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1.

When I
was young
I listened to
Billy the Kid

I galloped
across the
living room floor
giddy upping
in an ecstatic
square dance
with my beloved
America

excitedly
enraptured
boundlessly
enthralled
in youthful
zeal
ebulliently  
yodeling
hymns
whistling
reveries to
America’s
heroic prairie
songs

a precocious
kinder beaming  
moved and illumined
by the broiling fanfare
of trilling trumpets

to uphold the promise
I pledged allegiance
to diligent  work
galloping onward
on ponies of
reverent faith
respectful duty
playful engagement
and guardianship

2.

expectation
never fell short
of resounding
supranaturalistic
optimism

energising
the sweep of
a nation’s
self evident
exceptionalism

our democratic
vista stirred
and steeped

a nation of
wheelwrights
building
wagon trains
to traverse
stratified latitudes
with sturdy ladders
erected with common
sense sensibility
of hands to work
and hearts to God

earthen
yeoman
dancing in
wheat fields
threshing sheaves
of prosperity
their exertions
elevating
families
raising
a glorious chorus,
a peeling crescendo
of horns of plenty
splayed across
landscapes of
an ennobled
nation
placing fruits
of labor upon
ascendent
alters to
to receive
the anointing
of abundance

the lighted grace
of infinite possibilities
shines for a grueling
world listening to the
clamouring drumbeats
sounding in the hearts
of all grace anointed
republicans


3.  

No lullabies
no quiet moonlit nights
we ardently
dance on keys
boasting soul
filled dexterity
the quick self
assuredness
extemporaneously
jazz tapping
across bold
hidden rondos
grasping
transcendence
squarely set
in the minds eye
of unbroken resolve
our cool countenance
an unassailable
righteous destination

any
spare sweeping
plaintive introspection
lends space to
affirm
an
affirmation
beginning
with the individual
unum to e pluribus

solitary dancers
incorporated into
fully enfranchised
troopers

the gyrations
the rhythms and steps
of individuated melodies
join to form a harmonious whole
a beautifully woven consensus

this democratic symphony
perfected in an intelligent
choreography of
separate people
sojourning  
toward
a mutually
constructed
shared destiny

aspirational desires
call forth generations
of spirits boldly engaging
the challenges upholding
the rights and privilege
of all citizens
the celebratory harvest
of a new nations
natural law


4.

As a man
I cruise
along
Main Street
in a joyless
joy ride
gliding by
disassembled
factories
moldering schools
defunct governments

surveying the
demolished ruins
of cities,
the decrepit
wrecking ball
of history
is busy,
rolling through
towns
not worthy
of cast iron
destruction
forged in
foreign kilns

we built palaces
to democracy
in the tiniest hamlets
dotting the granges
wholly assimilated
into a national congress
of freemen

today our
congress
is scattered
dialog seeking
resolution is considered
betrayal to holy
partisanship...

selfish insistence
masquerades as
high ideals

portraiture
of obstinance
is a grotesque
reflection
of virtue

we have
reduced
the peoples
house

to a battlefield
for tribes…..

once freemen
now captives….

soulless ghosts
wandering lost
inside grand
rotundas...

mocked
by murals
and inert
granite statuary
howling
expiration dates
of timeless
psalms

sojourning
the trail of tears
drinking from bowls
of anguish

our only
respite
the silent
ruins we
find impossible
to leave

fear fills our bellies
rust stains our hearts
abiding acrimony
ain’t easily brushed
from dust laden cloths

the deconstruction
of dead cities, mark
expired civilizations
centuries in the making
hammered by the blows
of the mightiest blacksmiths
with precision and deft craft


5.

the spareness of
Martha Graham's set
frame black shadows
of fortitude

it always starts
with the individual

then surely
sure footedness
measured footsteps
boldly dance about
the lily pads
of the keyboard
a resounding ballet
the arms wave
like swaying stalks of wheat
but hurry to respond
opportunity knocks
conditions change
the group awaits
to be joined

my pirouette
remains my solitary mark
on the weaving spindles
crafting the mosaic
of a complex American
complexion

the possibility
the promise
laid before us
wheat fields
of democracy
tilled planted
attended

the wondrous yields of
an Appalachian Spring
the promise
hectare of grace
apportioned to all
citizens

the promise
harvest of liberty
freedom
of opportunity
all anointed
freemen
conferred an
amazing grace

civil discourse
was once spoken
we can learn the
lost languages again
sitting on the porch
with neighbors
sipping ice tea
sharing thoughts on
hot summer evenings
caring too care

but scoundrels
became heroes
we fetishized
idiosyncrasies
of insisted
entitlement

we ******
the whole by
exalting the part

we dare not condemn them
lest we condemn ourselves




6.

the west was once woolly wild
I hear the sweeping sound
of my youth rustle again
the dramatic symphony
of a brilliant people
filled with courage
undeterred optimism
claiming a continent
manifesting a new
Pax Americana
a century
of immigrants  

coming to integrate
coming to assimilate
coming to believe in the promise
coming to make a new promise

I came to hear Copland
when I was young

when America was young
when promises were made
and sworn by a brilliant
fanfare of trumpets

when America was young
Copland composed
when America was young
a promise was made

