1.
From my
uneasy bed
at the L’Enfant,
a train's pensive
horn breaks the
sullen lullaby of
an HVAC’s hum;
interrupting the
mechanical
reverie of its
steadfast
night watch,
allowing my ear
to discern
the stampede
of marauding
corporate Visigoths
sacking the city.

The cacophony
of sloven gluttony,
the ***** songs of
unrequited privilege
and the unencumbered
clatter of radical
entitlement echoes
off the city’s cold
crumbling stones.

The unctuous
bellows of the
victorious pillagers
profanely feasting
pierces the
hanging chill
of the nations
black night.

Their hoots
deride the train
transporting
the defeated
ghosts of
Lincoln’s last
doomed regiments
dispatched in vain
to preserve a
peoples republic
in a futile last stand.

The rebels have
finally turned the tide,
T Boone Pickett’s
Charge succeeds,
sending the ravaged
Grand Army of the
Republic sliding
back to the Capitol,
in savage servility,
gliding on squeaky
ungreased wheels
ferrying the
Union’s dead
vanquished
defenders to
unmarked graves
on Potters Field.

The Rebels
joyous yell
bounces off
the inert granite
stones of the
soulless city.

The spittle
of salivating
vandals drips
over the
spoils of war
as they initiate the
disassemblage,
the leveling and
reapportionment
of the grand prize.

The clever
oligarchs
have laid claim
to a righteous
reparation
of the peoples
assets for
pennies on the
dollar.

Their wholly
bought politicos
move to transfer
distressed assets
into their just
stewardship
through the
holy justice
of privatization
and the sound
rationale of
free market
solutions.

In the land of the
pursuit of property,
nimble wolf PACs
of swift 527, LLCs
have fully
metastasized
into personhood;
ascending to
the top of the
food chain in
America’s
voracious
political culture;
bestriding
the nation to
compel the
national will
to genuflect
to the cool facility
of corporate
dominion.

As the
inertial ******
of the plaintive
locomotive
fades into
another old
morning of
recalcitrant
Reaganism,
it lugs its
ambivalent
middle class
baggage toward
it’s fast expiring
future.

I follow
the dirge
down to
the street
as the ebbing
sound fades
into the gloom
of the
burgeoning
morning,
slowly
replacing the
purple twilight
with a breaking
day of cold gray
clouds framing
silhouettes of
cranes busily
constructing
a new city.

The personhood of
corporations need
homes in our new
republic; carving
out new
neighborhoods
suitable for the
monied citizens
of our nation.

First amongst
equals, the best
corporate governance
charters form
the foundation of
the republic’s
new constitution.
Civil rights
are secondary
to the freedom
of markets; the
Bill of Rights
are economically
replaced by the
cool manifests
of Bills of Lading.

The agents of
laissez faire
capitalism
nibble away
at the city’s
neighborhoods
one block at a time;
while steady winds
blows dust off
the National Mall.

Layers of the
peoples plaza are
plained away with
each rising gust.  

History repeats
itself as the Joad’s
are routed from their
land once again.

A clever
mixed use
plan of
condos and
strip malls
is proposed
to finally help the
National Mall
unlock its true
profit potential.

As America’s
affection for
federalism fades
the water in
the reflection pool
is gracefully drained.

We the people
can no longer
see ourselves.

The profit
potential of
industry is
preferred over
the specious
metaphysical
benefits
of reflection.

The grand image,
the rich pastiche,
the quixotic aroma
of the national
melting ***
is reduced to the
sameness of the
black tar that lines
the pool and the
swirling eddies of
brown dust circling
the cracked indenture.

From his not so
distant vantage point,
Abe ponders the
empty pool wondering
if the cost of lives
paid was a worthy
endeavor of preserving
the ****** union?  
Has the dear prize
won perished from
this earth?

Was the illusive
article of liberty  
worth its weight in
the blood expended?

Did the people ever
fully realize the value
of government
by the people,
for the people?

Did citizens of
the republic
assume the
responsibilities to
protect and honor
the rights and privileges
of a representative
government?

Now our idea
and practice of
civil rights is measured
and promoted as far as
it can be justified by
a corporate ROI, a
shareholder dividend,
an earmark or a political
donation to a senators
unconnected PAC.

The divine celestial
ledgers balancing
the rights and
privilege of free people
drips with red ink.  

Liberty, equality
fraternity are bankrupt
secular notions
condemned as
expensive
liberal seditions;
hatched by
UnHoly Jacobins,
the atheist skeptics
during the dark times
of the Age of Enlightenment.

Abe ponders
the restoration
of Washington’s
obelisk, to
repair the cracks
suffered  from
last summer’s
freak earthquake.

I believe I detect
a tear in Abe’s
granite eye
saddened by the
corporate temblors
shaking the
foundations
of the city.

2.

The WWII Memorial
is America’s Parthenon
for a country's love
affair with the valor
and sacrifice of warfare.

WWII forms the
cornerstone of
understanding the
pathos of the
American Century.

During WWII
our greatest generation
rose as a nation to
defeat the menace of
global fascism and
indelibly mark the
power and virtue of
American democracy.

As Lincoln’s Army
saved federalism, FDR’s
Army kept the world safe
for democracy.

Both armies served
a nation that shared
the sacrifice and
burden of war to
preserve the grace of
a republican democracy.

Today federalism
crumbles as our
democracy withers.

The burden
of war is reserved
for a precious few
individuals while
its benefits
remain confined to
the corporate elite.

Our monuments
to war have become
commercial backdrops
for the hollow patriotism
of war profiteers.

We have mortgaged
our future to pay
for two criminal wars.

The spoils of
war flow into the
pockets of
corporate
shareholders
deeply invested
in the continuation
of pointless,
destructive
hostilities.

Our service
members who
selflessly served
their country come
home to a less free,
fear struck nation;
where economic
security and political
liberty erodes
each day while the
monied interests
continue to bless
the abundance
of freedom and riches
purchased with the
blood and sweat
of others.

America desperately
needs a new narrative.

