Source: Spiff via Wikipedia
Silence the jittery critter.
Ride the dullness down
to where images bubble.
In that blurry dimness
one feels their logic,
but shine the mind’s light
and all sense shatters —
scattering,
dissolving into shadows
without a trace.
Leaving only the dull ache of betrayal
that, as in a dream,
something so absurd and fragile
could feel so wise.
There’s a molecule I just inhaled
that’s known a bit of nastiness.
Sighed by a dying Jesus.
Swept around the planet
every two weeks since.
It’s swirled in the eddies of a bomb casing —
barreling toward annihilation.
It’s nourished dictators,
and drowned martyrs.
Landing on a blade of grass,
outside a storehouse of inhumanity,
biding it’s time to atrocity.
It knows no regret,
nor the error of its ways.
Riding my hemoglobin will not redeem it,
of that I can be certain.
Source: NIH
flip the switch
the lights go out
but for random flashes and flickers
playing pieces of your past
shuffled into unrecognizable dream stills
like lightning illuminating
and old farmyard
a flash…
a monster appears on the horizon
a flash…
the monster is bigger
with each flash the monster looms larger
but it’s not getting bigger
it’s getting closer
when it’s no longer a silhouette
when it has features
all hope will be lost
bamboo copse
groans in subtle wind
no space between
crows rule
the bamboo arch
over the road
bamboo grove
carpeted in grainy beige
alien landscape
plastic cup
gripped in crow’s beak
frat boy style
pink blossoms
will soon bleed onto
bamboo pollen
dreams, my friend, are lost on you
you think them false when they are true
you think them true when they are truer
you think them from a subconscious sewer
you feed your monsters, but make them ride alone
then can’t tell the imposters when they’re full-grown
they say that nature outstrips nurture
and the seeker outwits the searcher
but who can know such things
turrets turned as tires burned
forming a cloak of jet black smoke
oh hell! oh hell! for a tank shell
will pass right through, belching smoke of its own like a chimney flue
and when the wall is blown apart, and spall flies as from a cart of darts
I’ll long for naught, just I thought, while I wonder just what man hath wrought
Cubes of sand
Tumble on a tiny scale
Scouring history
Camel lurches
Only in a land of sand
could it kneel
Grain of sand
Do you miss the sea
from whence you came?
Bleached bones
Sandblasted lopsided
How will you go?
Wind blown
zebra stripes in the sand
Nature’s echo
Dubai
1.) Toss open a bag of words.
2.) Dance said words into a configuration in which they sprout a feeling.
3.) Shake vigorously until the detritus that detracts from feeling falls away.
4.) Read aloud.
5.) Shake some more.
6.) READ – SHAKE – REPEAT
Source: National Endowment for the Arts
by Gustave Dore (via Wikipedia)
Madmen on the march
Clones de la Mancha
Pouring through the arch
Lacking lingua franca
Seeking common thrills
An army of sham knights
Tilting at windmills
With more pride than fight
It’s not a sickness of the brain
that scripts this lunatic life.
It’s chasing the sanction of “sane”
that breeds this stream of strife.
[Note: A poem on the hilarity of defining sanity as the recognition of reality. As if any of us knows what’s real in a meaningful sense. Sanity is being able to pretend you know what’s real with sufficient confidence to avoid grinding against society’s sensitive spots.]
pounding drums
echo down the valley
birds calm
deep breath
fog dissipates
common peril
fog follows
will it catch us
before the pass
cow grazes
on the high trail
dispiriting
glaciers glow
in sunrise orange
forge iron, not
on the ridge
falls can be lethal
worth it
