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Lawrence Hall Aug 2018
There are no days free of panic attacks -
A fierce determination to recusancy
Is no defense against the men of peace
Clenching their fists and screaming out their love

There are no nights free of panic attacks -
A fierce determination to needful sleep
Is no defense against unhappy dreams
Judicial accusations of the memory

But even panic is no defense against
One’s fierce determination to write the truth
Your ‘umble scrivener’s site is:
Reactionarydrivel.blogspot.com.
It’s not at all reactionary, tho’ it might be drivel.
Robert Ronnow Aug 2015
Faulkner's comment, I imagine him
tossing it off like Yogi Berra between games
of a doubleheader. The hero, the expert, the virtuoso
has no real control, is going to feel
unmitigated, unsparing forces, a mighty sun
swallowed by a black hole, coughed up into a big sky.
The past isn't dead. It isn't even past.

Versus Wayne Gretsky's formulation.
When I think of my death, I think of returning
the chemicals and microorganisms I borrowed.
If my plane goes down, when we hit the ground
fruits with names will be waiting - squawbush if
in the desert uplands, rose hips on a Vermont farm.
The past is skating to where the puck will be.

I realize I have a religion, a science fiction
the size of Jupiter which is, as these things go, small:
Chardin's theory unifying physical matter, rocks
and all sentient beings into one - here's the catch -
conscious organism. Having said that, why not claim
the same for the entire universe? Rock + DNA = soil.
The past isn't dead. It isn't even past.

These trees cannot feed me.
Self-sufficiency is relevant only in context of community,
      economy.
Every drug, every vitamin is wrung from plants,
tools and shelter are ore.
A tincture, infusion, decoction, a ******, a compress,
      poultice, a salve, a syrup.
A war president needs war.
The past is skating to where the puck will be.

5 a.m., first of Spring.
Robins still in flocks, not paired off. But crows
mating on the sky - two couples dating
a sign of luck, that Celtic god passing Peter talked about.
8,000 generations, I reach only to my grandparents
but history and the naming of things extend our vision.
The past isn't dead. It isn't even past.

I was handcuffed but not beaten. Humiliated but not insulted.
And when I came before the judge, he was uninterested
in vengeance or restitution. He had his own death before him,
probably. I keep wanting to go back
to before the big bang, reading books about the cosmos,
FLO, LUCA, the texture of reality, consciousness,
      God-seeking.
The past is skating to where the puck will be.

For the next 5-10 years my goals are: geographically
compact and contiguous Congressional districts, term limits
for Federal legislators and judges, election of the president
by direct popular vote, public financing, spending limits and
      free
air time for candidates, abolish UN vetoes, consent of the
      governed
before governments can sit in global councils.
The past isn't dead. It isn't even past.

No greater tragedy than the death of your children.
Yet you live on, eyes drained of color. Old,
you make plans. To know the names of every flower
in the temperate zone. Every bird by its song.
Just as you're about to reach your goal, a tipping point
comes along: a nuclear detonation or it gets too cold.
The past is skating to where the puck will be.
--title from a ballad by Eustache Deschamps

www.ronnowpoetry.com
John Landry Nov 2013
"They're selling postcards of the hanging" Bob Dylan


Frolicking in the Hague festooned
as if some monarch's golden jubilee
not a room left empty in all the land
queues for miles to get a ringside seat
at what is billed as The Trial of Man
as W, ****, and Rummy sit chained
to the bionic calves of barstools while
Condo Lisa bears witness atop a piano
ferreted throughout the conurbation
breadlines and circuitous routes
recalling the Nicaraguan case
low on the radar of short-term
the disunited states of disarray
vetoes its own trial's outcome
and it is business as usual
Glenn McCrary Apr 2014
I’m a grown man, but
Sadly, I’m beginning to think that just like everyone else
That multiple millenniums will have surpassed our graves
Before a day strikes that you’ll take notice
Oh, but wait you are conservative
Though you state that you are a democrat


Well, tell me what kind of democrat
when faced with opportunities or possibilities for change
outright vetoes it without consideration for experimentation?
I remember when I proposed to you the idea of baking velvet cakes in multifarious colors
You accepted and requested me to buy all of the ingredients
claiming you were gonna make the **** cake, but every day that you said you were
You never did.
You attempted to argue with me over trivial ****
like the fact that you don’t own the house
and that it along with all of the **** that you have could be gone
without a moment’s notice
I guess that’s why you are always threatening to put me out huh?
Because you are afraid of that fact so you try to project it onto others right?
What kind of life lesson is that?


On days when I am out and about
Yeah sure I buy things for myself to eat for lunch
but then when I come home I always have to debate with you
over my next meal
It is always a constant battle between me
and your distorted logic and reasoning


Me: “Mom I haven’t eaten anything since pizza time earlier may I get a bowl of cereal?”
Mom: “Wait until I get off the phone.”

Thirty minutes pass…

Me: "May I eat now?"
Mom: "You shouldn’t have to eat twice if you ate a whole pizza.”
Me: “It was a small pizza and that was around twelve this afternoon.”
Me: “Your logic is distorted; Everybody eats more than once a day.”
Mom: “Anyway you can eat the other cereal not cinnamon toast crunch.”
Mom: “Distorted? Every adult that buys their own food can eat whenever they want otherwise there is no logic in your reasoning. I don’t have to feed you. You don’t feed anyone with your money.”
Me: There is 100% logic in my reasoning as well as everything I say regardless of who is feeding who and one less thing that the population needs to be fed are useless and fabricated theoretical fallacies over useful and valuable facts; At the end of the day nobody wins.”
Mom: I would like you to move out as soon as possible so that there will be no need to feed or conversate with you.”
Me: “No conversation with you is worth even one syllable that is why I avoid talking to you; I’m wasting my time right now even texting you.”
Mom: “Then stop.”
Mom: “Just get out of my house and you won’t ever have to talk to me or my relatives.”




