse comes to worst...... well...... guantanamo jail!

WE’ve OUR quandaries and questions and headaches full blown
(like deciding design and decor of OUR throne...
whether diamonds or rubies... to gemstones WE’re prone) .
when WE deign to appease ’em, WE chuck ’em a bone.

now you know all OUR problems, OUR pains and travails
– like preparing foreclosures, evictions  and sales –
but WE’ve no need for worries or gnawed fingernails,
’cause WE’re sailing OUR yachts through tempestuous gales
(with them bailing OUR banks when OUR stock market fails)
sipping daiquiri sours, champagnes, ****** ales.
:-)
Wk kortas Nov 2017
It was not, by any means, a loss of faith;
Indeed, her devotion was a boundless, unfettered thing
Beyond proscription, beyond rote chant and catechism,
And what she found as a novitiate
Were shuttered gates and gossipy confessionals,
Standoffish priests, pig-eyed and pinch-lipped
Sisters who thought life’s commerce
No more than mechanical prayer and spotless linens,
The whole enterprise
Smacking of the exclusion of Heaven’s bounty.
So she demurred when the time came to take her orders,
And she returned to the world of pavements and lesser pieties,
Free to seek God on park swings and barstools,
In pleasures of the pastoral and the profane,
Though her faith is no Dionysian walkabout,
As she is passionate to the cusp of maniacal
When it comes to the Book of James’ admonition upon works;
She is often found among the sisters she once tiptoed alongside
At food pantries and clothing drives
(She is scrupulous about ministering to only secular needs,
As the Bishop is not happily disposed towards those
Who choose not to take the veil,
And the specter of excommunication is a prospect
Too awful to contemplate)
Afterwards clambering onto some vaguely roadworthy MTA bus
Back to her studio apartment in Green Island,
Where she often walks down to the Erie Canal lock nearby,
Praying for those who have travelled  near and upon the water,
Convenience store clerks and ragged Irishmen fleeing famine,
Feral kittens and insufficiently mourned mules.
Big Virge Nov 2014
Ya know ......

When your art's your closest friend
It can tear you apart .....
If you won't just bend
To become a ... "famous star" ...
  
But ...
I guess like Common says ...
  
One day ... oh yes ... !!!
It'll all make sense ...
The struggles that we go through
To simply make ... progress ...
Or taste what's called ... "Success" ...
  
You see .....
you've got to keep your head ...
when facing those with less ...
especially when you're striving
to make your art transcend ...
even when they're driving ...
their Lexus or their Benz ...
  
Remember ... in the end
"True Talent" ... outshines them
because they're ... "Talentless"
  
The fools who move ...
with shady crews ...
who choose to use ...
people ... like tools
usually refuse ...
to face ... "The Truth" ...
  
One day it's True ...
they're bound to lose ...
and pay their dues ...
because of lies ...
they have contrived ...
to have their lives ...
in the ... "Limelight" ...
  
See they're not so nice ... !!!
whether girls or guys ...
  
guys who have ...
No ***** Size ... !!!!!
  
or girls who like to ...
spread their thighs ...
tend to use ...
their devious minds ...
to get a slice ...
of the five-star life ...
by hitching ... rides ...
and ... being sly ...
  
So don't be surprised ...
You tend to find
that ... "talentless mules" ...
"avoid" ... art school ...
  
If you love your art ...
could you ever choose ...
to follow the path ...
these people do ... ???
  
Would you choose ... to bend over
for a NEW ... Range Rover ... !?!
  
or .......
  
Spread your thighs ... ???
to get a contract signed ... ???
  
See ... many have fallen ...
by the wayside ...
and have then withdrawn ...
from the publics' eyes ...
leaving the public ...
  
wondering ...... ??? .......
  
....... " Why " ........ !?!
  
Some have paid the ultimate price
and lost their lives ...
or tried suicide ...
before it was time ...
to end their lives ... !!!
  
The price of fame ...
is getting high ...
just like ... "Price Hikes" ...
  
What would you pay ... ?
to see your face ...
all over the place ...
  
Would you sell your soul ...
to become well-known ... ???
  
Quite a few now do ...
and that's no joke ... !!!
They end up broke ...
with the devil in tow ...
  
