Tag Archive | social commentary

The Beleaguered Debate

TheMagicRealist.com

It’s been said truth sounds like hate to those who hate truth.
Now, if that ain’t a paradox, send me to school!
Does this mean that falsehood sounds like love to the ones
Among us who serve mendacity by the tons?
That one’s truth is another’s excuse for a duel
Is a symptom that manifests from early youth.

I am prone to dig deeper to get to the core
Of that which is excitable, pleasant or not.
When big planets drop by and move in for a year
I could choose to expand my affairs without fear.
There are things about passion that scare me a lot.
Though I keep on complaining, I do ask for more.

When the elements fire and water touch base
The emotions are heated to levels above
That which cannot withstand being liquid in form.
They expand with a power apart from the norm.
We can be broken down to be rebuilt in love.
It’s a Jupiter/Scorpio thing taking place.

Concealed Carry

TheMagicRealist.com

Should I carry my tool in a spare vestibule
Under armpit or next to my lower left nut?
I could hide one inside my collapsible shoe
Then when I click my heels I could put a hole through
Any short mother fucker who thinks he knows what
Makes him bad enough to take on such a damned fool.

I’ve a right to conceal it – my fearfulness streak.
It’s a feeling I’m used to. It makes common sense.
Everyone has one’s own set of circumstances
Wherein fear reinforces and heightens the chances
Some gun will go off in the name of defense.
I must conceal my fearfulness or I’ll feel weak.

So, do carry my way. Guns are here to stay.
And it’s not like we’re civil. We’re wicked and wild.
We’re a cumbersome species who can’t get along.
We need plenty of weaponry to make us strong.
Guns and gun control can be left up to the child
Who would see them as folly and wish them away.

Full Function Generator

TheMagicRealist.com

To maintain a wave function, there’s unction involved,
Of the kind that is foul like the breath of the bowel.
When gratuitous bodily functions persist,
Then events that are current should drift off my list
Of life scenes I engage with. A healthy avowal
Is one I’ll not take lightly if life seems unsolved.

Live does seem rather gross. There is spit in the air.
Folks are hocking their guts out for others to see.
But it’s just my perception. I see it that way
Only if it is helpful in making my day
The way I and those like me would like it to be.
Were there not others like me, life wouldn’t be fair.

Life’s a function phenomenal – much like a dream
Where the mind excretes heavily upon the soul.
To endure a wave function would take strength of will.
To collapse one effectively, one must have skill.
In the grim art of winning at every sought goal,
There’s a point where one thinks that one’s will is supreme.

The Mystery of Faith

TheMagicRealist.com

Without faith and with shoes on, I walk across time.
Half way past holy bullshit, I always find more.
From the fake polls that tell me that Clinton should win
To the priests who spunk little boys (Ain’t that a sin?),
I know faith is a mystery dressed as a whore.
It’s complexity makes for a rich paradigm.

I can take what seems solid and firm to the touch
As mere referral points that in time will dissolve
Into nothingness, just like the space in-between
All particulate substances that can’t be seen.
God has given each soul its own puzzle to solve.
As for seeking consensus – it doesn’t mean much.

Yet, it means much to those who would have me believe
There’s a God who’s outside me who’s bigger than mine.
We are followers. That’s why we’re tended like sheep.
We are strung out for someone’s commandments to keep.
Any fool with a message will suit the world fine.
Faith is oft’ an elixir to numb the naïve.

Too Much to Chew

TheMagicRealist.com

I’ve got too much too chew. It came out of the blue
Or oblivious. I don’t know which one it is.
Simple greetings befall me as well as small talk.
By default I’m committed. There’s no room to balk.
I’ve been offered a chewing as well as a quiz
Once again I’m amazed by what I’ve stepped into.

This huge bone I’ve accepted seemed small at the start.
Or perhaps my small eyes see most anything big.
My eyes get me in trouble. My loose tongue as well.
I do act on my own and create my own hell.
If my eyes could see big things as small as a twig
Perhaps then I’d be shielded from hurt to the heart.

I should bite off a large chunk if I think I can
Get my jaws wrapped around it not seeming the fool.
Yet when I find that I’ve bitten off more than I
Could digest in a lifetime, I’m ready to try
Anything that might stop my becoming a tool.
I can be of good service and still be a man.

The Decisive Device

TheMagicrealist.com

A decisive device is one that can’t act nice.
Its decisions it makes with no input at all
From the user who just wants to get some things done.
I do not go for gaming nor surfing for fun.
And it gets so aggressive and makes me feel small.
I can’t deal with a dick headed devil device.

Don’t peek-a-boo to me with messages from
Your right corner, peripheral to my intent.
You do tittle my gaze as if I were a cat.
You should know that I’m human, and what’s wrong with that?
You continue to dick me. Indeed, you’re hell bent
On securing my madness so then you will cum.

A divisive sufficing may be what I need.
My decisive devices can get me perplexed.
When they tell me they’re doing things I don’t want done
Should I gather my privates, then turn tail and run?
I can’t figure out why things are so over sexed.
I shall guard my virginity as I proceed.

