The 1% Manifesto

Speaking generally
a man should not have too much ambition
there is great dignity and no shame
in performing a society’s low tasks
a job well done
wise philosophers have said
is its own reward
do not tend towards uppishness
the despair at failure
it inevitably brings
is a punishment best avoided
do not, however, perceive this
as a condemnation of perspiration
contrarily, laziness is anathema
hard labor and solid work
performed by a man who knows his place
is most virtuous
bringing honor upon himself
his trade
and his boss
always bear in mind
when feeling the impudent stirrings of dissatisfaction
that there is near at hand
a man who has it worse
for always it is more burdensome
to be employer
than to be employed
the hired man is a weight
carried stoically upon the job creator’s shoulders
be thus fully aware
that it is the workers
who are kept aloft
by the dutiful ambitions
endured equanimously by their social betters
do not make the mistake of Marx
by misguidedly inverting this paradigm
of he who benefits
and he who suffers

Same

brainless and repetitive
if it’s a job
people will squeal in grand indignation
it’s beneath them
beneath any human being worthy the name
comparisons to Sisyphus at his stone
fly out faster than spittle flecks of mad abuse
but for all that
they want it
lovers of predictability
for what is experience
if not having gone through it all before
cooking the same meals
driving the same route
drinking the same drink
in the same bar at the same time
tapping at the phone
playing the same game over and over again
on some level we want it
brainless and repetitive
the sex was good why not make it more of the same
Chrysler’s a reliable car, I’ll buy another one of those
that Fox Terrier was fun
let’s replace the dead one with a puppy
there’s really only so much to do
before, by necessity, it’s happening again
and each time an event repeats itself
it takes less thought to complete the task
yet still, you want to hear that song again
and to be sure the band or the DJ will play it
that’s how it goes – the same old song and dance
nobody seems much to mind
until it’s not a choice
like at tax time
or at work
well, fuck it
quit your job
watch everything else work itself out
life on the street’s
a new adventure everyday

Pedophile’s Love Poem

sin is a flavor
best imbibed alive
impurity is the essence
the swallow imperfection
for when life is distilled
the burn is never filtered
flavor never clean and neat
dirty is the tongue high on love
a complex body to savor
a practiced and acquired taste
one that demands discipline
to comprehend the heady bouquet
of an elixir too easily wasted in youth
when it is age that brings
the unique characteristics to the table

Here’s to the Breezes

proctological exams have shown
95% of mankind
thinks using its ass
don’t be surprised
it’s never been disguised
the homo sapiens’ sapiening ability
ain’t all it’s cracked up to be
out of the crack
up comes the thought
rectal knowledge
toot-tooting
fricative blasts
o, what a gas
bias, denial, too much beer
I think therefore I am
but it don’t mean the thought is clear
muddied waters
clouded skies
intoxicated minds
poison the vision of reality
the butt prevails leading from behind
brown eye of the storm
swirling dark, churning thought
round and round and down the drain
all too easy to believe in the head
brain within the skull
like a plant in its pot
but when the wind comes to blow
boughs bend and break
creeping stink overtakes
swaying branches in the breeze
shitting monkeys in the trees

Yard Sale Redemption

how did we go
from meager subsistence existence
to skyward towers topped by crossed spires
high vaulted nave ceilings, pipe organs
statuary and magnificent stained glass displays
glorifying God all-powerful…

When I look back
it all seems to have happened so heart-stoppingly fast
the past condensed to a blip
base animals dreaming gods
Jesus saves from mundanity
from the procession of endless small tasks
peeling carrots
painting fingernails
posting the advert for the lawn sale on the kiosk
people wanted more
enlightenment, salvation, inner peace
those things, those things
we must take all very seriously
the big important things
facing Mecca in twisted prayer
on our yoga mats of higher knowledge
it comes down to the old adage
you can’t take it with you
but do you know what else
you can’t take with you
you
you can’t take you with you
you die
you end
you leave it all behind
you, your carrot peels, nail trimmings
and all your shit you never could sell at the sale

Curiosity Kills the God

it goes back eons past
billions of years pre-God
to the single celled life
His perfect creation
asexuality
dividing and thriving
thoughtless organisms
uncaring, unaware
autonomous horrors
creeping in dark waters
then… cooperation
ultimate corruption
blossoming, exploding
multicellularly
rapid growing sickness
millennia to years
bodies increase in size
new forms varied arise
blood is competition
vibrantly swelling sea
in spasming sex upheaved
kingdom animal came
as fall of man began
when the fish crawled to land
discovered a garden
ripe, ready to plunder
invertebrates cowered
‘fore onslaught chordata
forest, mountain, valley
pumped up with life gladly
spreading, waiting for man
to come, exclaim, “I am”
unforgiveable words
self-knowledge is the curse
do not seek to inquire
curiosity kills
that’s the way of His law
looking to get you caught
for the ultimate sin
thought

White License

days are blades
honed ribbons
an atoms breadth
unseen by the eye bare
but made visible, magnified
by the mirror
reflecting aged white skin
worn, eroded, falling
Behold! its bearer
the standard-bearer
leader of the status quo
desperate to maintain and hold
he has opinions
and his complexion
grants him license to speak
what’s best
the white man knows
and his wallet knows better
what’s best for black, woman and poor
what they should be doing
how they should be living
if only they’d listen
to his words
compassionately inspired
direct from a genteel heart
they could all be so happy
and stop worrying
their pretty little heads so nappy
if only they would truly hear
how hard labor is its own reward
how money can’t buy happiness
how a sunny disposition
softens the hardest of circumstances
it is not chains and laws that enslave
but the mind
so cheer up, be merry
leave your troubles behind
life is short
don’t sweat the small stuff
it’s always been this way
always will be
Rome wasn’t built in a day
so stop building why don’tchya?
relax, and have a cold one
hey, look! football!!

Cool Skin

the plot thickens as it cools
grows a membranous skin
like scum on a dead pond
no waters to feed it
a spring gone dry from below
abandoning its children above
left alone, high and to inevitably dry
once upon a time
the story’s pace was swift
a slick muscle plowing up stream
furious to make itself known
make its noise
then as years did pass
happily ever after never came
reared its head a myth
speed slackened
action relaxed
an empire grown complacent
her majesty lost desire
no more lands to conquer
seas to cross and subdue
all is folly
as the nihilist justifies her end
a lifetime like a creamy soup
cooling
no gas for heat
cold and done

100 Books

“100 Books to Read Before You Die”
I… me… to read… before I die
that’s the title of a list
to remind me of my mortality
to shame me for my literary choices

Original Sin

distrust my pleas
they beseech disingenuously
requesting your heart
to grant me compassion alá carte
distrust my mileage
to Sunday service never driven
abused hard, grinded gears
lengthening apparent years
distrust my silence
laid upon you like bleach
my goal’s to whiten
all the stains I brighten
distrust the voice
vague as can be in its hemming
its hees and haws
as it exalts and awes
distrust rehearsal
aimed at perfection
to steal your resolve
and substance dissolve
distrust the sex
too easily given
orgasms are oxytocin
a natural form of poison
I tell you these things
how I’m not to be believed
but you’ll choose to ignore
because I know you
and you’ll take
any excuse to think yourself a whore