**** nostalgia
and family and friends
**** the queen, the president, prime ministers
all the positions in between
all tied and loose ends
let it all begin again
history repeats
a story of no winning
it never meant
anything

it was easier
as kids
i didn't let
my mind get overrun
with what could be
but not now
when we can be
but it's me

Eyes wide, shut
Carnal knowledge of my fatal attraction.
The thoughts, graphic.
American beauty, in the mood for love,
Match point,
Jig, all up.

i was an insect
on a divine windshield
a speck of dust
on an otherwise stainless garb
when wiper blades swept me down
in my infancy
a young brood
i am guts
i am blood
i am gross things

mediocrity
be the judge of me
and see if I give a ****
I know how hard I work
I know who I am
can spit in my face
and still call myself a man

Pixilated war,
And out in the real fields
Insurgents rally against
Tin men and robotic dogs.
Death from above,
Artillery & first-person drones.
I sip an energy drink
In 60° AC Fahrenheit weather,
I don't stop to think
As to if orders deserve questions
And whether I would be satisfied with answers.
They don't have drafts,
We have programs & apps
To pilot steel fellas.
Suppress, eliminate, rescue,
Some of them even punch up the graphics.
Last week, I traipsed through
The inhospitable Arabian Desert,
Many decades ago rendered entirely uninhabitable,
To help diplomats involved in a helicopter crash.
The day after that,
I was in the snowy north
Fighting red droids.
And soon after,
On an island in the Pacific
Defending from adversarial users.
I must have died 10,000 times.
And from what I hear on the news
We make advances only to be set back,
And vice versa,
But it's been seventeen good years
Going back & forth.
I don't know if I can recall what we're fighting over.

As a song without words-
Shall I sing, forevermore?
These shapeless chords
That give way to convey
Statement, free from form.
Much the same as one who
Must scream, yet is unable?

You think me ******
For what seems to you to be a lack of caring
I cannot convince you of my care
If you refuse to believe so
Despite my efforts
So I relinquish doing so
Why should I waste the time that is so precious
On an issue which has no basis
And on a rationale you refuse to release
I haven't the time for such things
Really, no one does
But yet they fritter it away
For things that will never change

Not I

I am the why, I am
Because I am me.
More my knowledge and experience than measly genes.
Anyone who tells you different
You should just write off as a ****,
And more importantly
Without morals or values they'll stick to.

maddened by
all that i don't know
it makes sense that,
it only being a portion of a picture
a sliver of your life
what you're comfortable to show

suppose it's what you would be
free from happenstance
unburdened, all you could be
if only
not for the cosmos' harp
if not for the hands of chance

this trepidations man i am
today, when an honest heart
is a sure sentence, guilty
the first step down the road
of the tired path of the ******
is to give up and fold
to say, if it's so it's so
accepting things with no gripe
no complaint, even when it's wrong
and you have the unfortune in knowing

i loved what i'd seen
what had been shown
before the clock was cleaned
the gears all greased
every meaningful place
stamped out, like the grand empires of old

and now they're churned out
broken, spoiled, soiled
focused looking solely,
totally out on their own

closer than ever, yet poles apart
we roam

bloodshot eyes
and tell me why
when you cough and they well
it's the only time you cry

The emptiness, that fills
The hollow cavity, where
A heart should beat.
Where blood would go
Now, nothing flows.
What is there, that is meant to be?

Of the things kept inside,
And all the pain I've tried to hide.
Turned outside, onto the world,
Wherein the soul reside.
Spilled, to the ground
The collapse, of all that surrounds.
Careening down,
The end of a life.

They done killed the working man
And wrote an album about them,
Wiped out all them Cheddar heads-
Milk men's dead.
Somewhere a queen is weeping,
Somewhere a king has no wife;
Something called Neanderthalis
As another word for a human, a person.
These, members of my family as relatives,
Who are bonded to us in blood
Both in the veins of our hands
As much as they stain them.
But to that bond,
There is a responsibility to honor
And a duty to you entrusted.
That is,
The depth to it is much more than this
Lest you be the least of us.
In paying respect to those come before
And bringing up those now born,
In endeavoring to do more & be more.
Whatever facet, whatever role;
Be kind and civil,
Stand up to injustice.
Protect the weak
As an advocate made strong
By virtue & wisdom.
Turn on, tune in, turn up, awaken;
There is nothing wrong with your television set,
Have you checked the programming?
As timeless as infinity,
In the middle-ground between
Light and shadow -
Between science and superstition.
Through holes in canvases
Of freshly painted things,
Strange & otherworldly,
Aching to be discovered
And dying to be seen.

