"propagated" poems
bowling pin serenity
white and controlled
everyone loves the separatism
as it is encouraged and propagated
revolution as a fad
for ****
right to buy, die, fry, and try
skin-color guarantee
Paul Mooney, “complection for protection”
meaning my pigment protects me
from what….
I experience the loss of loved ones to cancer and illness
I suffer years of addiction and the lasting effects of liver damage
I am poor, was raised in poverty
my skin means nothing to the bill collectors
or the tax man
or the capitalist system
do I not suffer the slow poisoning
of industrialization
of globalization
infection
rejection
……
We all sit as slaves in this new America
I just happen to be in the front of the bus
Mar 12, 2014
Mar 12, 2014 at 12:32 PM UTC
Silly, silly, silly me.
To think I'm free, and that I'll be somebody?
Silly, silly, silly me.
You can't be free, and that's just it,
All you are is 'somebody.'
Some-body.
"Some body."
But that's not true!
Look at Trostky and Lenin,
Michael Myers and Lennon,
The other Lennon.
It's hard to differentiate in name and legacy,
Because both Lennon's were revolutionaries,
Marching around like the freshman from heaven.
But neither believed they were the result of divine intervention in the affairs of man,
Because this convention would threaten their worldview and beckon away their sanity...
In the same way that the Pope or ****** let their divine vanity commit greater blasphemy and bring them future agony.
Now neither Lennon nor Lenin came anywhere close to being men from Galilee,
In fact they were more the men of the galaxy,
Or at least, John was, with his peach fuzz beard and his belief that love is greater than fear.
The other Lenin implemented the New Economic Policy, to starve the proletariat and start his revolution on an already hypocritical trend that would continue quite the same until the very end.
And it proves something, does it not?
Violence sends a message to no one but the instigator,
Changing them to justify, and claim is wasn't misbehavior;
But that's a lie, no idea of mine is worth the death of a human mind,
And to pretend otherwise makes one delude themselves that they aren't an instigator, but an illustrator,
Painting in the blood as if ****** makes an innovator.
And for ****** there is no vindicator,
Violence is an image breaker,
Indulged in by poor imitators who think they're right, and the world is wrong.
Unaware this makes them weak, not strong.
Now John Lennon was the true revolutionary;
Although he succumbed to violence, he veered away from it, even when it was necessary.
He fought the war, and yes, the war did win,
But at least he didn't cover his scars with artificial skin,
Or deny his implicit wrongs as a result of all original sin.
John Lennon used the word 'nigger' to the opposite effect.
He used the word to trigger something bigger and correct,
The wrong that seemed so propagated by the last colonial tide,
Of which the other Lenin defected and took colonialism's side.
John Lennon was Utopian and told us of a better world;
He interjected definition, and caused old thoughts to curl away in fright,
And bite the dust despite their might and past dominion of industrialism,
It was a schism, and it still plagues us to this day.
John Lennon understood we over-complicate way
To
Often.
Silly, silly, silly me.
To think I'm free, and that I'll be somebody?
Silly, silly, silly me.
You can't be free, and that's just it,
All you are is 'somebody.'
Some-body.
"Some body."
"Some body" is something,
And some body can change the world.
Sep 12, 2011
Sep 12, 2011 at 1:34 PM UTC
It’s been a long day
I’m sitting in the recovery room, waiting for a late evening case to start
The PACU nurses tend to two patients at opposing sides of the room
Familiar cacophony of sounds – monitors softly speaking, informing the staff about their charges
Heartbeat, pulse oximeter timbre, quiet respiratory alarm
It’s my 7th case, I’m starting to fade
The sounds are relaxing, soothing.
