Archive | July 2019

Fuck A Ballot Box!

Playing It Straight

You, the hell, say that waiting… then voting again
Is the proper way forward to rid the white house
Of the white beast within it? I say with no grin,
I done tried that before, boss. My patience is thin!
Did the shit work the last time? Vomit you espouse
As I smell that come from you, I must count to ten.

We are Butt Fucked and Hog Tied. Our system is Screwed!
You sound as if you’re Goldilocks or bitch Bo Peep.
“Just say no” to the ogre, then he’ll go away?
You’re a nightmarish fairytale for present day.
What’s become of my country? My hatred is deep
Yet my fear can surpass that and keep it subdued.

I’m afraid of what’s happening. Shit Is Dead Wrong!
It don’t take no collegiate to use common sense.
There’s no damned motherfucking thing that I can do
Than keep civil while bent over nailed by the screw.
Don’t tell me not to feel this. I take great offense
To perfuming the stench and singing a nice song.

Breaking Up

Image Scatting

Are there but fifty ways to re-sing an old song
Before there’s no more flavor like over-chewed gum?
To depend on the song writer or the girlfriend
Or professional actor astute at pretend
Is to take foolish guidance. The heart will become
Battle weary and broken. Something has gone wrong.

“How to undo the loving?” The hurt or bored ask.
Heartbreak is something everyone has to go through.
Why then should we go through it? It’s good to get free
Of the fear of commitment. The hope we can see
Is that serial heartbreak escapes but the few.
We must trust in another. …Why such a grave task?

Nature guides our behavior as we come of age.
From then on, with our species, the earth has its fill.
Within healthy companionship humans survive.
We may act as we’re animals, yet we’re alive
To do so more aesthetically and with free will.
Any two can be more as each come to engage.

Swamp Replacement Campaign

Swamp Maintenance via Russia

“Drain The Swamp,” was the slogan, then “Put Up That Wall!”
Foreign enemies know well how our nation works.

First, they watch us for decades. The patterns they see
Then can be used against us. We are completely
At the mercy of dark forces whose evil lurks
Like a thick, stinking, heavy cloud over us all.

How the Hell does this happen? The forefathers planned
Well for this kind of crisis. It’s built into law!
Some are helping the enemy to get around
Many rules of our nation. These people are bound
To some other commitment. Therein lies the flaw
That entraps the electable weakened of stand.

We all know this happening before our eyes.
This slow-motionless train wreck is ours but to watch
Somewhat helplessly while waiting for it to pass.
I am not a black Russian. Putin, Kiss My Ass!
As our leaders get off theirs, I hope they won’t botch
Up this process. That could well lead to our demise.

Rich White Trash

Convergence of Economic Realities

There’s a need to sound racist. It gets to some truth.
Human rubbish are one race. We make oneness smell
Like a trip to the outhouse that we keep inside
Where the heart is a black hole releasing no pride.
We’ve made this world our dumpster. Within it we dwell,
Self-Importantly arrogant and quite uncouth.

On the flip side of privilege, there are the poor.
That’s the primary reason we don’t get along.
Most will never know wealth nor the pleasures thereof.
Somewhat sick as a race, then, it’s hard to show love.
So, we single out certain groups and make them wrong.
There’s a point at which reason we vow to ignore.

Yet is this too simplistic? To speak about hate
In a tame enough manner and still get things clear
Is a task not worth trying. The trash in my mind
That blows in from the outside is not of my kind.
All my hatred can do is rekindle my fear
That we’re all not the same trash. I’m here to create.

Crucify Her!

Tribal Emnity

“Crucify Her!” They cried, and did so with Great pride
And their own word for greatness and times as they were.
“Go back to where you came from,” some group said to Christ.
Since before we were ‘upright’ we’d been sacrificed
By profound racial venom and what we ‘prefer’
To what is our reality. Hate Does Divide.