My Happiness Is My Gift to All

To others the greatest of gifts I can give
Is my happiness. Not that I have other things.
There are gifts that I give that have value to some
But the gift that is lasting is when I become
Mostly happy and joyful about what life brings.
Am I happy toward others? That’s how I should live.

I do seek joy selfishly. It’s the best way
To develop discernment in going about
Meeting others and caring about how they feel.
In releasing resistance my whole life can heal.
When I meet folks I want there to be not a doubt
That my motive is hearing what they have to say.

I must be in my joy or else I cannot be
Of assistance to anyone – not any way.
What I’m offering graciously is part of me.
Now, if I’m in a bad mood, it’s easy to see
That I’m out of alignment until the new day.
Mostly, though, I’m a present who’s offered for free.

Joy Is a Goal We Are ALL Working Toward

TheMagicRealist.com

Simple joy is the goal that we’re all working toward.
It’s the reason we do anything that we do.
It’s the basis of love and for finding things out.
It’s the reason that with lofty dreams we’re devout.
What we think will bring joy is what leads us all through
Bouts of painstaking diligence toward our reward.

It may seem that’s not so often times when we’re not
In alignment and open to be, have and do
Anything we desire no matter how grand.
And it takes some adjusting to well understand
How our thinking and feeling can offer a clue
To achieving our dreams that cannot be forgot.

We perceive joy uniquely – each in one’s own way.
Whether knowing or not where our motives lead to,
We are working toward joy every step of the way.
We each recognize this when we’re willing to play
In accordance with what makes the heart sing anew.
We all work toward the same goal each and every day.

A Cozy Corner in Hell

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Not a flame do I see through the walls that bind me
To my own belief systems and to my ideals.
No sensation of heat do I feel at this time.
It’s been creeping up slowly – a gradual climb.
Yet the only thing that could be fast on my heels
Is whatever I’m running from, were I not free.

There is no constant sameness of torment I feel.
But if I chose to feel some, my walls would agree.
They would burn away quickly and leave me exposed
To the flames I had feared and had kept my mind closed.
Life has given me purpose to burn and to be
A well-tempered perceiver of that which is real.

A comfortable room that does not have a view
Of the torment and peril apparently so
Is my space of recluse as I sort my hell out.
Do I fancy self-torture? There should be great doubt.
I seek solace in knowing what most others know…
That the hell that’s apparent cannot be so true.

Urinal Banter

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My manhood is so huge I could call it my pal.
I do treat it that way and it does that for me.
My big pants surely can’t be as big as my balls
And my man knows his way around feminine halls.
When I bang any bitch she will cry out in glee.
I have no trouble getting my female canal.

If she likes to slurp schlong she must have a deep throat.
My man meat is a muscle of mass and much more.
She will beg for my cock. She will give it high praise.
She will preach of my peace pipe the rest of her days.
I will slam dunk that hallway until it is sore.
Should she lapse into coma, then that’s all she wrote.

Women know that my screwing is lethal indeed.
I’ll have them blowing snot bubbles before they know
What the hell ever hit them while prancing in place.
As for any bitch my dick is her saving grace.
She’ll be speaking in tongues in her long afterglow.
I am damned good at humping and cranking out seed.

Mistress Therapeutia

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Your Mistress Therapeutia is always on call
Since the time of the dawning of Woman In Charge.
This puts Man in a frenzy. His dick at stake
As he fears minds of women may be more awake
And in tune with humanity’s worth, by and large.
Men should stand right behind them with hearts proud and tall.

Strong Mistress Therapeutia knows management well.
She is built to build families from foundation to
The most creative folds within nature’s cortex.
The embellishment of nature’s loving vortex,
Women’s bodies are sacred. This fact rings anew
As the women forthcoming are willing to tell.

I can live for that coming of age once again
When the warrior Woman commanded the tribe.
And there weren’t many wars because women kicked ass.
Many wars went unfought due to critical mass
Disengaging in tune to a more loving vibe.
I’m delighted to see women challenging men!

A Wet and Vibrant Dream

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Can one twiddle ho-hum in a trance while at sea
With the water so calm it could put one to sleep?
When I’m not in the moment I tend to miss out
On the fortunate happenings jumping about.
In this sea we call life we can go for a deep
Understanding of ourselves and what we can be.

I’m too busy, sometimes, with my head in my work,
That I seem to be sitting still as life speeds by.
Life can rock the boat gently to give me a nudge.
It can wreck it severely and I am the judge.
I can choose to be present or not even try.
That I’m offered the choice is one valuable perk.

Life is cast in a richness and wetness of flow
That surrounds and consumes everything that exists.
All of life is connected. There’s nothing apart
From the whole of creation ‘til now since its start.
As I navigate life it’s my soul that persists
In its quest to find meaning and joyfully grow.

But… This Map Is Sacred

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Please excuse me kind sir. I’m in search of a place
Somewhere in this fine city. Can you assist me?
What I have is this old map here. Hope you don’t mind.
I believe in this thing. It will save my behind
From a fucked afterlife. So, I’m sure you can see
I’m strung out on salvation and tons of God’s grace.

What is it that you say? This old map I possess
Has no relevance to where most things are today?
I have studied this map because God told me to.
And these long-ago landmarks should give me a clue
To whatever the Hell my God’s trying to say.
So I need to stay ancient. I vow to regress.

