[Infernal Dialectic of Ongoing Struggle]

Spoke Mao Zedong to Kim Jong Ill:
We languish here in deep red hell—
Let us confer and analyze
What factors revolutionize
The contradictions still.

Replied Lil’ Kim: The running dogs
Beguiled by class and capital
Have overdrawn and overspent.
They bank on debt, and make lament
And flounder in their fogs…

Kim chee does stink, but tastes so good
Do have some more, oh comrade Mao.
Fermented cabbage goes so well
With Hennessey and blondes (in hell)
when Juche’s in da hood!

The Fearless Leader (now a shade)
Responded thus: Just give them time.
Our doctrines spread, their God is dead
Their sons shall sing ‘The East is Red’
Our party’s got it made.

Ill Kim displayed a wicked grin:
Our rocket-launches make them fear
They scold and cluck, and then they duck
While Hillary tries to pass the buck
I think we still could win…

The Chairman thought and sipped some fire
in communistic reverie, and feeling very clever, he
Replied to Ill: This place we’ll fill
with dead reactionaries still—
fifth columns to inspire.

Now let the thousand flowers bloom
And let one thousand thoughts contend.
Remember **? Remember ‘Nam?
We triumphed over Uncle Sam—
He’s limping toward his doom.

A wizened ghost now drifted in
Because his name had been proclaimed
A wispy beard (as yet unseared)
Revealed the mastermind once feared:
Old Uncle ** Chi Minh !

** **—old friend! Draw near! Draw near,
Spoke Mao: In solidarity
We hail your work upon the earth
You showed them what a war is worth
You’re always welcome here.

Ill Kim and I were wondering
How best to make the forward leap—
conspiring ******* their cow
and smoke their duck and drain their sow
while they are buying bling.

** Chi, old warrior, why the frown?
Upon your wisdom now we wait.
The forces red you bravely led
You staked your claim until they bled
And brought their nation down.

Old uncle **, the sage revered,
did smolder with his cigarette.
Viet Cong thought is hard to grasp
It slithers like a jungle asp…
** paused and stroked his beard:

You speak without the people’s light!
I criticize in strongest terms
Your revolutionary thought.
We need to ask our friend Pol ***
How best to steer this fight.

Such gradual change, a halfway measure
stalls the Bourgeoisie’s demise.
Our true Khmer Rouge was not a stooge
of Kapital. His fame was huge
for plundering their treasure.

True, he had to purge his nation
such is revolution, gents…
The traitor classes see the masses,
through reactionary  glasses.
Death or re-education!

We ought to sow his rural seed
for pure agrarian reform.
The bodies in the rice can rot
to fertilize the harvest plot—
the people’s mouths to feed.

When Pol *** heard his tactics lauded
he flew in to join the jabber:
Take a tip from Kampuchea!
Listen well and I will teach ya!
Kim and Mao applauded.

City folk are useless eaters
glasses-wearing foes and cheaters!
let them slave – and always save
their corpses for the fertile grave
Until they love their leaders.

From the barrel power grows—
(I don’t mean kim chee barrel, boys).
Now learn my way.We’ll have our say
Their weakened states will wither away.
The Red dictator rose.

Prepared to ramble on for hours
(the way Fidel so loves to do)
Pol ***’s harangue now fired the gang
like rockets falling on Da Nang
emitting sparks in showers.

Hell is known for lack of stasis—
Sudden throes of quaking fire;
fitful flares from from Satan’s lairs
and constant similar affairs
the population faces…

Thus Saint Pol ***, still naming names
along with Mao and Kim-Jong Il
while ** Chi screamed, and then blasphemed
were swept en masse, and unredeemed
into the surging flames.

Yet still they plotted in the blaze
with dialectic deviousness.
Philosophizing, strategizing
stinking sulphur brimstone rising;
ghosts in the yellow haze . . .

        ☭ END ☭

I dream of innocence
of days long spent
beneath summers sun
a Carpenters son
and royal daughter
a Queen and a martyr
one girl one boy
eyes fuse like alloy
caught in a sudden trance
a courtship dance
loves hypnotic rituals
of star filled visuals
white lights against black night
white Knight versus black Knight
this is now a game of chess
strategizing what to do next.

