"populating" poems
pigeons are so unappreciated
being the rats of the sky
they overpopulate the park benches
waiting for a crumb food supply
yet if you look at the bigger picture
isnt our species just the same
over populating social networks
waiting for a supply of attention or fame
and i use the word 'species' quite lightly
is human even an appropriate label
because most of us are so inhumane
compared to pigeons we are the unstable
pigeons just want food to live
humans live to want more
yet we are the ones shoo-ing them away
when they are the ones who deserve to be adored
i mean yeah they seem to be everywhere
but take a minute to look around
we are the ones causing the destruction
stuck on this filthy ground
they deserve this earth
and so do you and i
so next time you call any creature filthy remember
you are stuck on the ground as they are in the sky
Apr 15, 2015
Apr 15, 2015 at 12:45 AM UTC
Life: A Carnival
In so many ways
we are a human freak show,
just a breathing carnival attraction.
So get the **** off your high horse,
look around
be mesmerized,
hypnotized
and wonderized by a world of awe.
Let’s get real,
move a few strands of DNA
from here to there,
drop some chromosomes at the deli
to re-arrange their eating patterns
and we would see that
those mindless amoebas down the street
is talking our language.
Of all the billions of species
populating this planet,
we humans are the most
ignorant, opinionated,
**** for brains fools.
We puff out our stupidity
on a regular basis,
books, movies, music,
TV and social media
24/7/365
there is no end to the
racist, slime eating,
motherfukers
brought out in grand displays
as “experts”
in a single hour
of opinion disguised as “news”
on Fox, or CNN,
NBC, ABC or CBS
a menagerie of fools.
The world is a marvelous place,
alive with diversity,
which we should embrace.
All of us, humans wide,
emerged from Africa,
humanities origins
10's of thousands of years ago.
We humans are a carnival,
a side tent freak show,
all diverse and magnificent.
And to all those idiot
religious fanatics,
USA, USA ignoramuses,
de-evolve your brains,
slither back under your rock,
go back to your ancient,
long gone
humanoid origins,
become like you are,
extinct.
Aztec Warrior/redzone 8.28.16
Note: yes it’s a rant after watching an hour of Fox
CNN and MSNBC news... I must go throw up now.
Apologies to Natalie Merchant whose song “Carnival”
is embedded below, her song is a much more kinder
celebration of our diversity.. I on the other hand
cannot stay calm in the face of fascist fanatics
pretending to speak for human beings.
Sep 11, 2016
Sep 11, 2016 at 10:16 AM UTC
**** you and your little intelligentsia
group therapy sessions
basing its roots in caveman cartesian
theoretic - i know you know that
the blank canvas are the ********
and that artists work on that -
because normally grey citizens are no
blank canvas but a subordination -
but still, **** you, why not concentrate
on the blank economics of a beggar
to exercise your little intelligentsia
get-together sessions?
there are less social securities in that
department of inquiry -
mental health and art... what's that?
you jealous of the caverns of the mind
crafting an escape pod to your
****** exercise of mechanisation -
**** on me, crosswords! su doku!
all matters of encryption!
endear your lack of creativity with
the synonymousness act of creativity
decoding encryption,
because you obviously can't encrypt
on a complete lack of encoding parameters (blanks).
you can't encrypt originality unless
you start with encrypting nothingness
with stars... and how often does that happen?
perhaps once... i care to make you
feel something akin to bombastic,
a football stadium size of appreciation lost -
skull kickabout with commentary:
to create the post-relativity warp
of quantity-quality, akin to space-time,
for indeed the answer to science's
space-time hyphenated couplet
is quantity-quality - and that's hardly a measurable
consideration, since there are too many particulars
involved, i.e. too many individuals, choices
and disparaging wills - too many particulars
in the hyphenated couplet quantity-quality,
since science is offering universal breadcrumbs
with its space-time rationalisation
for each and every for a share in populating
an insignificance, whether on a personal
scale or an impersonal / collective scale -
and both are indeed expressed,
the famous parasitical comparison found
in too many numbered essays by individuals -
but still humanism has a quantity-quality parabola,
while science has its space-time parabola,
and indeed both in dip, provide waves,
for example the former with Plato and Neoplatonism,
and for example the latter with
the revisionists of Einstein - the revisionist excavators
arguing precision to 100% proof of measurement
in exponential scaling of the mind theorising
a bus trip to Saturn like a bus-trip parallel-akin
to a 1 mile trip on the same vehicle in the earthly atmosphere.