All is well
Suddenly I hear the disconjugate beeps of the two heart monitors
Draw together, until
For just a few precious seconds
These two total strangers
Completely unaware of one another
Share a pulse – their hearts beating in perfect sync – the two sounds indistinguishable
A beautifully symmetrical moment, almost lost
In the next second, as if it hadn’t happened, their hearts diverge - once more strangers
one to one another
unaware of an incredibly intimate moment shared
Sitting there, waiting for the case
I imagine
An instant in the course of history
Where, for one fleeting breath,
Humanity’s rhythm converged
Billions of hearts in time, a nerve impulse propagated across the planet
before scattering to the winds
A potent event, possibly one of many that even
In our modern world, still remains in the mystical
Dec 2, 2013
Dec 2, 2013 at 12:39 AM UTC
I have to prove this tonight. Mind over matter. Thought is sharper than any knife, and moves faster than any bullet. Thought leaves the body at 10,000 signals per second, if propagated correctly it goes directly to who you send it to. It grabs friends along the way. Friends who want to **** for you. They will hang out around the target and then actually go into others and into the target. They can take over cells, thought, and well being. I am sending them tonight. In a few moments I will release these white stallions to trample and to bite the backs of the dark ones who travail in the shadows. No hiding. I know the routes to send them. There will be a lot of friends. The good spirits that are beaten down and awaiting their bodies to finish the dying process. They are in purgatory. I help them, and they are thankful for me, as I am thankful for them. I hope they are more gentle this time...I truly do.
Mar 15, 2022
Mar 15, 2022 at 10:42 PM UTC
What are we to make of one lifetime? Any given lifetime? Is there a goal for everyone? If there is, clearly each goal is not necessarily the same as all the others, though it might be the same, or at least similar to, one or more than one. If there is no goal to any of them, then what is the reason we live? That would be nihilism. Why, in fact, has the human race propagated for untold millennia? In some respects, human life has evolved progressively positively, but in many other respects, it has devolved disastrously. The way each one of us has lived our lives is a function, I believe, of whether we were loved enough, if at all. If we live a loveless life from conception onward, we wind up unconsciously compensating for the emotional dearth we have suffered by accruing wealth, achieving fame, aggrandizing power. If we look at the 3,400 years of recorded history, there have been exponential advances in warfare, but humanistically relatively few by comparison. As of 2023, there are 10,000 diseases that can and do afflict us, but only 500 cures for the ones to which we fall victim. We have been fighting countless wars against our fellow man and killing millions and millions and millions of them, but discovering an exiguous number of cures for illnesses that often **** us. Why this gross, this grotesque, disparity? And we now find ourselves on the cusp of extinction from catastrophic climate change and the existential threat of nuclear holocaust. So, are we here on Earth simply and inexorably to destroy it and all its living creations? Or are we going to have soon enough a worldwide epiphany: to begin and never stop realizing that first we all need to be loved to love others; that there is but one land, one sea, one sky, one people; that the boundaries that now divides us are not on maps, but in out minds and hearts; that while we live on a small planet, it is big enough for all of us if only we are first loved so we can then love all others.
TOD HOWARD HAWKS
Jul 22, 2023
Jul 22, 2023 at 12:59 AM UTC
Reality, illusions, conscious perception.
Equality, happiness for all, utilitarianism, or self-focus.
Importance for everything, or the lack thereof.
Deliberate decisions, everyone shaping the future or
Superfluous turn-points, life guided by predetermination propagated.
Soulmates, eternal love, a so-called twin flame.
Life partners through all, flawless understanding, love, creation, companionship.
Progress on a local scale, exceeding bounds in technology.
Communication, resources, tools for survival.
Religion, evolution, externally guided creation.
Proof, support, faith, tradition.
Heaven, hades, oblivion.
Finite or forever.
Purpose or irrelevance.
May 21, 2015
May 21, 2015 at 2:10 AM UTC
Though he counted himself brave,
she saw teardrops rolling down his eyes
that could be interpreted in many ways
perhaps on the plight of human life
in this planet, makes him sympathise.
"Brave heart, don't grieve" he heard her whisper,
"Don't see life merely as a balance sheet
of profit and loss, just in terms of money.
It's a system human mind created
for mere transaction of commodities,
emotions clothed in flesh and blood,
you are ideas too, that have mind and limbs,
that touches lives, moves the world,
you can't walk in the reverse, Never.
