Sunday, May 8, 2016

Falling Through

A presumed societal right to be alive
An assumed historical recognition of

to Life,
Pursuit of Happiness
Unborn life has no liberty within confines
of a womb,
no pursuit of happiness on the path to
parturition as birth and this world

demand pain,
misery, certainty of death.
On balance, no question of rights


Not “one of us” to any
No haunting stories for company

First, do no harm
Then, do what ye will
Clear rules – simple, short, consistent
to assure
core values

Unwanted equates to without value.


Mother Earth is old, tired, sick
of slatternly bastard brats
pulling her teats, calling rude names,
fucking her over and over
wouldn’t you be
sick of them?
I am.


How can I say:
I feel so much better about
my abject self, about
my desperation to understand.
Vampire.  Resurrection without life.
Blessedly not required to kill innocent
victims.  Soothing drugs for sustenance
in darkness.

Of course they shame us for caring,
taking a stand.
Of course they strike to topple,
to bring balance into question.
Politics, power, physics of electricity
-- of course corruption rules.
We need this chits to survive,
to have any effect on causality,
to be protected.
Humanity is far too cruel, to deadly
to face without sufficient funds
and friends.

Losing my mind
I am more normalized
less of a target

It’s not about finding answers,
living better.  Life’s about wearing us

so we die.
The good, the brave, the truly innocent
inhaling ideals like cotton candy get

most easily.
Cynical old goats are required
to prevail well past sinking.

You look at me in disdain, seethe

or outright insults specifically to be mean.
I have never done a deed to harm you.
I have only lived as I am.
How can I be eager to support your cause,
to be inconvenienced by your


Every crevice, chink
filled in with disappointment,
inspiration will not shine through.
No impelling dreams,
hope’s dalliance with Spring
no more renews.
Sweet vibrant muse has died.
My cold heart bound inside,
no longer used.

Trees lusty greenery
Wind touch, trunk to branches.
Birds cry greeting in arbor breeze.
Endtime dreams of planet Earth.
We assume worth is ours to name.  Act
like we’re more than a bored God’s game

random chance
or random plague.

Depression is an autoimmune disease
Parts of us attacking other parts --
isn’t that what we do?
How find the words to understand
that’s not what attack cells are for?

Am I able to manifest wizardry?
Imbue will with brilliant purit?
Dar to commit poetry as if language
equates to power?
Who makes those rules (track down the
loopholes) that shoves my coven under?
True law thunders human reptile mind.
Essential evil or good, not a question of
core impact.
At apocalypse, know who you are.

Where we arrive after
murder of innocents is
no kind of paradise.

Please, be advised, all zealots of war:
bloodthirst is demonic lust.

Mother TV
always here for me
showing me how to be
explaining, entertaining,
defining my world.

Middle Earth middle week
Jupiter, Pluto, Sun
Beltane New Moon
retrogrades – be stillness
before the wind returns.


I hate based on anyone’s odious behavior
Hate is too important to squander

Wounded Moon
Daunting days
Dire predictions
by mired anxieties
as if all we need is angry goading
to scale that jagged peak
to bleed for grand glory.

Whatever you want to say about
President Obama, at least he’s sane.
Strangely, that’s not a given.

Depths of loss, of emptiness
too slick with tears for climbing

Disappeared from space
So restful to never be
All Now extinguished

I’ve gone dark
since she’s been away

You truly ought to be ashamed --
forcing innocents to be pulled into this

evil, harsh and painful world
to hate and be hated like you

It is not only “Black Lives” that have been

to the point of unacknowledged homicide

Feasting on ooze of wounds long

old hermitic senses skewed.

Fuck ye cunts ‘n’ joysticks --
fuzzy skulls selectively babbling
no more lovebliss
rips of emptiness
somatic flames

Pride of proof – Poof
scattered tribe, globules
unbound, unsettled

Erratic propulsion
time outward
not yet within attention’s realm


I live in the beautiful, mystical shadows
This is not a home of fear, or
temporary abandon of lighter realms
Shadow encloses gently, silently in
eternal loving embrace safe from

sear of too bright light


words are meanings
whispered, screamed, modulated, prayed.
they suffuse sound with meaning,
structure pain into shareable expression,
not just uttered suffering.
when not sufficiently respected,
flung like deranged puzzle shards,
or primped into fashion, they may

fray out of simple recognition.
That too is meaningful.


