Every time people start to rise up, a whole buncha problematic mess gets thrown around regarding VIOLENCE.
So, what is "violence" really?... It's the use of force. Plain and simple.
What makes folks uncomfortable (who are otherwise comfortable in this system) is that UPRISING IS A SOMETIMES VIOLENT (read: forceful) REACTION TO SYSTEMATIC VIOLENCE: Yes, just like the Hunger Games...
Thus, there are many types of violence...
The fact that we are paying taxes that are funding the genocide and ****** of people of color (here and abroad) is violence.
People with guns (former slave patrols and overseers, now cops) who come from outside our community and treat our folks as criminals on the daily is violence.
Capitalism, i.e. wage/property/ecology-based exploitation in the name of profit is violence.
The fact that LA County spends more $$ than anywhere in the world on prisons and police is violence.
The fact that the US locks up more of its own people than any other country on record is violence.
US aiding/funding the genocide of Palestinians at the hands of Israel is genocidal violence.
From Congress, to the boardrooms, to the classrooms, from the gaze, to the unwanted touching, to the ****, to the pay, Patriarchy everyday, is violence.
A few people jacking some **** at Walmart or breaking a window is really minimal violence in comparison.
A couple people throwing **** at armed cops is not serious violence.
The idea of owning property that other must rent to live is violent.
Systemic, chronic, global insecurity in the form of material poverty is violence.
Wage slavery is violence.
Gentrification is violence.
The War On Youth, i.e. the School-to-Prison pipeline, and, thus the War-on-Drugs with its attending 76% recidivism rate in the prison-industrial complex, whose populations are disproportionately black males, is violence.
The fact that people can't go to the doctor and dentist, or eat food every day is violence.
Deportations are violence.
Homophobia is violence.
The world's largest global military that vaporizes people without due process in dozens of countries violating their biophysical and national sovereignty is violence.
The United States government sanctioning the ****** of non-white, but especially Muslim bodies across the world... is violence.

So, when you condemn violence, do you mean resistance?
Because there is a whole lot of violence you should be condemning instead.

Adapted from Emilio Lacques-Zapien

Everyday you ask why I love you
You say
"Why do you you love me when I put you through Hell.
When I push you into your shell,
And I never give you a straight answer.
You say " Why do you love me when I can't love you back,
And when I have all these mood swings."
Well this is what I say.
I love you because you are like my Asthma.
I didn't chose to have you here with me all the time, but you are.
You are here to make my life harder,
But you also make me stronger.
When the voggy winds blow
And it gets hard to breathe
It is you falling.
Yet I pick that Inhaler of mine up
And I take two deep breaths,
and I lift you back up.
As my breaths become clearer.
I know that I will never be able to breathe as well as others.
Just as I know I will never fall out of love for you.
You are the chronic lung disease that forces me to try harder.
The person that makes me try my hardest when I'm singing up on that stage.
You motivate me.
It is you that is always on my mind
When I have to try hard to take breathes instead of just breathing.
When I am running and my lungs start to choke me, it is the pain I feel every time I see you with him instead of me.
Because Love
You are my lung disease.
You are the funny noise my breath makes when I dance,
Because the Oxygen doesn't want to go in.
And when you touch me I feel the buzzing sensation that I get when taking my albuterol.
The warmth of my Nebulizer as it vaporizes the medicine for me to breathe.
Every kiss you plant on my head, fills me with the dizziness that I get from my medication
When I try to stand up, I end up falling just as hard as I have for you.
You are the relief I feel when I take my
Meds on a bad day, you make me feel normal again.
That's why I love you.
That is why I don't care if you're with him instead of me.
Because you will always be with me.
Just like my lung disease.

Let it be known~
        Beyond the mere musings of tool bearing monkeys
               Lies an ineffable essence which deflects archaic labeling.
                      
This is the direct experience of non-discriminatory equalization
        Of conceived notions.
               All which may be considered good and true
                       Vaporizes in the blinding eye of this clarity.

Language is the battleground of ignorance and illiteracy
        Of what begs not be named~

.