it's limbs
grew out, over shallow water
dims the forest floor
with the sunshine it gathers
leaving ferns to wither
like winter
but only cause you've gone
does this blood
boil hot enough
or do you need to do more
to see it warm
before you'll let me fill your loving cup

And so we all do this thing
Of using what one has said
Against who themselves said it.
Is it rejection? Deflection?
Is it acceptance? Confrontation?
It's about how we choose to take it,
Not how another interprets it.
Right?

Femcel, incel;
You're celibate, and not for a lack of trying.
Who gives a ****, give it a rest,
Get to work,
And get busy dying.

What an email,
Can reveal!
Embedded within the message,
What simple words unravel;
From where, and whom, they have traveled!
How much one can extrapolate
From mere more than chatter,
It would be astounding if not frightening
That you can tap out so much
From just dry lightning.

You may do exactly as one requests,
Just for them to still have complaints.
Go the extra mile,
Only to fall short.
You can be asked to speak openly,
Only to be punished for your honesty
And shamed for what are your thoughts.
Still, the strongest of us have no care
For them to cause such a thing as silence;
That I am only human,
Is this my fault?

i want this to stop

the death of innocence
well, that went with you brother
i still look through your pages
at all the photos you captured
your loss is our loss
sincerely, i'm crying
cause i just miss you man

Cursed? Condemned?
To wander the Earth for eternity?
Aeneas, or Cain as some call him,
Was a person of renown - a leader and scholar.
Part of the crew of Odysseus,
He was called to the ship
But neglected to board it.
The name of the isle of flowers?

The Garden of Eden.
It's caretaker? Cybele.

Before the isle
Aeneas, like others,
Were offered the Trials.
This was to visit all the places
Currently & properly "gardened."
Reward for completion of the Trials
Was longevity, strength, et cetera.
Gnomen & Seers had procured,
Through generations of Trial & error,
A potent cataplasm
Which they learned to mutate/grow
Into a selected fruit.
Like an apple.

The Garden of Eden
Was a place of experimentation,
Much in the same vein as the Tower of Babel.
Where the Tower of Babel was focused
On the development and perfection of communication;
In things like language, oration, poetry, literature, et cetera
The Garden of Eden was focused
On experimentation with different forms of chemicals.
Chemicals, of course, coming in many forms;
Plants, minerals, other natural phenomena, substances & combinations, et cetera.
Part of this was experimentation with psychotropics,
Attempting to develop natural immunities
To such things like alcohol and cannabis.

Aeneas & Cybele,
Driven mad by drugs & mental-illness,
Left the isle.
For Aeneas was a rule-breaker
And confided in Cybele all that he understood and knew
About the Trials.
Aeneas had one trial left,
The Maze.

The Maze was enormous.
Upon its walls
All of human history was carved,
The entirety of that which was experienced by us.
All that had been relayed by various Gnomen & Seers
Through generation after generation.
Carved in ways that could be universally understood,
At least by those living within those ancient societies.

The red thread?

A guide to weapons, combat, subjugation/*******, et cetera.
This area of the Maze
Also housed a weapons cache
In the event the Maze was threatened or attacked.
Who informed Aeneas of the red thread?
Cybele.
Who informed Cybele?
Scylla.

You see, as previously mentioned,
Part of the Trials was to visit
All these areas which had been "gardened."
Auxiliary to this
Was to visit all those
Who had been deemed unworthy or had failed the Trials,
Like Scylla had been before meeting Cybele.
Living cautionary tales,
"Condemned" not to "wander"
But to live out their natural existences
On isles which were gardened for beings
Like predators and plant life which was vicious.

It was Scylla who "blew" Odysseus & his crew off course,
Knowing of Cybele & Eden.
Cybele who later drugged the "Minotaur."