The spirit of the
Greatest Generation
who sacrificed and met
the challenge of the 20th
Century must become
this generations spiritual
forebears.

The war on terror
neatly fits the
the corporate
pathos of
militarism,
surveillance
and the sacrifice
of civil liberties
to purchase
a daily measure
of fear and
economic
enslavement.

It must be rejected
by a people committed
to building secular
temples to pursue
peace, democracy,
economic empowerment,
civil liberties and tolerance
for all.

Yet this old city
and the democratic
temples it built
exulting a free people
anointed with the
grace of liberty
is being consumed
in a morass of
commercial
polyglot.

3.

During the
War of 1812
the British Army
burned the
Capitol Building
and the White House
to the ground.

Thank goodness
Dolly Madison saved
what she could.

The new marauders
are not subject to the
pull of nostalgia.  

They value nothing
save their
self enrichment.

They will spare nothing.

Our besieged Capitol
requires Lincoln’s troops
to be stationed along the
National Mall to defend
the republic.

The greatest peril
to our nation
is being directed
by well placed
Fifth Columnists.

From the safety
of underground bunkers,
in secure undisclosed
locations within the city’s
parameters, a well financed
confederacy employing  
K Street shenanigans
are busy selling off
the American Dream
one ear mark
at a time, one
huge corporate
welfare allotment
at a time.

The biggest prize
is looting the real
property of the people;
selling Utah,
auctioning off
the public schools,
water systems, post offices
and mineral rights
on the cheap
at an Uncle Sam
garage sale.  

The capitol is
indeed burning
again.

Looters are
running riot.

The flailing arms
of a dying empire
fire off cruise
missiles and drone
strikes; hitting the
target of habeas
corpus as it
shakes in its
final death rattle.
I make a pilgrimage
to the MLK Jr.
Monument.

Our cultural identity
is outsourced to
foreign contractors
paid to reinterpret
the American Dream
through the eyes
of a lowest bidder.

MLK has lost
his humanity.

He has been
reduced to a
a Chinese
superhuman
Mao like anime
busting loose from
a granite mountain while
geopolitical irony
compels him to watch
Tommy Jefferson
**** Sally Hemings
from across the tidal
basin for all eternity.  

MLK’s eyes fixed in
stern fascination,
forever enthralled
by the contradictions
of liberty and its
democratic excesses
of love in the willows
on golden pond.

Circling back to
Father Abraham’s
Monument,  I huddle
with a group of global
citizens listening
to an NPS Ranger
spinning four score
tales with the last full
measure of her devotion.

I look up into Abe’s
stone eyes as he
surveys platoons
of gray suited
Chinese Communist
envoys engaged
in Long Marches
through the National Mall;
dutifully encircling cabinet
buildings and recruiting
Tea Party congressmen
into their open party cells.

This confederacy
is ready to torch
the White House
again.

Congressmen and
the perfect patriots
from K Street slavishly
pull their paymasters
in gilded rickshaws to
golf outings at the Pentagon
and park at the preferred
spots reserved for
the luxury box holders
at Redskin Games.

They vow not to rest
until the house of the people
is fully mortgaged to the
People’s Republic of China’s
Sovereign Wealth Fund.

4.

A great
Son of Liberty like
Alan Greenspan
roundly rings
the bells of
free markets
as he inches
T Bill rates
forward a few
basis points
at a time; while
his dead mentor
Ayn Rand
lifts Paul Ryan
to her
Fountainhead teet.
He takes a long
draw as she
coos songs
from her primer
of Atlas Shrugged
Mother Goose tales
into his silky ears.

The construction
cranes swing
to the music
building new private
sector space with
the largess of
US taxpayers
money; or
more rightly
future generations
taxpayer debt.

Libertarians,
Tea Baggers, Blue Dogs
and GOP waterboys
eagerly light a
match to the
the crucifixes
bearing federal
social safety
net programs
to the delight
of NASDAQ
listed capitalists
on the come,
licking their chops
to land contracts
to administer
these programs
at a negotiated
cost plus
profit margin.

Citizens
dependent
on programs
are leery
shareholders
are ecstatic.

To be sure
our free
market rebels
don disguises
of red, white
and blue robes
but their objectives
fail to distinguish
their motives and
methods with
some of the finest
Klansman this
country has
ever produced.

5.

DC is a city
of joggers
and choppers.

Corporate
helicopters
wizz by the
Washington
Monument,
popping erections
for the erectors
inspecting the progress
of the cranes
commanding the
city skyline.

USMC drill team
out for a morning
run circles the Mall.

The commanding
cadence of the
DI keeps us
mindful of the
deepening
militarization of
our society.

A crowd  
rushes
to position
themselves,
genuflecting
to photograph
a platoon on
the move.

I try to consider
the defining
characteristics of
Washington DC.

DC is all surface.

It is full of walls
and mirrors.

Its primary hue
is obfuscation.

Open
communication
scripted from well
considered talking points
informs all dialog.

The city is thoroughly
enraptured in narcissism.

Thankfully, one can
always capture the
reflection of oneself in
the ubiquitous presence of
mirrors.  

Vanity imprisons
the city inhabitants.

Young joggers circle the
Mall and gerrymander
down every pathway
of the city.  

They are the clerks,
interns and staffers of
the judicial, executive
and legislative branches.

They are the children
of privilege.

They will never
alter their path.

You must cede the walk
to their entitlement
of a swift comportment
or risk injury of a
violent collision.

These young ones
portray a countenance  
of benevolent rulers.  

They seem to be learning
their trade craft well from
the senators and judges
whom they serve.

They appear confident
they know what's best
for the country and after
their one term of tireless
service to the republic
they look forward to
positions in the private
sector where they will
assist corporations
to extend their reach
into the pant pockets
worn by the body politic.

6.

Our nations mythic story
lies hidden deep in the
closed rooms of the
museums lining the
Mall.

I pause to consider
what a great nation
and its great people
once aspired to.

I spy the a
suspended
Space Shuttle
hanging in dry dock
at the air and
space museum.