No war is ever civil, and all war goes on,
Never ceasing completely. Forever we are
Reconfiguring old hatreds to make them new.
History is a clockwork. We are the cuckoo.
The teen-aged-acting harem and their superstar
Is the darkest point, I hope, before a new dawn.

…You pathetic white women! …You whores of us all!
Why condemn who your white man treats as he does you?

Grow grotesque in your fondness for ‘good old boy’ days.
Let your husbands bull fuck you, then sing in their praise.
You are not my America. You are those who,
By the numbers, are likely to see your downfall.

Piss Like A Man!

Ill-perceived Manliness

If a man sits to piss, it insults his manhood.
Don’t behave like a sissy. Respect your damned ass!
Even if you’re an old man, do not lazily
Plop that ass on a toilet to just take a pee.
You can drain the mad bladder and do so with class
If committed to standing. This does a man good.

Why is this so important? Good posture is why.
Men must take on the attitude of feeling tall.
That can’t happen while sitting. You’ll feel like a bitch.
Pubic hair remains covered to prevent crotch itch
While you’re standing with hand braced against the hard wall.
You can’t piss with a hard on, so don’t even try.

Men, stand up to your manhood with dick firm in hand!
If you’re sitting while pissing, how can you feel proud?
What if something emergent occurred in such state?
You’d be caught with your pants down. It would have to wait.
Let a urinal see how well you are endowed.
Keep your ass perpendicular to the flat land.

Natural Enlightenment

Plethora of Pathways

Just how much of humanity is enlightened?
I’m not one to be offbeat about such a thing.
Nor am I being serious. This question is,
Although frigging hilarious, just a pop quiz
For the wide-open psyche. What hope will this bring?
Not too damned much, considering we are frightened.

But a wee few are masters of spiritual ass.
So, at least they’ve an answer to why it is so
That, much on the whole, our species lacks consciousness.
Our lives have become serious, therefore a mess.
Fallacious self-importance, we must come to know,
Makes for gross limitations we cannot surpass.

We can be like the carnivore with sharpened mind
Focused dead on survival and always alert
To all possible danger and life saving break.
We don’t need to be stressful and worn for the sake
Of our hollow accomplishments. That will pervert
Any path that is shown to us, leaving us blind.

Why Hardworking Folks Fail

Illusion In Fulfillment

Often goals have a price tag. We pay with our health.
The product of achievement sits firm in our minds
Though our hearts may be aching and flesh may be sore.
We survive to feed well the illusion of more.
Gain through pain strengthens muscles. Therein the fool finds
Faulty misapplication producing false wealth.

We must work hard and study hard. Why is this so?
But, to hell with that question. Let’s ask ourselves this:
Can we do our work lovingly and love to learn?
We don’t need to get lazy. What is of concern
Is that medical science, not by hit and miss,
Has determined happiness is the way to go.

Only when we are pleasant are we at our best.
Mind and body engage in an energy dance.
If we’re stressed out and anxious, we don’t work so well.
Then, after a few decades, we’re shot close to hell.
Stress means our minds have failed us. We cannot advance
To a meaningful outcome while we’re self-oppressed.

Ideal Wife?

Pre-packaged Perfection

A young woman may ask of someone who may know,
Like a guru or grandma or her closest friend,
What it takes for a girl to be an ideal wife.
The advice most would give her would mess with her life.
Girls of one generation should never depend
On those not of their age group. Times change like a flow.

Marriages made in heaven work well only there.
Firmly here on God’s earth is where we’re all alive.
People screw up a wet dream when God is involved
As we make life a puzzle that needs to be solved
By struggle through devotion that love will survive.
That does feel somewhat alien, and we should care.

The way to a man’s heart used to be through his gut.
Nowadays, that is meaningless. Guts have become
For some, sports… others, mental things. All are fulfilled
In ways that are too numerous. All are distilled
Into one common substance with no zero sum.
Knowing this keeps a couple well out of the rut.

