yesterday

poetry

thorns pressing up, out
from beneath the skin
death the new
birth to the old
gnashing teeth of stinging bees
raging war on the poor
the hated
the wounded
the raped and
cards tossed from hand to roof
cigarettes marijuana speed heroin crack
to wash it all away
that open wound
puss and then
one more limb to fall off
ripping open like a bag of lays

and there is absolutely nothing i can do
better than you

The world ablaze

poetry

The webs we wove to ward off wondering wanderers wanting what was withheld by one wondrous machine now wore off, waning with the wind, wasting with the weeks, weakened by the wrestlessness of a wretched mind. Yet I perservere, through the tireless and ceaseless ticks of the clock, every clock, bent on my destruction and the eventual fizzling out of my fire. Lit with the intent of burning you all.

upon revisiting

poetry

i took new roads back to that
old motel and i took a fresh
look at all the dead dead things
and stood there, not touching a
thing
not touching any of their bodies
i just stood with the flies around
my face and i think i may have even
smiled at the evil of it

nobody lives by the river anymore
and she waits there as the travelers
pass her by
offering that nutrition that man
has indefinitely replaced
and she’s bottled
and sold in the stores but nobody
goes to visit her
not anymore

so when i saw their skin piled upon
muscle upon bone i thought why not
and, years later when i revisit
the old motel that no one much goes
in anymore (either) i try to remember
the smell of the rot of them all
so as to remember when i smell it again.

Community

poetry

Who are my people
Who are G-D’s people

I am one of G-D’s people
and All people are my people
so All people are G-D’s people

I am no king
but A mere peasant
A follower of G-D
No one rules but G-D

My people are my equals
My people are my superiors
and I shall NEVER claim
That ANY person is my inferior

Code

poetry

To live for G-D, to love for G-D
To associate with G-D, to communicate with G-D
To find settlement where dwells G-D
To live for our fellows as we do for G-D
To share each of our triumphs, and to share each others’ defeats
To lift their burdens, as G-D removes ours
To count our blessings-earthly and divine-
and To give and not to count the cost
To understand the sublime nirvana
but To not only strive on account of this goal
but To simply follow the will of G-D

life and then

poetry

streets painted with
blue lights glowing up through
mortar cracks through brick
holes next to old houses
mansions perhaps once filled
with concubines or slaves
but we stop for a nice
dinner at a ‘french’
restaurant just like life was then
red lanterns and all

now gone again

sometimes late at night i’m so very tired its difficult for me to think and so i settle into a pattern of just feeling instead. i don’t want to sound like a woman, but sometimes emotion is easier than rational thought. is that chauvinistic somehow? it seems chauvinistic

poetry

times like these are sad
and past
because we long
for hopes we do not understand
and smells on which
we can look back
to remember music which makes us glad
and then nostalgia causing
distress

fant-assy

poetry

i’d like a perfect ass
on which to sit
others would stare as i’d
saunter by

i’d seldom clean it
and let it defecate wherever it
should please
it’d look so good no one would mind
but stare as i pass by

wishing they had an ass
like mine
instead of gas guzzling
tin asses

mine would produce natural gas
my ass

and i’d call him Juan

dear dear dear dear

poetry

you remember
the things you do while
alone that you think
no one can see
and you stomach the days
knowing the ways
that you throw all you say
to the sea

when your alone

and your back

is turned

to the world

and what you really love
and what you really hate
and what you really think
and what you really do
and how you cope
and how i hope
you choke on all the
blood you drew

when your alone

and you think

i’m not

watching