The many that I had accepted
Beyond my control, far from being able to affect any change
Are not nearly as important
As those I forgot, or chose to let linger and fade.
And new ones come up to chase everyday,
It's true what they say;
The more things change, the more
They remain the same.
Alternate the moves, change the pace-
Still the same tango:
Dancing in place

I urge you to put in
An abundance of thought,
Is there resemblance of the rational in what you've wrote?
The ropes are taut, caught in a knot
Of the mind besot. Break out the raincoat,
Over skin lepidote does cashmere run like the water. Its moves are rote, yet nature is mute
To those who have no want to listen.
You crave the fire but hate the smoke,
If not for the purpose it served
You'd ***** out every spark
And never let it burn.
That candle on the mantle,
Over the roaring hearth;
Fair knowledge & justice blaze the wick
Of which is human.
And even in deluge, the flame billows-
For there is nothing to put it out.
Your thinking otherwise is simply hubris.

If I stop to reflect on the horrors
They will consume me
I can only learn from them
And keep moving

The harrowing angst,
Of night soon come to close.
And the anxiety of a new day,
What troubles does it hold?

The weight that doesn't stop, but only grows
Pressure on my neck, shoulders, collar bones.
Peace of mind, and a piece of the pie;
What more could I ask for?

A restful sleep, for but a night-
One where I am not tormented by all that has taken its course,
And every steer of the rudder
That veered me farther into the unknown.

Truly, as stated previously;
I hate nothing & I hate no one.
Dislike delight? Not I.
And what joy it is merely to be alive

That luck would so have it
And countless chain reactions
That I should be a human on this planet-
I can breathe easy staring at the sunset
As much as a sunrise.

Whatever twists, warps, & bends
I may experience;
They are all worth it
Just to exist.

When water condenses to vapors
We can curse the temperature
Or we can be grateful
For having had any liquid
So life giving.

So, life may be giving
And life may be taking-
That I strike out some balance,
It's always teetering.

Yet, I am still.

He stands upon a stalk of grain,
Rested atop a leaf,
Balanced on the branch of a tree,
Nestled on the back of an amphibian
Four who salute longevity.

She comes as a breeze,
Graceful & gently.
As like spring blossoms
She extends an offering,
Ripe & sweet
Is the fruit of her peach.

Those given to fanfare of the stork;
Who hold nature, like the cosmos, sacred
And celebrate its different changes & forms.

You rise to meet my face,
I tell you, strike
Because I will not hesitate to
Lay you down
With speed and with grace
You will appreciate
When wherewithal gets through
To stop, being the bigger man.
Half your age and full of rage
Look past my eyes and see inside
The bigger they are the harder they fall
And men who believe in nothing
Have no ground to stand,
But room to die.
You think you're strong?
What of the wrong,
And your life?
The real brawl

you want to be
my world
end all be all
my God
the deity i swear by

you don't even try

Closer in time,
Your heart is
Aching in your chest.
Fading lights
The stars wander
Out of the sky, just chance.
And inside
The warmth of
Just one more night.
From my lungs
I feel a tugging
Catching my breath.

In your sea, I am but a drop
Yet, you are my ocean.
On the field of love, I am but a rock
And you are the mountain.
I feel as sisyphus,
In love with his punishment-
But I've pushed too much.
This torture is redundant,
We get nowhere and feel as though
Further down the hill.
And yet, I love you as such
I would never cease pushing
Till my heart stops
And muscles grow still.
For what is love
To the stone heart?

Lovingly, to fall for Medusa
Onto my own sword.
For were I tasked to **** her
I should sooner forgo my life
So that she may have her own.
For I looked into the eyes of the Gorgon
With my last breath,
And when she spoke
It was clear she was no monster
But a disgraced goddess.
Never did I turn to stone.
As I lay lifeless, she wept
And offered her *****.
Every touch was like lightning,
Though I was the center of the storm;
She showed me kindness
The likes of I had never known before.
And when I was revived
I wept too.

When you express yourself,
The minute the thoughts come out,
That's when the guns come out;
YEAH, BABY! COME GET SOME!
I'M EAGER FOR BATTLE
AND WILLING TO BE A SOLDIER!

MARCHING ORDERS, MADAM!
AT YOUR WORD, SIR!

IF I CAN'T DO IT,
IT'S BECAUSE I'VE ALREADY DONE IT.
EXACTLY TO YOUR DECLARATIONS,
FOLLOWED TO THE LETTER YOUR INSTRUCTIONS!