Be what you were once, you've made history
as well as mistakes, as a tree you've borne fruits
propagated your seeds, satiated the demands,
and alas, littered the surroundings with
dead leaves and rotten fruits, that stink.
**"Brave heart, nothing is perfect, nothing lasts,
it's within the complex cosmic design, that's all"**
May 29, 2013
May 29, 2013 at 11:45 AM UTC
*Thou shall not **** is pretty much a tenet at the temple
Listening to dhamma talks, trying to digest and
Perhaps be a better/not so ignorant being
Along come you, master or mistress of annoyance
I can’t tell, your looks deceive
I suppose my black jeans must have been
The attractive factor
And the cool comfort of the a/c and
The close proximity of us humans
Of course you came, you love it
Well to be fair, you love blood, right?
But seriously at any other place
I’d do away with you with a slap and or
Maybe a heavy blow
But come on, this is where
The Buddha’s teachings are propagated
If temptation is your thing, you’ve chosen the right place
You know what, I’ll ignore you and who knows, it could be bliss
Really, what do you do, Oh Master of Zen?
Do you intentionally **** the annoying vermin or
Tolerate it and let it **** your blood
In front of you and just scratch the itch later?
Oh Master! Oh Dilemma!
*Thou shall not **** I know! I know!
Jul 20, 2013
Jul 20, 2013 at 1:32 AM UTC
She came from nowhere, mouse-like quiet
At first we thought it’s just a trick
But soon her powers were dark like night
We saw her strength cut to the quick.
Covidia came from foreign lands
But traveled fast with power and speed
And she was subtle with sneaky hands
She quickly knew our wants and needs.
Some ignored her presence here
And chose to be aloof and brave
They would never express their fear
Freedom was their cry to save.
Others feared with cautious worry
And wanted to precautions take
At first we thought there is no hurry
But soon we rippled in her wake.
Covidia forced a change in life
Restrictions limit what we do
Isolation and the daily strife
Removed the things we thought we knew.
She swept away our social life
She caused our isolation
She propagated grief and strife
A plague upon our nation.
Many chose to ignore her power
And haughty would proclaim beliefs
But on the deathbed they did cower
And beg for peace and just relief.
Respect her and her powers now
She’s ruled us for some time
But slowly we will find out how
To stop her on a dime.
A normal life returns someday
Covidia will be lost
Never forget the price we’ve paid
The death and all the cost.
Jan 24, 2021
Jan 24, 2021 at 10:11 PM UTC
Assertion
Clammed-up
On the relay
Second guessing
The shrunken head
Of old therapies
The clock says
It's time
To nod off
Greet the morn
With withered fist
Rationalised fury
Trying to
Replace the
Pimply face
Of ******
Angst baseless in
Content
On the tether
Of just another
Addiction in a
Succession
Of spiritual
Vices perpetuated
By the nonchalant
Visage of a world
Uncaring
In derision
From calloused hands
Caused by
Hard work
With little or no
Monetary avail
Hand to mouth
Foot in mouth
Hand on crotch
Crotch saddle sore
What's the point
Of a worn-down point
Dull but
Double-edged
Just to prove
The sword of Damocles
Is still hanging
Over the head
Of your enemies
Who pop
Their heads
Up over
The hedgerows
Like pictures
In a shooting gallery
At the carnival of
A battlefield distant
Filled with relics
Of another
Dead-end
Ill-purposed war
Of the worlds floating
On the crest of
Mine-dotted airwaves
Prompting viewers
To drown negativity
And to salvage
The positive
A broadcast from
Bipolar formats
In living colour
Double-edged
Double-standards
Double-dealing
Double-meaning
Double-minded
Double-jeopardy
Double-trouble
Double your money
Doppelganger leading
Double life
All propagated in
Double-time
Best
Double your efforts
And tune out!
Oct 18, 2017
Oct 18, 2017 at 1:42 PM UTC
Go on, file a paper,
make an imaginary notice of imaginary things,
and build on this a physical entity.
See how deaf the masses will go,
from hearing the Latin tongue:
parchment, and paper,
tomes of dust and sand.