Three is a crowd
how I wish he wasn't around
your first mistake
so I sit and wait
for the nightmare to be over
for my Knights mare to save her
I already know the pain she's due
it's as old as the sun, this rain isn't new
nothing washes away infidelities sinning
nothing can make them white sheets of linen
once innocence is lost like paradise
if only you took another roll at the dice
maybe fate is predetermined numbers
and maybe innocence only exists in slumber
maybe it was lost at birth
maybe it's just an ancient curse
inherited from days long ago
maybe we were never white as snow.

But still I have this martyrs cause
yet still I never really give pause
the Knight that sacrifices for his Queen
for he has already witnessed all to be seen
history repeating itself
Déjà vu sapping our health
reincarnated pain
can the black Knight ever be slain?
or is it just another side of the coin
everyone is still curtain drawing
hiding from the dark
the day that's lost its spark
black night only masks the sun
black Knight versus the Carpenters son
but white lights appear in the sky
the white night is there when we die
when our numbers finally up
when our slumber finally stops
the ending of the night
maybe we aren't really Knights
maybe we are all just pawns
so innocence can be reborn.

People’s feet are hurting,
dresses and shoes are a size smaller than theirs.
They’re taking chances, and going to dances
and the truer selves are calling for help.

They’re dressed in their nicest,
their inner screams are the quietest.
Under the gleaming smiles,
their broken, imperfect selves are quietly calling for help.

The smoothest white marble floor lies,
in the reflection they seem to be perfect
while they’re numb inside.
Living corpses are calling for help.

They’re breathing slowly,
to cope with the swift dancing.
The masses are strategizing and scheming
on how not to call for help.

All is calm and feelings are suppressed.
Suddenly!
Chandeliers are falling,
glass is on the dance floor
and hoofers are calling for help.

Playing,
strategizing,
my next
               move
examining
where to go,
thinking a
                    few
                           steps
                                     ahead
finally,
complacently declaring
Check Mate.

Label guns drawn
They force us into boxes
Blindly yelling who we are  
Consumed with pointed fingers
Looking for easy answers
Categorizing
For strategizing
Who they want for fraternizing
Humans prepped
Know it's just a broke machine
Those aware
Come from what we choose to leave
Hard hats worn
To protect
From their obscenities
They work so hard
But can't define
Who we decide to be

E.Poe
*January 2014

i tell you it's not a game
how no thoughts are needed
no tricks, no plans
just roll the die, and see where it takes you

i tell you, you belong to the numbers
nothing but chance and percentages
nothing but pieces moving
and coming into play

you tell me we need more games
that involve strategizing,
that involve twists and turns
and less pieces

i tell you the experience is all in the art
it's all about finding out where the end is
it's not always about winning i say
and yet you play on recklessly

you and i, we're nothing but chance friday encounters
nothing but brief walks from here to there
nothing but lingering stares in the lobby
nothing but car rides from houses
where the games are far more complicated
and far more well thought of
than two dice rolling on a playing board

there's nowhere to go from where we began
yet i would be lying to myself if i said
i didn't feel a little flutter in my heart
when i saw you waiting outside the door
for me to step outside

we took one last walk on the day when he was buried
one last march outside
strolling the other way
and you turned to me and said
you felt it too

Everything about you is so confusing
The first time I have really liked someone
The first time I have been so attracted to someone
The first time that I loved everything about someone
In such a long time
I stay up all night all day looking at your pictures thinking about our next date strategizing how I'm going to make you love me
You turned me into this crazy obsessive person
I think you care about me
But I'm so afraid
I have been hurt so many times
Do you really care about getting to know me
Or do you really just want to get a lay.
You do cute suddle things that make me think your sentimental but only physical things.
You hardly look at me and when you do it's my lips and not my eyes. So many times you seem
Uninterested and your responses are so short.
I think maybe your shy but you certainly don't hesitate to take my clothes off.
But it's been over a month and we have not had ***. You are the one who asked me to be your girlfriend you spend so much money on me
And drive really far to get me
But we only see each other once a week
And lately you always want to leave early usually after you get off.
I still feel like I don't know you
And I don't know how
I'm attracted to you
And I want to feel your touch
But I don't want to give it all away
To a boy who doesn't deserve it.
I wish you didn't scare me

You and I
Defying the latitudinal laws we bought together two polar opposites.
We had created our own tropical paradise.
Summer and Winter.
I am warm and nurturing .
You were cold and calculating.
Still like a moth attracted to the light I couldn't stay away from you.
You were the brains and I was the heart.
You were carefully strategizing your every move.
I only flowed in the whirlpool of my emotions.
Together a wonderful force of intellect and intuition.
I was in love, you were lusting.
The deeper I fell , The more distanced you became.
I thought I couldn't live without you.
You felt like it's time for you to let go.
You walked away unscathed and me, you scarred me to the core of my existence.
And today I am nurturing my heart instead of you.