I am not asking for your advice, platitudes

or smiling words to let you feel above

dispensing balm
If you would truly give, then give your

time, you attentive ears and mind, your

warm hand of solace and support with no

thought but fellowship in this place of



No end in this living universe
only interregnum
Galaxies die and form
Tragedy Comedy Romance
in endless recombination

Fleeting, Fleeing,
detriment of attention
to floods and flames, tags and
names, wages of fame,
doses of emotions.
Nobody, everybody, somebody,
aging bodies at every stage of decay.
No man knows [multi-gendered, do

-- all inclusive “they” or “we”.]
Visions, dystopic dreams, waterfall

And no, I don’t know yours or those you

Scabs of skin and memories.  Unequal,

but each
full beyond capacity.
Tell me a story, your story
from that overflowing bin.
Really, I am asking – Let me in.
And you, besieged with longing for

audience, as are we all,
won’t listen to my plea.

Overwhelmed in the screaming of

or opportunities chased or denied.

so tricksey; intimate
The essence of me as we.

The opposite of fear is confidence.
Never questioned acceptance
Conditionless clear-visioned love
as foundation of self.

Hillary – don’t get me wrong – I adored

back in the 90s.  She was that earnest

idealist who fought for her beliefs.
But all the hard years toughened her,

made her more calculating.
She felt mean opposition and learned to

be wary (who wouldn’t?),
to fix her focus more practical, tactical

toward her own reward.
Bernie, he’s one of those old lovable 60s

radicals who never gave up the fight,
working each day for what could be,

always believing in we the people, in what

all could do, could be.  He lives to hold

that shining possibility we want to call
America.  Why can’t we all?

Crass absurdity translated as wild-eyed

Humor fast escapes

What else have we to do, what more sane,
than carry through always on what most

to every you? (And by “you” I mean the

me within our minds)

This aged heart, weathered, exhausted, no

longer seeks
solace of servitude.

The history of social behaviors must be

These are the rules we’ve searched for all

our lives,
how to behave acceptably.
But (like the English language) rules come

with exceptions
that also must be learned.
And there are ever more split off

exceptions and special
circumstance never explicitly clear.
We’re meant to pick it up like measles (if

we hadn’t been
vaccinated out of harm’s pathology),

childhood infection.
Some of us seem to be immune.
Yet that’s a bad outcome.  Our own


If we all removed those masks we use to

pretend to be
acceptable, would we reveal such horrors

so oh please,
let us not have done this bizarre

Or would we find we’re not so different,

each of us different,
but fine on the whole?
If we spoke what we heard in our minds,

what might we learn?
If we reached out with real intention,

what would we feel?

Illusions so vital
protected at expense of unforced peril.
Experience a dream of each mind’s own,
how communicate to mutual trade in

and intimate regard?
Private wars of shield and sword further

worthwhile.  What churns us to these

hurtful games?
How might we better behave, believe,


Nothing to be done
No one to await
No one to do it with
No future, nothing forward

Pain expressed into anger explodes to


What is the root feeling you seek
from things, people, experience
You tell yourself want, need?
Identify, encapsulate, comprehending

that where
you yearn to be, how you long to feel, to

root experience that leads directly into

that where,
how ...
Tendrils tease, wave in ascendant breeze,

revise mind
with higher, ephemeral tools, social local

valued freedoms,
meaningful dreams

Democratic Socialism implies rules made

by the people, not some
bureaucratic stale state.  If the people

want a modified freedom of trade
and innovation strengthened with strong

safety netting that none fall into
failed degradation, that marketplace

mistakes in business plans not result
in starvation on the street – but isn’t that

part of the original capitalism theory?
What the people classically desire is

freedom of self-determination to be all

can with the ability to move further,

forward, not paralyzed by fear of failure
equating to game over, real death.  And of

course there are social goods and
services sane people can agree are better

provided outside of goads for profit.

idling -- 12/30/15-3/12/16

I explore these ragged lines, paint in

viscous red
from forceps to reaper
explosion to explosion of unmapped

that left me limp, incomplete, drained,
yet still exploring


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