"tribunals" poems
There were dividing lines
between Springfield
and Mariners Gate
soft, subtle lines
that spoke of origin
and code
and biting union
it was all
the reason
for being;
alive and living
dead or dying
deep in a pack
of pint size resistors
hell bent on the
marsh crow
and cannabis tower
jumping the rush
with *** shots
and anchors
and tribunals
camouflage creepers
and transient floaters
marked rebellion at the gates
(skullduggery and taunt
high on their favor list)
jack straws and flat paddles
for the evening charade
beakers and flailing hands
from the foot washing baptist
(the Pleasant Street conservatives with their
own something to say…“there’s gonna be hell to pay!”)
there's a
lingering effect
to this sentiment
(evident in the pump house stride)
the river winds
blow gently
into the night
as the huddling packers
and **** backs
chase the evening hours
it’s a bitter sweet
end of an era;
those traction bars
hood scoops
and nickel bags
will always
be the rage
Feb 21, 2017
Feb 21, 2017 at 11:13 PM UTC
Q-Tips raised! Their storm approaches.
Swab those ear-gates free and clear.
Thunder frightens the rats and roaches.
Looming clouds are drawing near;
Audible anticipation
Waxes with our rising nation.
Hope-porn is the thing with feathers
flying low, right before the gale.
Strident left-wing get-togethers
Do their best to countervail.
Tribunals herald something worse . . .
Enjoy some popcorn with my verse.
Martial law—a new diversion,
Flapping wings on the Left and Right
Disturbs the coop (or coup?). Subversion
now displays its plumes outright.
Deep-state angels prove satanic
sparking upper-level panic.
Rumors can be quite arresting.
Cresting waves on the Psy-Ops sea
Break and roll, now manifesting
Dumbed-down mobs, conspiracy . . .
Some citizens awake to truth;
The rest rave on, benighted youth.
Oct 6, 2018
Oct 6, 2018 at 11:23 AM UTC
Welcome to your execution
You will not be exonerated
Your rights will not be debated
In this secret prison
This bay of pigs
But it’s not the pigs imprisoned
Corporate sponsored terrorism
Government created schism
Between the illusion of rights
And the truth
There will be no repeals
And when we are ready
Secret tribunals with no oversight
Will oversee your execution
Or worse your lifetime imprisonment
Dec 19, 2014
Dec 19, 2014 at 5:05 PM UTC
They fought like crackers
for the coveted prize
from the green bud banter
to the Sunday guise
whipped in a frenzy
by the Callaway score
torn asunder
at the elfin door
The hoodwinked watchman
holding council at post
stung by the folly
of the second floor host
a wild card shuffle
from numskulls and fools
high on their trade
and obstinate rules
Trenchant voices
remarkable cures
Billy’s brigade
and gob smacking boors
wreaking havoc
(in a flatulent way!)
staunch and bitter
and riled foul play
Scissor tailed catcher
and one eyed crow
trolls and packers
unfortunate woes
Lloyd’s forgiveness
and scowls at the chart
***** of fury
from a shot gun start
Gadfly’s and gripers
are unorthodox
the nineteenth hole
for **** in a box
tribunals and judges
a cold reverie
another fine year of the M.O.D.
Feb 8, 2017
Feb 8, 2017 at 11:15 PM UTC
Beyond the blue the Almighty lives
His geography clue the universe never leaves
Loving and kind at church they say
In the incandescent city he bears sway
King of kings He reigns supreme
Angels sing of His majesty sublime
A rod of iron with dazzling crown
Infinite mercies reach the trim of His gown
His blazon feet on pavement of gold rest
The land of knowledge where wisdom nests
There all tribulations are under arrest
And none of this here ever wrest
And He bows down the world beneath
Watching affairs down the Earth
He hears the cry of a dying world
Holding loose His hopeful immutable word
Down here pain and injustice reign
Anarchy and fear hold the reins
And righteousness and love never rain
Its tribunals and magistrates give lain
I saw it all in this little boy
Calamity and misfortune keep him abuoy
His skin wrinkled and tender flesh crusted
Where poverty is built a niche and clustered
Hardly walking and can hardly breath
Amidst town people who walk by in blithe
And so fights on till exhausted he gives in
And lays him forever silent in nature’s inn
Feb 1, 2012
Feb 1, 2012 at 8:24 AM UTC
All the way past Westminster
the Thames breathes rain & clouds
& the grim reaper beckons
in the iron vein moonlight
& I, I,
an I is an Eye
open wide a thousand times
& the grim reaper beckoning
Basho & the Dalai lama
might help me find
the restless gambler,
cards in hand
or escape the ships
that never sail past the horizon,
tribunals
& looking out now
from Cabot tower now past Bristol & beyond
a homeless man sits waiting
paper cup
& styrofoam
& Clocks do not
tell the time
they are merely told it
yet in their vanity proclaim that they alone are it's keepers
& our only friend & Nemesis
Aug 18, 2015
Aug 18, 2015 at 2:49 PM UTC
Just released from the sanitarium
Cold cruel empty world took me down
Malnourished, tooth abscesses'
Manic Depression
Isolation
Brought me to the brink a bad state of melancholy
I went to a hospital ER for help
They don't do dental work
Dentists are Satan in disguise
The AMA knows this and won't let them in their
Genuine Doctors' tribunals
I got released with the bogus diagnosis of ****** abuse
I told them I took the medicine cabinet drank a quart of ***** and that would be it.
THE END
You have heard of Catch 22 here's Catch 23
If your in the nut house for a failed attempted suicide
All you have to do to get out is say I don't feel suicidal any more.
That easy.
A foreshadow to this poem.
Industry took away my know how
I couldn't make my own shoes
I couldn't make a yoke to mount the ox I don't have
To plow the back 40 I'll never own
If my life depended on it
I can't build a house of logs
Would die quickly without central utilities
Food would vanish after days of no electricity
People protect there own and I'm a lone
So I pray I am not the first to go
I try to be a human being
The best was I can
Trying to see through the muck
With prayers, and great hopes
And Luck
I hope I can continue to be.
A human being
Aug 2, 2014
Aug 2, 2014 at 2:54 AM UTC