Archive for June, 2014

LibertariAnarchism in the Wild

June 29, 2014

earth, hard packed
once upon a time mud
cracked and dry
on the ancient lake bed at night
beer will make it better
libation as the wind kicks up the dust
blowing unabated
across the parched wet lusting plain
in the aftermath of gunfire
of riot and calls to arm
a Hell-erupted freedom
out of lawlessness in the high desert of California
what was bliss
is now flesh wounds and concussions
one man’s anarchist paradise
is another’s unfettered violence
screams in the darkness
Mohawks silhouetted against the fire
panicked punks running amok
tripping, falling, stumbling in drunken fear
thirst quenching blood
sucked into the sands
a fest, a war, differences dissolve
a keg spilling its precious life
out the bullet hole
a beer, a beer
my kingdom for a beer
I find it hidden beyond the dune
requesting a cup
I am denied
“What?” I ask. “Do you want to fight over it?”
They do. We do.
This is the end of where Liberty will take us.



June 26, 2014

“You’re always fucking doing this to me
you fucking bitch
telling me when I have to go
I want my fucking respect,”
he said sitting next to her on Thursday
in the backseat of the Cadillac
we were getting on toward Memorial Day weekend
a time of sizzling meat and dancing feet
singing songs and smoking bongs
so I let his malfeasance slide
being hot-headed and Irish and all,
but on Sunday he shouted,
“Don’t die! Please don’t die!”
as his wife lay unconscious on the deck boards
the boy and his grandma, neighbors
watched horror-smacked through chain-link
to the mobile Nana’s hand ran
tapping the 9-1-1 into the smart phone…
the wife lays unmoving
believed dead
husband slumps back into plastic chair
what to do, he smokes and wonders
wife awakes
“How could you do this to me?” She asks
fifteen minutes after the savage strike struck
a left-temple blow putting out her lights
she staggers down the backyard stairs
into the house
police officers Moyers and Perez arrive
proud men of Northeast division
they conduct their interviews
neighbor says she only called
because she thought
the wife was dead
back at the homestead
domestic violence, all deny it
husband and wife, unified as one
in defiance
ain’t nobody here but us chickens, officer
and so the pigs roll
off and down the road
and here it all ends
as all their friends play pretend
nothing to see here
and nothing to do
but place bets
and wait
on when
the wife
will die

A Nice Guy

June 22, 2014

I’m there
I understand and get it
when I reach out to you
feel me, please, deeply
into you like love in wartime
I am open to you
a spread whore, free
a slut wanting, no
demanding it
needing you, receptive
dying for it
dying for you to get through to me

I’m there
to understand, to get you
a lover who wants no more than to love
love you like you deserve
to be held, caressed, cherished
worshipped like a goddess
a gilded-pussy messiah
who can save all of mankind
by baptism in your hot cunt
nail me to your body
let me hang on you
your every word
your every move
love me to pieces
and put me back together
reassemble me a new man
made in your image

I’m there
whatever you want me to be
love me to death
and raise me from the dead
resurrected for the good of your soul
the perfect man you need

I’m there
for you
waiting patiently
waiting for you to give yourself to me
waiting on your enlightenment
for you to see your salvation in me
to see me
truly as great as I am
as all you need
as your redemption from all
your bad choices

I’m there
finally, the nice guy you deserve
you stuck-up bitch

Mobile or Cell

June 20, 2014

it defines my fellow countrymen
once I thought them gullible
I thought them ignorant and arrogant
but those are symptoms
symptoms of a complete lack of awareness
they believe they are free
wild horses loosed upon the prairie
when in truth
they are blinkered oxen
yoked to a cart
heavy with the bodies of the dead
they drag it behind them
forward marching
gazing hypnotized
into handheld mirrors of their lives
as they step blindly into traffic
barely even registering
the blare of the horn
the screech of the brakes
the scent of scorched rubber
they die as they live