There's this wire I keep tripping on
the string that lays parallel to current divisions of reality
a plane of moments
strategizing time fragments that correlate with the general population
but keeps me cloaked behind a veil of
they call it
dissociated
the illusion that I cannot fully connect
my atoms don't seem to just align properly with the whirling visions around me
and I slip into the seconds of grandiose prophecies
consumed with the mentality that I will never be enough
that my moments will never really
quite line up.

Isn't that what people do when they get dumped?...obsess over their exes,retracing the steps of their relationship,trying to decipher the clues that led to the relationship's unraveling.They pine for them.It takes time for them to recover from this jolt and move on.They strategize ways to accidentally run into their exes..or avoid them like the plague.
Either way there's a lot of strategizing involved.

-Megan Kearns

After harmlessly crossing your border
          you take our friendship hostage
guarding your perimeter with sandbags of arbitrary etiquette
a no man's land of manners separates us
   you snipe from your defensive position
              so I retreat and start strategizing.
Consulting my generals to discuss your tactics
  they advise me to start stockpiling weapons
                and to start looking for weaknesses.

There is a counteroffensive to your intentions.
            While you were destroying my satcoms
a successful infiltration of your command center was accomplished.
Once your defenses were understood
           your flanks appeared vulnerable.
                      Blind spots were revealed.

You only sign a treaty once your resources start depleting
then you ignore the rules I'm reading to give me a beating.
          So I'm building up my arsenal and
enriching my uranium in this centrifuge
                             where we spin in circles.
My nuclear option is prepared and capable.
                  Pacifism is more appealing than violence
     but when you try to erase who I am I must take a stand.

Armed with an ability to attack
I get a warhead on my shoulders
               found from old schematics
you shared with me while I fought your enemies.
               They were never thrown away
now they're dusted off and revisited
to make your walls crumble
and incinerate you flag.

Your nation starts hiding from what they were once confiding
                              after my nukes obliterate your infrastructure.
Rebels and runners fill fallout shelters and basement bunkers
                                         hiding from the radioactivity in the air.

Everyone's death equals success proving I'm best
        so I develop a permanent wartime economy
                                      and fire missiles mercilessly.
There's no difference between fighters and civilians
             because some insurgents are chameleons
                                      so I **** them by the millions.
                        The more weapons I get
                        the more needless death
                        until the only nations left standing
are those that have stockpiled weapons of their own.

Met you first at the edge of town
Where parallel lives converge
Too close to see the reality
Too close to see the merge
Entrained & double stranded
Twice abandoned
Forged in fire
Etched in stone,
Dressed in a serious tone

Divide:
The divine definition
Served over coffee, wine, and repetition
The overhead sign flashed
Standby Alert

Never one to heed the warning
You were looking straight ahead
On an outward bound,
Dopplered red
Journey

The local doesn’t stop there anymore.

The stranger that you were seeing
Detached from all-mighty reason
Feeling tracts of the weatherworn
Like leather shorn
Shattered by resistance  
Battered by time and insistence
A legacy of perfectionism
Bestowed on you by dogmatism
Stirred by criticism
Seen through a prism schism
From standing on your head
Judging yourself upside down
Perspective’s reflection
Ism prison
Makes perfect sense
A hole in groundism


Storied teller without a soundism
Rhythm or such
Downtown, cafed, solitary lunch bunch
Saying no to this, no to that
So comfortable
When there’s something to defend
And there always something to defend

The exonerated accused of insanity
Righteous indignation abomination nation
To the guilty acquitted by reason of sanity
For strategizing one side
Side Lies
Channel changing and codified


The chips are played and unafraid
Free-floating on a reclining cloud
Hovering above the unavowed
Unbuckled crowd
Without blame or explanation


The hand that binds, rewinds
Will eventually set you free


The tracks began to dance
A lazy sideways glance
Carving a figure eight
Keeping time
With a measured gate
Pausing as they crossed
Hand over hand
In infinity seeing speck
An aspect
Dancing on ice
They spin
So without
So within
Pirouette going around and around
Everyone stepped aside
Later they all took a side

“Never saw it coming.