Today America’s
astronauts hitch
rides on Russian
rockets.

America rents a
timeshare from
the European
space agency to
lift communication
satellites into orbit.

Across the Mall
I photograph
John Smithson’s
ashes in its columbarium.  

I fear it has become a
metaphor for America’s
future commitment
to scientific inquiry
and rational secular
thinking.

I am relieved to
discover a Smithsonian
exhibit that asks
“what does it mean
to be human?”

The Origins of Humans
exhibit carries a disclaimer
to satisfy creationists.

The exhibit timidly states
that science can coexist
with religious beliefs and
that the point of the exhibit is
not to inflame inflame religious
passions but to shed light on
scientific inquiry.

I imagine these exhibits
will inflame the passion of
the fundamentalist
American Taliban and
provide yet another
reason to dismantle
the Moloch of Federalism.

The pursuit of science
remains safe at the
Smithsonian for now.

7.

Near K Street at
McPherson Park
a posse of
well dressed
lobbyists, the
self anointed
uber patriots
doing the work
of the people
stroll through
the park
boasting a
healthy population
of bedraggled
homeless.

The homeless
occupy the benches
that have been
transformed into
pup tents.

Perhaps some of
the residents of this
mean estate were
made homeless by a
foreclosed mortgage.  

The K Street warriors
can be proud that their
work on behalf of the
banking industry has
forestalled financial market
reform.  

Through it exacerbates
the homeless problem it has
allowed these K Street titans to
profit from the distress of others.

Earlier in the day
I photographed
a homeless man
planted in front of
the Washington
Monument.

I wonder
if my political
voyeurism is
an exploitation of
this man’s condition?

I have more in common
then I probably wish to
admit with my K Street
antagonists.  

In another section
of the park the
remnants of a
distressed OWS
bivouac remain.

The legions of sunshine
patriots have melted away
as the interest of the
blogosphere has waned.

As the weather
improves Moveon.org
and democratic
party operatives
pitch tents in an
effort to resuscitate
the moribund
movement.

They hope
to coop any
remaining energy
to support their
stale deception,
a neoliberal vision
based solely on the
total capitulation
to the bankrupt
corporatocracy.

I heard someone say
a campaign lasts a
season; while a
movement for social
change takes decades.

If that metric proves
correct, and if the
powers don’t succeed
in compromising the
people’s movement
I’ll be three quarters
of a century old
before I see
justice flowing like
a river once again.

8.

I circle back to
the L’Enfant and
find myself
tramping amidst
the lost platoon
of Korean War
soldiers.

My feet drag
in the quagmire
of grass covering
the feet of this
ghostly troop.

My namesake
uncle was a
decorated
veteran of this
conflict and Im
sure I detect
his likeness
in one of the
statues.

The bleak call
of a distant train
sounds a revelry
and I imagine this
patrol springing
to life to answer
the call of their
beloved country
once again.

Yet they remain
inert.  

Stuck in a
place that the
nation finds
impossible to
leave.

The eyes of the
men stare into
an incomprehensible
fate.  

They see the swarms
of Red Army infantrymen
crossing the Yellow River
streaming toward
them in massive
human waves,
the tips of
sparkling bayonets
threatening to slash
the outmanned
contingent fighting
to bits.

They are the
first detachment
to bravely confront
the rising power
of China many
thousands of
miles away
from their homes.

America like
this lone company
is overwhelmed
and lost in the
confusion
that confronts
them.

Looking up
I perceive the
bewilderment
of my muddled image
reflected on the
marble walls
surrounding
the memorial.

I am a comrade-in-arms,
a fellow wanderer sojourning
with th

If thine eye offends thee
pluck it out....

War offends
my eye.

All my
senses
defiled
*****
disemboweled
by the
abomination
of war.

My mind
disregards
denigrates
reneges
warps time
destroys values
alters psyches
lays waste
to my
conscience
of hope.

Mine eye offends me
the complicit witness
complacently
ambivalent
turning deaf ears
to groans
of the wounded
wails of the aggrieved
silence of the dead;
shutting doors
to sanctuaries
where refugees
seek safe houses,
locking factories
where men seek work,
level homes
where women nurture,
strafe playgrounds
where children laugh,
raise cities
where people
learn to be human,
immolate mosques
where
God's Children
cry out to the
Beneficent One.

Mine eye offends me,
my gut sickens,
to witness
the slaughter
of innocents
droning on
no angels to save
the million Issac's
savagely smashed to bits
by a Tomahawk's blow.

God's vengeance
escalates
the celestial ledgers
dripping red ink
from excessive
collateral damage,
people reduced
as objects used
to secure a loan
indeed an ARM
on a real time
American nightmare
whose reset rate
is mounting body counts
and massive budget allocations
protecting undisturbed flows
of corporate profits
valued in barrels
of imported blood.

Mine eye offends me
an innocence lost
Veritas vanquished
life is devalued
humanity debased
compassion defunct
empathy a twisted satire
an indelible weakness
incidental hostage
to the torridness
of the lurid play
of savage nations
projecting will,
a devastation
of action.

Mine eye offends me
the message of
sweet Jesus
a way of light
transformed into
biblical justification
agitprop verse
stoking blood lust zeal
for apostate infidels
sons of Abraham's
unworthy spawn,
of Hagar the *****
******* child Ishmael
turned out again
from tribal tents
of an absentee father
from an unfriendly
paternity.

This black *******
an abomination
in the sight of Allah
celebrates
a zeal to ****
unholy disciples
yearning to fill
banana crates
with body parts
draped in
drab Hijabs
decorated with
satanic verses
from a
Holy Quran
carved with
bayonets
of self righteous
Crusaders
armed with rifles
inscribed with
Gospel verses
on deadly gun
barrel stocks
to ramp the passion
of the righteous Crusade
against Godless apostates.

Mine eye offends me
as I witness
the **** of
corporate mercenaries
churning bereaved
Blackwaters
beholden only
to shareholders
gobbling spoils of war
to safely exit
to private vomitoriums
to expunge the excess
of gluttony
only to
quickly return
to engorge themselves
at the public troughs
again.