come forth brothers
come forth sisters
come claim
the promise
of a simple gift


Aaron Copland:
Billy The Kid

11/29/11
Oakland
jbm
bear Jul 2014
U for unknown.
You never want to be named.
U for ulterior.
There is so much to you I don't know about.
U for umbrage.
When you get angry or go insane.
U for unassailable.
You will always be a leader.
U for unruly.
No one knows how to control you.
U for unify
Everyone comes together for you.
U for unique.
because you are incomparable.
Julian Aug 2015
The haystack is the needle and the iceberg is compact
Scions of attrition tremble before the contract
Jaundiced world-weary tears lament the frailty of days and the evanescence of years
Senescence a cruel destruction, distracting garish comfort escorting the fears
Displaced and forlorn love beckons a second chance
Itinerant hopes know no commitment to simple embezzled parlance
Of dice and kin, nepotism’s high-roller antics are the linchpin
Frittered patience staking its bets on internecine dynamics of skin
Affirmative traction of disenfranchised hopes rests on fallow seasons
Traduced mirage tantalizes until the activation of regaled treasons
Shock wed with dismay appoints the tutelage of prestidigitation
Juggled triage aborts an unborn reason and anoints intimidation
Aliens flummox the borders to enlist a new world disorder
Trailblazers succumb to lawlessness and for every dollar gained we lose a quarter
Chaos checkmates as power rests from decrepit hands foisting the meretricious brand
Cattle scorched and sheep scattered as the broken hourglass can no longer count sand
Time toppled serenaded by applause canned
Toppled pyramids blind the eye of providence in the hour of unheralded prominence
The terror of history unfurls the efflorescence of piracy as ghosts work to subvert the invisible hand
Next dictums emerge that say supply on command, and entropy desecrates the land
Phone home to arm the putsch, clone home for aliens we push
Revisionism subverts the instruction of years and empowers the apotheosis of fear and the fourth ***** of George W. Bush
Dynasties envy the anonymity of a bald-eagle cabal of skinhead guffaw
Irascible genocide cavorts under the premise of shock and awe
The lullaby of morons is flinching assent to the supremacy of the unelected and unassailable tyrants
Discarding covenants on the principle of principality and counting on every knight to become errant
Pyrrhic victory of the perverted cross corrals the flock
Openly announced secrets enable the aliens to dock
At the port they are greeted as the victors and granted not only amnesty but indemnity
They brandish the unprecedented concept of an enumerated infinity
To amuse the zero-sum victory they author a new history of utilitarianism dethroning deontology
To the future readers they make contrite apologies
But when the races of men are annihilated by the evil Zen boasting of its utilitarian ken
The rubble of time cannot ascertain exactly how or when
But on the dreaded hour the virus will conspire to elect the most reproachable power
When panic reaches crescendo all the sugar in the world cannot but help to taste anything but sour
Abort the tyrannical machine no matter how convincingly it preens
No matter how much bunkum elevates the enchanting prevarication while concealing the affairs behind the scenes
Voting for balkanized splinters designed to weather the winter sustains the monopoly of sophistry
Ballyhoo saturates the airwaves and suddenly catcalling becomes gallantry
Tune out the pulpit, divest the culprit and impugn systemic venality
Dismantle the verisimilitude of shadows and hoist a giant mirror to reflect stark realities
Cue the curtains fall, the specters grow tall, and the clout is daunted by establishment doubt
The skeletonized truth severs the root but the behemoth armed to the teeth wages a bout
Cartels conspire with arms and fire and resurrect stodgy tenets to prowl like an army of vampires
To feed a fatuous superstition and to empower a censorship of convenience to enthrone a dark empire
Cunning preponderance enlists divisive shills to let the ghastly thriller exact its thrills
Occult obscurantism funds the vulnerable and tramples over the outspoken to actuate its will
Hopes dashed, stocks crashed and strife abundant
Generational dissonance revokes the incumbents
Chapter one of this unsung war come and gone
Stay tuned for the next addendum to see what is lost and who has won.
Julian Aug 2015
The oceans’ froth betrothed to lunatic scoff
The sublunary elegance of a subdued earthen cough
Infectious pulchritude conjures snow-globe turpitude
Defiant humility professes to know the rudeness of the crude
Distilled casually in a leery trance
Terpsichorean choreography of a hallowed prance
Callow scowls affix the hebetude of anger to the sauciness of banter
Gallant cavalries court the cult of she and enamor and enchant her
Foretold calamities proceed like clockwork from God’s destructive jaundice
Death deployed as a sententious homily of wraiths that taunt us
At every turn fatidic inspirations work to cement a known outcome
Averted gaze away from rampant gays and fire-and-brimstone bunkum
We cherish a world where the stodgy and outmoded monopolize choice considerations
Where hedonism abreast of asceticism are internecine intimidations
Suffer like Christ and buffer like tenacious poverty sustained by rice
Dare to glower with menacing insistence at the known outcome of errant dice
Soothsayers soothe prayers but cataclysm still dares
To pulverize innocent insouciance and become the cynosure of trepidation and stares
Heaven blares a deafening “obey” while hell stays silent to lure the prey
Hobnob with hobgoblins and expect opprobrium to park and stay
Gentility and class-divisions orchestrate a frozen system of tenacious prisons
Stalking the lifeblood of mainlined ecstasies and surgical incisions
Minority Report within the grasp of the majority uproar
Dalliance with a self-fulfilling time means there will always be a bout between Bush and Gore
Lecherous eyes prize a hedged bush and irascible lies seek copious gore
But because the bush ensconces the ****** in bed with China the twin towers imploded for common core
Mondegreens serenade a mistaken flirtation with a time traversed and mastered
Swelling tides hearken the moon to make a hypothetical bonanza out of disaster
Enumerated infinity within esoteric grasp and pandered sequester
Bedazzled of foreknowledge  it charters the uncharted exploitation faster and faster
Burgeoning funds entertain a mind cloistered by infamy and oppressed by indecency
Burbling puns ecstatic about the perpetuity of guns hector the province of a token leniency
Squander the day and indulge the night by knowing exactly the demise of every shooting star
Knowing the origin and legacy of every single scar
Knowing the path creates the path known
Every single stock you know you should with alacrity own
Prosperous kinship and insubordinate brinksmanship win the prejudiced award
Fencing with lethal intent the specter of death devolves into irenic accord
Envy the impregnable corporate machine and its unassailable pipe dream
Hunt the Wolfs of Wall Street until panic evolves into cacophony of screams
Democratization of prophecy will cue the most titanic robbery
Shills looking for upstart thrills will pretend an unwarranted snobbery
Paradox is impossible because every moment elapsed is indelible and irrevocable
Every frisson of love is fertile and impregnable
So rejoice that the masters of the clock invest in select stocks
And hope that parcels of secrecy tumble from the 1919 White Sox
Emerald Street knows When the Music ‘s Over
Brandished crumbs adorned with sportive panache clothed in a lucky clover
Deprived of snide tithes and the confessions of millions protest a catholic cabal of universalism draped in quaint overalls
Mock the hegemony of the sailing class and their brisk and copious squalls
Opulent scions vouch for the failsafe prerogatives of Zion
Sleeping awake we indulge the oneiromancies of Orion
Cinematic wonders regale glorified eavesdropped blunders
Until the secrecy of the machine is so conspicuously in sight it tears the elected pantheon asunder
A master race of an intelligent nepotism in denial of its own disgrace
Exploits the argosy of secrets of the flying-disked race
But one day a challenger like a rooster will orient the demotic vogue towards the treasure trove
And pirates will prosper in burgeoning droves
Myths foisted will debunk themselves as eternity preens its chosen wealth
Even the most furtive endeavors will have to equip even more stealth
That day will prompt an arms race and a worms race
To burrow beneath the chasms of malcontent and adopt and insular embrace
They billow now with toxicity and malignancy
Even death will have alternative contingencies
The resplendent future will capture the common heart
For the accumulated wisdom of words will make us infinitely more smart
Nat Lipstadt May 2013
Going Off To War (a/k/a Washing The Dishes)

When its time to wash the dishes,
I make proper preparations for this serious business,
I strip down to my skivvies (shorts, in a prior generation)
Cause there will plenty blood and gore afore too long
Soap and water flying about, the ceilings and the walls,
Not to mention big, big puddles on the floor.

Multi-colored sponges of sizes varied,
Some Brillo-sided, like extra armor on a tank,
By Dawn's early light, turn the clear water
Into a heaving, breathing soapy concoction.
Woebegone and woe betide, dried and sticky maple syrup,
You are no match for super-strength orange dishwashing solution,
Of the Greeks did praise, a single dollop packs a mighty wallop!

Ain't afraid of any stain, decomposing, half chewed, culinary rejection.
Don't even bother with rubber gloves, cause that's for sissies.
The dirtier the better, cause I love the sounds of
All out war, the rushing water, the futile screams of
Grease departing this world, down the rabbit hole,
My gleaming, victorious sinking of the enemy shipping

You think I am the first to celebrate in verse
This storied fight of right over dirt?

Recall please this famed couplet, for now be known its true inspiration!

"Oh, say can you see by the Dawn's early light
What so proudly we hailed at the twilight's last gleaming?"

Though Men Like to Load the Dishwasher (You Didn't Know?)
Is another poem of a similar ilk, when technology is unavailable,
It is fact verifiable and unassailable,
That if you give a man some room and some privacy,
Ignore the shouts and war cries from the kitchen emanating,
Male aggression can best be expiated,
When playing war games in the kitchen, a live action movie,
A video game that never grows tiresome,
And violence is necessary, for the enemy's complete annihilation.

Thank you my dear, no medal need be awarded,
Scored this poem as my just reward.
There is no truth
That my name was Dr. Seuss
In a prior life.
Do Vaccines Disable the Immune System?
by Randall Neustaedter, O.M.D.