Apr 14, 2016
Apr 14, 2016 at 8:40 PM UTC
Many years past by to get to this new age
Now there are so many new ways
What is wrong with the old ways
They call it evaluation
There needs to be a revolution
I am afraid of this new nation
People of gratification
The new age of ligation
summation
starvation
So much talk of deportation
And of emigration
No legalization
This is
The new age , The new way
The new age of the politician
The new way of their deception
No reputation
No consideration
All about their affiliation
The new age, The new way
Of all corporation's
All about their accumulation (of money)
Their conglomeration
Jobs of elimination
Exportation
The new age, The new way
Still so much discrimination
No equalization
Young life's - unjust- evaporation
with no justification
The new age, The new way
The world without conservation
Global warming no talks of stabilization
Over populating
The new age , The new way
to our own
Proliferation
!!
Mar 31, 2016
Mar 31, 2016 at 10:15 PM UTC
Haters
They are everywhere
They are like a contagion
Infecting everything in their path:
And that is the worst of it.
It’s not the death of morality
But the slow dying
The crumbling of it.
This is what the human condition has become:
Good people
Eroded
Worn down
By **** boring people
Boring people populating the Earth.
It’s a two faced monster
Vain
Drunk
Horrible to look at
Feasting on good looking girls
And boys
But there will come a time
When even Death will wince
At the old hags
Before taking them.
Nov 11, 2011
Nov 11, 2011 at 4:59 PM UTC
S is the 19th letter of the alphabet.
I had to count twice on my fingers to be sure of that.
It glues together many, many words.
It fixes people to the walls.
It shrivels fruit in the bowl.
It sticks us all in the same soup ****
Let's swim.
You have 19 reasons to die,
written out like manuscripts in manila folders
populating a small cubicle containing your confidence
pasted to the walls, and neatly nested on the next door desk
at least you told someone.
The logic of your feeling breathing life into the spreadsheet,
The simple clicks of order covering up the shame of dead weeks
Day in Day out working toward a little more
Waiting for the future where the ability to break out is yours.
Cage around each arm. Suffering in small doses.
Never overwhelming the epicenter.
I have 19 reasons to die.
Scrawled in sidewalk chalk on 17th street.
Ringing in the ears of all my close relatives and their next of kin.
They say, "Hurry up and usher in the next generation so we can stop worrying about fixing yours."
The crumpled cover letters in my compactor spell pure love, and the reasons it's never noticed.
Simplicity in disarray, a life of static colors. Repugnant sorrow odors.
I am the only town crier left in this town.
Always complete but never fulfilled.
The sad sequel to a Mexican standoff with a self-referential story.
Narcissism and narcotics.
Nihilism and Mnemonics.
Space and the stuff of the stars.
Love and the war of the heart.
S is the 19th letter of PSEUDOPSEUDOHYPOPARATHYROIDISM
No it's not but what a great word.
No it's not but aren't you glad you tried to count?
No it's not but aren't you satisfied with yourself for trying to decipher?
No it isn't and wasn't it worth it to try to speak the sounds?
No it is not and wasn't it the sibilance in your mouth worth every second?
No it is not thank you come again have you had your fill when we're only 19/26?
Reasons to live:
Seemingly unneeded. We're here aren't we? Doing what we could only be meant to do.
R is the real 19th letter.
One more would have been S.
But you'd never know if you didn't count.
So let's count.
Ready?
3...2...1...
Sep 19, 2016
Sep 19, 2016 at 4:08 AM UTC
All these roads lead somewhere
Our dismembered beings will never see it all until we're dead
But we can die and make it back alright
And if we died, would we even want to come back inside?