No constitutional
restraints
save the
strict guidelines
of holy
corporate governance scriptures
ruthlessly enforced with
golden carrots
of multi-million dollar
stock options
and the brutal stick
of shareholders divine right
to quarterly dividends
and above average
equity returns.

Corporate warriors
anointed by
holy oil
proffered
by capitalist shamans
and US Senators
conferring
jurisprudential deferment
on civil law
recusing them from
any behavior
to recognize the humanity
of captive insurgents.

Mine eye offends me,
as the flag
draped coffins
of returning
servicemen
and women
continue to pile
on the boiling tarmac
of Dover Air Force Base.

Tearful salutes,
folded flags
and mournful dirges
of prerecorded Taps
are small compensation for
shattered families,
and a wasted life,
unnecessarily spent,
criminally sacrificed
in a pointless conflict
in service to a lie.

Mine eye offends me
as I watch
my country's soft parade
of growing militarization
xenophobic fear
compelled patriotism
salute and goose step
to the flash of sword
and the sound of guns
and the glittering
medals of valor
adorning the chests
of a nations warriors.

How barbaric
are we?
allocating
overstuffed
apportionment
of weapons
and armories
while
people are
foreclosed
forcing armies
of unemployed
Joads
to ride
en masse on
an Acela Express
to a crowded
poor house
a listless journey
on pock marked
highways
arriving at
dreaded
destinations
to defunct
townships
offering
empty factories
and closed schools.

Screaming in silence
I scratch at my eyes
with numbed fingers.

Matthew 18:9

Music Selection:
The Doors, The Soft Parade

Oakland
3/17/10
jbm

The apartment hasn’t been cleaned for so long and has housed a depressive in it for the same length of time so that there is a glaze of slime-dirt on the floor, made of dried coffee, hot chocolate, maybe some **** or some spillage from a tube of steroid cream to treat an inflammation that never really goes.  The rate of ooze changes?.  Clean textiles are piled up on the floor, never having been folded, and mix here and there with *****: practical fatpants that make me look like a geologist and white-white cotton blankets that can be washed on HOT with lots of bleach that I purloined from some mentalhealthfacility.  The inbox is full of—is bristling with—remonstrances from Programs for the Nondoer—you haven’t filed, haven’t turnstiled, haven’t had your hologram chip assessed by central CENTRAL intelligence, what is wrong with you.  Upon stepping outside there is a beat during which I think maybe somewonder might swirl and buoy but no, just wethumid and *****, sidewalks cruddy and Haitians and quasi-Haitians muttering “taxitaxitaxi” in front of their Gypsy conveyances with their dubious certifications.  I should go for a ride in one, a dubious passenger for a dubious palanquin.  I tried the library but it was too hot and decrepit and too filled with Books For African-Americans, which always ****** me off; are only African-Americans going to read Wright or Douglass or Brooks?  Everyone is overrated, anyway, movies and theater and the moribund beat of commerce, and as the dangerous autos pass, sometimes not running you over, you can see morechange in the pockets of the shareholders of BeePee and Iacocca Coach-Wirx.  Any friendliness exhibited seems to contain an underovertone of  You’re Not Included Whiteboy White ****** Ghost *****, all archaic names I’ve been almost astounded to be called usually while balancing on tiptoe on some lurching, roaring dieselbus, grinding past off-off-off brand groceries that do a dubious business.  While making my police report I wink at a sevenyearold boy and I get a lustrous wink back butalas this is not enough to beat back those slurrycolored brainfazes.

Ronald McDoland & cousin Kentucky
had Iraq: ji had ji had ji had e ha e ha e ha oh!
i told you about the heresy of war,
the Soviets are back, success rate
up 1000% from Afghanistan to be the next
Uzbekistan - well, less Mongol tsunami down that
alley; it's still heresy to do puppet upon the head
of former state with oligarch tyrants selling
us bone marrow as meat: Iraqis just said:
let's keep it kosher and local and less global
and less treadmill!

the orb's lost & found song from the dream album is
so hard to follow at first; i only came back for the psychopath
avenue theme tune: ah... ******* ready to depose
Saddam Hussein... but now ******* in their pants to send
soldiers into the land of crucifixions and be-headings?!
how strange the correlation between actual warring
fake pacifism, simulated warfare and excess
theories with atoms but incompetence with
the elements.

i watched democracy fail... the foxes stole nothing,
they stole nothing because they were sloppy!
i thought this while hanging the washing on the line today...
*******... puck-puck-yellow-yanks... larynx by larynx on the tiles...
let's paint it red! spare me Slob Bogdan Maso Kiev Itch...
ah, when it was all under wraps... oh but the western
media are so ******* vociferous for those shady
gamblers known as shareholders, no casino,
just a house in suburbia... wankers... football hooligan me
into acting when it comes to practice!

sho you'sh shoor you'sh want'sh to shoo your shon
to shwastika access on return? me tshinks sho...
Bex is a girl's name Rebecca, we hear more of Bex's
past than anyone's.*

Colonel Kentucky can shove that chicken drumstick
up his **** and sing me a lullaby about his
famous discovery of deep baked **** batter!
crumbs ahoy, aye aye captain, my
stratosphere of anally commanding the first-mate
into coherent motivational propaganda of:
women outside of war will treat the dogs of
howling and barking as companions -
the stresses invigorate... no second chances are given
to buy a ******* toaster or a chimpanzee,
both do tricks, it just depends which one does the trick
quicker - it takes more than just a homelessness
from the realm of the cube to see how many
is an insect although not in an atheistic strict sense
of expressing nihilism: man the disharmonious
swarm can hardly keep queen or king:
unless we all were ****** by the king and unless
we all ****** the queen: insects are strict Martians,
they have no time for concubines or horse races
of football matches, or other coliseum distractions:
unique insecticide of insects against individualism
that's thought in being human so fondly kept
with the pyramid as with a book of some obscure
philosopher championing wear & tear & tatters
looking more for a tailor than a god:
appearances must be kept, after all, so few of us are
prisoners in the bedding chamber of perfect
genetics of post-******, and the dumb neo-****
scapegoats along with Israel are kept being fed
cinnamon sticks laced with sailors' *****
that's nutmeg.
**** you not... ere come the clueless klaxon hakuna
matata bob dylan bums... like two police officers
in reverse of the stereotype: one plays the harmonica
(i.e. can read), another strums the guitar (i.e. can write) -
but we're missing the elephant's
molesters:                          we're missing four of the six,
that's enough for the tetragrammaton verb,
we have the trunk and the leg, that'll do us just fine:
we can just say it's a fire hydrant...

