Tuesday, February 28, 2017

Another Brick in the Wall

"You've become too dirty,"
I admonished the brick,
It said nothing as it sat midst his friends,
Who flipped birds and held dicks,

He curled up his lips and raised his eyebrows,
I was in a rush and had to settle,
For staring back at the menacingly,

But from then on, everywhere I looked,
Walls would stand in my way,
Oh the jeers and their immobility,
No matter what I'd say,
Like I'm sorry,
Who am I to be judge?
Until now I was living un observed,
But I just had to point out that brick's smudge.

Monday, February 27, 2017

Time Is Money

It's all about money,
It is everything,
If we didn't need it or had enough,
We would all start living,

We would get up with the sun in our head,
That shines on our desires,
People would come to our lives and they'd go,
Not tied by the system of fiscal wires,

Betrayal would be so much, much simpler,
Hearts unsullied by debt,
We would all be able to see clearly,
We haven't found love, yet,
Then we'd move on,
Loneliness would be fine,
For we'd do the things that we wanted to,
Because it's money that made itself time.

Sunday, February 26, 2017

Oh, O.J.

He really had it made,
Charisma out the butt,
A natural athlete across the board,
Good looking and well-cut,

He constantly said he was just O.J.,
He was not black or white,
The movements, the riots, he snubbed them all,
Yet his success was a boost for black rights.

Then his wife and a waiter were slaughtered,
The blood led straight to he,
He then said he was framed for being black,
Then was freed for Rodney.
But he forgot,
Many thought him guilty,
He lost sight midst a new crowd of yes men,
Got thirty years for a crime of conceit.

Saturday, February 25, 2017

The White House's Fascist Face

How else can one explain,
Another White House move
Presented as guiltless, but following,
Trump's rumbling of fake news,

The exclusion of certain agencies,
From Spicer's press gaggle,
Which changed from what was to be a briefing,
But as an autocrat's finger-waggle?

Even Fox News joined in the obloquy,
This must be serious,
To achieve complete power, you must repress,
The freedom of the press.
This is no joke,
E'en I'm afraid to write,
This Wath of Investigative Po'try.
What an innocuous act to wrest fright!

Friday, February 24, 2017

That Noise

Can't get that fucking buzzing,
Out of the sound's background,
Sometimes I wonder if its main target,
Is to dirty my sound,

So no one can focus on the message,
There's something just not right,
How can such a meaningless distraction,
Mean the barrier to any real height?

Unless there's a process to work with it,
Herald it, brandish it,
Surrender the message and I might find,
The true message in it.
What could it be?
For me to stay in place?
The next time I see that little buzzer,
I will stand up and ask it to its face.

Thursday, February 23, 2017

The Smile Commute

Sitting on the subway,
Seeing all the faces,
Ev'ryone of them completely neutral,
Staring out into spaces,

It's hard to believe one of them smiling,
They think the same of me,
These morning automaton commuters,
Will be turned on at th'end of their journey,

Seems to me it might take less energy,
Once offset by the joy,
To smile and let others' happiness,
Be remotely employed,
That is, sucked up,
Processed and recycled,
What kind of world would then nat'r'ly arise?
If you can't imagine, I bet I could.

Wednesday, February 22, 2017

My god

Is there really much left?
Should you stay much longer?
Would it make a diff'rence if I promised,
You don't have to wrong her,

That the steps to where you want to end up,
Could take another route,
Longer, harder, with less time at the end,
Less soil and blood and sweat left on your boot,

Less cold, less tears, far lesser solitude,
In which to do your work,
No uncertainty or dangerousness,
No deep laid thoughts to jerk?
Nothing at all,
Or maybe, ev'rything.
My god, in your own sad, darkest moments,
Do you have power over your thinking?

Tuesday, February 21, 2017

Stand By

If you have woken up,
By sunlight or alarm,
Not quite aware of where you are as yet,
Afraid to not be warm,

Reminding yourself of the place you're in,
Admonishing again,
A daily ritual of self-control,
To protect the position you are in,

It's not your dream, but it's not your nightmare,
Why risk one for th'other?
It takes a special person to chase dreams,
Most of us don't bother,
And are alright,
Like all beasts of the Earth,
We are not special, homo sapiens,
Let those who believe they are do their worst.

Monday, February 20, 2017


Trump is now president,
Many are asking how,
Poor, white, disenfranchised voted for him,
Because they need change, now.

But there are not enough to tip the scales,
E'en with th'usual right,
Or the elderly or police state fans,
Or the supremely white,

As Dale Beran writes, there's another group,
Holed up in mom's basement,
Whose first rule is to be anonymous,
Then make trolly comments,
Talking 4chan,
Who may have put Trump in,
As a joke played on the United States,
The pastime of hacking Americans.