There's something real out there and it'll always be there and all it takes is to pay perfect attention
Chance favors the prepared mind as we can see for ourselves
When we traverse this abyss
Learn to pay attention
Learn to dance with the patterns you perceive
The sonic tapestry is a music piece
It never stops , and it covers everything
Everywhere is always everywhere else
Music never stops
Listen to it beat you away
Is there a difference between me and the music?
I am you, after all, this poem is me
And yet it is you because I'm not the only one
And we'll never be apart until we die, but even then we'll be together, each as nothing
So beautiful, so absurd
Feel that breeze blowing your hair?
You are its breath
It escapes your lungs and you ride around a vibrating
Symbol, your thoughts swimming and crystallizing but never blinding
Swirling around you in coagulating meaning
The grass grows, it is your beard
Lying there in the field
Can you feel it any different?
The grass brought you here to lie down on it
The grass inhales you as you light it,
And fully grokked, your ghost breathes itself out in rings
Snap the rhythm and it ripples with the cymbal
Into love,
The path through remains you, it's full of stars and eternal youth
The gray dawn on the beach is a constant truth
Our dreamtime dreams of being awake
I woke up and thought I could fly
How wrong I was
Spying over the shoulder of God
I told him, "You're a character in my story
I am you,
I am more.
What can you do to me?"
And God looks back, knowing that what I say is true
For I perceive him and even as he marvels me with illusions he can never erase my mind
I don't even capitalize his pronouns
God and his carpenters joined the dancing eternal parade
Like the end of an Animal House knockoff
Where we send off parts of ourselves to new times and places we've never conceived of
Populating the universe
Which gets bigger the more detail we observe
An optical contradiction
For you are the greater resonance of both your
Self and your Opposite
Feb 6, 2013
Feb 6, 2013 at 11:31 PM UTC
*My locum outer self is identified as a conferer,
A deep **** stirrer; I frod miserably when trouble occurs
Out in the open I am hidden from sight of Earthly cures
Sparsely telluric on my own
Adroitly celestial in my dome
Scape goat from head to toe;
I'd drown in and out too many populating
Coruscating as you'd spy
Balky the opposite: Illuminating inside
My barbaric inner self un identified as unseen;
Real keen are my advances
I'm a tone deft prancing like I can carry tune
An elitist with the perfect groove
That's what you;d say if given impression hand first
Of course, I'd finish the enitire plate without the quench for thirst
And I'm hard to capture by pithy eyes too
And I'm hard to real inside outside
And neither never am I ever; on cue*
Nov 28, 2010
Nov 28, 2010 at 2:37 PM UTC
Americans live with fear.
Fear of being found out for what they are….an incredibly insecure people populating the most powerful nation on earth.
The power of Wall St. feeds their fear in the belief that the nation’s leaders and political machine have been bought and sold by big money.
In fact the only candidates registering positively in the current Primary elections are those who feed the fear. Trump feeds the fear every time he opens his big mouth.
Hillary engenders fear because she is a WOMAN who can, most probably, win the votes which will give her the Presidency in November next.
Americans fear the resurgence of Asia in China’s burgeoning thermonuclear militarist stance, the utter unpredictability of the simmering, India, Pakistan standoff
And the instability of the plump, demonic, demagogue armed with the atomic weaponry in the bleak wasteland that is North Korea.
Islam’s mobilisation scares Americans witless. The savagery of the Isis personifies all that is promised by an expanding worldwide Islamic threat.
And then there is Putin's Russia.
The encapsulation of American fear though, is painted graphically, starkly, by the nation’s absurd fascination, obsession, with the hand gun.
Everyone has a hand gun, in the car, in the office, in the mall, in the bedroom…..some even strap a hand gun on the hip to go to church.
Americans, first and foremost, fear each other.
Fear of the fear exacerbated by more fear.
Americans live with fear.
M.