Make a rule because you can,
and cement again the fetters,
our fathers and mothers cleft in twain.
Ireland is still an English land,
while English law remains.
Tories breed like rabbits,
so don't ask me what's wrong,
why you're unsatisfied with your oppression,
why enough is never enough,
till the colonial fetish is propagated,
into every heart and mind there,
worked deep into the furrows of our holy ground.
Will you never have done?
Are you not content with your own misery,
without inflicting it on others?
Is it not enough to be in chains,
but to love and ****** those chains?
Oh mighty sculptors of our race,
chip chip away and see what's left.
May 14, 2015
May 14, 2015 at 4:50 PM UTC
wilting,
every seed is a perennial flower-
roots embedded within aortic dreams;
bursting dandelions are just defined weeds.
we're not compost,
just pawns of propagated watering cans,
soaking in messages so malevolent that
eugenics becomes an assimilation heuristic.
seven-billion shells in
six summers of no shade,
six winters of dancing with devils and self hate,
six seasons of victims hating the victims just the same.
sharing a garden-bed to enrich each other's soil,
fallen petals call for tearful hymns,
not a body count.
Feb 19, 2017
Feb 19, 2017 at 8:22 PM UTC
Gallantry badge stitched to rotting cloth
as the skin sinks and the bones fade
and the love made is left to reek the bed
where sexless wife and lonely daughter
Lay their head's arrest.
In due time they both tan, sag and crackle
Under weight of the sun.
That dizzy cyclops that roped forth
homecoming boats and ships stands
five years from being defunct; rusted
to the hue of a coppice
and hardly the attraction it once was
But oh well— sighs the sailor, too old and bankrupt to care
for approaching poverty— the money has been made and my life spent
For others (his Sister, his Niece, his Brother)
They lack the ability to sigh;
the closest they get is the occasional stormy wind
that cracks the surface, blows through their teeth
resembling a crooked lullaby,
Revolves the bullet lodged in their skull;
O occasional stormy rain that beshrews the water
clogging their lungs and, in due time, The leaking muck
that’ll pluck and sharply snap inward the casketwood--
directly against the bullet gathhering mold in their heart--
Their souls have been spent.
One less soldier wouldn't have changed a thing
(The result was a certainty propagated
as a contingency)
And if G-d bare'd witness his eyes no longer sting,
His grievances had and his puppets dead
Following a suffering in his name.
If Thy Kingdom holds true
They bare witness now to the lighthouse
In it's chipping hue, it's trivial dock and visitor
Silhouettes—
All held in place and burning; They disfigure
Under weight of the sun.
Aug 12, 2019
Aug 12, 2019 at 2:58 PM UTC
He sculpted reality
Shifted melted metal
To shape a better world
The hand of man
She sculpted flesh
Growing cells
Pygmalion of the womb
Suckling and nurturing
A newborn
He made madness
Mimicking solar explosions
Destruction
Death
She gave birth
To generations
Yet veneration
Was given to the masculine
Man made god a male
The progeny turned upon
The progenitor
Male propagated pain
Female yielded the fruit of life
In all forms of adaptation
Though I reject gender division
In societies expectations
I would prefer a female god
Giving birth
To the damning male model
Condemning all those who live on
This beautifully evolved Earth
Feb 19, 2015
Feb 19, 2015 at 8:52 AM UTC
The wind whispers its song in my ears
Like the leaves of a cherry blossom
Gently touching against my face.
The light comforts the place of your hands
Like the soft feel of rose petals
With the alluring scent residue.
The warmth seeps into my mind
Where the thoughts of you
are properly propagated,
The love I feel in my heart
Is nurtured by the beautiful
portrait that is you.
May 19, 2016
May 19, 2016 at 6:44 PM UTC
Propagated footfalls build a steady rhythm.
The path filed down
The grass and dirt are beaten
No one treads lightly.
In defense, Stones emerge
unburied – revealed,
emerged, appeared,
Rising into shoes.
The rubber always stomps the trail out.
The end
Off in the distance can
Shut out the world but don’t
Let the journey be overshadowed
Dec 28, 2013
Dec 28, 2013 at 2:29 AM UTC
There is a trip one can take to a place called Apologetic.
