cyclops

A vision quest cyclops
Imagination limited
Even three eyes functioning wouldn't change a thing
I want to writhe like a snake in the ocean
Under cover of shaded storm clouds
Want to score with truthful emotions
Not run the clock out
A toast to broken friendships
A naked pain
A throwback to wayward shrapnel
Bathed between acidic drops
Cinematic dis-association
Carnage detachment
Live on screen for our amusement
Nothing will be regained
Nothing
Nothing will be revered
Nothing
Nothing will be the sum total of your podium pronouncements
Nothing will be the aggregate of therapy hours logged
The rock hard bottom shall provide the basis for your perpetual fibrosis

A Sadist Manifesto

Paint the strip with blood
Paint the stage with feat
Paint the block in death and let them choke
When the image blurs
When the cameras make you seasick
When the scenes deleted air and you can't help but view
Acid wind blows
Dangerous mammals meet it
Breed the infected air
Purchase and eat the abuse
Moments tattered searing conscience gaps
Concrete tumours parse the litany
Raining razors lick the surface grooves
Data entry in the exit wound
Pageant servants bleat their tolerance
Infant barells  help to integrate
We like our deities neatly shaven
We love our violence clean and remote
The fear of fragility threads the shrapnel noose
Assuage the entity
Perform and Reproduce

Doing The Work

Switch the roles/Switch the power/Beyond the binary/always on/but in a million different constellations/Each full of care and love/The sensual in primacy/soaring/dipping/exploring the edges/seeking expansion of our possibility of what this means/speak from my experience/Not beyond it/Set the safety/to find the danger/That shows us to ourselves/The security to be/spontaneous/present/essential/nothing else/tender vitality transient and forever/We can aspire to be more than a memory of our brightest selves.

sheaves

The grass is growing and the happy bellies

The seasons of harvest and plenty are close at hand

The next notables are in gestation

Legacy after legacy incubating

And my friends have no use for me now

As their occupations multiply, nourished at the mortar root

The piled sheaves are depleting and these distortions are longer a happy wasteful product

Seasons have come and passed and the scripts persist

Some things fall apart, some stick and in the schism I exist

And my friends have no need of me; they never did, reclining on their porches, watching the sun set

Whilst I have so much need of them

single file sentinel

Assume the rhetoric of the Single file Sentinel

Crowd control make over Discipline punish

Paper envelopes below standard operation

Missing privacy prevents progress

Hearts bleed for the poverty of the man on the radio

Choosing to forget the wealth of those sired

Parallel Talks where the Faces Repeat

One more for the Per Diem Carousel

Single Spark through undergrowth

Release projectile Lesson Manifest

Standby Assets Stand reduced

Day by Day Plastic Pallet Hellos

Networked Isolation

Circuits Blown Switches thrown

and no escape

Tarpaulin Currency

Shipped in pale chariots

Ghostly topping up their bronze

Gold Compress Black soon Blue

And the graves stay unmarked

And the innards exhale

Orange gurney expiration

 Another round for the Laminate Crusaders

Thinking too much

Or too little

Not moved to sever the stifling cord

Symbols on thighs might signpost

The synthesis that fuses and negates

These prickly contradictions

See Demons

I’d do it again

Because I can

And a million more like me

Would do exactly the same

Put me in a uniform

Give me a hood

Show me the history of honor and blood

Give me a scapegoat

Feed me the fear

Make me the weapon

We all desire

For my arrogance is no longer enough

There is no security in the privilege of hate

I need to see demons to eliminate

Keep me righteous

Keep me pure

That I can stand tall on backs once more

When the wind changes

Apples go bad and wolves are alone

But a million more remain

And a million thereafter each generation until further notice

This skin has to mean something after all

Liberty and Justice for all (of US)

Surely not an accident a gift

Of centuries passed in domination

Dehumanization

Exploitation

Construction of a virility untouched

Enlightened bathed in the wisdom of a continent

Which matured in the blood and faeces of the poor, the tortured

Surely not that

Because if they remembered and passed that pain on

The descendants of those poor could not become a scared, hooded, uniformed weapon after all

Could not see every Black Woman as a succubus

Every Black Man as a demon

But would see everywhere mirrors into the ravaged wastelands of our souls

And in our millions, though one by one, could grasp the irony and the cruelty in there

And wrench the evil life from them

Because we couldn’t do it again

Not after this

Never again

Could we?

Tibalt Was an Honest Man

Is he a bridge builder?

Not with these hands

Picking at scabs

Bare feet on shaded sand

Thinking Tibalt was an honest man

Tibalt was an honest man

Is he a priest?

Not with that past

Gazing mid distance

Eyes playing on dead cars

Thinking Tibalt was an honest man

Tibalt was an honest man

Is she a healer?

Not with those tools

Delving into hornet’s nests

Grasping for lost jewels

Tibalt was an honest man, an honest man

A man who let his hate define his speech; his commitment, his pride steer his course

Self destructive mission

A lesson, a mission walking, smoldering

A bastard who never said “I Love Peace.”