Could it be that the folks who lived so long ago
Had their own source of guidance in tune with their ways?
I can’t find many streets. Some no longer exist.
When I can’t find my landmarks I often get pissed.
Perhaps it is much better to live out my days
By my own inner guidance who’s easy to know.

To Allow My Well Being, I must Be in Joy

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We can learn much about joy by watching our young
As they take in each moment as water to sponge.
Their wellbeing is guaranteed. Life is secure.
And however they take life, their feelings are pure.
When provided a fun pool they eagerly plunge.
They’re composers. The songs of their lives can be sung.

How they do it is something we could take to heart.
We’re like broadcast receivers – the way we behave.
If I’m tuned to one hundred-point niner FM
AM stations elude me, indeed all of them.
I must tune to the happiness consciousness wave
If I want to give any good day its best start.

Indications that we and wellbeing are one
Are expressed in our feelings of passion and glee
And through exhilaration for each moment new.
Who’d have thought that our kids have the healthiest clue
To our living in joy with our spirits set free.
Everything about living should be based on fun.

Whatever Grinds Your Sea Salt

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Some men love to spank Hanky when Panky is steeped
In some other dank business that’s not of their own.
Seems all warnings of blindness one never will heed.
He will keep on performing his most selfish deed.
He will wrestle that monkey until it’s full grown
Then he’ll yank it some more until it has bo-peeped.

I would think it sound nature to find full relief
In whatever which way one must do what is done.
No one has any right to climb anyone’s tree.
One could train a good squirrel, though, to do it for fee.
So whatever will put your hotdog in the bun.
Do it wildly and proudly, and don’t make it brief.

One would float a bad boat with a lead overcoat
So it’s not recommended, but all else is cool.
And whatever will make that drunk chicken stand straight
Give the thing a tight fistful, for passion won’t wait.
Don’t get caught with your pants down. You’ll look like a fool.
What can surf through one’s channels is done by remote.

All the Months When There’s Hem

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Is there cause to cause mayhem though it may be June?
I should consult the Wiki folk. Maybe they know.
If I did a quick Google search perhaps I’d find
All the months when there’s hem so that I’ll stay behind
When those ripe for mayheming are willing to throw
All their sense toward the seizure by light of the moon.

 It makes sense that mayheming be done during May
Just as long as the heming is kept up to par.
If they outlawed June heming by April next year
Then would late April heming produce lesser fear?
Heming is much like J-walking. Some people are
Good at crafting slick short cuts to get through their day.

I’m for heming in May – not in June or July
Because warm months are those good for frolic and play.
I may mayhem in September as it cools down
Then partake of Oktoberfest while I’m in town.
Seems there’s no other month for mayheming but May
Though it’s outlawed in all months where Now does apply.

A Message from the Virgin General

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We all want to be healthy. I know I sure do.
That is why I eat only things I can digest.
Knowing that is not always the case, as I’ve found,
Sometimes I may consume what’s been cast to the ground.
What I swallow in error may keep me depressed
If I fail to eliminate all that’s untrue.

There’s a lot that is not healthy all around us.
I will pay some attention with caution in place.
With a mind like a trap, though, what I focus on
Can resent being caught and in no time be gone.
Though my health and my mind are tools I do embrace,
Staying healthy seems mundane – a chore to discuss.

I’ve an inkling for doing what wants to be done.
I’m my healthiest when I’m creating for fun.
I am earthy, so dogs in the back yard are cool.
Whether student or Prof. I find solace at school.
I am grateful I’ve no urge to tell anyone
That no work can get finished unless it’s begun.

Fork Out of Dodge

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I’m your Fork Out of Dodge – a proverbial guy.
I’m dramatic and forceful when it’s time to go.
Any fork undercover is grateful to be
Among those expelled first from Dodge most rightfully.
It’s the city most thought of when getting to know
The sensation of terror. The question is, Why?

Stuff can happen in any town. Why pick out one
To become the example of bad scenes to leave?
And since when does one’s safety depend on the fork?
People fork off in Kansas as well as New York!
Yet these questions are moot. I’d do best to conceive
My own clear understanding. It’s better than none.

I’m a Fork on the run and I haven’t got time
To be hanging around when the fan is turned on.
If you haven’t a fork who is stranded in Dodge
Then relax and partake of yourself a massage.
I will fly by the night. I will not wait ‘til dawn.
I am destined to grow toward a new paradigm.

Nature is Natural

A young Galapagos sea lion approaches Enric Sala's camera curiousy off Santa Cruz Island. (Photo credit: Enric Sala)

Nature is to me natural. Why call it wild?
I consume what I need just as all living things.
That’s except for you humans who’ve covered the land
And take more than you need by increasing demand
And where most live like paupers and few live like kings.
That which I would call wild is the race who’s defiled.

Never mind your grand wars and your carbon footprint.
One can witness your savagery in many ways.
And it’s not that I fear you’ll take over the sea.
You’re too focused, dear humans, in finding some key
To ‘unlocking’ what’s natural throughout your days
While ignoring what could be your most favored hint.