At this destination regret is the norm,
Lamentations are fashionable,
and apologies in high demand.
In this place contemplation is all the rage,
Reflective thought is du jour,
and repentance is propagated.
I can attest, testify, or bear witness if you will,
That such a place exists!
I have been there countless of times!
I can certainly certify!
Or perhaps...
You have been there yourself already?
In which case you can corroborate what I say is true!
Aug 4, 2015
Aug 4, 2015 at 11:12 AM UTC
*You've healed me in more ways than any drug could...
sealed most of the cracks on my broken heart
without leaving spaces like an artist does fine pottery
you've freed my chains and rescued me from self-slavery
but still stretched and touched the depths none could ever reach...
restored the courage that I once possessed...
and made a man out of that little boy I was
I'm a knight in shining armour overcoming my wars
because of you, you've showed me the roads I never knew existed
exposed a spectral beauty of the world I could never see
and rescued me from totally drowning in fantasy
You've helped reality and I come to terms after a long time
and seasoned my happy poems with spices of rhythm and rhyme
you've helped me cross the many unstable bridges
and to the broken doors of opportunity nailed new and stronger hinges
you've brought an aura of peace to my soul, the moon and the stars
I'm bleeding naught in love for most of my wounds are scars
you've loved me even better than my mother did
firmly held my hand and led me out of the dark caves I was hid
and propagated a light finer than all illumination,even the sun
you've given me wings and even cautioned me not to burn
like Icarus did fatally flying too close to the magnetic sun
you've taken my heart, filled every canyon and gaping hole
and I'm remorseful for believing the broken don't whole
you've showed me kindness above the good Samaritan level
connected the island I was to the landmass of your affection
and kicked out the cold of loneliness with warmth and real attention
like no one could,above all you've fostered my survival
you've heard the loud whimper in the silence of my shout
and answered my questions beyond the point of doubt
you're the Angel even those in paradise wish they can be
sadly the universe and destiny sit right between you and me
albeit I can't savour your seemingly sweet scent, my heaven sent
you have always felt closer to me than any attire of mine
for your kindness sparkles brighter than any star will ever shine
and you're beyond the normal lass in any lad's dream
yet this isn't close to being the reason I love you,creme del a creme
my love for you is beyond the measure of human reasons
beyond mortal seasons, and what's more?my love's incapable of treason*
Apr 24, 2016
Apr 24, 2016 at 4:23 AM UTC
He was born in a log cabin
Faces lots of hardship from his childhood
He works in the farm after school to help his parent
He was a man of truth and honesty
He became a man of honour
A man full of reputation and dignity
A man who wage many wars which would have prolonged slavery
A man who propagated the end of slavery today
He tells the truth and yet people never wanted the truth
He cares and love the masses yet they loose faith in him
As a great Man he never stop his good deeds
He was hated by many because he was against slavery
As a great man he keeps pushing against slavery
He won
Free the slaves
And also free the union
A man who spoke powerful words
"With malice toward none; with charity for all; with firmness in the right, as God gives us to see the right, let us strive on to finish the work we are in; to bind up the nation's wounds."
He became the best president ever known
He hated war and destructions
Yet faced the worse crisis any president would ever seen
He later took war as the only means to free the union
Yet was murdered by people he cares about
Great men lives on
His legacy lives forever
His achievement speaks great of him
Farewell!!! Abraham Lincoln
May 22, 2013
May 22, 2013 at 8:59 PM UTC
One another’s best
we two sat by a bank
where the wild violet grew,
holding hands, holding
each other’s gaze,
we thread a double skein
of pictures propagated
by our eyes
whilst inner thoughts
(our souls perhaps?)
negotiate, as we like statues
still, say nothing.
If someone standing near
could hear our silent speech
a pure concoction they would
take away, of you and I,
of ecstasy unperplexed
telling how we love, (not ***
but all that makes both one,
each this and that.
