Archive for the ‘ Poetry ’ Category

etch each sketch upon the shifting sands


The Etch A Sketch Animator

The Etch A Sketch Animator (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

dreams
and
a sequence relived daily

which are dreams?
which is real?

perhaps the Universe is decidedly
D-I-S-C-O-N-T-I-G-U-O-U-S

contiguity
continuity
an apprehension of a Finite —

Damn it!
something
a Somethingness
persists

throughout my fluid runs
in and out of conscious thought

some call it Essence

— not remembering a Time when
You were not —

Beginningless

early Memories mixed with the
Infant’s Mute Metaphysics

and i have grown wise
i leave no more teeth under my pillow —

i have blocked out the Meadow in my mind
and replaced it with an Architecture
representing my impressions of it

and you read these words
so

Who are you?

Have you lost your way as I have?

I cannot lead you back
we must etch each sketch upon the shifting sands
of our Prejudices

 

SoundCloud reading:  <click here>

Bohemian Rap City


English: Uncle Sam recruiting poster.

English: Uncle Sam recruiting poster. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Bohemian Rap City

the double dwelling youths
they claim to be hipsters
hip hop falling from their tongues
like some cysted sort of twister

their stories are the same
like when we played the game
but their beats are something fly
they got some new fish to fry

they bought into the dream
get an education was their plan
but now all they do is scream
their souls belong to Uncle Sam

their stories are the same
like when we played the game
but their beats are something fly
they got some new fish to fry

they’re tired of the lies
and the media manipulation
they’re turning off their sets,
getting high on information

yeah the stories are the same
but the names have all been changed
they got bigger fish to fry
ain’t gotta tell you why

politicians gather in their flocks
they don’t get nothing done
and speak their doubletalks
just a circus for the dumb

they’re waking up the Youth
to the cold and ugly Truth
they’re waking up the Youth
to the cold and ugly Truth

the people that’s in power
they don’t give a damn
about you or you or you or me
the people that’s in power
they know it’s all a sham
they feed it to us daily on HDTV

yeah the stories are the same
but the names have all been changed
their rhymes rising to the sky
and you better listen why

 

SoundCloud Reading/Rap –  <click here>

Dark Side of the Farce


KFC coleslaw

KFC coleslaw (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

 

giving in to the dark side
of the farce
parading as reality

the almost magical sound
of bitcoins jingling in your empty pockets

twisted into ‘why’s and ‘not’s
at every claw machine in the gallery
never enough

and then the parading streams
of in Formation
line us up like pretty little cabbages
destined to be rotting cole slaw
on the ash heap of Misery

Listen to the SoundCloud (w/jackhammer) : <click here>

but we need more bigger better faster grids
to move in Formation
around and around

and never ever notice another cardinal
sitting in a tree on an April day again

 

the story of Our Box Masters


master_RFM12B

master_RFM12B (Photo credit: fotoopa)

 

for a long time
there was no News.

We contented Ourselves
with sitting at Table,
eating, and sharing Stories
most nights

sometimes the Stories would come
to Us
sitting by the Fire
the Stories the Fire would tell Us

after a while,
the Boxes came
with their shiny lights
and Cathode Rays

and like Moths to the Flame
We huddled around the Boxes
warmed in the Glow

and the Stories began to recede

We contented Ourselves
in forgetting Our own Stories
and gathered around Water Coolers
retelling the stories of Our Box Masters
and laughing only
at the Similarity of Our Programming

Our Box Masters
grew tired of sitting in their heavy boxes
Station(ary)
and asked Us
to carry them around

at first
the Box Masters
We carried around and ’round
were quite cumbersome
so we made them smaller
cuter
more appealing

soon We were no longer huddled
like Moths around a Lamp
but fixed in fractal worlds of Babel-on
Our own

We ceased to Listen
to each others’ stories
could no longer make sense
of the Creature sitting next to us
and so it was

a trap well set by the Box Masters

 

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
look
hear
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
state
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

 

purposeless


Blissful

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?

purposeless,
that’s what i’d BE

maybe
Blissful

but Purposeless nonetheless

 

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