Archive for April, 2013

impromptu, on gratefulness

English: An impromptu pond On Bent Lane, near ...

English: An impromptu pond On Bent Lane, near Halldale Wood, bad drainage and some blockage creates a new pond (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

do you eat your meals
like the condemned man?
savoring every bite?
knowing that there is no tomorrow?
or do you take your meals for granted?

do you accept a gift
with gratitude for the giver?
or do you turn it down because
it wasn’t exactly what you wanted?

do you draw your first breath every day
thankful for opening your eyes?
given the gift to feel another day’s emotions?
given the gift of apprehending
beauty and ugliness and everything in between?
or are you indifferent, jaded?

do you appreciate life and living
as the miracle it is?
seeing the miraculous in the opening of a crocus
in Spring Time?
or do you stumble through your life
with blinders on?

open your eyes, your ears
open your heart, your mind
touch, taste, smell
with new senses
the senses of the child
in a brand new world

Listen to the reading:  <click here>

Heaven for tortured souls

1960's era prison warden

1960’s era prison warden (Photo credit: andreakw)

there are no locks on the Gates
of Hell nor Jailer there
the prisoners do not remember

they are Spirits still
and Free to Dream
of other Worlds

my pops did 3 bits
and would read adult westerns
from the prison library

read happily in his cell

probably nicer than the two room shed
he shelters his 5 cats and dying dog in

but he seems happy with his channel flippin’
remote control

and they took away his food stamps for not filing

back in California I met a drifter
claimed to be a writer and carried a staff
it wasn’t as nice as mine
when first I hailed him

it took me a while to gain
his Trust
he had been evicted by the police
from his spot under the bridge again
and lost all his writings

i think he may have been stretching it
telling me he had a valise full of writing
but he told me some fine stories
one afternoon

i never saw him again

and people think
or is it? don’t think?

a man like that can be happy
have dreams?  create?

tell me, Father,
what Hell have you left behind for your Children?
what Heaven have you created for the tortured Souls?

Obituary: Poetry died today

English: Kate Blood's Obituary

English: Kate Blood’s Obituary (Photo credit: Wikipedia)


Obituary:  Poetry died today
it is survived
by voices stifled in the heat
of all the System has to offer

Poetry was born
when humans learned to speak
and the rhyme it used
carried human stories
before Writing was developed
(see Obituary)

Poetry was a caring member
of the Human Community
and lived a long and valued life

It succumbed to the diseases
of complacency and censorship

Services will be held
by those that have hearts
that still beat to its rhythms




Hear the Word on SoundCloud:  <click here>


set my fears, why don’t cha, Barry?

One Fear illustration from Book of Fears

One Fear illustration from Book of Fears (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

set my fears, why don’t cha, Barry
you burn my ears, like Stooge’s Larry

set my fears, why don’t cha, Barry
you just keep it draggin’ on

The N D double A took my baby away
and Honey Boo Boo is all the press have to say

You live a lie and you spread it to us
why don’t ya give some reg’lar  folks some Trust

to think just for themselves

I get sad when your media tells us to cry
sad that people believe in half-truths and lies

set my fears, why don’t cha, Barry
you make me sick, like dysentery

set my fears, why don’t cha, Barry
you just keep it draggin’ on


Sucky SoundCloud vocal attempt by Agnew, drunk:  <click here>

The Ballad of Marshall Awe

Marshall 100 W Super Lead modifications

Marshall 100 W Super Lead modifications (Photo credit: germanium)


The Ballad of Marshall Awe

Marshall was born to humble folk
mixed and outcast from his friends
no one listened when he spoke
he daydreamed daily, means and ends

Marshall vowed one day to rule
and never to be looked down upon again
he worked into the finest schools
and formulated his ruling plan

there’d be none of this or none of that
once he had taken charge
trifles he would substitute for math
and only his cronies living large

he had devices and eyes in the sky
and massaged the media with his charm
of course the people never knew why
his system brought them only harm

but perplexed and maybe lulled to sleep
by TV, smartphones and the internet
people forgot every promise Marshall didn’t keep
and spiraled into slavery’s debt

prophets, poets, writers and such
had desperately tried to warn the masses
did their efforts result in much?
Marshall vowed to never free their asses




Blissful (Photo credit: Emre Ergin)


sometimes i feel
like i don’t care
about the story
or dream i’m in

or any of the people
who populate
the MultiPlex of
my interactions with Other Beings…

if such Creatures exist

if it weren’t for the intermittent Echo
of unfamiliar voices in my head or on the net

i’d swear that i was
by my lonesome

and then

the question arises

if I truly AM Alone?

who will be my playmates
and tell me stories
I never would have dreamed of
or imagined?

who would cut me off in traffic to remind me
to be on Guard
for my Serenity?

that’s what i’d BE


but Purposeless nonetheless


maybe I’ll just tire of it All

An image from the Electric Sheep.

An image from the Electric Sheep. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

I’ll go
to Bed
to Sleep
to Hell
and back

I’ll dream
of Electric Sheep
or eating turds in Hell
for people I have wronged
I’ll dream
of movie houses on another planet
like I once did

I’ll end it All
not me, I have no end
I am a Recurrence and have no Choice in the Matter
but you, youze
are projections of the One
that I once was

and maybe, I’ll just tire of it All


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