Reading A Book Alone In The Redwood Forrest, a poem

Reading a book alone in the Redwood Forrest On the observational scale, I do sit here in the redwoods in lotus pose, with a copy of Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance on a stack of logs next to me. What is the catch? Is that but the paranoid disillusionment of the redneck hippiesContinue reading “Reading A Book Alone In The Redwood Forrest, a poem”

So Many (A life Well Lived) a poem

So many tears, So many years, So many fears, So many beers. So many jokes, So many tokes. So many drugs, So many hugs. So much pain, So much gain. These are the things to live for, So many things, And so many more.

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”

What is Socialist Art?

Despite being written a century ago, Leon Trotsky’s Literature and Revolution offers us insight as to how we can incorporate art into a socialist culture.

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”

What Is Art’s Place In The Revolution? An Essay

I was in the midst of writing a new essay for this blog titled “What is Socialist Art?” which is going to be a review and response to Leon Trotsky’s Literature and Revolution. The book offers an incredible degree of insight into what the effects of class revolution can be on poetry, literature, and art.Continue reading “What Is Art’s Place In The Revolution? An Essay”

Poetry’s Place in the Revolution: The Rant of a Socialist Poet

God fucking cock sucking mother fucking damnit! Quite a poetic opening am I right? Yes a bit blunt but to be honest I am in a foul mood. I started off the year strong by getting published twice in one month, but ever since June it has been a series of pitches and rejection letters.Continue reading “Poetry’s Place in the Revolution: The Rant of a Socialist Poet”

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”

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”

Limmerick For Colombus

In Fourteen Hundred and Ninty Two Colombus sailed the ocean blue. He raped and killed As much as he willed and white people know this to be true.