with my new regime i understood the blanket
of un-forgiveness of english teachers,
i exported the idea of haiku to the east and
received the notion of esnō - i said double that
up, thrice it, make the thrice square,
add a hundred ballerina twirls and create
a hurricane from the ensō; what did i
get on my return? hardly a butterfly effect,
i got stenotype, the beheading of
Anne Boleyn - quick like a marriage with a black
widow spider or a mantis: an orphanage on my back...
so many more sperms reach the pyramid end
than in mammals, but look at what the Darwinism
rainbow gave us to feel depressed about...
comparative existentialism to insects, arguments
against parasites... might as well argue about
eating and **** evaporating rather than the pleasure
of faeces squeezing through the **** muscles...
(if you had *******, i'd tell you about the pleasure
of *******, and not needing to bother women
to stretch a muscle that's hardly an oyster of skin,
keep the flowers in Eden of comparisons,
mine ain't beauty, yours' ain't either:
it ain't a flower, it's a seashell protein, thing, the end):
oh yeah, the boys and me were watching salmon
in the school, we were using index and middle fingers
to slingshot shoot the salmon buds to dumb down and
forget feminism and remember the village life...
ha ha... worked like steroids to those fake muscle-heads
when looking at gymnasts and scaffolders:
PUMPIN' IRON PIMPIN' MOLLUSCS!
what a hydrochloric-hydraulic combination to non-grammatical
coordination from (0, 0) to (20 kilometres west,
50 kilometres east) in comparison to an epic literature
output of Russian angst origin in epilepsy shadowed
over by the joy of gambling... i have drinking,
now imagine Halloween on Hawaii.

Jim, Clara, Lizzie, and Tim
are sitting comfortably
around a work meeting table
drinking delicious coffee and
eating delectable sandwiches
which their manager provided for free;
these employees love their manager.

Jim, Clara, Lizzie and Tim
area engaged in a ‘Quality-Circle’:
A group of employees
who meet regularly
to consider ways of improving
their workplace.

Jim, Clara, Lizzie and Tim
conceptualise themself
as not slaves but cooperators
with their manager
to improve
the functioning of their workplace
for the benefit of the employees,
and the benefit
of the shareholders, customers, suppliers
management and
their whole society.

Jim, Clara, Lizzie and Tim
are exercising joyful creativity
to identify problems
and discover solutions
which they will diligently implement
to improve their workplace,
to increase their joy and happiness
in their workplace:
by increasing ease of their work,
by increasing efficiency of their work,
by improving quality of their work,
by increasing productivity,
by increasing customer satisfaction,
by improving environmental impacts,
by increasing profits.

Jim, Clara, Lizzie and Tim
realise that a continuously-improving
well-functioning workplace
provides them secure and enjoyable employment;
so, participating in the joyful creativity
of a quality-circle
striving to continuously improve their workplace
makes them feel
joyful and happy.

Pliny the somethingth's request for a title
put through the paces of a mincing machine
will form this, the entirety of my presentation,
to you, paid for by the flatulence tax.  

VAT fantastic.  I love the Government.

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some nights
I dream of worlds
that must have come from childhood fairy tales

people work happily in various trades
politicians are actually fighting for their citizens
    to make life easier and more rewarding

skin color does not matter
    nor does religious orientation
a person’s character creates distinction

women don’t live in fear of getting *****
nobody is sold into slave labor or prostitution
education is of high quality and free
    from grade school to college
financed by affluent corporations
whose shareholders just get a bit less

when I wake up
I recognize
the dream was just a dream

our reality is different

I like  you.

I like  you  a lot.

I want to be bored with you.

I want to hold weekly board meetings over the topic of you.

I could impress the shareholders. What do you think?

     I think you enjoy honesty, and despise flattery.
Believe me, I know the difference. I hope you do too.
I am no wily flatterer
I would never say something like, “I’ll sail to the MOON for you,”
something impossible and irrelevant. With the consistency of soupy puke.
I should just as soon say,
“I WILL jump recklessly from the top of a very tall tower, and land—perfectly intact and unharmed
… for you.”
I hope I am not the only one who sees a problem with this sort of logic.
So instead I’ll say:

Let the madness of what this fixation has turned me into, fuel my fears and my ambitions and drive me therefore, to construct a missile, with enough space inside to harness only myself, enough kick in the engine to erase my past—and all the laws of life as we know it.
I will have those memorized by then, and plan to have my hands on new laws unforeseen by any of the other
mainstream earthlings;
maybe using my new third eye to grasp at something up there that was previously air —
& I will beg this nonconsensual devotion you’ve evoked in me please grant me the derision to press the button, and launch myself into that forgetful lazy river that contains all the planets, asteroids, black holes, spaceships, a lonely-wandering U.S. radio transmitter, spilt-paint nebulas, one of Tiger Woods’ golf *****, a drunken astronaut, some of the crew from that Malaysian airplane (you know, the one that went missing), and also there are suns (often called stars), and moons, and there has gotta be a little love floating around somewhere with the celestial ants
and supernovas
and EVERYTHING.
and dissimilarly nothing you can grasp.

to the Moon?
sure,
why not babe,
if moon-rocks could somehow make you fall in love with me,
I would plan to rob the Smithsonian (or probably a similar museum of history but one with less security),
and if that ended up a no-go,
thenyeah.