Auckland NZ
13 February 2016
Feb 12, 2016
Feb 12, 2016 at 7:36 PM UTC
all those Bad people? those ******** who arent even civil enough to take a life?
those monsters:
who capture the lives and take from them. take eyes and fat and wombs. wutever they take. they kno. from things that kno its very very bad. well they dont really understand, i Guess.
those dont feel wut theyre doing anyway. and they make profit to keep their homes clean and large but i doubt any strength is involved with their families living in such nice homes. putting on daddys makeup from the stupid monkeys and whales and complaining in adolescence but full of makeup probably later on. because we have to forgive. and the stupid monkeys have no idea. wut the whale is feeling. because neither of them kno, but they feel it.
and wen things are bad...those PEOPLE, those people who do the worst and are covered by law while the dying worlds got their baks, wen things get reeeeal bad...for those really Fukd up pieces of **** in sharkskin suits? wen that happens like that to them, they **** their sharkskin pants. because they all believe in god against their better judgment wen their in a tigers mouth or sinking from a ship or being ***** and their face smashed by animal hands. so i guess they feel wuts populating their lives and then their souls too. i guess i havent really told you wut this makes me feel. and i dont kno wut to think. no one does. and i havent done anything.
Dec 26, 2013
Dec 26, 2013 at 7:43 AM UTC
Unwinding comes upon you.
Out here, your ******* mute the flatness as they rise ungathered....
Breathing for the first time
Silence.
You can't imagine South Africa
You vaguely recall your white brothers
herding your black brothers
into Desperate quarters.
Building separate but disheveled lives
According to the color of their Skin-
Beating your black sisters down
and out of their bodies
To become statistics, to become stains...
To become a dream
you are having in the desert.
Dissolving comes upon you.
Out here, your eyes feed
they fall over the the vast undisturbed evidence
Of God's womanhood, rejuvenating your actuality...
Populating yourself with your Self.
For the first time.
Silence.
And you can't imagine America.
Who can? With it's sweet liberty
And pill grim's pride
Eclipsing every mountainside with billboards
Bright and Wide-
Pointing the way to the next city
you can't find a job in, because you're too old, or too gay
Or too real...
Too bad.
That flag has fifty stars. No Light.
You partially grasp a diluted vision
of having a vision,
replete with Ideals, Shadow Governments and Human Rights but...
Slowly, all that's fading now, to become poetry
To become headlines, to become a dream-
You are having in the desert.
And out here, there are Indians
holding onto something Intangible-
Like deep purple and stray dogs.
Babies being born and weaned on Truth.
And you For the last time
Silence.
Oct 28, 2012
Oct 28, 2012 at 3:33 PM UTC
we were driving down the freeway
the air was humid in the 70s
and the cars in the opposite lane
looked like eyes trying
to tell me something
and if you were to swerve
i don't think I would stop you.
So we trudged through a field
of midnight grass
and the purple sky was
starless, the moon
barely had anything
to say
Neither did I
smoke billowing from the
slow suicide in my hand
I watched as it danced inside itself
casting a shadow over
the concrete ground
I want to
dance with you
tenderly as the
cancer danced with
the air.
And the wish flowers
populating the ground
were ghost memories
from my childhood so I
kicked them down and
watched as the burs
whisked away, telling
stories to their kin about how
they lived a worthy life
full of unfulfilled wishes
pool lights from your headlights
onto the white flowers
from the bush you almost ran over
I am so sorry
that you choose to throw away
love after love
I would know, you threw me away
just like
that time we
went to the poetry reading
you wrote in your
journal that you were happy I was here
I was happy too
you crumbled that page
and threw it in the
wastebasket.
So I crumbled my body
and threw myself
down the stairs.
But those poor souls
aren't as solid as mine
and although you managed
to crack me
I inserted a gold plated
filling so I can
sparkle in sunlight
but they do not
have the strength
nor the wits to
do that.
May 18, 2013
May 18, 2013 at 11:01 PM UTC
Sheets of white piling up on my desk
Red alerts with red flags flooding my mail
The little ping, ping, ping of incoming messages from various correspondents
Demanding my attention
"You should learn to say no; stop doing everything by yourself."
Once, my insides would clench and I'd feel like I'd been
Kicked in the shin whenever I see something that reminds me of you
But now, search as I might, I can no longer see your face
Even down memory lane, you've vanished as suddenly as you did in reality
Other events flow like running water, with the clarity of a clear lake
Yet when I try to recall the words you said
It was as if a mischievous kid decided to mess with the tap
On; off. On... off. On... off. On; off.
