Poem: The Future

At bottom is a gulf between, each and every

soul bent apart, twisted pygmy, reading eyelids

inner night vision, grasping hopeless horror

overlong listing in slumber, bored building blocks

bastardize violence, besmirch baritone drawls

deeply resonant, like a tuning

fork in the throat, bleeding us empty, helpless

plaintiff stemming with chopsticks, humanity falls away

in modern times, naught to be done.


OR, the holy 2-letter bite size

spit bubble, opening trapdoor politics with a hammer

sickle and sinister thought, rising tides horizon

settling a score as old as time, versus confusion

fakery, swat the flies, kill the beasts, trample the protestors

on the capitol steps, as do what thou wilt

is the only law, if you can afford it, that is

factual forces farm, blood fertilizing the soil

with souls of sinners, we will dance, hopefully.

Poem: The Future

Poem: Metronome

My name is death to traitors, and I cluster in the sun

with warriors and goggle-eye gangsters down for the fight,

ready to write the wrongs on pamphlets and show them

to everyone grabbing guns, emerging as the infinite army

maybe, so after the rules are even keeled and correctly directed

our army will flourish and crush oppressors into bad memory.


The king is dead, trumpets cheer fireworks, blood and bullets,

we will call this a death party for the backwash bossmen

because we know we’ll never see them again, not on top

anyway, or up from behind for their ideas have no traction

in the world they’ve created, or so we thought.


Corruption eats its own tale, horrifying instructions

of how to topple a dictatorship, read rule number one,

find a hero and raise him because the people will hear

what I tell them and nothing more, for revolutions must be

controlled to be effective, directed to be power force fortune..

Poem: Metronome

Poem: Cycle Gaming

During the war, we loved the game

constricting bedsheets were standard issue

but at night, we frolicked among the corpses

playing blood censor and giggling again


grab the rifle, click their icons through the sight

the more we kill the more we die, so fuck it we die tonight


Anniversary fireworks lit the night alive

we kept still, each thinking it was over

proclaimed victory was poison metastasis

oppression is the devil’s eyes, glaring back at us


no no no is the leader we fight, he has bills to pay

so double down, we kill them all tomorrow today


revolution number two, slot machine politics

betting the future on a coin flip lever pull

the power to the people, consensus is solution

we figured it out and wrote it down in blood


it’s not perfect, for fear-frenzied falsehearts lead

pushers liars and cheats, don’t trust their seeds


those seductive grandstanders podium settle

my father fought, the bright revolution bla bla bla

and all their words disguise the world in tettered shrouds

the poor are starving and rising, a voice to raise them comes


a shining army of justice, frankincense and myrrh

keep on going straight, and we are where we were

Poem: Cycle Gaming