     Mad. Zoom.


straight to the ******* moon for you.

The sun dipped down to meet the sea water
and the shore saw those barefoot friends...
The shareholders of  the old splendid days
and a classy tale..
Soon the warm reddish rays sprinkled
to every corner of the sky..
So firm was the hold of the hands
that they had been using to tease each other
and run away to hide in a place nearby..
They knew that the breeze of every day in these four years
that they had breathed out merrily
is never going to be cast again in the shadows of their lives..

Scribbling their names in the sand
that got drenched by their tears and the low tides of the waggish water..

They left and walked towards the different ways
leaving behind the glorious and rich saga,
and taking along with them-
The timeless stock of memories
scratched to keep their every single nerve
full of rejoices forever..

Uncle Sam reclines and unwinds
In his Adirondack chair
The Statue of Liberty reminds the Mater at Arms
Of the time when he was put in a peyote trance
It was only then he caught on
He rammed his head against his headboard every night
Wracking your brain, trying to wrap it around the concept of the excommunication of those who have had their mouths washed out with soap

There will be no fanfare for the stray lambs
They are only meal tickets for the clergy
Concord grapes and word of mouth
Raise the question, "what is in a hot dog?"

Don't latch on to me after I dance with you into mad denial under a brass florescent chandelier in front of all the stock brokers and shareholders
I'll dismantle your silver lining with a spork

The  cow pies disappear due to erosion

It's good to see you, I didn't know burlap sacks were all the rage right now
Stencil your name on it for good measure
How do you feel after your ego death?

You'd say I was foolish or more likely, delusional.

I'd say you're right, and I'd smile inwardly

You'd say it can't be done, your shareholders would never allow it

I'd say, if they know what's good for them they will

You'd ask, what kind of shareholders do you think you have?

I'd say, hand-picked .... principled

You'd say, it's a stretch, but it's your delusion

I'd say, I've already done it ...

And I'd ask, can delusion and reality exist on the same plane?

You'd think: *******!

I'd smile inwardly

Patagonia Free my mind
gazing through the sun
we having nothing but the time
what is free
you can't happen to believe
what you can perceive
high up in those trees
Patagonia free my mind
gazing through the sun
we have nothing but the time
set me free
I am just a simple thing
wondering this world
I believe it to be a dream

It was a simple decision
and I was lonely that day
just my disposition
led me to enjoyment
and a moment of cognition
a thought
I believe it to be dormant
sitting in that broken diner
simplicity was on my shoulder
unlike those insecure and brainless lonely
shareholders
i'm not looking for the finer
materials
I just seek a little water
dying of thirst
I am in need of what I can't find
these distractions bring the worst
humanity you'll never come first

Patagonia Free my mind
gazing through the sun
we having nothing but the time
what is free
you can't happen to believe
what you can perceive
high up in those trees
Patagonia free my mind
gazing through the sun
we have nothing but the time
set me free
I am just a simple thing
wondering this world
I believe it to be a dream

There comes a moment
in every beings life
add the sun
of every component
some may be frozen
while others they are broken
like the lost poet

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Love is the greatest lie of all
It is pushed on to us from the very first moments of existence
To the last moments of life
And even in death
We can't get a break
The pastor says love is eternal
The rabbi says love is tradition
The imam says love is paradise
And the basketful of others declare that love is immortal
That love will stand the test of time
as if it's some giant monument made of steel

But it isn’t a monument
Love is a word
And words sell

They tell you love is a bag of Lay's potato chips
and can of Coke on a hot July afternoon
When you close the door of your new Lexus, they tell you that's love
'For 15 cents a day you could help feed a child' is love
If it's certified, inspected, marked and labeled with a big gold ribbon and covered in little guarantee stickers or the ever cheerful faces of old timey slaves, it's love
And that jolly old man from the North Pole who sits with your kids telling them everything they want to hear,
that's love too
If it feels good it's love
if it tastes good it's love
if it looks good, smells good, sounds good it's love
is love
is love
is love

But that's the lie
Love
Behind the words and the colorful pictures
there is no love
there is only a man working three jobs trying to get the rent on time while saving up some money for his daughters' college fund, but knowing that he'll probably get evicted anyways because the land lady doesn't like Mexicans.
Or a group of shareholders discussing fiscal projections for the new quarter after hiding millions of dollars in unfilled tax returns that went directly into the pockets of a few.
Or a kid trying to decide whether or not to pay a dollar for an ice tea or give it to the *** on the corner,
but buying an ice tea anyways because he knows that bums are *****
and should get a job (at least that's what the TV said)

Love is the greatest lie of all
Because love isn't just a word
It isn't a product
It isn't a construct of human society to exploit our humanity
To take advantage of us so we blindly conform as they dance around the board room table
with fistfuls of hearts bleeding in their hands
All while singing "Love is! Love is! Love is!"
Grinning and snickering as if they had discovered the fountain of youth

Love is not that
Love is a lie
The most beautiful lie of all
Breaking the framework of our reality
Shattering the rose-colored glasses of conformity
A reflection of our inner core
Our soul, so to say,
Sending out a beacon
Of something human
Of something flesh
Something more

Love is

And it would be a crime to solve love
To answer all of its questions
To throw it in a cage and study it like a rat
Cut it open and wade through its internals
Catalogue every piece and lock it in a metal drawer so future generations won't be puzzled by it
So that that love will be so well known
That no more will there be love struck fools
No more star crossed lovers to cry over
No love at first sight
No passion and fire that gives so many reason
No poets pondering
No singers singing
Or writers writing
Love will only be a symptom
And with a prescription you can take care of that too

That's why love is the greatest lie of all
It is
Unexplainable
Inconceivable
Irrational
Impossible
Ridiculous
and­
Cruel


And yet we lie to ourselves
Saying love is this and that
Thinking that love can be defined
That love can be crammed into just 4 letters
A lie that is human in nature
A lie to avoid the truth
A truth we do not want to face
But a truth that we cannot unbind ourselves from