Just as the violet redoubles still
and multiplies, our love with
one another interanimates;
we know of what we’re made:
we are intelligences,
and our bodies simply spheres.
We owe them thanks because
they thus did us, to us
at first convey.
And so we sit
our fingers knitted
into that subtle knot
which makes us man
and woman, but one to all
who look upon our love revealed.
Love's mysteries grow in our thoughts
but the body is where it lives.
We’ve heard this dialogue of one
and know it belongs in our bodies too.
Jun 13, 2014
Jun 13, 2014 at 8:07 AM UTC
flaccid pacifists symbolizing sexism
single-mindedly corrupting hostile youth
ruining bullying and facilitating inbreeding
through top-down initiatives laced with bath salts
the pussify-ing of America has begun –
tear soaked cheeks distort with rage
at the blatant separatist ideals propagated
creating not one nation under rule of law,
but many angry independent states bent on torture laws
and privatized prison for profit
shareholders holding gavels and lives
in an unjust system of justification
……they deserve this –
broken-hearted mothers line razor-wire fences
defenseless against the tyrannical bureaucracy
beholden to the loved one wrongly incarcerated
banging bloodied fists against walls that hear no cries,
defeated, they slip into damaged Datsun’s disappearing
freeway anonymity is the course of the day –
May 14, 2015
May 14, 2015 at 4:49 PM UTC
Liberté, égalité, fraternité.
L’ homme est né libre,
Pourtant partout il est enchaîné.
An eternally torturous question,
Oozing out of our minds like an infection;
Are we all equal?
Perhaps not when it comes to skill;
Some can lead, some can thrill.
Some can cook, and therefore feed;
Some can run, some can read.
All of us can do something –
No standardised test,
No uniformly assigned competition
Could ever possibly measure
This unique treasure,
The human ability to set off on an endeavour
And achieve astounding feats.
So, then –
Are we born equally endowed?
Perhaps not; should differential talents
Be stimulated, encouraged,
Voiced aloud?
A resounding yes, a thousand times yes!
We should only accept being under duress
When of forced labour and working to exist
We start hearing less and less,
When that concerted effort is directed
Not at striving at surviving
But at truly living, not just slowly dying.
Truly living is about doing what you love,
Being able and free to do so,
Learning that which you don’t know
And expanding that which you do know.
This is not our reality –
We are all born exactly the same,
Yet the country you were born in
Hell, even your family’s name,
Are things that determine
Where you will be positioned
In this foul, ***** game.
This is where we aren’t born equal –
In our right and access
To freely engage in the pursuit of happiness.
There is a seedling of potential in all of us,
One that can be grown –
Let it be known
That all seedlings can become a mighty tree,
If given the following three:
A space in which a fertile mind can be cultivated,
A community in which love can be propagated,
And the freedom to exist without being incarcerated.
May 27, 2018
May 27, 2018 at 8:44 AM UTC
“They tell me to fear the homeless in LA but I do not. They say women alone at night should not be out, but I have my dogs, and we frequent empty parks after dark, side-by-side with encampments, and we watch (my dogs and I) the homeless cart their belongs by. Well, my dog barks.
They hand me giant jugs over chin-high fences, to ask if I would fill them; their freshest water exists from a dog park spout. Last week I saw a man struggling to press a cardboard slat into the grate of an open sewage pipe, his secret resting place. About a month before, a man with all his worldly belongings strewn along the plastic floor of a porta-potty so smeared in sh!t, you’d not dare touch a square inch. Rain was pouring, and he needed to sleep with a roof.
And I think, I am not so different from them. Me, with my white skin and pretty smile; people treat you nicer when you’re pretty. When you can put a face on and say straight-sounding things, and not speak of months spent living in your car, sleeping on street-sides, praying for no cops. Or of deep pain——no, do not speak of that. Too much pain makes people afraid, makes people want to look away. How no one noticed the man hiding his face in the sewage drain, the man sleeping in the sh!t-smeared porta-toilet, because every person noticed, and just decided not to look.
and I think about how many false narratives are propagated by fear——“
Mar 29, 2025
Mar 29, 2025 at 3:46 PM UTC