Why A Poem Never Belongs to The Author

Vengence, unguarded, has all but been abandoned. Anger, the burning coals the buddha talked about, drop them. See their sparks as they grind into the Earth, then darken into nothing. No time like the present, no fear but the accented. This is where I should always be, yet it means nothing when you stay stagnent.Continue reading “Why A Poem Never Belongs to The Author”

Art in Our Times, a poem

Art in Our Times Piss poor excuse for a joke, All the un-ironic irony in real life. I have always said it, Life is a parody of the self, We live in Chaplin’s Modern Times, We are the machines, And the proles. We are wheels, Turning and obedient to the driver, Circle after circle, LoopContinue reading “Art in Our Times, a poem”

Soul and Pain, a poem

Soul and Pain. Here we are again, A dying planet and a line of willful morons Humping their hands while complaining about the better sex. No game, and they won’t shut up about it. Our so called leaders are afraid to lead Because they might not be leaders anymore if they do. Complacency is saferContinue reading “Soul and Pain, a poem”

Soul and Pain, a poem

Soul and Pain. Here we are again, A dying planet and a line of willful morons Humping their hands while complaining about the better sex. No game, and they won’t shut up about it. Our so called leaders are afraid to lead Because they might not be leaders anymore if they do. Complacency is saferContinue reading “Soul and Pain, a poem”

Cruel Reality, a poem for our times

Cruel Reality A classic song screams out through my radio, “We won’t get fooled again!” Unless we don’t pay attention in history class, Or worse, when we don’t bother to ask any questions. Yet soft, Do not let your words enable “deconstruction.” Fight on weirdos, fight on freaks, Fight on. Stanza 2, the part whereContinue reading “Cruel Reality, a poem for our times”

The Artist Is The Revolutionary

The Artist as the Revolutionary Art for art’s sake was the most selfish and lazy philosophy ever defended. Art for art’s sake, is lazy. Art is an available tactic, a potential means to the ends of revolution. Art that only exists for itself is selfish. Art is a means, a means of production, and allContinue reading “The Artist Is The Revolutionary”

False Flags, a socialist poem

False flags, Do they wrap the coffins of martyrs in fake news? Dying children, Pipe bombs and alienated labor, all because of misinformation. Get help or get a gun but only turn it on yourself. Life is not black and white but our options sure are. The literary gatekeepers say they want “edge.” They wantContinue reading “False Flags, a socialist poem”

Three Napkins I Scribbled My Soul On

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”

What good is a broken man?

What an era to be alive. Yet how can one call living with no dignity living? Crawling on knees to get to a safe place to release your bowels, Begging from mercy from an overweight class traitor with shit aim Only to get 6 bullets in the back. For a cell phone. Can it beContinue reading “What good is a broken man?”

My Recent Car Wreck; Trauma Will Not Win

Like many young writers who play the professional game I picked up a part time job for some extra cash and experience to keep my resume flowing while I still look for the door to kick in and put my foot. I started canvassing for rent control in the city of Sacramento and felt wonderfulContinue reading “My Recent Car Wreck; Trauma Will Not Win”

March 1, 2017

Fool said, “I am fool.” Another said, “I am not!” They were the true fool.

O Captain My Captain 2 : NOT MY CAPTAIN!

O Mutiny! Our Mutiny! Our fearful trip begun. The ship of state may sink, we must save all we have won. The port is far, but the people still stalling, While following lies and Satan’s deal, our hell grim but people calling; But o heart! Heart! Heart! O! The bleeding piss yellow head, Where onContinue reading “O Captain My Captain 2 : NOT MY CAPTAIN!”