© 1996

Parents watch with proud satisfaction as their infant, just a few months old, begins to reach out into the world--tiny hands grasping at toys and gently twirling locks of their mother's hair. Just when they have begun to take a lively interest in the world, rolling-over, cooing, and smiling, the first illnesses strike.

The baby's runny nose develops into a fever, fussiness, and night-waking. Her previously placid demeanor suddenly changes to obvious discomfort--crying, clinging, refusing to leave her mother's arms. The pediatrician sees red eardrums and prescribes antibiotics. That first infection starts a seemingly endless battle against viral and bacterial illnesses that persists despite repeated treatment with a barrage of different antibiotics. Something is dreadfully wrong. Frequent visits to the pediatrician do nothing to prevent the continuous pattern of illness—antibiotic—illness.

Why do these illnesses begin when babies are three or four months old? What event triggers this frustrating scenario? What happens to babies at two to four months that could initiate this relentless course of symptoms? Perhaps maternal antibodies are beginning to wear out, making babies susceptible to these environmental microbes. But why don't these babies develop their own antibodies in response to the initial viral or bacterial infections? What prevents the immune system from mounting a vigorous response? And why does this pattern of illness with recurrent ear infections occur now, a pattern that seldom occurred prior to thirty years ago? What is weakening the immune function of today's infants?

The Cause of Chronic Illness
Ear infections have become the most common reason for visits to pediatricians. The incidence of asthma has steadily increased in the modern era. During the period 1980 through 1989 the prevalence rate of self-reported asthma in the United States increased 38 percent, and the death rate for asthma increased 46 percent. In the five years from 1985 through 1990, projected estimates for asthma's medical costs increased 53 percent. The total estimated cost of asthma rose from $4.5 billion to $6.2 billion, or 1 percent of all US health-care costs. This dramatic increase has been attributed to increased exposure to environmental pollutants, and to the toxic effect of asthma medications themselves. Could vaccines be weakening the immune system of our populations and causing recurrent infections and allergies at unprecedented levels?

The only event that all infants routinely encounter at two months of age is vaccination with at least five different vaccines (Diphtheria-Tetanus-Pertussis-Polio-Haemophilus). They are repeated at four months. Could this simple fact explain the onset of the recurrent illnesses that plague so many infants? If vaccines stimulate antibody production to fight diseases, why would they weaken the immune system? Is there any evidence that vaccines do cause illness and immune system dysfunction?

One answer came in a careful study of illness patterns observed in babies before and after vaccination, published in Clinical Pediatrics in 1988. If vaccines cause a weakened immune system, then we would expect to see a higher incidence of illness following vaccination. In that study conducted in Israel, the incidence of acute illnesses in the 30 day period following DTP vaccine was compared to the incidence in the same children for the 30 day period prior to vaccine. The three-day period immediately following vaccine was excluded because children frequently develop fever as a direct response to vaccine toxins. A total of 82 healthy infants received DTP, and their symptoms were reported by parents and observed by a pediatrician at weekly intervals. Those babies experienced a dramatic increase in fever, diarrhea, and cough in the month following DTP vaccine compared to their health before the shot.

How do researchers investigate immune system reactions to vaccines? First, they can observe the incidence of serious disease onset soon after vaccination. They can also study immune functions following vaccines given to children and adults. Two research models have been used to discover the possible adverse effect of vaccines on the immune system. Laboratory researchers observe whether vaccines have any negative effect on white blood cells, the body's primary immune defense system. Clinical researchers study illness patterns preceding and following vaccination. All of these investigative channels have reached the same conclusions--vaccines can trigger immune system suppression.

Vaccines are destroying our immune systems. Amazingly, the medical profession ignores the incriminating evidence against vaccines, and continues to inflict more unnecessary and harmful vaccines on our nation's infants. A recent study from the New England Journal of Medicine of May 1996 revealed that tetanus vaccine disables the immune system in *** patients. Tetanus vaccination produced a drop in T cells in 10 of 13 patients, a classic sign of immune deficiency. *** viral replication increased dramatically in response to tetanus vaccine. Finally, white blood cells from 7 of 10 uninfected individuals became more susceptible to *** infection following tetanus vaccination. Despite these findings, the authors made no comment about the immune depleting effect of the vaccine.

Why is the public unaware of these findings? Why has the medical profession kept these reports hidden from the public eye? With typical condescension, Dr. Martin Smith, president of the American Academy of Pediatrics, explained in the Academy's News that the inclusion of this type of information in vaccine brochures would confuse many parents and could even needlessly alarm them. An uninformed patient is compliant.

The cover-up of immune system failure following vaccination is reminiscent of the tobacco industry's continuous denial and misinformation campaign about the dangers of cigarettes. In both instances huge profits are at stake in multibillion-dollar industries. Vaccine manufacturers cannot afford to have their product maligned in a public forum.

Doctors have often stated that broadcasting adverse effects of vaccines to the public would hinder vaccine campaigns. This attitude emerged more than thirty years ago when Dr. Paul Meier testified before a congressional committee concerning the polio vaccine campaign of the 1960s. It is hard to convince the public that something is good. Consequently, the best way to push forward a new program is to decide on what you think the best decision is and not question it thereafter, and further, not to raise questions before the public or expose the public to open discussion of the issues.

The medical profession has been aware of the damaging effects of vaccines on the immune system since their introduction. For example, the ability of pertussis and DTP vaccines to stimulate the onset of paralytic polio was first noted in 1909. In every polio epidemic since then, DTP injections have caused the onset of polio disease.

In 1950, two careful studies were conducted in the state of New York to evaluate the reports of an association between the onset of paralytic polio and recent injections. The findings were published in the American Journal of Public Health. Investigators contacted the families of all children who contracted polio during that year, a total of 1,300 cases in New York City and 2,137 cases in the remainder of New York State. A history of vaccinations received in the previous two months was obtained on each child and from a group of matched controls in the same population. Those studies discovered that children with polio were twice as likely to have received a DTP vaccination in the two months preceding the onset of polio than were the control children.

The association of vaccines with the onset of polio continues in the modern age. During a recent polio epidemic in the Arabian peninsula country of Oman, DTP vaccination again caused the onset of paralytic polio. In that epidemic, 70 children 5 to 24 months old contracted paralytic polio during the period 1988-1989. The report in the British medical journal Lancet confirmed that a significantly higher percentage of these children had received a DTP shot within 30 days of the onset of polio compared to a control group of children without polio, 43 percent of polio victims compared to 28 percent of controls. The DTP vaccine suppresses the body's ability to fight off the polio virus.

The destructive effect of vaccines on the immune system can persist over an extended period of time. One study published in the Journal of Infectious Diseases documented a long-term depressive effect on interferon production caused by the measles vaccine. Interferon is a chemical produced by lymphocytes (a type of white blood cell) that renders the host resistant to infection. Interferon production is stimulated by infection with a virus to protect the body from superinfection by some other micro-organism. In this study, vaccination of one-year-old infants with measles vaccine caused a precipitous drop in the level of alpha-interferon produced by lymphocytes. This decline persisted for one year following vaccination, at which time the experiment was terminated. Thus, this study showed that measles vaccine produced a significant long-term immune suppression.

Autoimmune Reactions to Vaccines
An 11 year old girl received a routine tetanus booster dose and three days later developed blindness in the right eye and light perception only in the left eye. Her optic discs were swollen on exam. Two days later she had partial paralysis of her legs and loss of bladder control, then more widespread sensory loss including a lack of vibrational and positional senses. Seven weeks later she still had some vision loss and decreased muscle power. Within one year she recovered (Lancet, 1992).