Living Stress-Free

Finding Calm in the Chaos

I am doing my work, boss. I know it’s your time.
But I am the one responsible for my health.
I must keep in alignment the three parts of me –
Physical, mental and that of my energy.
How I respect my being determines your wealth.
I can’t share your concern. That would be quite a crime.

Lucid Living is what I most want to achieve.
Throughout most of my waking life, I want to be
In a kind of a deep sleep, but only inside
While outwardly, my beingness can’t be denied.
A stressed worker can’t work well. Proof you need not see.
Put your faith in my wholeness. In that I believe.

My pulse is a fine timepiece. It is not a bomb
That will respond to pressure by holding stress in
Or by forcing the tension to get through the day.
My work in that case may cause you loss and dismay.
Just another five minutes, boss, then I’ll begin
What I’ll then find delightful. So, please remain calm.

RoboHoe

Human Assimilated By Its Own Technology

Female voices on robocalls is a smart thing
If considering range of vocal frequency
And inflection as ideal to perfect the nag.
Nothing else does it quite like a bitch on the rag.
The worst aspects of women’s voices speak to me
Of well-planned-out annoyance to nerves that will ring.

When the phone rings, the ears ping. The eyes take a leap
Toward the caller ID window. What does it say?
…Something vague or ‘unknown’ to the fuckwit device.
To believe that’s how bitches are comes with a price.
To get under the skin, is there no better way
To promote shabby service or goods that are cheap?

You do get my attention. You cause me to Write!
For that much, I am thankful. Opportunity
To assess and express well what most folks blow off
Is a sharpening exercise no one can scoff.
With a RoboHoe Blocker, I’ll be somewhat free
Of perpetual nuisance. Have I won this fight?

Scientists Do Bizarre Things

Benign Insanity

Can one dissect existence down to the last clue
To a firm understanding of how life evolves?
Can the physicist smash enough atoms to gain
Sub-particulate knowledge to blow up the brain?
Anything that is physical the mind resolves
With experimentation and intent askew.

Somewhat like the Aghori, most science folk are
Absolute in their outlook, not trapped in the ways
Psychological processes obscure their path.
That’s why they must be savvy also at heart math.
Is what they do to lab creatures worthy of praise?
Or has our rabid culture evolved way too far?

To encompass the universe in its fullness
There must be people willing to expand their minds
To a size that approaches the infinite realm.
Is it wise then to have scientists at the helm
Of our ship in the sea with creatures of all kinds?
Just so they keep to themselves. Their minds are a mess!

Duodenal Diesel

Incongruance of Purpose

We’re Duodenal Diesel. We suck from earth’s gut
Her most coveted resources without a care
For her health and wellbeing. We Do This For You!
We believe our dear mother deserves a good screw.
We excel at earth fucking. We’re known everywhere
As your Whole Earth co-owner with motives clear-cut.

Volatile amber liquid as toxic as tea
Brewed to putrid perfection, it moves resources
And your fat asses hither… then thither and yon.
Asses continue moving from dusk until dawn…
Then again into sunset. Habit enforces
Numbing of your perceptions so that you won’t see.

All our moving about on this earth has become
An erect carbon footprint that points to the sky.
Movement does cause excitement for such phallic drive.
Ill-prepared for the climax, we may not survive.
But at least we’ll not care about wondering why
To Duodenal Diesel we should not succumb.

May Your Dreams NOT Come True

Dream Come True

What becomes of the dreamers whose dreams are their goals,
Where a lifetime achieving them robs them of peace?
Situations are flexible, but goals are not.
When the former change, often the latter are shot.
This may lead to disaster. There is no release
From the grip of the timeline entrapping their souls.

What we dream of can only be of what we know.
With some exaggeration, we make it seem new.
We do this so unconsciously we often trick
Ourselves into believing that they’re fantastic.
I would wish that those kinds of dreams seldom come true.
Infinite possibilities make one’s life glow.

