Behind Closed Doors, A Poem

More goes on behind closed doors Than you shall ever know. Yes, corruption and malfeasance But that is not what I mean. Behind closed doors, An abused partner cries. Behind closed doors A child’s dream is denied, Because Mommy got fired. Behind closed doors A young man cleans up his Grandmother’s urine Just like sheContinue reading “Behind Closed Doors, A Poem”

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”

What Place Do The Artists Have in Revolution? A Poem

What Place Do The Artists Have in Revolution? PRODUCE! Must produce content! For fame, For a following, Quite literally and painfully so, thanks to the stench of both words. To produce is to manufacture, To manufacture is to produce. The workers are the ones who produce, So the artists, the writers, the creators, we areContinue reading “What Place Do The Artists Have in Revolution? A Poem”

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”

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.

Habit, a poem

Habit, my old friend, Or are you my enemy? You say habit I hear “monotony.” Someone else says it, And I hear “addiction.” Habit, you could make me a great man Or you could cause me to self destruct. Habit, you are helpful, But you can also be cruel. Habit, you be what I tellContinue reading “Habit, 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”

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”

We, a socialist poem

We make the profits. We starve. We make the wealth. We starve. We make you rich. We starve. We are promised rewards. We starve. We are isolated. We starve. We march. We are fed. We rally. We are fed. We have the guillotine. We win. 3/15/19

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”

Commodity, You Are Not Your Surplus Value (a Socialist poem about humanity)

Commodity Everything from the human spirit to dignity has become a commodity. Oceans boil, Flowers wilt, And blood is spilled everywhere. We hold the wrong people to the worst scrutiny, and we continue to masterbate ourselves with patriotism. Commodities, Our time, Our minds and training, Just means to our bosses ends, only because they haveContinue reading “Commodity, You Are Not Your Surplus Value (a Socialist poem about humanity)”