We will always try
To explain
To understand
To know
To not be afraid
But we don't know
And we don't understand
And we can't explain
And that scares us


But maybe that is love
Not knowing
To be afraid of the unknown
afraid of the dark
afraid of being alone
Being scared to say

'Love is the greatest lie of all'

ISOMETRIC SYSTEMS L.L.C

THANK YOU FOR YOUR SOUL PURCHASE OF THIS AUTOMATED MIND COLLECTION,
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WE EXPECT, AS ALWAYS, TO REPORT A REVENUE INCREASE FOR OUR SHAREHOLDERS BY THE END OF THE FISCAL YEAR
IF THE PRODUCT YOU RECEIVED WAS UNSATISFACTORY OR DEFECTIVE, PLEASE ADDRESS THE ATTACHED CONSUMER REPORT CARD TO YOUR NEAREST CONSUMER RELATIONS AGENT, WHERE A HYPER-SPECIALIZED INDIVIDUAL WILL BE ABLE TO ASSIST YOU.

WE STRIVE TO PROVIDE A 100% CLEAN AND CAREFULLY CURATED STATE OF MIND
SO THAT YOU DON’T HAVE TO.

I saw the thousands of students gathering
peacefully protesting on the whole.
Until the small radical elements arrived
not being in a distant country.
But on the streets of old historic London
and spreading to other cities.
An underlying current of frusteation
denying the stability of a nation.

Taxes rising the lowering of living standards
the future generations angry.
With more elderly living and far fewer young
a small core of the mega rich.
Fuelling anarchist to violently show their hand
governments not setting a good image,
As promises made to voters are totally ignored
the people tiring of politicians has soared.

Companies allowed to make vast sums of cash
passing on the costs to the public.
Boosting profits and shareholders balances
multi levels of bitterness develops.
Each thinking they are the ones oppressed
creating resentment and envy.
Splitting a struggling society into fractions
determined to take drastic actions.

Rebellion and anarchy not new to man
destructive elements that don't achieve.
In the end our race can only last if it's one clan
working together because they believe.

Or is this another cycle coming to the end?

The Foureyed Poet.

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 –

CEO's buy Corporate **'s with
Shareholders Financial Invested Stock Portfolios

Walking through the darkness
A world made of ash
Everyday I keep on walking
My feet keep on burning

Tyrants live in temples
Made of the broken
Relaxing with their
Model girlfriend

Shareholders count their
War dividends as they send
Their children to Eton
While in a distant land
a little girl
just got Shot

Lost in the darkness
Brutality has no ending
Looking to balance the equation
Only finding a black hole
a never ending continuum

As people preach of hope
But are so often wrong
More flowers placed by
The roadside why do the good
Often die young

As single mums struggle
tormented by ex lovers
Who walk away smiling
With their new girlfriend

As the faint hearted
Seek reason where there is none
And sense in the senseless
Like broken glass
can ever have any purpose

But as good deeds do lie
Buried unseen forgotten
In their life only find ruin
Let us not betray the scattered
Lights discarded by life  
Thrown to the wind like ash
Let them be our stars

For however dim my shine
However weak I may feel
I stand with God by my side
Holding my hand

Softly whispering
" Please not you Adam
don't let me loose you
too
hang on  
let me just love you"

As I promise to hold  
Onto goodness
Like a flower
On a cliff edge

And however faint
I maybe
Like a distant star
I shine
And shine
I do
with new  hope

talking heads
discuss the moral fiber of America
but they mean
rich,
white,
elitist
fibers….
what about the fiber of those who helped slaves escape
at risk of their own peril?
what about long-haired kids from the Height
building communes in the California forests?
what about those firemen who ran into burning buildings
to rescue humans regardless of race, creed, or color?
rich,
white
elitist men,
don’t care….
look at the native traditions of living
harmoniously within the natural order of the planet/
look across the impoverish third world lands
and the way families feed each other, tend to children,
work for the common good/
look at the medical marijuana movement
freely giving pounds to sick or autistic children/
rich,
white,
elitist men,
don’t care….
these men only care about making money
off the backs of the less fortunate
expanding the bottom line
while maintaining the status quo
taking care of the shareholders
at the detriment of the entire planet….
rich,  
white,
elitist men,
care about that….

suits chugging beers
overcompensating
a man rubs his hands with a new deal
capitalist moisturiser
Jargon For Dummies
in search of some
box full of empty rooms
holding tiny humanity
pin-striped warrior factory
they're everywhere these broken moulds
******* the middlemen
fattening bottom lines
bears set free amongst steel & glass
concrete hot under summer gamma
shareholders ruling but not really reigning

listen people, profits attract milestones
bar graphs and charts of shareholders
catch no fish, only stones prevail
speak no parables of numbers
i know two fish,five loves can and will feed five thousand.

who said, the birds and the bees have 4o hour weeks
and summer holidays in the sun
six weeks of laziness and gym routines?
go fishing instead. make no fishy business of it.

i say, directors, loose garb is better than pin-stripes
tithes better than fat bank balances full of fat.
would you give an eye to your supervisor? No
so watch your manners. no point in being
the undercover boss handing out peanuts for
poor employees and ******* dollars from their cheers
and less hours on the last floor shift!

I know tv does a lot of good, but so do bibles
and psalms and rock anthems and mary magdalene.

no point in raking in money singing
jesus christ superstar!
im just two thousand fourteen years late
on this board of whingers. AC- DC/BC?

get a life man, the next train to eternity
is only here on a whistle-stop.leaf your clothes behind
and head to the first **** beach
around the bend. lucifer is red hot there. times
have changed, man. whats next on the agenda?

© Marshall Gass. All rights reserved, 3 days ago

- See more at: http://allpoetry.com/poem/11693097-Jesus-on-the-Board-of-Directors-by-Marshall-Gass-noguest­#sthash.NyZSTkRp.dpuf

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Belgium is one of the international locations which will score well in the concept of system, ample it to be described since the individual who yank people to your hierarchy involving selected definite fulfillment. Tens of projects are now being executed round the area of Jakarta and its particular archipelagic location is unable to impede organization procedures all around islands and native materials to be spread across cities.

