Poem: History

Scribbled secret notebook pages, hastily hunt and pecked, hen by Demon

Shakespeare Rattle brand cough syrup, a writer in reposing horror, eyes wide

open, Hemingway’s it all the way home man, like lynching a bar fly

for no good reason, film forms on my lips, being expelled for smoking

in the teacher’s lounge, manifesting my O’s and Q’s, as well as the twenty

four more, to craft a meaning for living and dying, by the billions

if the wind breaks right, humanity will happen, but now it’s too late

to save us, from ourselves we must escape, defending old minds

from the horror of now, of what we’ve done, is the only way to make sure

that they suffer too, which is only fair, capitulating the vibrations.

Poem: History

Poem: Inevitable War

Blink with a whoosh and a rise up, doom leads the way looming, and it’s not like we don’t all know,

facing it in the sun and wash ourselves in the “oh well.”  Bisecting processions of misunderstandings,

no one owes or pays like ever, really.  Nihilism is my birth stone, and I’m adorned with dirt and tatters,

but perish and cherish, the shadow creator, you’ll terrace it all in a day or two.  My head stays dry,

understand that we don’t always know how we got where we are, just remember it’s pointless and,

dot dot dot you know, pointlessly pointed and dangerous deadly, and I just have to remember that.

 

But remember what?  Remember that?  Screw that it’s not, because tables have corners and good’s to be had,

kiss your best girl, make her a disco ball and see what happens.  Jab, center point, elbow intent, comrade gain,

capital G in the house, makin’ it like you didn’t know it could, and yeah maybe it’s not really him.  So scream us,

punctuate longing and it’s not a thing, nothing motionless exists at all.  God is motionless, that’s the whole thing.

 

I ask, how can you just stop wanting?

 

Chuckle little thing, snapping your fingers and twiddling a reed in your teeth, crossing your shins,

not a whisper seed concept possibly, none of it man is what the kids call me, freedom personified,

ready for all every of nothing.  It’s path is a memory-eraser, and who cares if shit is free, it’s shitty,

tyrant rise from ashes full afire, every wasted sentence will stick, sickness of a rush compact air,

the world waving plague tides, freedom sentences harshly, and punishment falls like raindrops,

so find the disciple within, steel him to the coming trials, and be the key, but more than likely not

 

Probably?  Is that what we’re saying?  Destiny Press Your Luck, Deal Howie and then laugh or cry depending,

knowledge of ignorance noxious stink tail, seeing eyes peer monopoly fractals, from and at every of every all,

sight is not vile, to be met with pancake batter, but sharded sharp-edge.  A samurai aim precisely pricked up,

point focus falter, as all else shatters and peppers the air, time is study, remaking cameras following my every.

 

You answer, why would you ask?

Poem: Inevitable War