A 20 year old woman experienced pain and swelling of her right wrist and fingers 4 days after a hepatitis vaccination. The pain and swelling resolved, but returned again 6 months later with more severe swelling and pain, following a second hepatitis vaccination. Nine years later, X-ray of the hands showed destruction of the bones throughout her wrist joints (Scandinavian Journal of Rheumatology, 1995).

A 4 year old girl developed progressive weakness of the legs, pain in the legs and feet, and gradual inability to walk 10 days after Hib vaccination. On the fifth day she had swallowing difficulties, ****** weakness, and a monotonous voice. Her symptoms gradually improved, and within 3 weeks she could walk with help (Journal of Pediatrics, 1993).

A 42 year old man received tetanus toxoid on three separate occasions over a period of 13 years. Following each vaccination he developed acute nerve symptoms diagnosed as Guillain-Barre syndrome, a disease of the nervous system characterized by rapid onset of motor weakness and loss of sensation.. A nerve biopsy revealed destruction of the myelin nerve sheath. Following his last injection he continued to experience multiple recurrences, and continued to show abnormal findings on examination 15 years later (Journal of Neurological Science, 1978).

What is the effect of long-term immune suppression? Some investigators are concerned that vaccines could be disabling our body's ability to react normally to disease, and creating the climate for autoimmune self-destruction. The many reports of autoimmune phenomena that occur as reactions to vaccination provide incontrovertible proof that tampering with the immune system causes devastating disease.

Federal legislation of 1986 commissioned the Institute of Medicine to establish a Vaccine Safety Committee. The purpose of that committee was to search the medical literature for reports of adverse events associated with the vaccines routinely administered to children, and report their findings. Computer searches revealed 1,800 relevant articles. However, the committee's rigid criteria for establishing a causal relationship between vaccine and adverse event made it nearly impossible for a disease condition to make their short list. Without a case-controlled study proving a relationship, the hundreds of case reports of immune system destruction following vaccines were relegated to coincidence. Case-controlled studies are expensive. They must include tens or hundreds of thousands of children.

Even the Vaccine Safety Committee acknowledged the onset of several autoimmune diseases as a result of vaccination (Guillain-Barre syndrome, a disease that causes muscle weakness and paralysis, following tetanus and polio vaccines; thrombocytopenia, destruction of blood platelets responsible for blood clotting, following MMR; and chronic arthritis following rubella). These types of symptoms have occurred following every vaccine routinely given to children--the suppressed immune system begins to attack the body's own cells, usually the nerves and joints. Thousands of autoimmune incidents following vaccines have been reported in the medical literature and adverse event reporting systems. These autoimmune responses to vaccines have resulted in permanent, chronic disease conditions--deforming arthritis and muscle wasting and paralysis.

In their attempt to explain the repeated occurrence of autoimmune diseases that attack and destroy the myelin sheaths of nerves as a direct result of vaccines, the committee members explain:

It is biologically plausible that injection of an inactivated virus, bacterium, or live attenuated virus might induce in the susceptible host an autoimmune response by deregulation of the immune response, by nonspecific activation of the T cells directed against myelin proteins, or by autoimmunity triggered by sequence similarities of proteins in the vaccine to host proteins such as those of myelin.

Since the committee's report, a large ecological study in New Zealand revealed that an epidemic of diabetes followed a massive campaign to vaccinate children against hepatitis B. This report, published in the New Zealand Medical Journal in 1996 revealed that a 60 percent increase in childhood diabetes occurred in the years following the 1989-1991 vaccination program of children aged 6 to 16. The widespread use of the new Haemophilus meningitis vaccine has similarly resulted in diabetes epidemics. Diabetes is an autoimmune disease that has been frequently observed to occur as a consequence of mumps vaccine. Three European studies reported 22 cases of diabetes that began within 30 days of mumps vaccination. The dramatic rise in vaccine-induced diabetes has led researchers to raise a warning flag. Immunologist Bart Classen has said, "We believe the effects of vaccines on diabetes are of tremendous clinical importance and that trials need to be started immediately to address the effect of vaccines on diabetes and other autoimmune diseases."

Vaccines have become a sacred cow of our culture, unassailable to criticism. Now that we know their devastating effects on the immune system, perhaps we need to take a more cautious approach to the vaccine campaigns.

New vaccines for children are being developed in an unprecedented effort to wipe out childhood diseases. In some cases this effort has strictly monetary goals. For example, the most frequently stated purpose of the chickenpox vaccine is not to protect children from this benign childhood illness, but to keep parents at their jobs rather than missing a few days of work to care for their sick child at home. According to Dr. Philip Brunell, a leading chickenpox vaccine researcher, it is clear that we can reduce the cost of chickenpox by routinely immunizing normal children, primarily by reducing the loss of parental income. Vaccination of the entire population would save an estimated $380 million dollars in lost income and wages. Economic interests have spurred the adoption of a chickenpox vaccine, not our concern for the well-being of children.

This callous disregard for the potential damage inflicted by vaccines characterizes the goals of vaccine manufacturers. The pharmaceutical giant Merck invested over $5 million in chickenpox vaccine development, according to The Wall Street Journal. Dr. Samuel Katz, Duke University's pediatrics chairman and head of a vaccine panel at the National Academy of Sciences, expressed the manufacturer's concerns: Merck isn't going to make back its investment in that vaccine by just distributing it to kids with cancer. They're going to be interested in pushing for use in the normal population.

Profit has always been the goal of vaccine manufacturers. When lawsuits leveled at drug companies began wiping out profits gleaned from the pertussis vaccine, the manufacturers simply stopped production of the vaccine. The United States government stepped in to pay these vaccine-damage claims. Only then did the drug companies agree to resume vaccine production. The formula was simple--no profits, no vaccines.

Now that drug companies are protected from legal action, the race to invent and distribute new vaccines has again switched into high gear. Vaccines for hepatitis, haemophilus, and chickenpox have all been pushed into the recommended schedule for children. This zealous rush to bring new vaccines to market, heedless of the damage inflicted in the name of prevention, could have far-reaching consequences. We may be setting the stage for the unwitting destruction of our population's health, a result that may continue to remain a hidden cause of widespread immune system failure and autoimmune disease.

About the Author
Dr. Neustaedter has practiced homeopathic medicine and Traditional Chinese Medicine for over twenty years. His book, The Vaccine Guide: Making an Informed Choice (North Atlantic Books, 1996), has become a popular resource for parents. He is a licensed acupuncturist and received his Doctorate in Oriental Medicine in Hong Kong. He lives and works in the San Francisco Bay Area.
Julius Dec 2012
(Act 1)*
As I lay there among the trees and the shrubbery
Spread before me were fields of gold
Weeds, flowers and twigs tickle my face
And above me an azure sky
Shining upon me by some heavenly divinity
Light streams through gaps in clouds
The sun beyond is impenetrable, a fortress of energy, and the clouds seem in awe
For miles visible, grass twinkles with morning dew,
So that I see flashes of reflection when I stare out across the horizon
A chorus of starry wonder brought to this ground;
When I try hard, I can calm the pulses of light in my eyes.
The sea of glittering droplets seems to fade,
But is never out of reach of my concentration.
And I perceive rolling mists
Hills that seem to swim to and fro and warp in and out of the skyline,
And the wind silently brushes the grass,
Gently moving the blades in a swaying rhythm
Like the rhythm of my heart beating, yet time stands still
And I can only absorb the pinks, greens and blues.
All the gold, seeming like visions of eternity
Momentarily I think all is boundless
My transient thoughts alone may speak a thousand stagnant words,
But that indescribable epiphany brought a river of speech and thought,
With which I felt I could transcend the inhibitions and degradations that afflicted my mind,
Soar above fields marked by fences and enclosed by vision and space
As if I were to find a boundless pattern, to speak aloud words of wisdom,
That I had been in this world for longer than that flash of inspiration that had brought me here.
I am, and therefore I think about what I am.
With all the force of crashing mountain-tops,
Or the bolt of lightning splitting the air
I am emancipated, as I ascend, beyond the negligent frontier of chaos
Below me that gurgling pit of utter curdling mire,
That entrenched the soul in fear,
And its walls reached and leaned, unassailable, around me
And now in golden fields, no restrictions placed on thought or speech,
Logic or discourse still grip or rule me.
Bill Higham Mar 2016
At this deep pool
Where no light is reflected,
Where small birds come
Clinging to the vine
Amongst fallen logs and silences,
The crush of leaves and the rot of years.