Let the things you can’t dream of unfold as they may.
Setting goals may be rigid and blind to the grace
That exists to enhance us in unconscious ways
To the vast opportunities just beyond gaze
Of the eyes that are focused well on time and place.
Let the universe enchant you in every way.

Sarah Bee

Blind Conviction

It’s a story – one of glory – of the bold Miss Sarah Bee
Who became the meanest bulldog that the press would ever see.

Once a simple southern lady, she became a superstar,
But the light she was reflecting left her with a psychic scar.

Those believing her deceiving are as blind as they can be
To the dog that barked behind her. They respect their Sarah Bee.

Once a darling and a starling to the big dog of the pack,
She has lost their confidence. Now, she has left not looking back.

…Quite assumin’ of a woman that her bonnet for a bee
Could protect her form the specter that most others cannot see.

There’s no reason not to go for governor of Arkansas.
Working well in such a crime scene, she knows much about the law.

Who defined your bleak one-niner? Do you have an enemy
Such that meeting with The People is something you cannot see?

Well, my darlin’, like a marlin who’s escaped back to the sea,
You are free form close encounters involving misogyny.

Highfalutin, verbal shootin’, tyrant rootin’ Sarah Bee
…Hope you’re lost and gone forever. We The People do agree.

Just A Dirty Day Old

Perceived Adequacy

I did bathe yesterday. Should I take a day off
And recover from being so damned spanking clean?
In my mind, I am spotless and earthly scum free.
When I look out my window, the brightness I see
Is enough to re-sanctify. It’s good hygiene.
Maybe it can also cure my persistent cough.

When I find myself wearing a suit and a noose
Do I think I’m invincible belching a smile
To the ones who belittle me? I’m in good luck
If I know that I don’t need to feel like a schmuck
Nor a slave to a lost hope or lavish lifestyle.
I do long to be clean of the system’s abuse.

…Just A Dirty Day Old, and I don’t feel like scum
Because it’s become cyclic and psychic as well
To refresh myself daily. My much higher needs,
When fulfilled, are the means whereby happiness leads
To lasting satisfaction. The soul can excel
At the business of Being while beating the drum.

Letting Life Roar

Exileration

We each are a fine engine. Our Maker, who knows
How all things can best interact, also knows how
We can best govern ourselves and act as earth’s friends.
Economics and ecology each depends
On the other for survival. We must allow
Coexistence, or sickness we’re doomed to expose.

Someone may have a lifestyle but not have a life.
To know spirituality as nothing more
Than the spirit rambunctious with throbbing lifeforce
Is the kind of spiritual path I endorse.
That which satisfies oneself and makes the heart soar
Among a nation’s populous mitigates strife.

The earth is where life comes from and where it returns
So we have deep connection. The food that we eat
And the land that we walk upon and every cell
Of our bodies is related. We would do well
To treat our earthly nature as nothing elite
But neither as immobile nor wrought with concerns.

How Yogis Know

Ancient Wisdom

What’s it like to be human? A yogi knows well.
Our bodies are made up of but just a few layers.
They are interconnected. The cell’s DNA
Holds a wealth of intelligence. Each can convey
That to us in a manner that answers our prayers.
Those who don’t feel quite human, in error they dwell.

And indeed there are pathways – some tens of thousands.
Major energy centers connect the body
To that which is nonphysical. No time or place
Is what we have emerged from. We’re here by the grace
Of the infinite cosmos. That’s how yogis see.
It is in one’s best seeing that one understands.

We exist within cycles, and as we evolve
From concerns of survival, then naturally,
We become more perceptive of much higher things.
When the breathing is slowed down, the inaction brings
On awareness of all things the eyes cannot see.
The ego becomes useless. It then may dissolve.

A Barbie Doll Chewed By An Ugly Dog

Exaustion and Desperation

Barbie Doll was invented by one who could see
That young girls can dream mightily and can go far.
They can take on most anything done in the past.
The future can be hopeful. Impressions can last
Through a life of achievement. It is not bizarre
That a doll becomes something girls don’t want to be.

