Poetry: Philosophy Volume 4

Swelling like good songs, Strummer gone acoustic

spanish optimism, calming a steady breeze

curling inwards, patter past the pit

in your gut still clouds bang horizon

darkness towers forever

over us, all of us, struggle sharply instinctual

suicide, when it’s hard red eyes

frozen by the beat, clear blue

shattered with a ball peen

strike at the center mass, nothing of a cushion

underneath, shards will rain

over everyone on both sides

opposite the split, the river will run

red as the sclera screeching

from the blood shot, unplug in emergency

if at all like this, they’ve won already.

 

But they haven’t a knowing smirk

painted left to right like a comet trail

in the dawn light over the plain, booming a shattering

pulse throughout all reality, it seemed at the time

or must have had I been there, overconfidence

shaky fencepost complicit swaying

this and that, hesitance may be

a symbol of the soul or time ravaging

footprints in the sand, showing the way

enlightenment presents to us

going in circles, seeing blank horizon

everywhere forever on, footpads placing

pleasantly in the sand, it is warm

sustaining hilarious resonant contemplation.

Poetry: Philosophy Volume 4

Poem: Ring the Bell

It’s fight day, today

in the sun we’re roasting and anticipating

a bloodbath, packed in a blender

set to spray the walls with guts, screaming out the names

of our gods and loved ones, plaintiff

under the rolling pin

of progress, undirected asphalt sovereign

lords of deafness, under their hoods

we see the glowing eyes

are hypnotic, sticking us

with the bill, none are an ally

of any dead men pulling, permanent casino fixtures

glimpse hope as impossible.

 

I can see the hatch, above so small

to crawl through a crack

seems death down, to the core

of everyone, but they beg our pardon

telling to try again, once more to the breach

dear friends depart, clanking the shutters

down over the exit hole, glimpse the opponent

in the eyes, looking through

the mirror and me, locked in savage

combat of love

music art making,

Poem: Ring the Bell