Sunday, February 19, 2017

The Break

You do not need a break,
You only need you to,
Do things the way you do naturally,
So no one can refute,

That you are what you've been eternally,
That is what people want,
The surety of knowing anything,
Is e'en if they wanted to change they can't,

That translates to the most elusive trait,
Which is changing a lot,
The comfort that where action's coming from,
Is naught to do with thought,
But, instead, life,
You see, that's why we're here,
Thrust into this unknown reality,
As if purpose is obviously clear.

Saturday, February 18, 2017

My Keys

The keys used to be there,
That bowl on the counter,
It was the first place I thought would be best,
No rest for the hunter,

There were so many thoughts that haunted me,
About needing the dish,
The room it took on the food area,
Like cross-contamination from the fish,

I moved them to a plastic container,
On my writing desk, now,
But with the loss of the daily routine,
My mind is in a row,
Things have since changed,
They are not always there,
I sometimes leave them in my coat pocket,
Change rules once and they disappear in th'air.

Friday, February 17, 2017


First there's the explosion,
Aft' the music builds up,
The destruction of one's very own name,
How's that for a wassup?

An existence outside of reality,
Is there e'en such a thing?
If there ain't, then there's a whole bunch of time,
That is being murdered by the living,

Just to play and share learning with others,
Is that really so bad,
To leave this world of deceit and hatred,
According to your dad?
Did he say that?
No, I don't think he did,
Of course, it was hard to understand him,
Through his sobs for the dearly departed.

Thursday, February 16, 2017


You can't outgrow yourself,
You are just what you are,
I wouldn't waste your time running away,
You just won't get that far,

In case you're wondering, nothing has changed,
You don't live long enough,
Sure, there's no time within eternity,
But it takes time to collect all that stuff,

Which exists 'bout as long as you would think,
As long as a real thought,
That swirls around like it was meant to be,
Then find out it was not,
It was like time,
So heartbreakingly long,
Sometimes you think you can take anything,
Until life's cruelty just proves you wrong.

Wednesday, February 15, 2017

The Ring

A ring hugs the skin tight,
No give in the metal,
The flesh bulges up around its edges,
In time it will settle,

The fingers on either side avoid it,
However subtly,
It is a force foreign to their purpose,
A reminder of what they're meant to be,

Blood once struggled to push past its pressure,
Until it found a way,
What nature hath made, let humans obstruct,
It will push back, one day,
With force majeure,
The ring to our fingers,
That prod things they don't know just, well, because,
The impressions of which ever linger.

Monday, February 13, 2017

Where The Poor Fight

In the Spanish mountains,
The Leftists hid in caves,
Many had seen their families slaughtered,
Midst the Nationalist wave,

There were not many and few were soldiers,
Many were not Spanish,
Coming from Europe and America,
Drawn into the war to fight Fascists,

What they found on both sides were, of course, poor,
They are e'er those who die,
Prodded by those with power wanting more,
Directing from on high,
Then there is us,
Observing from afar,
Not Spain, the fighting no longer rages,
One need not look hard to find other wars.

Sunday, February 12, 2017

Wash Away

Let it all wash away,
Oh god, like summer rain,
Sucked in the earth or evaporated,
Just don't return again,

Take with you all the bad, awful mistakes,
That weigh me down like bricks,
Better a box with no holes for a home,
Than one more feeling of shit I can't fix,

Strip me of clothing, if it means no shame,
May as well take the skin,
Let the blood flow away and crush the bones,
So I can re-begin,
Not say a word,
Assemble my body,
Truly know how it works ere using it,
So poor driving don't make it seem shoddy.

Saturday, February 11, 2017

Water Falls

The book was chewed apart,
Like Humpty on the floor,
With time, the words could be pieced together,
Sure, but whatever for?

They stopped existing once pen left paper,
Moments spilled, then gone,
At best, just put the dog in the garage,
Hopefully, it will have learned its lesson,

As will you, never will thoughts lay about,
Or not photocopied,
While you are distracted by life's pleasures.
'Who'll be dog-jacked? Not we!'
At least, not me,
Life is much too precious,
The bull's horns are not that far from your heart,
Never will that happen again, she says.

Friday, February 10, 2017

The Ending

You can lose everything,
That's done by losing you,
It can happen driving your Ferrari,
Painted that flat black hue,

Bought to dally along the seaside road,
Of the Amalfi Coast,
To the villa that you keep for yourself,
Though it's not the one that you adore most,

When you look to your right past your blonde guest,
In the passenger seat,
'Who is this person steering with my hands?
And will we ever meet?'
Just one turn right,
Drive off the ocean cliff,
To prove the real you cannot drive at all,
Nor care you how opulently you live.

