Courage Is The Sweetest Lullaby Fear not your lions, And constrain yourself upon the unsightly sounds of this date of sorrow. Do but construct, And constrain, For the winter’s winds are but lost by the summer sun. The nymphs of the seasons do hold their treasons so, Be not the character of perpetual woe. RainsContinue reading “Courage Is The Sweetest Lullaby, a poem”
A remix/sequel to Shakespeare’s classic.
The Earth cannot sustain an inherently unsustainable economic system. Our only option is socialism.
A wise man once said “It’s wrong when it stops being fun.” Well, I have to ask myself, has it? Has pining over the right word and cadence lost its spark? What, except the dark cloud that seeps its invisible cloak on my psyche, Keeps me from putting all for the gods and earthly kindContinue reading “It’s Wrong When It Stops Being Fun, A Poem”
How else will you get into the coffee shop? You’ll have to step over me. A lump or a mound of garbage, To you that is what I appear to be.
On September 18, 2018 the police in Sacramento hosted a statewide Cop Expo. When Sacramento Sheriff Scott Jones learned that Black Lives Matter would be picketing their event, he encouraged white supremacist counter protesters to come out, putting the lives of Black Lives Matter organizers and supporters at risk. Organizers and supporters of BLM tookContinue reading “The Professional Protester | Episode 43 | Police hold Cop Expo on Six Month Anniversary of Stephon Clark’s Murder, BLM demands accountability”
Rebels Lead The March of History! Do not forget, It was the rebels who brought forth our days! And do not forget, the people who learned, But got little praise. Stupid is a condition, Ignorance a choice, So stop the idiotic voice. So cheers to the rebels, Who died for our better days! And peaceContinue reading “Rebels Lead The March of History (a poem)”
I try to avoid the whole personality cult thing, but I have to say it is so cool to hear him actually speak. Trotsky was right about many things, wrong about some, but right about most. 😉
Recently as I was filing my chaotic pile of notes that clog my writing desk I came across three napkins with sporadic red sharpie on it. I remembered that last summer I was at a huge party to see a friend’s band. In a fit of something I have yet been able to describe withContinue reading “Three Napkins I Scribbled My Soul On”
Mister Pence Started to wince, when he heard them scream, With a stupid air, He did not care Who he killed with HIV.