I’m not wild, silly humans. I live in sweet bliss
Under currents that take me where I need to go.
Every once in a while, I come up for fresh air.
I would say to you humans that I’m more aware
Of what’s wild and not wild. You could venture to know.
Get your thinking in order. Your terms are amiss.

Nothing Can Happen That I Can’t Believe

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Not a thing that can happen can happen unless
I believe it can happen in any small way.
Of the things that can’t happen, there’s no way to know
Because, by disbelieving, it can’t steal my show.
Nether things not imagined deflect from my day.
I believe in my God Given right to express.

The words ‘screed’ and ‘misprision’ I heard of today.
They don’t sound quite like curse words, but I could be wrong.
These are words of a high order, not often used.
In the context of government, often bemused,
There’s a deep need and hunger for getting along…
To get what’s not believable out of the way.

I believe what can happen and can’t are the same.
There’s no way that the cosmos will up and take sides.
And the cosmos is not playing games with us all.
It responds to all living things, big ones and small.
My believing in something by default divides
Me from others who don’t in this consciousness game.

How’s It Going Today?

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Well, I got up this morning… The hedge needs a trim.
While I’m at it I might as well clean up that yard.
Though the leaves have not fallen yet they’re on their way.
In the meantime I’ll meditate, then start my day.
I know well how it’s going and life isn’t hard.
Things will work out as always. My future’s not dim.

I am God. So are You, as are all living things.
We have taken on form to give contrast a play.
As we do we define and express what we need.
As we help one another we cancel out greed.
We confront psychic crisis with public display
Of our loving and caring and all that it brings.

I should get some more weed killer while I’m about.
There’s a while before summer ends. I should be wise.
I can keep my yard clean. That is all I can do
Until I’m in the best place to offer what’s true.
How it’s going for me is a clever disguise
To embellish my own chaos rather than doubt.

The Machine That Minds Us

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We’re a great big machine of industrial strength.
It’s a kind of democracy made of two poles
Not the north and the south poles as war would suggest
But the right and the left poles in heated contest.
The machine burns a fuel that is made from our souls.
We machine operators are kept at arm’s length.

The gigantic machine fuses cause and effect
In a manner that defies the logic of man.
It’s been given a kick start to move on its own.
It is now automatic. Momentum has grown
To the point where it takes big smarts to understand
How it functions now after some time of neglect.

By the way of the righteous and raw energy
We are fed to ourselves in a synchronous way.
The hot steam we let off and the consequent soot
Make some wonder if something unfair is afoot.
As it tends torque to turbine we might as well stay
On some path toward some light in the hope some will see.

You May Call Me O’Dude

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You may call me O’Dude and I won’t find that rude.
On the contrary, I feel it suits me just fine.
It’s a name that is general, and to be fair
It’s a name of affection from people who care.
I may not know your name and you may not know mine.
But we’re all here with tons of intention accrued.

I’m a friend of the friendly and friendless as well.
We are all in this creation. None are left out.
I would think we are here to uplift and respect
One another – a virtue we all can perfect.
If you think you don’t know me, I’ll leave you no doubt.
I am mirrored among you with so much to tell.

Know O’Dude has a message in that he has none.
There’s no trade-off for being who I need to be.
Not a name can have meaning unless it has wealth.
Not a name taken lightly will lead to ill health.
I’m a dude undercover. My spirit is free
To create as I’m living and having much fun.

Abrahambra Cadabra Dispels All the Rumors

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Abrahambra Cadabra, Magician at Large,
Had her fans doing back flips to find out just why
She dropped out of the limelight to everyone’s shock.
Some had set up a vigil for prayer ‘round the clock.
She’s emerged from seclusion to breathe a brief sigh.
Had she taken some time for her soul to recharge?

This had nothing to do with her twin sister, Kate
Whom she’d turned to a chicken for upstaging her.
This had nothing to do with her romance with Keith
Though she’d only bump ugly with him underneath.
It turns out that her absence concerns her chauffeur.
Is he now a pineapple? We’ll just have to wait.

Miss Cadabra cadabbles in mystical things
As is true of her many fans throughout the land.
It’s no wonder the land makes the fondest ado
Of most frivolous happenings to delve into
When the starker alternatives tend to demand
Our attention toward hatred and all that it brings.

Buttock Brothers Hosiery

TheMagicRealist.com

We are Bob and Bill Buttock. Don’t give us no guff!
We have built a Brick Shithouse – One Hell of a store.
We know well what all women want next to their skin.
It’s a fact we know all things. So where to begin?
We’ve got feminine treats – affectations galore.
We are big businessmen who just go for that stuff.

We’ve no training in ‘Woman’ – no schooling at all.
Men can tell what a woman feels by how she looks.
If she looks like a flea-bitten bat on a fast
We can make her look healthy with duds that will last.
Our fine goods are of quality. We are not crooks!
Our commitment to help women makes us stand tall.

Stick your nose in our Buttock. Do come by today.
There’s a special promotional deal going on.
Buy a length of our hose at the regular price
Then we’ll shove you another one because we’re nice.
You may browse in content ‘til a new day will dawn
When all women of business will have it their way.

Got A Grip?