Thursday, February 09, 2017


It ended too quickly,
Like he had had enough,
There's only so much gold that you can mine,
Before the job's too tough,

Before you start to wonder what it's for,
It is all frivolous,
When you're starving, life is immediate,
That was a quality denied to us,

You need not suffer to know suffering,
In fact, best that you don't,
Better it is spared to everyone,
That is all that he wrote,
There's nothing else,
It's frivolous, I say!
Just lie on the couch and binge watch something,
Or you will be sure to get in the way.

Wednesday, February 08, 2017

The Dead Line

There're so many windows,
But not one face inside,
My mom said she'd be looking out for me,
Then, I guess, my mom lied,

The door's too far to lean o'er and open,
I'm afraid, anyway,
There are not words enough to fit in here,
To capture the loneliness here, today,

The chair will not move with my weight on it,
Nor will my hands help me,
The hunch of my back has disabled them,
Feels an eternity,
But it is not,
Don't have that luxury,
All these things must eventually work,
There is too much responsibility.

Tuesday, February 07, 2017


Put things in perspective,
The only one you know,
The one sculpted by those who raised you up,
Or ground you under toe,

That was tweaked the first time you kissed a girl,
And your mind went kaboom,
When you defied the rules of your parents,
Then couldn't escape their clutches too soon,

The years of roaming devoid of morals,
Until you looked around,
Witnessed the global inequality,
Just begging to be found,
When 'twas too late,
Your mind's already fixed,
Your progeny will have to save the world,
If that possibility isn't nixed.

Monday, February 06, 2017

That Story

Start with an idea,
Then let it ruminate,
Sleep on it, beat on it, show it the door,
Let it back in and wait,

Sit across from it, but don't talk to it,
It has to explain first,
How it came to be, what it will become,
How its resolution will quench a thirst,

If you feel you've discovered something new,
A start, middle and end,
A truth's been revealed that can't be denied,
Nor can you abandon,
What it's become,
It was waiting for you,
Now you must guide it out into the world,
Don't you want to see what it grows up to?

Sunday, February 05, 2017

How To Make Sausage

Get at least half a pig,
Chop it up into chunks,
You can put aside the liver or not,
Then treat the rest as junk,

Add eighteen grams salt per kilo of meat,
Lots of pepper to cure,
Toss it about then grind it into bowls,
Fold it with a spoon to make the mix pure,

Flush the pig intestines with warm water,
'Ere sliding on the spout,
Keep the casing firm and coil the sausage,
As the meat flows out,
Then you hang it,
Someplace dark, cool and dry,
In a few weeks they are ready to eat,
That swine accomplished more dead than alive.

Saturday, February 04, 2017

To Be Serious

You must be serious,
To be taken as such,
Which requires you've a lot of discipline,
Sophisticated touch,

A keen eye for the tears in the fabric,
Of what we all accept,
As the way things are 'cause that's how things are,
As if the right way's only where we've stepped,

You must know yourself, because if you don't,
You won't know anything,
You cannot label the things around you,
When the world is spinning,
But most of all,
To be taken as such,
Your grip's to be so tight on what is right,
That no one can ever loosen your clutch.

Friday, February 03, 2017

And So It Ends

Time flies when there is fun,
That's because you feel it,
There is duration to the setting sun,
Only when you wield it,

Otherwise, it may as well not happen,
Like ground water flowing,
It hasn't happened if it is unseen,
That's why we created the all-knowing,

It was too much for us to take the truth,
A god would take our shame,
Look where that invention led the world to,
What if it never came,
We dealt with life,
Took for real what we saw,
The hungry would be hungry 'cause they are,
Would we then behave per compassion's law?

Thursday, February 02, 2017

The Cold Will Beat Me Down

The cold is absolute,
My heart's the same's my skin,
To the point that I am not cold at all,
Like this pain is common,

Like the acceptance of the status quo,
No matter how severe,
Like there is no power outside of god,
That can make the sun shine and the sky clear,

Like the fear of acting in the wrong way,
Lest the police beat you,
If but there was a jacket thick enough,
To cushion what they do,
But oh the cold,
I'll just have to adapt,
Any more would be uncomfortable,
I was just not raised up to be like that.

Wednesday, February 01, 2017

When Is It Time?

When's the time for protest?
When injustice is done,
And if the screams and chants fall on deaf ears?
Well, then revolution,

But that can't happen without a leader,
So where will you get one?
It must be someone with nothing to lose,
And no fear of the state's retribution,

Who cares for nothing but injustices,
Affecting anyone,
No matter race, sex, faith or politics,
Else, that is fascism,
Which is the crunch,
It e'er has been and will,
Feeding a group's desire for more money,
After being trounced, repressed, loathed and killed.