"Louis-Cypher" ... knows ...
No Soul ... No Show ... !!!!!
just the Final Crossroads ....
If you don't believe me ....
  
Ask ... "Ralph Macchio !!!!!"
  
Life it seems ...
can be like a movie ...
what you choose to seek ...
may become ... "Your Destiny !!!" ...
  
So please beware ...
what you choose to dream ...
may result in ...  
  
... "Nightmares !!!" ...
  
Be careful what you wish for ... !!!
cos it may come true ...
The Wishmaster ... proves
that it's ... "NOT" ... all good ... !!!
  
The world's not yours ... !!!
You're just a pawn ...
so ... make smart moves ...
and leave the devil ... forlorn ... !!!
  
Stay true to your art ...
and you'll get rewards ...
You don't have to be a star ...
to receive ... awards ...
  
Awards can be received ...
in many forms ...
trust me ... believe ...
  
If your art has a cause ...
One day you'll see ...
your art-form ... SOAR ... !!!!!
  
but it may come from ...
an unlikely source ... ???
  
Someone might say ...
that you've made their day
and have changed their ways
from a path of hate
to a " Higher Place " ... !!!
where their misplaced hates ...
now been .... "Erased" ....
  
No amount of pay ...
can replicate ...
that feeling of ...
affecting change ...
in someone who ...
has never met you ... !!!!!
  
A feeling that nice ...
truly has ... No Price ...
when what you've done ...
has ... "Touched Someone" ...
  
No Fakeness, Lies or Fabrication
Creation designed through Reflection
is art that has no ... Pretensions ...
  
Heed these words ...
and you will learn ...
how to cherish your art ...
it can help you breathe ...
just like your heart ...
  
but ... can tear you "apart" ... !!!
like I said in this piece ...
at the very start ... !!!!!
  
Too many now abuse ...
the arts for loot ...
a fancy car or designer suit ... !?!
or just to prove ...
that they're better than you ... !!!
  
Well, whilst they lie ...
stick to my guide ...
and you will find ...
that you'll dent their pride
because it's ... "The Truth" ...
from which ... they hide
  
They'll try to deny ....
til' the day they die ....
but one day they'll find ...
their way to the light ...
  
The Light ... that shines ...
on those ... inclined ...
to stay true ... to the finish ...
from the very ... start ...
  
to this Beautiful Thing ....
  
that we call ................
  
...... " Art " .................
So much surrounds, artistic mouths, and artistic grounds, that earn artistry and artists ..... pounds .....
So, here are a few of my views, on, artistic moves ......
Patrick Austin Oct 2018
My backpack ready for anything, I left for a voyage across the pond. As fellow passengers climb aboard I met a 27 year old traveling musician named Russ carrying his cajòn. He told me of his travels from Massachusetts and pending divorce. We related on this and exchanged CD's. Behind us sitting on the Ferry were two young girls working on a puzzle. Russ imposed himself and tried to impress them with his musical endeavors. These girls were in America from Germany attending college. One was 17 and the other was 18 but I am sure they knew better than to play into his hand. After talk of language and culture we disembarked. Russ invited me to his show that night but I had plans to meet a girl at a board game pub. I walked to the bus stop while smoking my pipe and caught the number 40 from downtown to a trendy neighborhood up north.

After I stepped off I found myself amongst the overgrown players of games and drinkers of fine beer. Brittany arrived and we chatted over IPA's. I explained my recent challenges to get the topic of divorce out of the way before we left for Mexican food. She was very open in saying I should play the field and not have a serious relationship. I agreed with her take but could not read her as well as I had hoped. She said I need to get the rebounding out of the way and explained that she too is struggling with commitment. Being 34 with no marriage or children under her belt she feels that therapy is essential to figuring this out.

We walked to our happy hour destination and shared Nacho's while drinking "Colorado Kool-Aid". Both of us having spent a lot of time in Denver we could relate on much but I felt there was an elephant in the room. Afterwards we walked to a nearby record store and browsed while talking about music and interests. She needed to leave soon having obligations to housesit and watch pets. Dog walking is her profession since her departure from the world of corporate accounting. We walked to her unkempt sedan and she gave me a ride back downtown. We talked of hanging out again but our schedule may not permit for some time. I wonder if she will entertain my company without reservation, only time will tell.