At this dark edge
Where now unassailable trees tower
In a brief clearing,
At this still centre where the wreckage lies
Of river's breach and storm's rage.

Here at the heart.

Where once the workings of long-ago men,
The wild, roaring, toothless ones,
Desperate and dislocated,
Their fierce eyes blazing through dark,
And bodies by day burning through timber,
Cut sunlight in shadow
And nation in nature.
unnamed Dec 2012
My sweet Austin Texas ecstasy, my beloved Guadalupe you
gem of the desert. Your family’s a basket-a-bigots but
******* they drink for miles and how near they are to my
heart. This heat’s a drug I swear it. Let's swim in that hole
in the bedrock between two rivers. That'd be nice: me and
you and mobs of Westlake High sophomores with their
blue-raspberry bikinis, a hundred Teen Vogue magazine
covers lined up on the grass like a set of bad church pews.
Imagine that whitewash of a crowd, you and me so alone in
that big static it's better than private. Let’s punch brick, peel
back our knuckles and watch’em clot in the sun. **** gauze,
we’re goin’ to a punk show. I’m puttin’ on short sleeves,
goin’ on parade, gunna flaunt my cigarette burns like a Cadillac:
I want those dorks at the Mohawk to look and love me like
they love gore. I’m gettin’ my black-eye ribbon tonight.
We’re in the Chaos in Tejas show, darlin’, put on Crazy Spirit
and bring your 2x4: skinheads ain’t jumpin’ themselves.
Let's get medicated, hunny, let's get saved. I love watching
Austin bleed out into the sand every dusk. Love the musicians
sailing out grimy and frothing over what night brings:
what a big sky, Texas, you're almost better in the day all
parched ground and azure azure. I love the glass on the high
buildings here, they’re like mirrors. This is God’s powder room.
This is where God sees himself drugged up and beaming in a
beautiful powder room. This is where God goes to remember
youth. I love how youth hasn’t gotten you yet. That unassailable
capacity for charity, that surging belief in belief shouting out
through your temples, I can’t stand how you make me sick of
making myself sick. You slapped the ******* outta me so quick
I’ve never seen grace move that fast. I thought you'd knock the
grapefruit polish right off your nails you hit me so good.
What a sight you are, kid, so proper and fit, Christ, you could
be therapy: so brunette-in-the-Fall, so full-lipped,
unabashed and Aristotelian, frayed like anything but ****
well stitched, impeccable at the seams.
After Matthew Dickman
Sleep oft colludes with night,
Pulls wool over my eyes—
By announcing itself anon
On my station's platform.

Evermore delayed to reach this vessel,
It refuses to hypnotize a compliant patient
Despite the dated rituals performed
For slumber to thrive—

Prayers chanted in your name,
Darkness donned in your chase,
Silence kept vigil, sung as lullaby,
Consciousness sacrificed for your gain

Yet you refuse to sway me in my cradle,
Yet I lay squirming on your saddle,
Incapacitated by thoughts—untenable
Enslaved for their cause—unassailable

Many a sleepless nights were my penance;
Upon which, one of sleep's commandments
bequeathed...
To sleep—toil to reach the summit;
Inhale the thinned air
Exhaled by a content-shaped mountain.
Paul M Chafer Aug 2015
From dawn until dusk, you are here,
Meandering images smiling sweetly,
Your words, a thousand-fold message,
Caress me inside, soothing my soul,
Bringing perpetual joy to my mind,
For you are all, my loving constant.

My companion, thoughts of you jostle,
Real-time memories holding sway, yes,
Corralling projected musings, taming,
Horned unicorn harnessing wild stallions,
Calming dreams, wayward ripples in time,
Cosseting us with complete and utter love.

Whole, unified spiritually, emotionally,
We become unconquerable, unassailable,
Our Aztalan utopia, home to our musings,
Deep stronghold, fastened by pure love,
I kiss your humble mind, sincere heart,
Forging a blended alloy of true happiness.
For my Muse.
Travis Green Apr 2023
Take me into his blazing-hot tornado
Of  unassailable breathtaking enchantment
Dominate and stimulate my emotions
****** his ***** thuggish robustness
Deep into my heart and soul

Show me how ferocious his machoness is
Hold me. provoke me, smoke me
Make me his delicious *** kitten to take down
Feel him rule my beauteousness
Make me never wanna leave his rigid vigorous grip

My sinewy, compelling treasure
He is so mighty and tight with it
Energetic, expressive finesse
Fresh and irresistible slickness
Astonishingly strong and disarming

Unthinkingly dreamy and hella sensual king
He rocks me back and forth
Make me yield to the perfect high-pressure rareness
Of his fervent adventurous immersiveness
I hanker to kiss his lickable lit lips

Groove on his top-notch smooth manliness
Trace my hands all over his ebullient handsome straightness
Cherish his debonair black beard
His noteworthy shimmering mustache
Allow his desirous fearless eyes

Arouse me in the highest, wildest ways
Let me seep deeper and further
Into his gripping and hard-hitting virility
Confess my deepest secrets to thee
Make me moan all night long

He rams his ruthless thickness in my guts
Corrupt me, deconstruct me, love me
Make me frenzied and superheated
Set fire to my entireness
Swirl my submerged mind

Make my body steadily shudder
As he unleashes his untouchable treasured robustness upon me
Ravish and smack my eye-catching ***
Compose his dope poetic sexiness all over me
Press his majestic caressers against
My delectable velvet back

Enthrall my thought process
Punish me with his slick, thick meat
Feel his big bouncy sack slap against my divine enticing thighs
Infect every sector of me
Make my inner walls worship thee

Push harder into my flowery forest
Of the sweetest blossoming  dreams
Feel me concede to his ungovernable ardent heat
Make me shake as he violently takes my nation
Place me in a state of disorientation

Amaze me with his flawless starry phenomenality
Give me everything he got
Listen to the pleasurable sounds arising from my mouth
Hold me spellbound, pull me into his profoundness
Press his powerful pecs against my satin back

Shove his thick tasty throbber further into my manhole
Make me float in sexually seductive ecstasy
Love me dangerously, put it down for me
Make me so enthusiastically happy to be with thee
Hypnotic hot boy, go deeper and deeper inside me
And shoot his huge load of crunk ***** in my succulent tunnel
Chrystos Minot Apr 2015
Lovely skies
Dark with clouds and rain
Leaden skies
Lead, Pb, Plumbum
Flat diffuse light, photographer's dream
Latin 4 lead = plumbum
We plumb our psychic oceans' depths, as the sailors did
With lead on their sinker lines
We plumb our depths if we choose
When we are earnestly explorative
Reflecting, meditating, in our psychic plumbing
Pb: the ugly duckling brother of glowing gold
Au of the aura Aurum
Both are soft, malleable, unassailable, & so helpful
Gold like Thor the glowing hero, lead like Vulcan the sooty artificer
We have made one the hero, and misused,
Demonized, besmirched the metal lead
Is it lead's fault we have put it in our paint, our gas?
That we made it accumulate in our fish, like fools?
Without lead, your car would not start
Imagine going on your trips on a mule
Or trundling down the road in an ox cart
Do not denounce lovely lead
Gravid, protector, quiet engine starter
Gently available to you to plumb your depths
Before your chapter's demise
Leaden skies
Lovely skies
Gravid with rain
Keep me grounded, serene and sane
Written 1999
JD Connolly Oct 2011
the defense of your legacy manifested into strings of saccharin
and phrases like ‘Come on in from the rain.  We all need a torrent to own the storm, just- take off your clothes, don’t mind Kierkegaard.’

