"outpacing" poems
Just a wicked peacenik’n quick draw from the Paw
Game of Thrones’n the Shah, cRussian bones of the law
And still spewing the news like the red dragon’s maw
When the baby-skull splitters want nuclear winter
Ideal New Cold steel and send Chernobyl shivers
Down Roman Republicans’ severed headlines
Till there’s no more dead kids on for prophet front lines
I’m in exile sharpenin’ [sic]kles in style
Pyongyang’n Kuomintang climate denials
Erasing their nation-hate racial profiles
Outpacing their skinhead disgraces by miles
Shell casin’ this place like the Nuremberg trials
For Fords sellin’ swastikas stockpile bibles
Defiled by Normandy tide genocidals
Fresh meat off the boat spreadin’ Plague mercantiles
I smile and **** ‘em with kindness
Then grind
Battle tax in my acid bath
Salt Marchin’ prime
Because WAR IS THE CRIME
I’m the Clown Prince of Rhyme,
Level 9 state of mind
Like the state of Rakhine
The Black Hand before time
Runnin’ Africa’s Luciest Sky Diamond mine
I’m the ronin alone in
The monkey god shrine
And my guile’s reprisal’s Versailles treaty signed
Strippin’ pride from the Rhine
‘Till your Motherland’s mine
Swine
Apr 8, 2018
Apr 8, 2018 at 2:37 AM UTC
Who will cherish me
When withering autumn leaves
Are stripped of their golden gallantry
By the biting winter winds
Writer and reader alike
Chasing currents of contradictions
Like our will to death, fighting for life
Am I here at all if I am not here to stay
Points of purpose, in shallow moments
Ripped by tides and dragged away
We mind the depths, so to never dig up our dead
A fading remember when
Time and tide, forever outpacing the lives of men
Unearthed and submerged
In the instant between
The angel opening his eyes, and the tired who resign to dream
Aug 9, 2021
Aug 9, 2021 at 9:50 PM UTC
Who will cherish me,
When withering autumn leaves
Are stripped of their golden gallantry
By the biting winter winds.
Writer and reader alike,
Chasing streams of contradictions;
Like our will to death, fighting for life.
Am I here at all if I am not here to stay?
Points of purpose in shallow moments;
Ripped by tides and dragged away.
We mind the depths,
So to never dig up our dead;
A fading
Remember when.
Time: our great captor
Tattooed on Earth by currents
Forever outpacing the fruitless lives of men.
Unearthed and submerged,
In the instant between
The angel opening their eyes,
And the tired who resign to dream.
Oct 17, 2021
Oct 17, 2021 at 9:35 PM UTC
Let's go down to Soho square and when we're there let's take a peek at the corner house, Number one,Greek Street.
A quaint old looking place with a forward thinking modern face,outpacing homelessness I see by being an employment academy.
A setup unlike those I've known that shows a pathway to a home,a job, a feeling of and I detect, what I feel and that's self respect.
Quite cute this charitable institute and well thought of through the years,so if you're down there in the West End wend your way to Soho Square and take at look at what's happening there,it is truly
a revelation indeed for those we find that are in need and there are many that I know who've been and gone and now go on
into that brighter future.
Jan 29, 2014
Jan 29, 2014 at 12:00 AM UTC
~
we are the sum of our whole,
though the soul until death,
is largely unknown.
our words and our deeds,
whatever our needs,
outliving, outpacing
our to-the-end racing,
until all has been
thought, said and done.
when mourners are gone,
the dirges been sung,
all the dear ones departed,
when distilling’s begun.
i believe Antony was wrong,
for the good that men do
lives after them long;
and like sickness, any ill
is interred with their bones.
misdeeds are forgotten,
harsh words set aside,
remembered the kindness,
the love and the pride.
when mourners are gone,
the dirges been sung,
all dear ones departed,
here distilling’s begun.
when the fallen lie in repose,
what’s given in secret,
done deeds not for show;
words gifted are sifted,
here goodness is known.
a life time well-lived
remains hidden not long;
here defeat is forgotten,
only victories won.
when mourners are gone,
the dirges been sung,
all dear ones departed,
then distilling’s begun.
within twilight’s stilling,
begins the distilling;
the good left behind,
in loved ones instilling.
~
*post script.
“travel light; enjoy the journey”
words a son lived by, distilled,
only in death.
we are still...
learning,
still...
distilling,
the depth and the breadth of his life.*
Jul 2, 2016
Jul 2, 2016 at 2:40 PM UTC
The smell of the foundry surrounds you
abounds and wreaths around you.
A man of ore, born of the earth
I thought of you as Roman.
Alive, shuddering with the stress
and exertions
of recent war
The thrill of hardship
fresh upon you,
made ever-stronger by violent work
your fibres stretch then relax
to gather in quiet, resting power
Glittered in sweat,
you have raced through history
to arrive, tattered and magnificent,
heaving, and worn like a mountain
I have melted into you -
piston thighs greased with excitement!
As your black-ringed fingers
chase a whitened path,
through my pebbled steam
Our minerals mix:
salt and blood, tears and love
and the hooves of legion drum in my ears,
outpacing a gathering storm
as little death overwhelms me
You are home,
hanging suspended in a grief-cloud
above me.
And I invite you, with a succession of imagined dilations,
to rain down.
Apr 13, 2016
Apr 13, 2016 at 10:58 AM UTC
You never took up space,
And raged only in private.
I know, I was there.
I heard your natural voice
Before it was edited and rebranded.
You've always been magnificent.
Back then your innocence was
hazardous to your health.
I was there.
I loved you enough to hide you.
I held closed your wounds in
The quiet embrace of the closet.
You're older now,
Outpacing the daydreams
that kept you alive.
Brandishing a loose razor
To cut only through the dogma.
You held on to life then,
And you hold all the power now.
I am there.
Apr 5, 2024
Apr 5, 2024 at 10:40 PM UTC
currently,
connection is outpacing
the clarity
that I'm desperately
seeking.
May 8, 2014
May 8, 2014 at 3:33 PM UTC
Have you considered,
AI might not be outpacing us,
We as a people,
Might just be slowing down.
Becoming more reliant,
On robotics,
That we've made so many,
Our mistakes are catching up to us.
Jan 10, 2025
Jan 10, 2025 at 2:37 PM UTC
Dear E----,
The bus crawls eastward like an insect:
silvery carapace and compound eyes,
broad-spotted blue-red with ads
as we scuttle along the curb-crumbs,
outpacing a decaying Tuesday sun.
In my thoracic seat I think of love,
its strangest colors and contours,
gentle treacheries and bridges burnt,
a wavering lawn of doubled sleep.
Tonight we dine on margaritas
in our cheap pub on the hill,
hope the questions all get answered,
touch feet under the table in secret.
I'm sure I wear at your patience
with this haircut I slashed myself,
my many stumbles of attention,
all my errors of cipher and code,
& the old hot luggage of my battles...
but you persevere. Look up -
the stars are champagne perlage
in a dark coupe, and all around
the living are dying; the dying are living.
May 7, 2025
May 7, 2025 at 3:14 PM UTC