What the **** am I then? Just a man with some paper and a pen who has some poems day and night profusely spilling upon the pages in spite? Just a fan with some extensive knowledge of past and current chart toppers turned to developing a passion within disc jockeying?


NO! I’m just a man who is disgusted to even have ever been given the blessing to title you ingrates what I call the curse that s my family.
Aa Harvey Apr 2018
Ribcage blackhole


Shine a light down on me.
Show me a place where I can be,
Happy!
Give me what I need.
I am so empty
And so full of apathy.


Give me directions to nowhere;
Resurrection without the prayer.
Send me to a place with nobody there.
Give me away.  Like you even care.


Give me a way throughout the fields.
Allow me to yield,
Under darkened skies;
Midnight does not terrify.
Out of sight;
Out of mind.
I see it all so clearly in my pitch black, broken mind.


I am on the inside, looking through frosted glass,
At the chances that I had and the vetoes that I passed,
To escape the tyranny of love.
The all-powerful, destroyer of trust,
Has become dust, in its own omnipotence.
Drop the dead donkey and the dead pretense.


So full of feelings for a world so without.
They drain my soul with their everything!
Their lovely lists, so full of lies, I doubt,
Number one is deny, deny, deny and then cry.


Crocodile tears tear away my years,
In the blink of an eye’s wink,
Are the real thoughts that they think.
Ill-communication,
Lovers on vacation,
Never sell your heart to a person who only has one notion.
Separation, of the heart and soul.
I am without,
So I sink down into my hole.


(C)2018 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.
DC raw love Dec 2014
Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death
I will fear no evil, for you are with me
Your rod and your staff, they comfort me

I honestly grow insecure as I get older
Because even when you hot there comes a day when you get colder

Comes a day when you slower, time is taking its toll
45 on the back of the jersey upon your soul

I'm scared of letting go, I don't know what the future holds
My nightmares are having nightmares
I'm quite scared of what's right and fair

How I fear an eternity
Will I hear well done when he turn to me?

Will I hear you care too much about
All this stuff that really don't matter?

You chase the wind and you don't want it
Got to the top of a 2 foot ladder

What's after I can capture all this mess my heart was after?
Will I end up empty-handed when I stand before my master?
Did I master the mathematics of a passive disaster?

Add in my selfish ambition
All the while, subtracting what matters
I don't know

At late nights, I can't sleep
Will I fall? Will I peep?

Through the curtains, all I see, fingers pointed at me
And they watching, and they watching
And I'm wondering what they thinking and thinking bout'
At late nights, I can't sleep
Counting cash, counting sheep

In high school, we tried to act all tough
I remember a couple times, I couldn't back that up
Like when I ran from them vetoes, scuffing up my sapatos
Scared of losing my high, I was so embarrassed inside
If I could go back in time, I would stand and say something like

I ain't never scared, never scared, never scared
I'm lying, I'm scared of these thoughts in my head
I'm scared of possibly pushing people right over the ledge
When I say I pledge allegiance to the struggle

Then, I turn around and buckle
Under stress and under pressure

Bible on my dresser that can teach my pain a lesson
But I rather not address it
Address that's in depression

I'm scared if I confess it
That you gonna' look at me like I'm something less
And I'm such a mess

And it just so happen, I'm wrestling with my status
I'm trying to see me like He do, not focusing on this madness

They count on me, count me out on a count of they fear and doubts
Keep account of my wrongs, trying to keep me inside they house

Some just keep me around, I wonder what that's about
Yeah! They wanna be politically correct, I suppose
But I'm comfortable in my skin

While they just pretending they clothes
I'm scared of falling and failing
In front of all of my foes

And I feel some friends are unfaithful
So, I keep my small circle closed
I don't want no handouts or favors, no functional saviors
I'm a tell that truth till it **** me

I'm chilling with my Creator
Jesus, Jesus, Jesus, Jesus, Jesus to all of my haters
For the ones that think I forgot him
And the ones who won't let me say
I ain't scared no mo'

Everybody always
have  has something to say rather you like it or not
But, don't take it to heart
Lacrea
C F Jan 2022
Not only was I a kindergarten teacher,
But hey!
Guess what?
Your preschoolers teacher
Can't live off what they pay her.

So I had yet another job,
This was ontop of my other job as a tutor.
So I guess a third job?

Seriously, your kid's teachers are paid for *****.
It's a miracle they haven't
Hired serial killers at this rate.

Regardless, I ran a tight ship.
It was technically a democracy,
Except I held the power of infinite vetoes.

Like starting a fire with a microscope,
Vetoed.

Sitting and standing on top of tables with ***** shoes,
Then eating ontop of said tables.
Hard veto.

Lets play with a bunch of sharp forks, and stab each other.
Also a veto.

Gosh, I'm now a dictator and they're going to get their
Mommy and daddy to fire me.
Also vetoed
After a series of explanations on how it works.

Your 10 year old?
Yeah, the one full of manners and good sense??
Your kid's teacher is what keeping your kid alive.
You're welcome.

— The End —