You know, he never should have left.

Yes but, how do you know it was him?

I heard she was bereft.”

The moment was tenuous
Always slipping from grasp
Always a handout for help
Always a mask
The mask it
Fell from where it was hanging and
Broke in half              
You were off autopilot
Without a staff


Yes, to whatever you say
I’m that way
You must first introduce yourself
Forgive yourself
For all the isms’
They were never ever you
The isms aren’t all bad
They just embody the essence
Of all that is had.

(writing exercise for grounding - please write out your own and feel free to share it with me. This is not ego, this is reaffirmation of the path I wish to take so that I can be better. Welcome to a LVL 1 - Self Training Exercise)
I am still here.
I am whole.
I am wise.
I am capable.
I am strong.
I am lucky.
I am meta.
I am inspiring.
I am loving awareness.
I am constantly growing to be better.
I am consistently showing up for self.
I am persistently trying to be there for others.
I am always trying my best.
I protect my source.
I love others.
I am kind.
I am clear.
I am aware.
I am working daily on my goals.
I am reducing strain on my system.
I am always strategizing and analyzing.
I do what is best for the whole not only the one.
I work to see where the self ends and begins.
I take a step back when emotions are at play.
I strive to be harmonious with surroundings/
I take appropriate action when called.
I operate cleanly without transmiting my burden onto others.
I articulate my needs before they become problematic.
I ask for my needs insted of becoming a challenge myself.
I activate with good intentions and a happy, sound mind to enjoy the process of creation.
I do no harm, but take no ****.
I respect the emotions and needs of others.
I remove expectations and apply replacement behaviours so I may simply take action and succeed.
I hold no energy that does not assist in the leveling up of self.
(Feel free to steal and write out any of these that you may want to take with you onto your next chapter, I highly recommend retrajectorization on the regular. Where are you going next? How are you going to get there? Who are you? Take a page and write out a stream of consiousness to see what naturally develops)
I

before marital savings bond matured
as a then quinquagenarian.

Courtesy gerontologists medical practitioners
allowing, enabling, and providing
the elderly population to live
longer and healthier lives.

Linkedin with longevity loosely translates
to resurgent libido spurring
older folks predilection
to participate in ****** intimacy.

The downside (if such be the proper word)
regarding senior citizens
becoming or remaining flush
with embodied physical attraction
Gerontophilia barely alive
as buzzfeeding colloquialism,
nevertheless advertently, intermittently,
and unwittingly received
jump/kick starting excitement

here at Highland Manor,
especially scooter bound population
looking to spice her/his life
courtesy young stud or hottie
(stepping out pages of some
**** glamourous magazine)
secretly strategizing how to entice
lure, and understand "grandma"
or "grandpa" as ideal bed fellow.

An old geezer like yours truly,
would roll out his Scottish welcome mat
(comprised of Harris tweed material)
readily and willingly
welcoming respite from
a young gal responsive
to such juvenile, ******,
material devoid of absolute zero
with neither, pride and prejudice
apropos of maturity,
sense and sensibility,
nor wit and wisdom
as the following banal folderol
nominal representative sample exemplifies
what he frequently posted
on the fledgling Internet
back during the heyday

of electronic chat rooms.
COMPAQ PRESARIO
desktop (little tower - revolutionary
computer back in 1999 -)
chugged along (think the engine that could
exhaustively repeating the mantra
"I think I can, I think I can"
in order to facilitate
wheels that go round n around
like a twirling clown
or a psychedelic school bus

while painted ponies go up and down...
optimally operating like well greased levers
to reverse a frown
analogous to gingerbread man
happy as a clam
satisfactorily baked to perfection
a colorful character uniformly imbrown
similar to persons of color
found within outer limits
along edge of night
of twilight zone in the heart of motown.