  ---To be content in a mad, mad world,
to be the last sane man to see
absolutely nothing in the ink blotter clouds
marching across an azure sky like pigs
to slaughter,
laughing until the final bomb blast
  vaporizes our vocal chords.

Ripe and vibrating like a
tuning fork in A.
  Where insanity falls like rain,
we're driven mad by the patter.
  Drip, drip...
Madness took over Dallas last
  Saturday morning.

---The oceans will to rise tomorrow.
Do you live on the coast? East, west?
  Run to the hills like the bleating sheep.
Bleating and bleeding...
  Stampeding!

How long can a person tread
water surrounded
   by shark & man?

Not long...

Not long.








.

I’d rather remain an enigma to him.
It’s easier knowing he won’t know my grim
Starvation is not a polite conversation
Damnation is not but a plight confirmation

I’d rather remain an enigma to him.
Let my lip quiver as I try to be prim.
My eyelash vaporizes tears into smoke.
My lipstick a match for fires to stoke.

I’d rather remain an enigma to him.
Let his questions fill him up to the brim.
He would laugh if I told him cause of my pain
I want a connection free of disdain

I’d rather remain an enigma to him.
Not that I don’t think he’d handle the dim.
I just think it’s better to separate it all
After all, he’s the one who caused me to fall

So yes... I’d rather remain a tortured
Yet contained
Beautiful enigma

the stars are lying
between layers of ether and projected purpose
burdened with grandiose plans to toy with the dust bunnies that blow
everywhere like tumbleweeds
in a western flick just before final showdown
the outcome depends on an angry Matryoshka doll of endless ecosystems

remember that perfect silence fell on our history like a shadow, guillotine-sharp
cutting out any tongue that would retell the fable of Hiroshima
reborn, She was immaculately misconceived as the unwanted child of a firefly
and a street sweeper
while in correlation a pin crashed to the floor of a factory somewhere
in the boondocks of Babylon

i mention this in riddles, not to mislead, but hoping to preserve my own
slimy muscle tucked safely in its bacteria-laden skull, where it burns white and blue
to taste, and somehow amoeba all things sensual into itself
sweet water, salt and iron

for no reason i riddle on alone
as plain discourse will not prove to be any more terrible for me in a day
my tongue, the unstable centerpiece of all things volatile
will prove to be its own undoing, not needing a blade to mute it
its white glow will one day implode to expand in an instant of recklessness
which vaporizes tongue before skull
to at once spray my organic-wet thoughts through every quantum nook of the known universe
and parallel, to finally satisfy my undiscerning palate with the rich, heavy taste
of every decomposing delicacy that truth grows in

the gods are afraid
of what we might become if we could lay hold of their winged heels
or learn to outrun their surest arrows and fastest dogs
if we were to stop dangling mouth-first by their ******* threads
as if our very existence was the carrot

the ascendant, sun of morning reduced to earth
he looks up with such longing, where his trusty dog still sits and stays
not returning his gaze, but having every appearance of doing so
the black paper sky splashed with white ink, folded in half, and unfolded again
we stare on and on
and project all of our unconscious into something meaningless
and create our story

a freudian chuckle rumbles in every thunderclap, while we lie
on riverbeds like cold sofas, pondering our lives and our futures, while we feed
every kind of fish and scavenger--a mock eucharist which moves molecules
as above so below to the universal singularity
in the redundant shape of a figure eight

self-emaciation, a violent circumcision that cleanses like soap
discarding the fat which no machine needs for survival
like Howard Hughes i scrub until every bone is bare and bloodstained
empty, i step into the holy of holies afraid that i must die again
forgetting everything, i begin to slide

let's just take two

elephant-sized steps back.

my head's heavy and the

high always vaporizes at the

wrong turn and i risk a ******

of myself if i shove it all.

my hands always did shake

as your head cascaded like a waterfall

towards mine, and the weight of three

thousand more elephants would descend,

gray fuzz and rough skin,

all in a rush.

This is too much for one struggling

with her own language, it's like there

isn't one on her tongue at all.

The thinking of Darwin...
Whirls man's ego like a maze.
Maybe... *****, not tadpoles began his chain,
Or, from what 'pole' evolve apples, grapes and maize?