your sincerity is a cipher

you’re something of a conversation piece between good friends
who were artfully made of pre-engineered steel on a day Jove tremored in his bed
you’re something postured beneath a javelin
and likewise- something propelled for decorum

blackguard, black coffee and a birthmark turned into a running joke.
inevitable.

you searched the bottoms of summer pools
and found no discernible trace of your history
her sable crown whips back and forth in your head
and you maintain the chaos with aureate cries of preservation
it’s a halcyon boom, a lonely and sexless halcyon boom
it makes every yellow and red dress chimerical
it makes your neck unassailable
drugstore cowboy

they got close enough
to see you sweat
to note that heat and her magnificence could purge as quick as they reinstate

and you still beat
like they do

stubbornly.
Jai747 Dec 2018
There are cuts and bruises no one sees.
Hurt between the kisses you give to please.

At first we met your affection seemed so deep.
You overwhelmed me into my love sleep.
Adoration was given to and in return.
You found your saviour, but soon your heart would turn.

I was a white knight on a tall hill.
I was happy & confident, I was never still.
My armour was silver, my helm in gold.
I had even become brave and bold.

You were a Princess in a dark cage.
Little did I know it was made by your rage.
Your past full of monsters and a traitor.
How I would regret not seeing the truth until much later.

I came forward and shone a light on the key.
I told you, that you were brave and strong and to let yourself be free.
Joined together burning bright.
I never knew being with someone else could feel so right.

Our love was passion, a blazing fire.
Any sorrow, I thought, was left on the pyre.
But when love burns bright, a lesson learnt.
The greater a love, the easier it is to get burnt.

When some had been hurt to their very core.
It is true, that love, they can accept no more.
A dark side of your character, you kept all too hidden.
Your deepest heart I was kept out and forbidden.
For how can you truly love without being vulnerable.
Meanwhile my love for you was unassailable.

The first few cuts I knew!
Why would you do this?
Even if it was but a few.
When I raised my voice at what was amiss,
You calmed my doubts and sealed them away with a kiss.

For a while all was fine.
But the cuts came again, one at a time.
It was wrong, it was wrong, this I knew.
But my love for you just kept saying; it is all but a few.
You only hurt me like this, when you felt scared and alone.
All would be fine, I said, as long as you knew I was your own.

Any query or doubt that came to my mind.
You brushed it aside for me never to find.
Cuts came deeper than ever before.
Yet I protected you from all others, even as I became sore.

My friends and family, you pushed them away.
By subtle pressure or by storms a-fray.
Again and again, I was never enough.
So you cut me and bruised me and treated me rough.
Never a mark you left on my clear skin.
But inside you tore me apart until I  became thin.

My armour that you once found so bright.
You pointed out every mark and scratch in sight.
Chip, chip away at my very soul.
Because it was all about you at every toll.

You broke my sword and shattered my shield.
Diminished and weakened you cast me on the field.
The monsters you had ran from, were all inside.
They came out to greet me and wash me away with the tide.

You were like a vast ocean, a passionate storm.
But you were wide and shallow, not deep in form.
I stood and I stood amongst the swell.
But what ever I did it could never end well.

You told me of all the people who had let you down,
But battered and broken I still held up your crown,
But in the end the dark empty place inside,
No love could fill it, no matter how hard I tried.

You walked away- back to your cage, saying it was never right.
But what happened to your fair and wonderful knight.
Laying in his armour broken and battered.
So came forth his friends and his family and everyone who mattered.
They took it all away to heal his heart,
But all they found was ash at the start.

As they held the ash in their hands,
An ember they found in the black sands.
They protected it from wind and the storm.
Hoping against hope that one day their knight would be reborn.

At first the light was still.
Twice it nearly flickered to nil.
But caring patience won the day,
With love and protection a spark lit up the grey.
First once and then twice, before born again a tender flame.
Silently in the darkness they whispered his secret name.
The little flame that was lit,
Still fragile and ready to quit.
But with every passing hour,
Little flame rose taller like a tower.
After countless time as a little light,
It Turned to the stars and shone bright,
A blazing fire lighting up the night.

From the shadowed prison bound,
A dark thing wept without a sound.
The fair knight stood once more on a hill.
A blazing light that stood still.
Through the darkness of its own veil,
The creature sat interned and pale.
Waiting for her new knight,
Or a monster she could blame with spite.
All the while she hid her eyes,
Knowing not to look up into the skies.
For high above stood a knight so bright,
His world no longer a terrible blight.
Surrounded by friends, love and glory.
This is the truth, my life, my story.
Not entirely finished it needs work
1
There are more penetrating people if not the death of, as in living in this very livid moment of the unsure which is a surety.
Falsify me. Growing heavy with the absurd. To face you, me -- more mirror the blank end of a chamber, or if that you must **** me, do it at the plaza in front of my mother. That if you must lament me over the lapped up moment of some false life the invented and wrong, do it. Do it. ****** me the unassailable truth that is, I am capable to splinter this moment and that it still lives like a sprawled body spilled from the mouth in the bathroom -- it still lives: you have to be quick.

2
Once have you been startled by the form of absence as a letter slid underneath the soft and warm pocket of your mouth like it was the first time to have a naked body pointed at you, all with it trying to predict you in a sterile room, and is more shattering than an aggravated twilight.

   Who, at first thought, was there behind the trigger, and was he/she drunk with any other pretense apart from the face that he/she hates that common meeting within the day’s fine-tuned crosshair?

3
If you listen to it carefully, the music is a mosaic shifting the hypothesis into a pallor of a question back to it again with its basic agony of becoming so bent and so small on paper – which is to say, that we are, if to listen to a droning sound, becoming of it delving deep into the center, checking our own weight like our name after a fall from a high place, they said they would.