Having said that, evidently people are growing excited with projects who have not reached its objectives in addition to isn around materialization. Furthermore, you can find claims regarding how serious unresolved plans are generally.

Naysayers acquired reported which since that time the actual leader of the united states, Curr. Joko Widodo, throughout the world named Jokowi, has got lay to help business office, specified unstable choices were created. Continue 2014, the revolutionary administration offers assigned huge amounts of cash for the purpose appears like far-fetched jobs associated with commercial infrastructure bill-outs.

Within protection of the leader, numerous authorities need to do programs regarding general public jobs focusing on jacks, tracks along with airports which are relied to offer the greatest segment inside the "ambitious" allowance with regard to in 2009.

Rapidly bumpy commence to his or her in time workplace, Mister Widodo continues to have many well-known service. And many elderly numbers with Jakarta business community assume a state-owned development corporations to help ****** ahead of time with paying for facilities assignments inside other half of the year.

Companies such as Axis Capital Group that sells as well as rent investment capital apparatus throughout Most of asia and is among the list of privately-owned organizations who has grown their organization to help Jakarta from the principal place of work throughout Singapore seconded the particular motion to go on together with the strategies. Axis offers pleaded its man shareholders to provide the land added time in order to meet its ideas as the result just isn't anticipated to remove shortly after implementation.

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transparent disparages
ensnare carefree societies
implying unreliable disguises
with a flair for pageantry
daring prayer, rare hares prepare
hairy Unitarians to marry
shareholders in gay Paris  (Pari’)
repairing the tear
offering free-range diversity
university perversions revert
extroverted exhibitionists
to airline reservationists
impatiently, first-world philanthropists
**** on lists twisting
the anthropologists mood into a balloon animal
this scandalous tryst helps
black-balled priests insisting
on peace to release persistent
victims’ names to mass media outlets
disabled vets regret investing
as corporate jets rest on golden runways
dark days on the horizon
implying these lies perpetrated
cause an uprising that surprises
those late to realize
the fly’s on the eyes of
poor black children
are all of our future –

Down at the business factory profits were low
or at least lower than the shareholders wanted
so Hyper-Capitalist Genius Man masterminded a brilliant plan:
“We have three people performing a task
two people could accomplish while losing their minds
attrition rates shouldn’t be a concern
because we’ll just streamline the jobs
so there’ll always be desperate workers
who can easily replace the disillusioned ones.”.

The other businessers were impressed
the emperor of business had heard enough:
“****** you’re ‘Work People to Death‘ theory might just work.
I’m naming you chief execution officer of the company.”.
Profits went up and were disseminated amongst the higher-ups
so that everyone that mattered was happy
all thanks to Hyper-Capitalist Genius Man.

Funny thing about the human race,
So much struggle just to stay in place.
Respect for one another is a give and take.
Even then, some never get a break.
Others take a bigger slice of the cake.
Life's at stake,
All created equal,
But these unfair shareholders
raise the stakes,
to benefit their estates.
These Jakes the snakes,
take the cake,
and make a great escape.
Buy the time, then
Figure eight,
By the time we figure
its too late.
This is life,
no pause button,
You gotta pay for breaks.
Only one life to live,
when it's gone,
it's always too late,
For a date set by fate.
so walk down the right path,
the more you give, the more you have.
It's never too late, as long as you make it last.
Passion is gift gives to the blessed.
Finding your purpose is only part of the test.
Talent is what sets you apart from the rest,
Drive is what keeps you ahead of the rest,
Determination is what makes you the best.
"It's lonely on top," said the lonely man, all upset.
Believing in yourself, by yourself, and that's what you get.

myself , get shareholders
like Wal-mart, the worth of which
is seen only in the value of
the stock, the workers
the low notches on this totem pole,
pay them nearly nothing
and let welfare cover their
health care,
fix the books if that is needed
and just get fined for that,
fine for me the CEO gets a golden parachute.
Something , I see, I need to either comment
on, or join in the game.

The shareholders
are quite peeved
you made promises
that appear quite empty
you've done this
kinda thing so often
I had to ask
these poor folk
why do you keep investing
you can't retrieve
what has been lost
but you can still flee
they shrugged and said
he has an honest face.

Why do dictators like to finger the globe?
Shoot the ******* dead, before they become world known.
Should we strangle the gangster and forget about a police probe?
Now in Ferguson, it's happening daily and getting full blown.

Do you think about how others live?
Or look away from others in society your with.

What sort of human can make another's jaw drop and body flop?
Get in the ring, put on your gloves and see who comes out on top.
Will the man on the moon ever show us his dark side?
Maybe the little green men have got something to hide.

Do you think about how others live?
Or look away from others in society your with.

Do clowns sometimes cry and does their eyeliner run?
Maybe there black or white and some might even carry a gun.
Do prison girls like the jail uniform stripe?
Surely they wish for a pink blouse, but never gripe.

Do you think about how others live?
Or look away from others in society your with.

Why do banks, shareholders and politicians always have money in reserve?
While the workers, pensioners and babies don't get what they deserve.
Since when should new immigrants be able to paddle to shore?
When skilled workers from afar and new brides are drowned in red tape, for sure.

So just think about how others live?
Also look at all others in society and give.

You meet in committees
with shareholders from
war contractors
watching them proclaim,
“We need more money
and less oversight.
We need to expand our
external influence.”

Their words spread
like the bubonic plague.
Such a phage,
yet they still say,
“We have to delay
China
and Russia
from doing the same.”

So we put up
the TTP,
while the drones
we made
invade
other countries.

You say, “we are
the only people
who can save
the whole world
and it will take
business interest
to truly preserve
our military power.”

You say……

I have to turn you off.
I have to turn away,
because my tears fall.
They are tears of rage.
You never hear me
no matter what I say.
So, ******* America
you are not great,
stop putting your greed,
inhumanity, and stupidity
in display in a parade
of such extremely
violent charades.