The definitions from his brain,
Shortens so many hopefuls' of their might,
Dazzling damsels catwalking with minds load of pain,
For soon, beauty might evolve to piggy, monkey or kite.

Why he posits such live ******* drainage,
As man's origin is a misty cloud,
Like a blow of breath on mirror's image,
Which by heat vaporizes and reality dawn as cold.

-


feel the heaviness
of invitations
bold,

free fall of purpose,
dissolving into a
whirlpool

circling it's center
thinning number
by number

ten, nine, eight,
se—seven,
six, five,

four~

feather tips
stroking
underneath
upturned
palms

three~

fingertips
light­ly
touching
delicate
doorways

two~

steps away from
loose earth at
the edge,

giving way
to

one ;

submerged as the
membrane above
sleep vaporizes

into web-footed
thrusting through
currents

with "up" rotated
lateral
across the
undertow and
pulling you beneath—

breathe...



s jones
2021



.

Birds drop dead at my feet
I don’t know- if to die myself, or to give them life.

Now I know that heaved wings look like
Grey snows melting into each other

Life vaporizes from the summer sky
As a wounded dove trembles in my lap

MY GARDEN

On a cold winter's day,
I see a reflection of me.
Tears envelop my eyes
When I think of how it used to be....

Days of yesterday seem to float away
The clouds intumescent symbols fill the expanse of the sky
I don't know the solution
I have no reasons why

The roses in my garden-
Have died and wilted away.
I have nothing left in ny little rose garden...
Sorrow and regret, pain of the past, need to live in today.

Gasping for a breath of fresh air without suffocating,
Drowning in so many tears, so much misery and pain..
The dreams I once had, are nightmares and its hard to close my eyes.

I just sit back and listen
To the laughter behind my back
I was too naive to see the lies,
And now I think I feel them coming back.

Bring to me an inner peace,
Where I can find the right way,
I don't feel the changes taking place.
But, I'll say it anyway.

The wind will murmur gossip,
And if you listen carefully...
The love and peace you feel right now...
Vaporizes into nothing, vanishing into eternity.

Catch That Thought
  
Catch that thought.  It closes down.
Paul Tillich once said to my friend,
There are those thoughts that never come again.
I don’t agree.  Not wholly, but
Within the moment that flies by,
It vaporizes.  I,
A Pooh of Little Brain,
Not very focused  
Need to trap the moment
Or it’s gone, and I must wait
Until some friendly fate
Brings back the catalyst
That brought
The then-what-felt
World shaking thought
And write it down
Perhaps to get it out
Into a world I think about
Spontaneously.

Catch That Thought 10.12.2016
The Processes: Creative, Thinking, Meditative II;
Arlene Corwin

Sometimes I lay in bed and weep when i look at the number of days i have left with you.
Sometimes is becoming more often.
Sometimes I listen to lofi and write you poetry you’ll never see.
Sometimes is becoming more often.
The point is sometimes I miss you- bad. because sometimes I just want to tell you the truth. Because you see, you’re going out of state but you’re spirit is still with me. And you have to move far away but I will crave your warm kisses when the seasons change and the weather outside vaporizes my breath. I will have to keep occupied because I’ve got it for you- bad. And tonight I need a long hug before you go home.

I can’t say what the truth is
can’t tell you what is mine
or which way I am going
only that I don’t want it to end
even though I say I do
on those days my breath lingers
on the windowpane –
opaqueness on translucency
that’s what makes me realize
I’m materialized
but then it vaporizes as quickly

It’s this tendril of hope that I stretch
out like a girdle
around my middle
and pray
tomorrow will turn into
something
and I fiddle with that thought
a lot
while this goof
d
o
w
n
s
100 proof

when your smile fades my
heart drops just as your cheek bones do
and everyone's enthusiasm does
when your eyes sadden
my euphoria hides just as your
eagerness to welcome me does
just as an afraid bear cub does to a wrath swallowing winter  
when your smile fades
i cry in the corner and whip my self as if indiana jones did
shatter my crystal skull
granulize the pieces like the extinguishment of a burnt cigarette
my scars never fade
when your tears run
i run towards you to comfort you as beanbag chairs do
to channel flipping tv junkies
when your smile fades i will always love you
when your smile fades a part of me vaporizes
when your smile fades a part of mine grows
when your smile fades
i hope you know what it's like to be tortured
hurt and whipped
my scars upon my face just as the joker entertains
ensures my
smile never
fades
my darling *****

