Courage Is The Sweetest Lullaby, a poem

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”

The Teacher As The Poet, a poem

The Teacher As The Poet Content’s production, Ease of mind and constant rush, Narcotic ease, And still the voices don’t stop. Stagnation is a creative mind’s enemy, as is cowardice. We are our words, our letters and symbols. Intentions mean nothing when they fail, Yet success is still a subjective term. I am responsible forContinue reading “The Teacher As The Poet, a poem”

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”

Wanna Be Socrates, a poem

Dull, now babbles some wanna-be Socrates. A Plato of the non- existent preverbal page. An awkward stammer and pause gone about with forced emotion. So forced that it has no force, no power, gone and now at rest, deserving non of its fake praise. Lofty lust, and more incoherent babbles and rambles in the nameContinue reading “Wanna Be Socrates, 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.

It’s Wrong When It Stops Being Fun, A Poem

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”

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”

The Hopeless Radical, a poem

A fearful night, and a burned bridge freshly smolders. Such is the life of a hopeless radical. Less sexy than a hopeless romantic, but more useful than a hopeless idealist. Two are ideal hands of the state, whose hands when pressed against us create our struggle. Our struggle, Our political struggle. The hopeless radical knowsContinue reading “The Hopeless Radical, a poem”

Woulda, Coulda, Shoulda – A poem for a dying planet

Would have, Could have, Should have. These words which only pay lip service to memory and potential and attribute cause to regret Serve no purpose but to hinder us As our world decays. We owe it to ourselves, To our living legacies still too young to fend for themselves, We owe it to them toContinue reading “Woulda, Coulda, Shoulda – A poem for a dying planet”

The Poet as The Revolutionary

The Poet as the Revolutionary The poet as a revolutionary is an all too common trope. So what happened? Where did they all go? Where are the poets and lyrics and bards who can spark the imagination of a generation to end the segregation and the era of hate. The poet as revolutionary, A commonContinue reading “The Poet as The Revolutionary”

People Can Be Products, A Socialist Poem

People Can Be Products Who are we but products? Products of our time and place? Dare what questions are such to be asked? Asked and then asked again! Trivial though it be, meaning is always the goal, the objective, the end. Are we just products? Products of anger, reaction, of hate, Or are we somethingContinue reading “People Can Be Products, A Socialist Poem”

Power is a Predator (a socialist poem about living in the colonialist, racist patriarchy)

Power is a Predator Escape is never possible, For a mind that never shuts off. Constant and endless flow, Ideas upon ideas, Questions arising ever second. Existence is not a question, It never was. Existence simply is, And survival is the question. How do you survive, When the powers are your predator? So many neverContinue reading “Power is a Predator (a socialist poem about living in the colonialist, racist patriarchy)”