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Got A Grip? I just had one a minute ago
But it slipped away cunningly and awfully fast.
Sometimes when I think I have one by the balls
My firm grip becomes nothing. My spirit free falls.
How do I then recover from being downcast?
I learn what to hold on to. It’s worth it to know.

When I need a good grip I have learned to beware
Of those merchants who offer them at a cheap price.
Those unscrupulous bastards might sell me fake jaws
Then convince me to author, “For Whom the Tooth Gnaws.”
But my grip need not be some specific device.
It can be just an attitude – something like prayer.

I’ve a grip on my mission to know nothing more
Than whatever I’m interested in at the time.
I’ve a focus on clarity in my own way.
It provides me a vantage point from which to play
In a world where the contrast is somehow sublime.
I’ve a grip on just being my cause to explore.

Moral Compass

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What’s the Deal? Who’s the wise guy? Quit playing around!
Where the hell is that compass? I mean it this time.
Until now, it’s been kept in a high moral place.
I now realize, dear colleagues, that that’s not the case.
Giving full voice to racism, though not a crime,
Is the reason to make sure that compass is found.

We are all the king’s horses, and some, the king’s men
And our king is himself as a red horse’s ass.
When he kicks in his stable and scatters his hay
Many barn creatures high tail it rather than stay.
We’re The People. We make up the strong moral class
Who speak out when the king is deficient… again.

There’s no need for alarm. There is leadership still.
We shall guide one another by truth’s healing light.
We can pray for our kingdom, that we remain free.
We shall pray for our falling king that he may see
That there’s no place to go at the end of a fight.
He shall resign from office by popular will.

Just Live It!

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There is nothing to do with this life but just live.
There’s no sense in recording it for humankind.
Some may like viewing some of what I’m doing here.
I see creatures around me approach without fear
In my mind’s eye where dreams of the heart are refined
And where I realize I have plenty to give.

So, Just Live It, is wise and decisive advice
From oneself to oneself in the moment of truth.
There’s no rule book nor pattern nor Life Coach’s plan
That can guide me like my inner beingness can.
It’s a guidance that keeps me in touch with my youth.
Living free from condition can surely be nice.

I could be in denial that boredom has me
By my thin, short and curly follicular fuzz.
It could be I delight in not starting a fight
When the people around me would think that it’s right
To behave in whatever way everyone does
When in mas misalignment, we still can be free.

There’s A Spider In My Bathtub

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It’s a fact – I can’t tolerate spiders at all.
There’s no way on God’s green earth that I’ll get along
With a creature so ugly with long skinny legs.
It would be no less so if they were but just pegs.
I must kill the poor bastard, and that can’t be wrong.
It’s a lower life form, so that makes it my call.

And this house that I’m in is for me – not for them.
It is mine. By the will of my race it is done.
There’s no sub-human species that will replace me.
If I have to kill all of you black things, you’ll see
That my kind rules this world, and we have just begun
Our world war with all nature by way of mayhem.

I can’t stand to see spiders in my fine white space.
The mere thought of a spider sends chills up my spine.
My unconscious volition says, “Kill them on sight.”
I could rally and gather my kind by torch light.
If I die as I’m killing you, I’ll get the shrine.
I’m superior to you because of my race.

The Human Xenome

TheMagicRealist.com

Stop a bit for a rest here. There’s room for just you
And perhaps a few others whose asses fit well
In a seat that is child-wide with arm rests that slant
So that those who would think of reclining can’t.
Will our public park presence continue to smell?
Does the rest of the park think that we are a zoo?

On the other hand, who cares how others may feel?
We do things our own way. Our forefathers said so.
If confederate monuments obstruct the view
Of our moving past hatred, could this be a clue
They should stay there until all who love them will go
To the next life where no one here will hear them squeal?

As we take our last breath in this walk-around dream
We will care least for trinkets of causes and wars.
We will see that our broke bodies and our weak minds
Are of volatile matter wherein no one finds
Any spiritual solace. My witness is yours.
This fine park we partake of is temporal in theme.

A Clear and Present Past

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Could the end be much nearer than we had conceived?
Will it come and go quickly to someday return?
History does repeat itself just as our lies
That become bitter truths when oft’ one of us dies.
I know something of hate. I can’t say that I yearn
To feel that way most always. I’d be self-deceived.

It just takes so much energy to fuel a fight
That is destined to drain all my resources fast
As the day I was born with bright light in my eyes.
If that light stood for white, I’d secure my demise.
As the tainted tin soldier commands from the past
His platoon that are present commune by torch light.

I could play that game well. I have seen it before
And I took down good notes that I’d never forget.
But it seems I’ve forgotten them. Ain’t that a shame.
I could ad lib my hatred and beef up the blame.
But I realize my discord will turn to regret
In the long run. I value my peace of mind more.

The Weather Girl Thought that the Cameras Weren’t Rolling

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What amazing a profile the Weather Girl has
Whether sunny and bright or wet, cloudy and cold.
It’s a short presentation to tell what will come.
It’s a bit like astrology – nonsense to some.
It’s been said every Weather Girl does as she’s told
But this isn’t quite so if she likes modern jazz.