MESSAGES FROM THE STORMS/LIFE IN A STORM


Living life in a storm always waiting for a new forecast to find the direction we may be blown

Fancy radar to show us brilliant highlights that might include our day, swirling in it then quickly fades away

Eye of a hurricane like the center of a mind, revolving winds stir revolution in men's soul's infrequent atmosphere of peace is shown

Tempers rising taking on colors like a horizon,  fluctuating  from at ease like a breeze to a tempest going astray

Tornadoes cannot be held in cages, Rages, swells and gales from seas do not appease, lives evolve on which way the winds are blown

Building up waves of turmoil starts with a rolling splash until it is tidal possibly suicidal, our inner radar often blind resembles keeping a blizzard at bay

Holding onto to lightening gave me quite a charge, were those volts the jolt that caused my revolt, surges fed my urges, life and strife often mimicking cyclones

Pain played in scales like a barometer, pressures rising lead us to fail, floods of emotion bring further disarray

Deep defeat freezes time like sleet, flurries of failure fog our vision, mental magic often blocked by squalls

Sociopathic behavior Below average low like wind chill factor, heated hostility vaporizes minds similar to dog days, sanity relinquished to Death Valley

PTSD flashbacks or nightmares profoundly present but hidden like distant rolling thunder, moods fluctuate like floods rising or falling, changing winds, storms take on many forms,

World revolves as our lives evolve, outburst or down-burst, flash floods or emotion bring a lifetime of erosion, washing it all away to face another day happily. R.C.

Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com  
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

                          The Number of the Beast is .556

“This is my rifle. There are many like it”
Because they fall off assembly lines everywhere
Probably even in the Khyber Pass
And frankly, son, you don’t need the ****** thing

A rifle is not your friend; it is a mechanical thing
A rifle is an engine of destruction
It is made for killing your fellow humans
The last one alive wins madness and guilt

You never made the first day of boot camp
          (neither did John Wayne)
You need to know what John Wayne never knew:
A .556 disintegrates a child
A .556 vaporizes your soul

Stars shine.
Planets spin.
Mechanical
in nature.
Mechanical
universe.
Unyielding
in purpose.
No fear.
No pain.
Cares not,
just is.
Cold burning
reality.
Life.
Somehow
life.
Propagate.
Covering
evolving,
expanding.
Cosmos ignores.
Limitless time.
Moving forward,
limitless time.
Life evaporates.
Ceases to
exist.
Deep time
crushes.
Cosmos
takes no
notice.
Stars shines,
planets spin.
Life vaporizes.
The nature
of things!

It vaporizes.
The past
just fades.
Fades
away, like
water when
a wave passes.
It’s remembered
or so
thought.
Memories
hold,
reinforce.
Yet, the
past
no longer
exists.
No longer
tangible.
It’s gone.
Like a wave,
once past
blends back.
What’s to
come,
wells up.
Welling up
from the
ether.
Energy creates
then fades,
reabsorbed.
Reabsorbed
back to
the ether,
as a wave
to water.
Back to
probability.
Back to
a different
place.
A place not
understood.
Back to the
origin of
things to
be recycled.
Recycled
either here
or there.
Reused by
creation.

Condensation is when
conversations between
Hot and cold vaporizes

   Thunder is when it
    Is audible to their
  Immediate neighbors

   Lightening is when
    It is witnessed by
    The entire street

Camphor vaporizes slowly ..

spreading it's aroma everywhere
and silently disappears from view

Our lives should mirror that

Wasted words from wasted places
idle red visions from minds in idle trances
empty pictures strewn-ed on blank canvasses
opaque musings of malicious judgement in unknown cases
balanced strength offers no testimony other than its true edifices
that which in honor vaporizes the ***** minds laden-ed in diseases