No harem meant by the following
excerpts amalgamated, doctored, hewn,
linkedin, and sanitized version from outdated
prefabricated plundered digital broadcasts
talentless dearth as profundity
and/or qualifying as reasonable rhyme,
I do forthrightly bewail
paucity of thought provoking perspective
dill liver rd by Clyde S Dale
whimsical wordy zesty email

nothing ventured equates
to no gain nor any cause to fail
searching far and wide
for something akin to a holy grail
in the guise of a femme fatale
wherever she may hale
even if my search
finds me ferreting out jail
masterfully baited ...ha...ha...hmm...
this steely irony male

merely Joe King riddler,
one lone ranger high
in his blazing saddle
exclaiming "Hi-yo Silver"
cuz tis a violation of pure innocence
to ****** Vestal ******
before age of consent,
and also ill eagle,
whar *** may n daze existence
locked behind iron rail

bars with razor wire
in n attempt to scale
the bulwarks n escape -
bush whacking a trail
only to return to bedlam
and discover vis-à-vis
a  perspicacious wife
who did bemoan and wail
yours truly his indiscretion.

Fingers property handsome beau
thrum while poetic feet quiver
like fingers on a taut bow
with anticipation to hear soft
sure footed white or black crow
sitting on telephone wire talons didst flow
and crackle with electricity

thru wired connection
courtesy smooth bore little arquebus
and spindleshanks characterized bozo
weird friendship can grow
like a super fresh field
viz organic olive garden
of eat'n plump with organic food
betwixt yar thatch n my lil ***
property of common Joe

fully cognizant and in the know
scheming to experience
whet dreams are made
analogous to tightly, lovingly, and
exquisitely fit together
game pieces manufactured by lego
finished product resembling mistletoe
illicit affair indubitably,
ineluctably, invariably causing woe.

After primal desire fired away
I returned home
to the missus without delay
the scorned wife mine hide she did flay
when divorce sought, she did nay say.

“Wayne’s turning 21!” we were all told with jubilation.
Three invitations flew over clear wires – not the envisaged four.
Off we went to see Johannesburg in all her splendid animation,
To see rowdy Bosmont and Hillbrow where one could easily score.

Welcome, welcome. Hug, kiss.
Decorative drinks,
Fiery foods,
Howsthingsgoingshesgoodwerewellthanksohpleasesayhellotosoa­ndso

Young couples and old lonely perverts boogied
To cheesy, overplayed Montel Jordan
As a token of celebration of the coming of age
Of a distant stranger in their shoulder-brushing midst.

Unmoved and unphased by the utterings of
Worn walls which let off more than they should,
I steeped out for air –
All too surprised what I found there.

Head patriarchs and young bucks were locked in a humming imbizo,
Ironing out the kinks and strategizing links.
Circled were the Rat, the Rock and the Rock’s Mirror:
His unknown carbon copy warranted no introduction.

Cheerio, charming castaway.
Sorry our moms couldn’t bury their green feud.
Of all the dirt and grime Jozi spreads,
The memory of our encounter is a most indelible mould.
Meet you on the flipside, lost brother.
You live your life and don’t look back – you deserve better.

Day in day out
Constant thumping in my chest
Headlights wrapped around the tree limbs
Of her well being
Is she happy
Does she miss me
She's all I think about
What steps do I take
To speed up this process
How do I convince a judge
What he/she is looking at
Isn't the monster they make me out to be
I'd never harm my daughter
Never issued I'll will against them
But every step is excruciating
Bc it puts me another week
Without her smile
Without her laugh
Without her hugs
I'm loosing faith
I'll ever see her again
But I keep preparing
Keep my head in the game
Knight to E4
This game of chess is brutal
Strategizing against lawyers
Decisions hardly my own
Why do they keep doing this
Petty notions just to see me behind bars
All I want is to see my daughter
Tickle her and Chase her around
Play hide and go seek
Peek-a-boo behind corners
Play tag till my feet hurt
She's all I think about
She's my daughter
And they robbed her from me
The only joy I had in this life
The only reason I kept breathing
Now oceans of bills
Unnecessarily weighing on me
Immature in all it's nature
This game they play isn't fair
It's emotional homicide
Using my daughter as the weapon
Knowing she's my only weakness
Yet I know she's my greatest strength

I just need
to hand this
to you

and my job
is done

This little packet
of dense information

describing weirdly
how to make a me

You mix with
how to make a you
and then some

Please just take it
from me
and math

Has us strategizing
Turns out if you try four million times
on average
you almost always succeed

Bang your alive
if that 1st universe
doesn't **** you

Abeyance holds
enuf o' u passed
as it

than not it
borne lying
to the womb

crazy to
hand to someone
themselves

minus the unwritten
righting each other
writing each other

Scribbling new yous
on time's white fog




Copyright@2018 Dennis Willis