I decided to phone my old friend from Denver who lives near and devise another plan for the evening. The sun was still shining and I had no reason to return home yet. I walked to a nearby brew pub while waiting for him to meet me. I sat at the bar with another traveler named Dave. He is an airline pilot close to retirement from the state of Texas. We talked about my time in the Navy and my pending legal woes. He's been proudly married for 30 years and counts his blessings that he is still in harmony with his wife. My friend decided to meet me at a concert in close proximity to my date with Brittany. Once again I would take the number 40 uptown. Dave bought my IPA and gave me words of encouragement and complimented my persona. It meant a lot and I thanked him as I said goodbye.

While waiting for the bus I asked for information from a woman in her early 50's. She works for a tech company nearby but was happy to help as I had a more pleasant vibe than most of her young, urban, unprofessional colleagues. While unsure of my way she directed my move to get off at the next stop. I walked up the hill another seven blocks to the show. While smoking my pipe along the way another bus rider was two steps ahead named Nate. He was curious about my pipe tobacco and we gave brief anecdotes about ourselves. He offered to buy me a quick beer before my concert. I took him up on this offer as we walked into a nearby market. He purchased several large cans of domestics and afterwards we headed back down the dark boulevard towards the Abbey drinking our brew. As I arrived at the former church venue we parted ways peacefully.

I ventured into the bustling scene concealing my open container while finding my friend. I sat just as the opening act started. We enjoyed three musical performances but the star of the show was the beautiful woman from Denver that we both enjoyed during our time there. Feeling that we should explore the venue where Russ was performing we made our way there. I was sad to discover the brewery was shutting down before 10pm and the band was long gone. We decided to walk to the nearby singles bar playing music so loudly it could be heard from a block away. This strange place was crawling with many folks of the beautiful sort but nothing seemed to be attractive about it. We had a glass of wine and a shot of bourbon. I spoke to the fellow DJ for a moment but there was no dancefloor to be found. We decided to venture on.

We walked up and down the avenue and discovered another Mexican food restaurant, beaming with the young and the foolish. Our community seating was met with overly affectionate couples to our left and valley girls to our right. Our Tequila mules hit the spot with our Nacho's and late night platter. The girls spoke of Denver people which I thought strange. Why so much co(lorado)-incidence in one evening? I injected myself into the discussion and was met with friendly conversation. Unable to finish my Nacho's I knew I had fulfilled my share of fun for the night. This was the fourth time I had eaten nachos this week. We proceeded back to the urban adventure wagon and made our way to the slums of the tech-boom. My 2am slumber was met with an air mattress of great quality and woolen blankets.

I awoke at 7am to the clouded sunlight peering through the sliding glass door. I laid awake with my stomach turning from the many Nachos not yet digested. My housemates called me about needing to move my car for restriping the parking lot. Fortunately I left my keys so they were able to do this for me. I smoked my pipe on the patio while my friend "hit the gym". When he returned we decided to walk through the arboretum by the university and enjoy the sunny autumn day. Afterwards he dropped me off by the ferry where I waited an hour drinking beer at the commuter dive.

During my ferry ride home I walked up and down the passenger compartment looking for a fellow rider to play cribbage. I had no such luck and headed for the observation deck. While the city vanished behind us I struck up a conversation with a young lady from Manchester who had just returned to living in the US. We talked about the nature of selfies and the conflict of living in the moment. As we spoke a man approached me who had overheard my request for a card game. We walked back inside and sat next to an abandoned puzzle with pieces scattered about the deck. Mark introduced himself and we shook hands. It was not until he shuffled and dealt the cards that I realized this 45 year old Asian man only had one arm. His ability to shuffle and deal was impressive. His skill with cribbage was more than rusty, after one game I had a victory so great I felt guilty. He too is going through divorce and seeking a new job. It was a great way to pass the time with a fellow passenger.

As I readied myself for the porting I noticed a familiar face, a young sailor I served with in Mississippi. Our time spent together was met with sorrow as we faced similar career challenges. I had not seen him for several months but he almost did not recognize me. I had lost 50 pounds, left the Navy and become single all in a matter of a few months. I assured him I was on the dawn of newfound joy and wished him luck on his upcoming deployment. I patted him on the head as he seems like such a lovable scamp to me at this point. I exited the terminal to saunter back home. I smoked my pipe while crossing the bridge enjoying the last hour of sunlight.