A buffering in my mind like chopped up notes of a song when a video wouldn't load properly
1991. 9893. 0306. 162. 0341. Numbers are all I remember.
How did
Your smile look like?
How did your voice
Sound like?
I stare at the excel sheet I've been populating
I stare at the values I've been entering
One after another, work requests come
One after another, the traces of you go
Apr 2, 2017
Apr 2, 2017 at 7:47 PM UTC
This poem has the shape of a mirror,
The mirror has your face:
Quick sculptures emerge from the mind,
With grace of fountains it spills,
Waters of memory
Buried deep in a stormy sky,
Hexahedrons of every moment
Form a cage of infinite faces,
I cannot look away.
I sink into the many sided eyes,
The apparitions of making love,
This poem is your world imperceptibly
Populating the prisms of my heart,
The empty rooms grow more
And more secluded,
I am petrified into your mind,
Your body of light blinding,
Thick drops of ink bleed from me,
Final cigarette
Where the dawn comes to haunt,
A laughter
Like a foliage of sounds
In the meadow of us,
But you are everywhere
And not here with me,
I write a passionate calligraphy
On the dark corridors of the soul,
You are manifest lasting as long
As these words of shrapnel
Travel the echoes of the polyhedra.
Jan 29, 2016
Jan 29, 2016 at 8:41 PM UTC
the planet Earth alone in the great Universe
built by the Star called sun pulling the earth
93 million miles in each and everyday of Eternity
a little Planet timeless a self nurturing to survive
the wondrous being grows smarter
the magnitude of Earth destiny refined
for within its self discovery a predator race
consuming the earth with inventions making
every modern convenience to enrich life of humans
while on Earth causing extinction using up
the entire planet as Earth revolves around the Star
the human senses taught to pillage **** in greed
while the love of Star light celestial beings cry
stop polluting grow sustainability grow grow
cosmic consciousness for all life thinking
I run singing beware of the predators
humans consuming at an alarming rate
exterminate exterminate stop over populating
the song of life needs to love the maker of life
feed drink run play buy modern invention ....
back in the Bay so carefree so good
the breeze on a warm summer day
eclipsing the terror of humans with weapons
sustainability for all Stop making weapons
a distant cry....off with their heads
we need to look at their ideas stack up these
round hairy orbs...stop these heads from thinking
the race is on to own every modern convenience
ownership the brotherhood of power and greed
a Shylock selling the goods first you got
to have a weapon allows instant gratification
the adrenalin to preform theft **** manipulation
don't need an education weapons mental strength
to pull the trigger a modern christian born again
getting his ***** on the right foot in
la kook aracha getting its antennas alined
when the lights turn on they disappear the room is vacant
Evangelical nation knows no borders
on land in mind rights of women
gods nation with guns killing pillage ****
alas what of education got it pull the trigger
for GOP the oily Democrats one world government
brought to you by the makers of weapons
killing for profit 60% of each tax dollar made
to own the Planet one welfare nation over all
in god we trust little jesus people
a human race for humanity
every thing created was once an idea
a thought is a spirit that becomes a being
flesh and blood living life created
the right living in the shadows
on the edge of night til all the Stars are alike
til the other time lord casts its shadow
a quake a night rising falling middle land
a beauty in life creed to be a home
the strong will to proceed
the race of humanity
such beauty...
gjmars 6/17/15
Jun 17, 2015
Jun 17, 2015 at 5:55 PM UTC
cracks me up
this erroneous error message,
looks at me and states authoritatively
nuh-uh, buddy, “it ain’t you you babe,
it ain’t you we looking for babe”
makes me crazy crying
copiously betw snorting fits of
eloquent derision
why oh why
is it daily savings time prematurely
(immaturely) aging me,
be it advancing decrepitude
or just the AI’s sullen attitude?
be it a secret messaging that my
mother’s slow descent into
senility, loss of speech is now me-
visible to the all seeing eyes on
a dollar bill, & or the iPhone genie?