So what under the sun can a Weather Girl do
That would cause any moron to pucker the snout?
How one digests one’s media is akin to
How one wipes one’s behind when there’s not much to do.
To be entertained fully, we must check things out.
So I go watch the Weather Girl blooper on cue?

Take a chase for a glimpse of those fine body parts.
News is only a peep show. By moment we pay
For a flash of the headline and tons of bull fluff.
It’s astonishing how folks survive on that stuff.
But I’m just an old poet with too much to say.
So thank God for the morons, and God bless the arts.

The Articulomagnetic Outcrymeter

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The Magnetic Outcrymeter made its debut
With the dawn of humanity. It has evolved
To the point now where it can be relied upon
To inform us when faith in our guidance is gone.
It will help us to get any problem resolved.
When we read it correctly, we breathe life anew.

Today’s state of the art model features a way
to express as it measures the feelings in us.
It will send a strong signal from gut to the brain.
When it gets there then we can rejoice or complain.
When we mingle with others, we’re prone to discuss
All the joy and the turmoil that graces our day.

Simple joy is an outcry and strife is as well
Our pop songs and folk drama express this in ways
That enrich our awareness and strengthen our cause.
We concede it’s a universe governed by laws.
We give voice to our feelings throughout all our days.
We’re not meant to keep quiet. Our will is to tell.

All Is Well

TheMagicRealist.com

“All is well,” say the ones who are anchored in space
Free above seeming turmoil and climate affair.
From a vantage point vacant of rising degrees
Of innate social tensions that stir like the breeze,
Those who watch our world spinning say none can compare.
And, we cannot do harm to it. There’s too much grace!

“All is well,” say some good books and forces that be
Of a kind who are open to all that is good.
Those who tend to play life as a joyful game
And who hang out with others who do just the same
Are the ones to whom living is well understood.
I envision my life by how well I can see.

“All is well,” say the babies and children come here
From non-physical beingness. And from that place
They’d put forth their intentions. Their wills did decide
To take on this world fully with eyes open wide
To the truths that the old ones can no longer face.
They have come to teach us how to live without fear.

How I Feel Today Determines My Tomorrow

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If I’m feeling like crap today, that isn’t fair
To myself nor to anyone else in my world.
It’s my business to make sure that I clearly see
I must work on aligning my real self with me.
Every day is a blessing. I am never hurled
Into turmoil, indeed, with my focus elsewhere.

I must start by believing that things do work out
In a matter of time with no effort from me.
As I shift my attention from what is at hand
I can re-script today to be as I had planned.
With my mind in the right place, it’s easy to be
In alignment with self and resistant to doubt.

Self-awareness is virtue. It’s my saving grace.
And because it is mine, it is yours just the same.
If I should encounter you on my best days
My true brilliance could lift you. My love should amaze.
That does seem a bit lofty, but life is a game.
When I go for the high stakes, I fly like an ace.

I Am In Control of This Dream

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Things will seem as they seem. I’ve control of this dream.
There is not a thing in it that I cannot know.
Were I blind, I would know that the dream still exists.
All the space, time and substance within it consists
Of my own psychic energy pumped for a show.
Life’s a spiritual quest through a physical stream.

If I raise my left arm, I think others can too
But they’re not mine to witness. I imagine it.
And if I can imagine that my world is real
Everyone in my world has something to reveal
Though that thing be forthcoming, it’s oft’ not a fit
To what I may have conjured well in spite of you.

Everyone is in my dream as I am in theirs.
Every sense of reality can be compared
To the fine feathered flock who are as one in flight.
Every fowl of humanity weathers this night.
As this sleep waxes lucid with consciousness dared
This Great Dream becomes hopeful as everyone shares.

Pussy 4 Less

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What’s a fellow to do when he’s out for a screw
And the merchandise mingling is too highly priced?
Could one go undercover and act like a hoe
Then transfigure among them before they could know
That the fee they demand often feels like a heist?
Men should stand up and shout! That’s what righteous men do.

When I want some quick ass, I am prone to bypass
All the bullshit and trickery romance can yield.
Give me meat on the fly. I’m a fast-moving guy.
I will have my quick nookie – I will, do or die!
But I won’t pay a fortune to be aptly healed
Of my spurious passions that lead to impasse.

Bumping Ugly with someone you know can be fun.
There’s no payment involved but the time that it takes
To develop a nurturing, loving rapport.
But, like top brow tycoons, poor dudes want nothing more
Than some convenient action without the high stakes
As the threat of inflation affects everyone.

Will You Be Ready When the Moment Gets Romantic?

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Do you feel Springtime Fresh when the bleeding time comes?
Is your FICA score less than abysmal these days?
Do those stubborn cum stains on your sheets make you cry?
Do you curse at your neighbors and wish they’d all die?
Do not worry your nuts off. The world has its ways
Of addressing most symptoms through beats of its drums.

Dirty rings around collars and in toilet bowls
Is a menace this brave world could well do without.
When the air in life’s bedroom becomes hot and stale
There is always the sports channel. Life does prevail.
Does your body lie turning and tossing about
Through the night due to fear for the fate of our souls?

Leave that chewing gum off the bed post for tonight.
The dickhead who first thought of that ought to be shot.
That is, if he is living – if not, then reborn
That his germy ideas be subject to scorn.
Does your backbone betray you when you cop a squat?
Take a pain pill. Then everything will be alright.