I settled my belongings at home while serving myself a can of chili and a cold IPA on draft from my housemates tap. I joined him for the end of a baseball game in the den and shared a few moments with my community. I slept for a couple hours and then made my way to work. So much can happen in a day.
Not poetry, but what is life, if not poetry in motion?
Just sitting here thinking about the world today,
Is just me, or does it seem decayed
Has it lost all meaning?
Are we just coasting the game
Flowing along slowly, on a stream of the mundane
When genius, gets thrown out as insane
Who made all this rules, are we really just mules
Some slaves to the fame, chasing
The name
Thinking we free, when we really enlaved
I think, leaving a legacy is all we have left
We don't know what meaning is,
We lost and bereft
.......Of feeling.
When you chilling and just start jotting, thoughts flowing for a pen not blotting, a point to be made....
By: Cedric McClester

We're either a nation of cowards
Or a nation of fools
When our kids shelter in place
Inside of their schools
And our president breaks
All of the rules
And locks children in cages
Which proves that he's cruel

We're either a nation of cowards
Or a nation of fools
When criminals are pardoned
As part of the tools
That the president uses
To protect his footstools
Which he bandies about
Like they were precious jewels

We're either a nation of cowards
Or a nation of fools
Who proceed blindly
Like a wagon train of mules
Who are being driven
By an assortment of ghouls
Who push our buttons
And change our molecules

We're either a nation of cowards
Or a nation of fools
Who resist climate change
And biofuels
Those who mention them
He simply overrules
With little resistance
From those he ridicules





Cedric McClester, Copyright (c) 2019.  All rights reserved.
MU Oct 2018
She plays him
With her finger
A few movements
Seconds

Hundreds of miles away
She lifts him
And then throws him

Into tears he falls
A feather’s worth his pride
Full of doubt

The butterflies on his face
He doesn’t notice anymore

The antelopes in his steps
Only mountain mules

All the little birds
Who whisper his presence
Chatty little fools

He does not hear
The flowers bowing down
Nor the leaves and petals
He everyday walks on

He loves a dream
A nightmare to him
He plays the game
Straight into oblivion
And calls it love

While she...
                      Won’t pick him up again
What I see happening to a friend now
KM Hanslik Sep 2018
Baby I have loved you too long
days have slipped into days into days
and we're still not getting paid, but we don't care
we still show up, knuckles bruised
we still carry our hearts
around on our sleeves
looking like we've got anything better to do
than to just simply bottle it up
hang me over the edge to dry, I don't mind
your fingernails are covered in concrete but I
still hold your hand anyway,
acting as if maybe the extra weight grounds me a little
and oh, it does
and we are wearing long sleeves carrying loose threads on our backs until the air
turns warm again and washes the colors out,
we are yoked to the earth like mules and trying
we don't know how old we are going to be yet, but we are going to make it a good one;
we are going to make this thing big
when the lights go off and we finally settle
you won't have any doubt, baby
I have spent too many nights chasing red flags and warnings through
the rusty gates of fenced in temples; places I never
should have been,
too many run-ons spilling from my lips to yours,
second chances pinned up on my walls like a
conspiracy to never try my hand at failure again, like a
second nature, subconscious response to danger,

but baby you won't ever have to worry about me,
I got you covered like the far end of the bed isn't close enough and the rain's left our yard just
damp enough to stay on your toes but I
got you covered, baby.
Bring me everything that's on your list and I'll be
patching your walls in the same colors as mine
as if I'd even remotely know what
disaster looks like in human form