A humble, level-headed person.

You say things
Just in the aims
Of hurting another,
Even to your lover.
And what makes you so special?

Tank all your profiles,
Cause they're tightening a snare.
𝘞𝘩𝘰 are you identifying?
Are these my views?
Is that my perspective?
Is it 𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘦?

Tank all your profiles,
Cause it's harder to get ******* physical than digital.
It's either a check or an x
To be marked onto your square.
A few fascists' dream
Is a legislative nightmare.

Ah, how quickly do
Nights age & shatter - like old glass.
How short lived, the stars

Fall on your own sword;
If you must die
Do it on a hill
On which you shall be revived.
From where at its summit & base
A well should spring
Of water which you may both wade,
Clean enough to be drank.

By both, either side,

Whether Abrahamic or Pagan
Both religious & spiritual.
By whatever side walked
Around the waterhole,
No matter the kind of animal.
Any coast situated near the ocean,
Any forest covered with trees,
Any open & vacant clearing.

Beware the ides of March,
April shall weep with us,
And May might even;
Beware the hanging mist,
Avoid the creeping fog,
And move out from the shadows.

Stand before everybody,
Let them hear the truth of your love
And explain that, that love is of the people
Which are of knowledge.

The children of reason,
The kids of virtue;
The lineage of Logic & Wisdom,
Of Innocence & Emotion.

Be wary of the pats on the back,
But less of those open in their criticisms.

Watch the blade which does not reflect,
Whoever hesitant to display their genuine feelings.

Keep your family closest,
But merely watch their wandering affections.

Keep your friends closer,
For at a distance you seem as enemies.

Persons who, not agreeing with you,
Will tell you, your perspective is wrong.
That lived experience,
Has clouded your lense of reality.
But they offer no real difference
Nothing so substantive
As to say,
Mine is fixed
And based in a place
Of true, unbiased rationality.

A wax rose dipped in gypsum,
That's never led me astray.
When I had the will to listen
To the righteousness of moral and ethical thought;
Lucidity was the light, rationale was my guide, and fear and ignorance cleared the way.
When you realize science is holy,
You can pick out the false practitioners.
Those who really only want to learn more
To plunge us back into
Dark days of an old world
That was easier to leash

hold on
while i transfer you
to a back line
give you a couple backhanded lies
and stab you a few times

But to your point, and the larger issue, is
How do you convince people
Who have no interest in politics, and
Believe they are doing just fine?
Because the repercussions haven’t reached them yet,
Letting other folks run the show.
People need to genuinely care and
Believe it is possible & meaningful as well,
Or they will participate only in apathy or whatever.

Be painfully optimistic, fall on your own sword, argue for the right by strengthing the wrong to others
People will come to the right decision on their own

the judgeful puritan
is contradiction
and yet to be a puritan
is to judge

their glass house falls
when their mirrors turn translucent

From the savagery which birthed civility;
From the meek,
I made strong.

I who go on.

I choose to pass-on,
To divide my belongings to those most deserving.
I who will work with others,
And in that way - do for them.
But never by force,
Through any medium & by any method
Of which that takes shape & form.

Father; I have slipped her,
I who was the only one
Whom her body could ever let her guard down around.
Your wife, my mother, has died.

I know you are in there,
Though your mind is yet blind.
I know you see & hear,
Watch & listen.

Forgive me.

For I know you are both of the divine.
It was her decision
That she was yet unable to make,
Having lived eons in instinct's subjugation.

I who am your son,
I shall shepherd you to liberation -
I shall break your chains.

I who am
Evolution.

For what you were, you are (k)not;
For what you were not, you are naught.

This is the gift of the present & of presence,
You who are being & are a being.
Change is the promise of now,
With potentiality being the triumph of the Futures,
Which hinges up the fulcrum of your variability.

How you walk with fluctuations;
How you grow, adapt, & evolve.

The Future, as past now & at present is;
To control how you mutate,
To find meaning - which is already in existence -
To liberate your companion(s), Expression & Existence.

This is the way (,)
Of Evolution.

I am not some peaceable ***-smoking hippy,
Or a hard-core punk inclined to rage away.
Similarly not a broker, with no share of a real trade
Or a developer of putrid estates
Different from some disaffected political nutcase
Radical revolutionary, only in the way
That I still have hopes for change