Poet Introduction “I am old, Gandalf. I don't look it, but I am beginning to feel it in my heart of hearts. Well-preserved indeed! Why I feel all thin, sort of stretched, if you know what I mean: like butter that has been scraped over too much bread. That can't be right'
Beneath the barbed wire trim of their useless tin roofs Birds perch on industrial windows and brick crumbles to the curb and coffee-stained concrete Whose cracks shaped like trees mimic the vegetation ripping through A graveyard fence that once took the front of a car A lichen-covered bench of wood soaked from last springs rain. Two flush trees A stagnant river 100 dragon flys A shopping cart caught by the weeds Likely thrown by a frustrated shopper or an abstract artist Or someone trying to make some fun In an otherwise...
Heaven's gates are not made of pearls, But Ivory- the husks of the dead deflecting the hopeless wishes of the damned. Hell is no place of torture, but of torment and the wind's lament feeds the flames. gods merely politicians and demons criminals in the eyes of the law. What labels drive which meanings?
Each branch and twig and needle green, A cut across the frigid seam. Each star a burn and smoke and haze, A plight upon the clear blue days. Treetops burning- branches flames, And smoke and fog laid out the plains.
Gazing out with vision keen, Embracing the fate of destruction.
i should be able to save a daft without a f**king title.
I am sliding down the sidewalks of my youth where the grass and dirt cling to my shoes I count the turns of the wheel on my bike Of moments of isolation and warmth of friends alike My hands block the glaring sun from my eyes Never wanting them to end, my childhood highs On my back, in the grass thinking on my not so distant past I miss the places that have seen much change Such times with you I would never exchange
O’ dreaded pillar at the center of its pit Clanging to blackened walls. To specks of light. Sounding our demise with each booming iteration. Bounding through the air above us all If not for your consistent measure Then the source for which you derive a horrible pleasure. Would be silence without
Perhaps you stand at the center of the void For otherwise there would be nothing.
Brittle bones that bleed when they break. Skin stretched stiffly cover not a face, a false face, frustratingly unfixable, fronting a mind remarkably unredeemable. Sitting atop a gangly gaunt corpse, angrily analyzing existential angst. All the while the world goes by unseen.
Every war we wage is just. Every violent act against us is unjust. A life sacrificed to the economy = a life sacrificed for the greater good. Every cut to social security and medicare was to balance the budget. Every bailout to the rich will trickle down. We shouldn't believe women because they are slanderers. We live in the greatest country in the world. (and the freest.) The democratic party is progressive. The republican party is libertarian. Giving homes to the homeless, food to the hungry, and medicine to the sick is too...
I look out at panicked faces washing hands empty places hesitation for Embraces. This is not my country. Indifferent politicians. Menacing corporations. In silence like a funeral procession, they walk past homeless poor dying depressed dejected peoples- their eyes averted from sick masses. They separated: Suits and ties and gavels and gowns a weighty hindrance dragging us down by corruption and lies and crosses and crowns. They only accept our agenda when denying us would remove them from Power. Decade-by-decade century by century they concede to us our progress as long as they get to keep...