but from the moment I gave a second thought about you, your hands and being held
more than a few
fleeting impulses have come and gone and been flushed
down the drain along with my old copies,
along with my old shaky "maybes",
but one thing that's been steady is this
one thing I have never faltered from you.
Brody Blue Oct 2018
Around the clock
     By lot we rot
To rags and boneless
                            Candid
As the hour and
     The second hand
Seem both locked-up in
                            Handcuffs.
We lost our mules
     To Arkansas,
In parts we saw 'em
                             Vanish,
As we both stood
     In silence, blood
Cov'rin' ev'ry
                              Canvas.
If they'd only had
     The medicine
And met us in
                              Raton,
This mess we're in
     Would fester some,
Then just as soon
                              Pass-On;
But now on the edge
     Of the tiresome sea,
Each pledging
     The other to
                              Stone,
Pushin' and shovin'
     Our hand in some glove
In one fast move
     Will be
                              Gone.
Meanwhile, the tides
     (Poised by Poseidon)
Rise and
                              Disappear;
Hound dogs bay
     Beyond the bluff;
Bandits watch the
                             Pier;
And I look thru
     My lookin' glass;
You, into your
                            Mirror,
Both only saying
     Anything
The other wants to
                             Hear.
Though ev'ry dime
     Was lent, we spent
Them all to keep us
                             Floatin'
As autumn rolled
     Past summer's fold;
Now, winter holds the
                              Ocean.
No matter how
     We stack the deck
The cards cannot be
                              Chosen
So the ones at hand:
     Take 'em fast!
Before the river's
                              Frozen;
But,
     Taking too fast
     Won't make it last;
Watch out!
            Don't crash!
                             Bewarned!
A ******* gets faster
     In the late second-half
Dry,
     In the eye of the
                             Storm.

At midday
     You insinuated,
'neath the noontide
                            Sun
That I'm someone
     Who multiplies,
But will divide by
                            None;
Who swears he can
     Be counted on, yet
Never counts past
                             One;
Who cannot tell
     All he's lost
Apart from all he's
                             Won.
Who to and fro
     And back again
Has witnessed ev'ry
                              Sky,
From Anchorage, to
     San Juan Hill;
From Bangor, to
                             Hawaii;
Who, facing off with
      History, compiled
On the
                             Sly
A litany of victory
     By trickery,
Where
                            I:

                 Took on one sun
                       Won by one
                                           Handsome
                 Rook took from
                        His high-hilled
                                           Mansion
                 Took ev'ry bird,
                        Turned words into
                                             Anthems;
                 Took the book
                          And shook out
                                              Ransom;
                  Met Set head-on,
                         Left 'im severed and
                                              Scrammed,
     ­             Put roots to soil
                         And oiled the  
                                               Cams;
                  Ran and ran after
                         That sure-footed
                                                Ram;
                  Stood under the light
                          With the swarm of the
                                                ******