Some dolls end up in landfills, unfortunately,
Or else tossed near a dumpster, no longer of use
To the one who perceives it as just a plaything.
The dog then will adopt it. No hope will that bring
To plastic and its meaning. It’s now an excuse
To keep womanhood portrayed as something ugly.

We have taken our Barbie and made her a bitch.
Her face radiates horror at what we’ve become.
Don’t tell me it’s your job, bitch! You know wrong from right.
God should denounce your womanhood, you sorry sight!
You broadcast to the world that your heart has grown numb
To the incessant chewing while trapped in the ditch.

Independence

Much More Time Than a Life

A dick dipped in molasses attracts oral sex
But from creepy creatures not concerned with one’s meat.
…Odd that people don’t get that. They’re doomed to dick dip
Into exotic substances. Good dickmanship
Means that one keeps one’s dick not averse to retreat
From the sky burst of color to pay due respects.

As all patriots do on the fourth of July
I will spend some time watching the fireworks display.
Many times before, I celebrated with pride.
But today, somehow, pride in my country has died.
I don’t care what’s been happening nor what folks say
About just about anything. My, What A Sky!

It’s just my way of bitching. It’s but a few sense.
To pay much more attention to this would be great!
Living colorful powder may light up my sky.
I must know that I’m willing to live, do or die,
Through the elegant chaos that we recreate
As the clock tick defining offense and defense.

How One Takes It

Sensory and Cognitive Overload

How do I take what’s given me, asked for or not?
To take things as an insult is not the best way
To make friends and influence folks. I’d rather be
As neutral in my taking as I can best see
The benign verbal nuance in what people say
As but ripe for a mental chuckle, then forgot.

People may assume I take things a certain way.
I can hear the inflection ascend toward the end
Of the utterance, therefore I safely conclude
They’re just asking the question. They’re not being rude.
In such case, there is nothing that I need defend.
I can then leave in peace and get on with my day.

If an amateur poet with no training can
Push those details aside and continue to write
In a manner consistent, I will take that black
With a lump of fulfillment to keep me on track.
How I take life’s assignment may look like a fight
Yet it seems to fit into someone’s divine plan.

Tuned To A Different Dicklength

Phallic Omnipresence

Do I mistreat the meat of another trombone
In a mystical orchestra conducted by
A half-Klingon deep space skink of talent profane?
Would the world become saner if dick were to wane?
What depends on one’s Dicklength is not worth the try
When one knows that in time it will be overthrown.

One’s Dicklength is one’s heartbeat. A suit and a tie
Or blue jeans and a hardhat are symbols well-known.
It is by competition the better succeed
While the best make their way to the top through their greed.
  It pertains to both genders though it’s overblown
As an ideal condition. Things have gone awry.

The inverse of one’s Dicklength may be Latency.
Each divided by one, the other it becomes.

Could this be about time to do some simple math
To determine the consequences of our path?
It may be wise to take time to beat other drums
So the curse of the Dicklength dissolves completely.

Fix The Real Problem

Sickness

One goes to the mechanic when something goes wrong.
What’s wrong with the mechanic? He should bear no blame.
Fix the foul thing you’re damned self. No one knows your car
Like the one who’s been driving it. Dissimilar
Is the service provided by each. Not the same
Is the heartfelt commitment. In some, it is strong.

 All the while as I’m driving along life’s highways,
Care and constant attention from me it requires.
I must also keep my eyes focused dead ahead.
This complex combination of acts brings me dread
When the maintenance man, with his handbook and pliers,
Has no clue what he’s doing. So, there are delays.

I can’t possibly fix everything on my own
All at once. But I can start with one simple thing,
Then proceed to the next. Fixing things in sequence
Is efficient and easy and does make good sense.
The mechanic one knows and loves only can bring
Restoration to one’s vehicle, it’s been shown.