this erroneous messaging appears
with an irregularity regular, just
enough to make me think that
this
is
not
accidental
come to nyC,
come me to see,
need an independent
judgement summary
please
before the winter pale overcomes my
poetic resistance and they park me
in the backyard, where I can sit yet,
studying for multiple hours
the river-fed bay on its way
to the vastness of the Atlantic
Ocean, where the water will combine.
all cells of each of our selected
those chosen body’s of water,
bodies now interring,
while populating
intermingling
taking stingling diatoms from
of each, they will kiss, greet, each other,
with the clarity of recognition that our
poetry has already bonded us in ways that are irrefutable, been coming long time
geological formations new and old,
still forces unstoppable foreseeing
every, every ever
Nov 2, 2024
Nov 2, 2024 at 6:46 AM UTC
I'm constantly checking Snapchat and Instagram, and instantly decoding your posts like a cryptogram. In a millisecond my brain goes from using a gig of ram, to oozing out ten petabytes, like God ****
It won't slow down and I'm trying to stay chill, so I gotta down another bottle of pills. This also helps with the hunger that I'm trying to fill, going from starved, to full, to just feeling ill.
Nauseating dizzying feeling and I'm flustered, populating my stomach with crackers dipped in mustard, I don't like food, but I've started to wonder why my ribs hurt, might be the undying hunger.
I can't pull my eyes away from it as I slit upon my thighs and think of a beautiful ***** I'll never get, so I get lost in distractions to forget her. I've come to accept that this is the truth as I accept the cold and give her my sweater. Attempted controlled suicide at a park plus the letter. If she goes in for anything then I guess I will let her. But every time she touches me it lights a fuse that only activates when she's not around, only clutches me closely when there's nobody else in the vicinity inbound making me feel deader.
Dec 5, 2018
Dec 5, 2018 at 11:14 PM UTC
She lived in a prison trapped by her own demons
Far away on a land in the vacant city of Past
(This must be a new renaissance)
With its thousand over capacity of memories populating the country
They hiss and snarl and growl and tear at her clothes
Trying to get her to utter something
An apology or a plea, a command or a query
Say a prayer! Say a prayer! little girl in the prairie
Yet she will not break her silence
A stone wall set high above the cement floors of the four walls that were caging her in
She would not give up the strength she found
In the sliver of light that sneakily crept under the tight fit of her window sill
Every afternoon at 3pm when the sun was at its highest
So were her fears and doubts at their lowest
She had the name of Paula given by her ancestors
Who collected flowers of which pollens were distributed by bees
To their own specific ministries that thrived off of generosity and pure need to give
Yet at night the monsters came back to prey on her decaying bones that
Gave a home to the fatigued
Sensitive to every piece of sound she could collect in her ears
Looking around constantly wondering who’s there hiding behind every whisper of the wind
Psychotic laughter ate at her resolve, feeding from the tears they didn’t know will someday
**** them; she killed them with every desperate cry to her King
They knew not of a Prince of peace with glory and power and grandeur and majesty
Her hands grew weake but His remaidn strong throughout the years
They pushed back the walls that were falling
Based on the wrong foundations they couldn’t hold on to the weight on their shoulders
Pressing at every corner, every shoulder blade was a blade on its own, turning on itself
Like a jealous lover, they all fell away pointing their fingers indignantly
With an air of impudence with which they could not see or hear or think or imagine
Surely, they must have known of a God who could do wonders like use a stone as a destructive weapon against a Philistine?
All that was left of the cell where she was so untimely detained was smoke and ashes
Scent of old and Past – a receding memory from a warrior’s victory
It no longer held captive the prisoner it once held
So closely
So dearly
In its arms
Safe and sound she goes back to her Father's arms
Trapped in the embrace where freedom lived
And salvation, and grace, and mercy
Aug 17, 2016
Aug 17, 2016 at 8:00 AM UTC
I would like to formally apologize,
for turning you into a demon.
All I wanted
was to be sane.
So,
I took what I could.
your taste.
your touch.
your time.
Of course, you kept your body,
no matter how much I wanted it.
No matter how much I had it.
I tried to cover my self
with your fingerprints
so that maybe no one could see
the skin underneath.