And you ain't wrong:
      Life is long;
But time is swift,
      Adrift and
                             Blazin'
But you'll get burned
       If you don't learn
Advice is better
                             Taken
But
     Taking too fast
     Won't make it last;
Read!
       It's written in
                              Red:
A ******* gets faster
     In the late second-half;
'tleast, that's what
      The last one
                               Said...
Our Lord of rood healed not the blood-engorged hemorrhoid ridges
of the sea-hunting reprobate operating unilaterally as Lloyd Bridges
who slurped rancid-cheese-rendered-runny dribble to avoid wedges
that'd stampede the intestines like a Conestoga of Bill Boyd sledges
that'll forevermore precipitate an impending bowel-evacuation burn
divorced from cat fleas on a dog's tail that cannot be taught to learn
the difference 'tween The Ray Conniff Singers & a conifer or a fern
or why romantic love with prisoners is often more tender than stern
under Allah's clear moon on an Earth without rotational spin & turn
under Islam's see-through moon on an Earth lacking all spin & turn
underneath a divisible Tawhid loon that creaks south a twining turn
beneath a Mahometan transparent moon that lacks a spinning churn
beneath a Mohammedan moon transparent that spins a butter churn
atop a Bahama mama mothering *** buffoons who on a toilet yearn
for new soul incarnations of ornithologists Loke Wan Tho & Mavis
& pro-thrombosis Sabu Dastagir & Linda Boreman's Sammy Davis
whose income-tax-filing talents weren't sufficient enough to save us
as Henry Miller's Max and the White Phagocytes couldn't delay pus
nor **** Americans idiotic with homosexual-matrimonial-*** fuss
that deranges Jesus' clerics via spirals of psalmic worship pray/cuss
that transports l'ordine dei Gesuiti by a Scripturally-choked day bus
Invaginate Man with chemical-warfare vaccines & killer influenzas
too & stick us within the walls of God's Earthly institutions too few
Terry Bradshaw, hairy dads' law, fairy grads' law, Mary's mad shawl
kick ***, shave *****, crucify Christians, blind mice, sign by scrawl
a contract on Loke to make tall movie marquees for Run Run Shaw
who swore an oath on the soul of his dead brother to not wear a bra
till Galen Winsor's criticality mass of U-235 forces an A.E.C. brawl
over sunlight burned from David Bowie's epical "Time Will Crawl"
what possesses no musical tempo for Barry's beagle minus forepaw
for a 3-legged plop into Manilow's heartless, unrighteous corpuscle
as *** tricks & homosexy plays zap go-power from 1 tauter muscle
as queer-bait, heterosexy ploys zip not finesse from a stiffer mussel
on The No-Talent-*** Hour withal **** Mountjoy & **** Trickle
who crash Fords into ditches while cracking lard ***** with a tickle
above the din of Heinz ramming vinegar into cukes to sour a pickle
near the stinking Monongahela River where ****** charge a nickle
while Scaife & Melon courtesans are accurately pegged to be fickle
'cept with regards to the *****-wide fund that causes cells to sickle
& ***** to rash & bruise more effectively than a Taylor swift kick'll
against a dim mak nerve strike on Brucey Lee or rabid chow's lick'll
pass hydrophobia better than a ***** needle that's loaded to ***** all
in a hillbilly-shopping quagmire & swamped-redneck-bog-hick mall
where Deliverance pork cooks quicker than 2 mules in a quick stall
where Deliverance meat bakes sicker than 2 donkeys in a slick stall
where pork-fried Deliverance meat is slicker than Mort "sick" Sahl
where pig-burnt Deliverance props are as thick as Mort "sick" Sahl
where queer Deliverance boar gobs rot in demon Mort "*****" Sahl
Don't sit under the apple tree with anybody else but me or you'll get
cancer unlike Jew Jimmy Hoffa's sell-out daughter Barbara Crancer
the judge who'll not solve the mobster father Riddle with an answer
as she ain't died yet & will never become a strip-tease-go-go dancer
on **** Peak,  Middlesex, trans-Neptunian object Pluto, France or
any other ****-hole where it's easy to make your bloated glands sore
in Glen Campbell's Galveston where the slimy-****-rich sand's poor
up against a plain field that centers the Bible's flat-Earth-land's core
no matter her sudsy Disney image a mermaid is a peterman's *****
The hydro fracturing of planetary igneous stratums delivers disaster
for Billy Hearst in the flicks of Marion Davies' in which he cast her
as a 2-bit cuck-socking trull who plays queen to a queer-bait master
while enjoying Sundays in the rectory diddling a 58-year-old pastor
in clear view of his 300-pound wife as no pig ever ate a meal faster
than a hog could without letting a Mike Obama feast get passed her
because typhus scrub ain't no problema on my Zyklon-B-gassed fur
in pitch blackness with Moochelle Robinson's downy skin alabaster
Derrek Faraday Oct 2018
Here I find myself
In a semblance of an assembly
A spineless lizard
Lazing with a sheet
He tells me sweet acrimonies
About balancing his shelves
Appoints himself a wizard
Over anybody else

Tells me of obligations
Within a life on parole
Upholds his occupation
In an insulated hole
Bestows us something he don’t hold
And demands we give it back
Sanctifies the mold
That is soon to shape our tracks

Hollow hands for thankless kings
That pull no gratitude
He wears a tune he doesn’t sing
Dares to worry of our food
He patronizes a choir
He grasps the open sea
And says “I have the fist of salt
That will lead to unity”

Coddles us like Cain
Treats this brick like a stable
Life doesn’t drive in lanes
Elastic minds are able
If you’ve gone to deride us
You wear it on your form
Don’t brave an iron suit
You don our skin, Norm

You read your your books on nature
You’re bred to expect rain
Yet waste a breath to nurture
Some other person’s reigns
Dread a life that keeps you well-
Beholden to the rule:
That life is tethered to a bell
Engulfed in packless mules

— The End —