YOUR PAYMENT !!

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Yo, GET BACK TO ME ASAP, you ignorant fool!
I’ve been sending you emails for weeks! Are you there?
I’m obliged to know why you’ve not contacted me.
We have nine point nine million that you’ll never see
Unless you reply promptly. I don’t want to swear,
But a fish that’s not biting is way less than cool.

I am Miss Mildred Stenchfinch, Ambassador to
The Nigerian Designate in charge of wills.
Someone has kicked the bucket and left you a load.
Don’t you want to grab hold of this fortune you’re owed?
You could use it to jerk off, then pay all your bills.
I am looking for someone dull headed to screw.

Now, you are a fine one, but you’ve got to respond.
Lord knows fucking with people is diligent work.
So, Get Back To Me, dimwit. Indulge in my scheme.
Getting tons of free cash should be every fool’s dream.
Please respond to me, dear. I am not one to irk.
We are quite busy here with much wealth to abscond.

Can I Trust You.. ??

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Heartfelt Greetings, Dear Sir/Madam, Bless You This Day!
It’s my pleasure and great honor to contact you.
I implore you to take the time to read this well.
You’ll determine my fate – whether heaven or hell.
If you’re skeptical, I understand. I am too.
I have much less to do than who I must portray.

I am Engineer Ruhullah Zafer Hadid
From the Syrian Arab Republic of Pause.
And apart from your being quite rightly surprised,
Know my gratefulness cannot be over disguised.
I was Finance Consultant; the key word is ‘was.’
Now I’m rich beyond measure, yet mine isn’t greed.

I am seeking your help to dispense you some wealth.
It is quite a large sum. I must give it away
To some fine, trusted moron. I hope this is you.
There’s no future in begging, so this gig is new.
Do get back to me soon. ISIS may ruin my day.
Surely that would be bad for your financial health.

 

Attention Beneficiary

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May the peace of the savior be with you, my dear.
I am sure that this message arrives at a time
You’re surprised at its coming to reach you just now.
I’m the Financial Minister of the Cash Cow
That is on loan from India. There’s been no crime.
If you want your jackpot, come and get it right here.

As the Central Bank Barrister, I speak to you
As the in-between nitwit in charge of your case.
Since the usual asshole has run out of steam
I have taken his place so things stay as they seem.
So, get back to me, sweetheart. I’d love to embrace
Every part of your bank account leaving no clue.

Our own Chief Representative Bereavement Bro
Has been crying his heart out on behalf of you.
There’s an ATM card being held in your care.
But in order to get it, you need not beware.
We just need lots more info. Please send it all to
Our Head Phishing Headquarters whose friend is your foe.

Aftermath

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Aftermath there is physics; for some, it’s fine arts.
All our children are taught they’ve some measure of choice
In whatever they chose to learn or hope to be.
We could leave them alone. That’s the best way to see
Children’s true heart’s desires expressed in their voice.
If we let them be free, that is where genius starts.

Aftermath is a concept just like math alone.
It’s abstract and concrete all at once anytime
It is used or is studied by scholars worldwide
Who make use of its usefulness with certain pride.
Surely math as a concept to some is sublime
Because well it does model most things that are known.

Aftermath there’s the matter of reaching high goals.
When there’s stiff competition, the pressure gets tough.
Aftermath third world countries’ kids put ours to shame.
Should some think tank take notice? Should someone cast blame?
It’s a myth that our kids are not doing enough.
They will fashion their own world and also their roles.

Tesla’s Off-Grid Multivibrator

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Watch This Video NOW! You will cry tears of pee!!
There’s a Great Big-Assed Secret we’re living to share.
You are being sucked dry by the Power Grid folk.
Get your asses in gear, people. This is no joke!
We are telling you this because we really care
That you get your electric through us nearly free.

This is the real thing. This is not like those cheap
South Sumatran Sun Cells that those other guys sell.
This one’s not like the Meat Motor with the rawhide
And it’s not like the Lip Laser electrified.
It’s our plan for peak power – a bat out of hell
To take full charge of people whose pockets run deep.

Every reason to fear is why we are so dear
In convincing you you need to make your move NOW!
If you don’t take advantage, our offer won’t last.
You don’t want to let time pass and be the outcast.
So get out the old credit card. Manage, somehow,
To prepare for your fleecing. Then we’ll disappear.

When To Fondle Your Lug Nuts Is Not Mine To Know

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It may be that your lug nuts are hot to the touch.
If this happens too often, then it’s a sure sign
That there’s too much heat passed to them through those brake shoes.
So, lay off that break petal, friend, you’re bound to lose.
But if that’s not the problem, you might be just fine.
Though, it could be the tranny or maybe the clutch.

Say you don’t have a stick shift? Then don’t mind my last.
You may think that I’m guessing, but that’s not the truth.
If those lug nuts are hot, you might give this a try –
Throw some cold water on them. They could be just shy
As they’re caught greasy-threaded by such a hand sleuth
Who is keen to take notice to heat they’ve amassed.