I tried to cover my selfishness
with my fingerprints.
tracing confessions of love
on your alabaster back.
The fingerprints are still there.
Populating our clay flesh
and our sky minds.
I'll admit to their beauty,
however tender they may be.
After the end,
you kept yourself,
and I kept
your touch.
your taste.
your tears.
pooling like the puddled palette
of a weeping painter.
running down my spine,
making me cry,
the colors.
I wanted you to feel me,
but my eye are knives
and my fingers flames,
so I strayed from my self
and gave you my mirror-heart
so you could watch yourself walk away.
Now that you're gone
your demon screams for freedom,
but she's kept engaged.
For I'm afraid
that her release
is my destruction.
Slowly,
I can feel her becoming my bones.
Soaking in.
The colors.
I would like to formally thank you,
for being my demon.
Dec 23, 2010
Dec 23, 2010 at 12:01 PM UTC
The world of today is as crazy as hell
Over populating cemeteries and prisons as well
I don’t know, can I go for a day or a minute
Without the possibility of another getting in it
I don’t mean to judge, but the love, I don’t see it
Seems we're keen to get it on, if I'm wrong, then so be it
Now, if you’re reaching this consensus, then the well runs deep
That the world has its issues and the people got beef
The government getting swoll from the toll off the backs
Of the Johns and the Janes, and the Jills and the Jacks
What we earn in return is a zero and a nothing
As the politicians lie, because it’s all about the fronting
Putting on airs for the world and a camera
Need a glass of water, cause their tongues’ got stamina
Smiling real pretty, cool posing in relief
But, the world has its issues and the people got beef
Oops, did he stutter, when he uttered an explicit
Live at five; another political statistic
**** if we do, **** if we don’t; really
Now, enter Uncle Trump; yeah; this is getting silly
He’s rolling out his plan, but see, the Congress ain’t buying
He’s an amateur, a fruitcake, and won’t stop lying
But, it’s not about you and it’s about me
See, the world has its issues and the people got beef
Who the hell are our enemies; and don’t you understand it
That the Russians and the Chinese are rolling up the planet
Kim is just a fat boy, playing in his backyard
ISIS is so over, and Assad is just a ******
Too much time on the swans and the bulls
When we need to get a handle on the weasels and wolves
The terrorist not withstanding, we’re gotta have peace
Cause the world has its issues and the people got beef
The Chinese are smiling and are as friendly as cobras
Ready to attack, when you bend your *** over
Russians are aggressive, but, sly as a fox
Two-faced as a ****** and as ***** as socks
Bottom line, I think its time to put faith to the test
Put diplomacy in a coma, cause it’s time to flex
Raise the bar and push them hard; show we're knocking out teeth
Because the world has its issues and the people have beef
Grab the big stick and leave the Twitter alone
Release the forces, scrap the voices, leave the weaklings at home
The strategies are on point and our forces are primed
Put an end to the posturing and the wasting of time
Time to command, not to pander, Mr Commander-in-Chief
Cause the world has its issues and the people got beef
Nov 3, 2017
Nov 3, 2017 at 9:40 AM UTC
What have we left of this human race?
Cynical, morbid, and mean; our time is wearing thin.
Most walking around with their lids down,
Drowning everything important out.
And we are all covered in unforgivable sin.
Can't you see that we are losing this race against our mother earth?
We should be taking her hand and walking side by side;
Celebrating in the sunshine.
But clouds are all we see;
Rain washing any hope away.
Over populating and swimming in a sea of pollution.
Taking orders from another lying soul,
Deceiving and powerful.
And these same souls dancing in the streets,
In celebration of death, ******* life from our country.
They claim to love a higher being,
But how long will this being love us back?
We have trampled all of our true intentions,
And taken advantage of all the beauty we were given.
There is nothing more cruel than a homosapien.
Can't you see the end is near?
You must wake up!
Jun 18, 2011
Jun 18, 2011 at 8:36 PM UTC
Such to break surface, the framed glassy pool reflects
With me, upright, the still-life foregrounded as its own
Pale imitation. But I see it, there, between my vague eyes
And evaporating pores populating a single empty window
Devoid, a full of life—or so I am to believe.