4
I have left something in Baguio that I cannot take back – a monochromatic caricature of my face shoved into a crevice waiting for a revision. What have I furthered into?
Machacha Doctor Feb 2021
She is a Princess
Daughter of the most High
She's the type of Queen
That knows her crown
Isn't in her head but in her soul
She's made a whole
I call her Royal Highness
And she camouflage with her shiness
Her beauty melts my heart
Then i feel butterflies in my Stomach
Her beauty lies under
The shadow of a Castle
Therefore she's unassailable
Indescribable
And untouchable
She walk like a lioness
Sneaking on it's prey
I call it walk on Shells
Don't talk is covered with Pearls
Her pretty smile brightens the day
And for the King, it paves a way
All of these,
Because
She is a Divine Queen
2021-02-23
Culminating capacity
Daunting density
Varying velocity
Variable veracity
Surging sagacity
Divulging diversity
Tenable tenacity
Laudable audacity
Nurturing nicety
Progressive propensity
Unified university
Simple implicitly
Ample simplicity
Undulating atrocity
Unassailable animosity
Scaring scarcity
Pausing paucity
Causing curiosity
Generating generosity
Magnificent mega-city
Multitude of multiplicity
Pervading perplexity  
Wow! City of complexity
Third Eye Candy May 2013
in the whisker mists of Avalon and the burnt toast
the golden spool of your precious and the lingering annihilation
of so dangerous an absolute.... the mad flute in a gale. an unassailable loon !
i suppose now         the autumn in our wires and the fox too foxy.
we will never gather serpents
in the sweet
bye and bye.
like two jewels on a wednesday
my usual nemesis has struck again and the harbinger of our nexus has just missed.
and the wine in the thimble has never known how quiet
you can get... just rumors .
the couch is worn where we sit. it dips where we recline
in the ludicrous.
Culminating capacity
Daunting density
Varying velocity
Variable veracity
Surging sagacity
Divulging diversity
Tenable tenacity
Laudable audacity
Nurturing nicety
Progressive propensity
Unified university
Simple implicitly
Ample simplicity
Undulating atrocity
Unassailable animosity
Scaring scarcity
Pausing paucity
Causing curiosity
Generating generosity
Magnificent mega-city
Multitude of multiplicity  
Wow! City of complexity
Jon Shierling Apr 2014
We shall speak, and by speaking loudly and fervently enough, we shall be heard.

We shall be heard, and by being heard, we will be dismissed as the lost denizens of a failing society.

We shall be dismissed, and by being dismissed, we shall not disappear quietly into the night as our forerunners have done.

We shall be branded "Communists" & "Traitors", and in doing so we shall aquire the attentions of those we aim to educate.

We shall not be silenced, and by refusing to be marginalized into a portion of "freaks and outcasts", we shall be known.

We shall not be paid off or coerced into "negotiations", and by maintaining unity, we shall be outlawed.

We shall not accept the scorn of those whose power seems unassailable,
and in so doing, we shall be feared.

We shall not accept platitudes and half measures as answers to our grievances, and in so doing, we will be persecuted.

We shall not accept a world where our worth as human beings is measured by GDP, and in doing so, we will become that which we seek.

We shall not accept that "Some people are better than others", rather,
we KNOW that liberty is born from knowledge.

We shall speak, and by speaking, be heard, and by being heard, we will effect change, and by effecting change, we will be victorious.
To those who go unheard, I write this for you. And ask that you speak on what you hold dearest, lest we all suffer the fate of those who have been silenced.
Lauren Grace Jan 2018
I struggle with the seatbelt in your car.
You express passionately,
"You'll have to stay with me forever."
You don't understand how much it frustrates me that I love you.
Because I know the whole unadventured world lays ill at ease outside your smeary windows.
But the safe sentiment of your vehicle leaves me wrestling with myself.
To be free or to be unassailable.
maddie May 2015
XII
In a congested store,
there were dozens of you.
Drooping pants with
patterns of leaves and woods.
Tousled hair, insanity wrapped
around your irises.

On the ride home, in a
perfectly unassailable
neighborhood, you were there.
That’s him, I spoke, fear filling
the inside and coating the
outside. He’s here.

Why do people glamorize this
ghastly feeling?
He may be devouring pills,
swatting at nonexistent flies,
but what about us?

He was a magnanimous
boy! A good kid who steered
in the wrong direction.


But why did the effects of his
crash **** me? What the hell did
I do to deserve such panic?
Don't think that I've forgotten you
I haven't, and I never will
You haunt my dreams
In quiet moments
When the chaos subsides
Turning corners and rounding bends
As your name remains stuck in my throat

Like a spear dipped in poison

I still think of the good times
And rewrite the fairy tale
That ended before it ever began
Then, I go back to my place on the shelf
Of regrets and Charon's tokens spent
And whisper softly to into the thick, dusty, air
“Never again. I understand, I am a misfit.”

At least it's comfortable here

I've served my purpose
Stated my Creed
Planted seeds that have grown
Into unassailable thoughts and lucid dreams
That one day will bear fruit and give shade
To nourish and protect that sweet soul that I cherish
Should it remain, inside

The image of that beautiful, but crafty, Aquarian
Jamie King Apr 2014
I once saw a rose amongst xanthic flowers, even the thorns were nothing short of perfection before these eyes. time passes by as we fail to realise that it is forever an unassailable overflowing river.
Now I find myself in a garden of neanirmophics, where eyes are deceived by the beauty of decaying roses.
I've always been attracted to beautiful females slightly older than me. I guess it's because they are more mature than I am
Universal Thrum Nov 2014
We stand on the bluffs above the breakers, watching the sea foam swirl like the madness of our broken world. We linger. The dense feeling of fate pervading us. The unbreakable diamond line tethering us to the crystalline moment, frozen in a picture, put in a box, never to be seen again. The wind blew and a pinprick shift in movement, insignificant as an eyelash, brought down an empire made of ash.  We walked those charred triumphant streets, riddled with rotting bouquets of flowers from yesterday’s parade. It was time to take comfort in strangers. She turned to me, “I want love like the ocean, it always comes back”. I think of her floating on the Adriatic contemplating our blossoming love, croatian street art, and holding her body close as a baby in the floridian waves. Now a million shards of glass laid lost on the savage sea floor, mirrors reflecting a thousand truths, hidden from her eyes by the churning tide.

Words don't matter anymore. I scream in frustrated contempt, “Why are you acting crazy! Why are you disturbed? Where is redemption here?” It is gone for now, a dog running wild in the woods. I wake up and try to explain the unconsciousness, but it’s like singing to a self possessed crowd in a run down karaoke bar. Grasping at cigarette smoke.

My last act of friendship could be to obliterate you and expose you for the liar you are. Instead I will let silence settle over any righteousness I feel, any angle of truth I claim to possess, letting the birds sing their songs for us, and the thrum of the world will hold me in its arms.  I will release the great burden there alone. “There are things I can tell you, and there are things I cannot say, I hold nothing against you, I forgive you.”

“You are a child, I do everything for everyone, I give everything, and everyone just takes from me!”  She viciously hisses in another’s voice, a harpy sent for blood, *****, and sacrifice, lashing about with claws meant to tear out the heart of man.

“I may have a child’s heart, filled with infinite forgiveness. I may be a flawed man, but I won’t turn from that truth, in it is wabi sabi beauty. I’m not seeking to rationalize or justify my actions, the past doesn’t interest me that much anymore. The feeling you give me now is a toxic one, like a ****** hitting rock bottom, I want the poison out of my veins.”

More screaming. Rampage, wrath, hell fury and doom. An **** of anger directed at my peaceful countenance, an all out assault fueled by brimstone, baiting the Buddah under the bohdi. My murderer is my muse. The citadel is overrun again by the Amazonian hordes set for the massacre, spear point to throat, mutilating the glinting marbled halls, painted red. So **** me now, my quiet pride and solemn truth are unassailable. You lob bombs at an iron sky. One built after years of hellish wildfire to bring down Zion. Yet the walls drip with life, you can taste it in the air. The overcoming of emotion, like fresh white clouds drifting above bloated bodies floating dead on the burning acrid water. And maybe only a dry heart pulp remains in the humid sun, but I don’t think so, there is juice here in this soul, the nectar is still sweet, tempered by age. I bite my tongue and laugh at the helplessness of love gone wrong, a faux pas matched only by a priest farting at a funeral. I wink at death, clapping and singing songs with a final gasp, we die like Hector dragged in the dust.

Days later, she writes a mixed apology. Staking a claim on humanity. Can she see into her own eyes? Does she know the past as I do, can she own her duplicity, her renunciation of all that she claims to hold dear? We were one once. Symbiotic, duads, all I did, she did, all I was, she was. Blame still taints my heart.