Don’t sneak up on your lug nuts as they do their thing.
I don’t think you would like it were that done to you.
Lug Nuts do have some sense of whenever they’re felt.
Just remind them you care for them. They’ve never dealt
With someone who will feel them just out of the blue.
Do those lug nuts a flavor. Let them have their fling.

A Brim and Lucid Catatonia

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Derelict is the course that world powers could take
To resolve its own problems despite common sense.
There’s a heat wave this summer through much of the land.
With a tyrant in office, hell seems rather bland.
It’s a sick world that needs megatons of defense.
All in all, they would give our fine earth a remake.

Since the changing of office, we’ve lost all respect
For most folks in positions that formerly meant
They were safe from abuse by the power that be.
Now, the souls of good servants are trashed by decree.
Times can surely get hot as we make our descent
Through a bottomless pit with no soul to protect.

That’s a fairly bleak picture seen only through eyes
Who are not in connection with their healing heart.
There’s a world that is out there. It is what it does
By its acts that are current and come from what was.
My world and the ‘real’ world are lightyears apart.
I cannot be affected. My heart rarely cries.

Let’s Connect!

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When the mood switches on, there’s more pole for the throw
And the course of source energy takes a new path.
There’s a circuitry present in all living things
That does light up the life and tug at the heart strings.
One will skip the old shower and opt for a bath.
When one’s energized fully, the World Can’t Not Know!

If Don Juan had placed focus on apple tree seeds
He’d have taken to sciences – not to the arts.
There would be fewer stories prepared just for those
Who delight in exciting, provocative prose.
The strong call from the heat source is where it all starts.
We are elegant means for fulfilling our needs.

When connecting is fun, then new life has begun.
There’s a joy that is present and lasts for a while.
Any while can be short or it can be quite long
But whatever the length, it can’t do the heart wrong…
That is if we have managed our free-flowing style.
Our most electric feelings are second to none.

Anapestic Tetrameter

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I’m a Poet!  Do Know It… or don’t – I don’t mind.
That’s your God Given business. Mine is to ensure
That I make myself known through most elegant verse.
I would call that poetic. You may call it worse.
But that doesn’t deter me. My motive is pure.
I will teach you what you see here, since I am kind.

So first off, there is meter, to cadence each line
With four groups of three syllables carefully placed.
Each small group of three syllables is called a foot.
And this foot is an Anapest. Sometimes they’re put
In a neat foursome link with no syllabic waste.
Tetra-metric an Anapest makes my line shine.

Anapestic Tetrameter – That’s what this is!
There’s no sense in my proving it. Look With Your Eyes.
Were I black and a rapper, I would be well known.
But I’m black and a Poet; I go it alone.
As my talent may come, to some, as a surprise,
I do hope you’re well-schooled with no need for a quiz.

The Dick Whisperer

TheMagicRealist.com

Only music can soothe the wild arrogant beast
As it rises, though basketed in nature’s weave.
There’s no mind in the toilet, here. I speak with grace.
And I wouldn’t be caught with such egg on my face.
There are blatant life substances that we perceive
Also subtler energies we know the least.

When the dance that goes on, as the music is played,
Does approach living rigor, the stage is well set.
The dance, having triggered an elegant trance,
May program men for anything – even romance.
With dick under control, it then poses no threat.
The strong will becomes languid. Response is delayed.

It requires a skilled one to play music well.
No matter of fact out ranks this simple one.
One’s control of the beast must be constant and sharp.
If not careful, one could end up playing the harp.
This is The Dick Whisperer’s idea of fun.
For the beast, though, it could be a version of hell.

Don’t Band Aid Your ‘Check Engine’ Light

TheMagicRealist.com

Don’t abandon your stark raving “check engine” light.
It is there to inform you that something’s gone wrong.
If you do not take care of the issue at hand
There’s a chance that your journey will not go as planned.
You’ll be stuck on the highway and with a sad song.
So do mind your reminder. It knows what is right.

Our guts are our engines. They burn refined fuel.
They’re immersed in a mettle of well-tempered will.
They embellish our movement. The have a keen sense.
They will tell us what’s wrong with us at no expense.
If we simply ignore them, we risk a standstill
Of our lives moving forward in constant renewal.

If alone on the highway, pull off to the side.
Take a breath of fresh air and pop open the hood.
Check to see if that engine has all that it needs
To transport you in safety and at ample speeds.
Take the time to attend to things you know you should.
If you make that your habit, then life’s a smooth ride.

It Is NOT My Work To Convince You

TheMagicRealist.com

Source is no high-level marketing scheme
Where abundance below goes to one at the top.
Life is not a game plan on a dry erase board
Where the product and business become Holy Lord
And the bright billboard face is the mask one can’t drop
Because when it does happen, it’s bad for the team.

It is not my work to convince you of things.
I enjoy all the freedom of letting you live.
Everyone has one’s game plan yet all are one team.
It’s a wake-up call when things are not as they seem.
We have total access to all life can give.
Whatever we ask for, Source certainly brings.

I can make my decisions about what I want
And set out to create my own experience.
I allow all my fellows to do just the same.
Life’s a wonderful journey as well as a game.
And to try to convince you just doesn’t make sense.
Life’s vacation from somethingness is a cool jaunt.