That tree is happy, incomplete and passive, wayside,
It contemplates its own dream, nostalgia is its willful present
In the moment, there are but ripples in which the tree smiles
Happy to know it is here, it is alive, it is me—just as my fading
Bliss is real in the glass. I am happy for the tree: being of difference.
What never can be, it shall, in spite of metaphor
To be like is to be, but too pure be is to abhor.
It turns, a rebel, from the pool: no fiction of cast nor questioning;
That plastic Narcissus cannot hear the Echo of a captured face:
Where Exit signs sigh in their own irony trapped, here, there,
It is by its own imitation it must comfort the erraticies—
Sadly, she weeps uttering the same mantra on her lips,
But by design, she has curses on her brow, anger at her mimicry
Which hides her from the dream she lives, still weighted by
Wonder, still holding onto God. She sees nothing but the calling back.
Is but the voice of a Lover, of trapped souls in a tenement window,
She can only hear herself talking infinitely
Presence to the water, commune her ‘I’ unto me.
While I am free to glide about the room, the panoramic view
Of two minds’ madness, I, too, feel a pool on which my beloved Self
Reveals to me the seconds it took to create,
The voices which, vague, came as mine
And I stole away quietly, to believe me a tree, and to go ahead and dream.
Mar 10, 2015
Mar 10, 2015 at 9:06 AM UTC
I’ve lost track
How many times I found you
In the middle of the chaos
I’ve lost my tongue
So many times trying to talk to you
I shout
My chest exhale
The memories of our time
I’ve lost my heart and my eyes
Crying
Smiling
Giving
Receiving
All at once
Implosions in the sky
Like fire
Like you and me giving light
I wrote once
I would eat you with kisses and hugs
And now I could say it to you
You are
My love
The once upon a time
I am kidding
But you are nice
I am in the darkness
And
You are creating sparks
You are static
I am here
Moving atoms
Starting life
Like him
Like her
Like everyone else
This is intense
We both know that
Like animals made of shining
Like a river full of stars
Murmurs in the plague
From the beginning of time
Somebody have been fighting for us
This is epic in scale
Not important
In human life standard time line
History for the rich
Golden death
Silence in memory of the deceased
Melting crash spasms and bang
I would eat you with kisses and hugs
I am like a child
A romantic one
Collecting flowers where no grass grow
Vast emptiness populating the skyline
We are dreamers
God and the rest of the gods
Maybe arguing
Arguing about us
Sheep’s turtles and fireflies
We are trying to improve our life
Sorry Sorry Sorry!!!
Sheep’s turtles and fireflies
We are devastated
Our way to stand up
Tends to take you with us
To never come back
Words could fix the world
Education respect empathy and the rest
Come to us
Come if you care
Always open to change
I think of you
and peace appears
you are like me
because we are like them
who are they?
You asked
You and me and them
I said
Arms and shoulders
Distance between us
Embracing the horizon
Molten bodies
Together on the sand
Distance between us
It is a bit sad
Cosy at the same time
Forgetting about the past
Time passes in front of us
Scales trips and fragmented memories
Dismember your life
Don’t look back
Echoes from the past
I have grass
Chicken eggs and a cow
I also have a car
A baby and a wife
This happens just at night
Once I tried to die
I took some pills
I tried
Today I am still here
I felt
I needed to say it
Some times I also like to trip a bit
Visiting places and dreams
The nothing
The immensity of the fight for our essence in life
Mar 27, 2017
Mar 27, 2017 at 6:41 AM UTC
This is not refusal of happiness
A desperate plea for attention
It is a manifest of emotion
Not some imaginary invention
There is a madness populating my head
Billions of shouting ugly voices
Every one an echo of my own
Spelling my lack of choices
Lately hopeless feelings have grown
A desolate cold orchard
Blossomed a place I belong
I'm welcome but also tortured
I have laid down my roots in quicksand
I'll be withered by afternoon
A pile of wilted petals
Unless I am picked by someone soon
Mar 27, 2019
Mar 27, 2019 at 7:17 PM UTC