I want to strip off my clothes and howl in the rain, as the forest sends thunderous chamber hall applause to my release. I want to howl for the toil. I want to howl for the ecstasy. I want to howl for all the unrecognized love, all the unfulfilled expectations, the selfishness, I want to howl for the sacrifice, and the collapse of return, I want to howl.

Somewhere, does my scream still echo? A voice on the radio answers.

“Those things you keep, you better throw them away. You want to turn your back, bury your old ways. Once you were tethered, and now you are free. Once you were tethered, well now you are free. That was the river, this is the sea!”

I walk around a drafty room, hugging myself like a crying orphan seeing all the doors closed on the last day of autumn. If I can make it through the biting winter; holed up somewhere in an abandoned hollow, hands in ratty brown clothe gloves, patched pants and ***** scarves, spring will be beautiful, and I will lay in fields of burgeoning new blossoms. A thousand times Odysseus.
Akemi Jan 2019
infantile death spectrum
blood is litter is
carry on and other unassailable tears
wretched vacuous laughter
the open infinite connect
i choke and choke and choke
and nothing sits right

some eyes hold myths deeper than god

i'm afraid
would you expect otherwise?

petty indifferent me
MKB Oct 2013
I write your good-bye letter over the course of two days.
I started-over seven times—hunched, under the weight.
These worn pages and spilt ink, remember your name-
I hear it softly murmured among their rustling grain-
And as mine fades from the aged oak of your sprawling bed frame--
There is nothing left here for me.

My pen falls as the climbing-cry of cold morning comes,
With a quaking in my wrist, and sharp silence in my gums;
The patchwork quilt is half-hazard, and snaked across the floor-
Where your tremolos dreams had tossed it-the night before,
And only your body’s ghost-imprinted on the mattress-do I look for-
Because there is nothing here left for me.

It’d been fun, I suppose; like Peter and Wendy, infinite and young-
We’d drawn together and merged; then delighted, we had run-
From the duty of daily, the city-those mechanical ghosts scattered among,
And the curtains of riches-in the air, which we’d spun-
Had garnished all of our days; a honeyed veneer of ambient sun!

Yet severe as the prophets-or poor Noah in God’s storm-
In the corners voracious shadows gladly took form
With the slipping lines of your smilem, the lingering chill round the door-
Fall had swept in violent: laughter-dead then, was mercilessly tore-
From our wild-flower wind-pipes, that once inviolable, bore-
Proof of something here left for me.

Now aching, I crease the note crisply and vainly, do try,
Turning it caged, between frail-bird fingers, to descry-
The moment opulence burned, and from the ashes recast-
Mocking imitations: these edacious phantoms! Aghast!
Howbeit! Were we not unassailable then! United, so certain to last--?
Yet just silence, is here left for me.
I blame emotions and Arrival of the Birds from "The Crimson Wing: Mystery of the Flamingos". It's a gorgeous piece-give it a listen.
Fay Slimm Mar 2015
A verse to celebrate International Woman's Day.

I, Woman
consider myself rightly the female guardian
of humanity's decency,
the feminine mountain of care and example
of ageless achievement.

A win or lose mirror who separates dreamers
from willing doers
I have grown from challenging problems ready
to shape my future
and with endurance I look on any unassailable
course as already won.

I am Woman,
the force who owes all to her own existence,
the Self who, travelling towards
light of revelation discovers genuine courage
inside female gender.

I stand alone yet am happy to choose things
which I do with faith
in authenticity, facing consequence bravely.
An icon of tenderness,
an I who fosters respect but whose eye when
catching need feels tender compassion.

She who mother's man and leaps to defend
male maladjustment
when attacked by makers of trouble or a he
who allows doubt to undermine.

Inveterate my conscience treating all as free,
yet I know there is never a come or go,
not a yes or no,
nor a birth or death
with any whisper of weight ....... without Me.

I dare to make my own mistakes and have the
strength to forgive,
empowering thereafter some rectification.

But better look out, as when tested

I, Woman,

am impregnable.
Nevermore Apr 2014
When she sings
Celestials dance

Her voice summons sprites
Automatons ignited by a single utterance
Writhing and shimmering
Even in the shadows

The fae emerge from beneath oak leaves
Coaxed out of hiding
By what was taken
For a druidess' song

When she sings
I weep

At what could have been
At what is

She tosses a glance down at me
And juxtaposes elation with despair

My skin revolts
In an eruption of goosebumps
Not even whiskey can suppress

Each melody
Revealing
Unspoken depths
Nourishing her unassailable spirit
Flawless in her imperfection
Tempered in her brokenness

Her breath fills my soul
With effervescent aether

All my meticulous machinations
My impenetrable nonchalance
Those incorrigible wisecracks
The implacable facade
Methodically pieced together over time

Shattered

Undone by the whisper of a seraph
19 East
Lacey Nov 2014
Tall, and sagacious, with unassailable secrets
locked by crooked keys in rusted chests -
stoic glances - upturned lips hiding more I want to see.
I find the mountains of my skin between my fingers,
hands on my hips, squeeze,
push in and battle the duplicities: more or less.
Does he look?
He uses big words I look up in dictionaries
I wonder if he likes complicated clamor of endless infractions
like the books he reads, like the characters he keeps in his
brain's edifice. And I'm volatile, I want to be written, but I know, yes, I know
I should be writing myself.
But I am small, in ways, somewhat sagacious, slightly introverted.
Does that even count?
I stutter, and feel my chest unlock then I'm
grasping at it like hands catching nuts and bolts so heavy
they're slipping through my fingers to dance on the floor.
The pieces I lose
make musical clamor, and I wonder if he's fond of the genre.
Her death was like quicksand
I tried to escape the grief
I tried to run, swim, crawl
but, like spectral arms,
I was dragged back beyond the precipice
down into the gravely depths
down to my despair.

I sought after her and found crumbs
but the trail of bread yielded only hunger,
hunger for perhaps her scent
perhaps echoes of her voice as she fades
into the distance
perhaps her reflection trapped in a mirror
any sign that she were still living
but the world had closed her chapter
and my hunger became a fasting...
I once hoped for love everlasting,
but my truth will never be love ever-after.

Just when I thought hope was forgotten,
I found an envelope with her name scrawled upon it.
Her crest engraved the wax of the seal.
The torment of her abandonment sunk into me once more,
and the quicksand trickled all around.
How dare I imagine her again?
How dare I open this audacious package.
Indeed,
I pry open the letter with haste,
mouth dry, tongue limp like dry wood,
eyes bulging,
my nourishment is within this envelope, of course!

Indeed,
within it, I find cobwebs and shame.
A picture of her I had never seen.
Her arm wrapped around the trusted embrace of a suitor
and I cannot penetrate this world she has found,
I do not belong.

I burn the picture...
With each spark of the fading image,
somehow I am freed
and the chains she bound to my soul are now vines
I reside in a fortress, barren, but safe.
Unassailable.
Cold.
"Darling?" I hear.
My wife peeks down from the stairs,
"Supper is ready..."
Of course.
Of course a mistress can never be real.
She will ever be a phantom.
And phantoms can never say farewell.
They were never there.
I'm thinking about this feeling of never being satisfied:
of having what one desires only to realize,
our desires are just dreams...
and dreams, when fulfilled, are not guaranteed to be truths.

Moreover, the feeling of having far too much,
more than we can consume,
more than we know what to do with, but we continue eating,
and realize a man can be bottomless,
despite always being filled.

Anyway, just musing.

Enjoy!

DEW

— The End —