Hypocritical Shit

June 16, 2014

Contradictions flood their ideological bog
they believe full-heartedly
this is the land of opportunity
yet disbelieve in giving anyone a chance
it must all be bootstraps
and self-made men
climbing society’s ladder
by the sweat of their labors
a word spoken against the rich
to them
is an attack on capitalism
a Marxist screed to be screamed down
their love of the American dream
has turned into love of wealth
their love of wealth
has turned into idolatry of the wealthy
worship of the rich
who, if we just let them keep all their money,
will gladly create jobs
and infuse cash into local economies
transforming the country into a new Eden
if only we allow them
to exploit every last resource of the land
without regulation
without oversight
without responsibility or obligation to the future
not even after their death
should any of their hard-earned dinero
be stolen by the state
from their rightful and deserving heirs
who, although, didn’t work to earn it
are entitled to it
an elite class of god-spawned humans
privileged children of our lords and masters
and these children
who come at us with lawyers
truly, they are very much like the one true God
beloved by these lovers of the rich
a God who never had to work
to gain his Power
a God who has always been and always will be
all-powerful, all-knowing
the great divine Creator
of the heavens and the Earth
but how,
in the light of their creed
of the American dream
of hard work and persevering against odds
to obtain success,
can they bow to such a God
for whom everything has always been easy?
if you’re omnipotent
creating the universe
is no more praiseworthy
than making a poo
possibly of less note
than a satisfying bowel movement
but it’s no wonder
those who feed on contradictions
shit hypocrisy

Beer Batter

June 10, 2014

purpose is bait
waiting for you to take it
titillating base desires
until it is all you see, think and dream
purpose is everywhere in everything
by it you are hooked
seeking its essence in all you do
it drives, directs, devours
courses through your decisions, your actions
without the tickle of its barbed steel
buried in the meat of your pleasures
you cannot extract enjoyment
purpose is the sine qua non of your existence
and the purpose must suit you
it must satisfy your hunger
your lust and greed
it is the means
a servant to your ends
as you are a servant to it
purpose is empty and insignificant
an opiate, as ephemeral and hollow as honor and chivalry
another cultural trick to bring misery
to bring war, death and grief
to pit sister against sister
nation against nation
purpose is the slayer of liberty
a tool to crush, belittle and oppress
a weapon to dispirit, endrunken and distress
it is inconsequential
it is without meaning
it is tired and threadbare
an ideal whose time has long past
yet still you insist on setting your watch by it
letting it snare you in, spur you on
clean, filet and fry you
because your purpose to me
is as a vehicle for beer batter

The Incredible 2-Headed Transplant Versus the World

June 8, 2014

“Too much imagination,”
Casey Kasem lamented
“can kill a man.”
it was the moral to a story
a tale of a 1970’s Frankenstein
a yarn told about good doctors
who went astray
lost in the moral labyrinth of knowledge
they ate the forbidden fruit
which in this particular case
was sticking two heads on one body
and their world
caved-in, collapsing all around
killing them
their bicephalic rape-monster
and their imaginations
“at one fell swoop,”
as MacDuff might put it
victim himself of another’s imagined ambitions
and aren’t we all really just there now
all of us prey
to the twin Hell-kites
of irresponsible industrialization
and poorly regulated capitalism
those are the heads on our own
real-world rape-monster
it is quite a shame
imagination has taken us so far
a species that trod on the moon
dreamt dreams beyond our nearest star
but we let it kill us
why, oh, why did we not listen to Casey?
oh why, oh well
now on with our countdown

Trick of the Light

June 5, 2014

Chosen by the swarm, singularly and surprised,
down from the sky
a cyclonic finger of bioluminescence
spinning ‘round
bathed in the twisting glow
enclosed within brilliance
electrically charged
recharging the dead
cells born again
out of the blue
the decision is not given
destiny storms at random
a blessing upon the inheritors of the wind
taken a step outside evolution
the selection unnatural
from the heavens descends a gift
to obsess men, promote superstition and ritual
a propagation of bizarre behavior
as rough minds attempt to order the indifference
gesticulating, kneeling
eating the right foods
donning the appropriate attire
perfecting the moves
honing the speech
but nothing holds up to scrutiny
no tests can replicate the outcome
favor inconsistently comes
award accorded inharmoniously
sapience seeking patterns is left unsatisfied
conflicts arise
war and destruction ensue
the species and planet is left in ruin
as graces from on high depart
looking to a new star
a new race
a new world to conquer
by a trick of the light

The Best

June 2, 2014

the best we can possibly hope for
is that we have descendants
and they despise us
consider us ignorant savages
a destructive cruel-hearted ancestry
that against the odds
they managed to survive and escape
this is my desperate dream for the future
our greatest hope
is for our heirs to hate us
to revile our legacy
spit on our memory
and piss on our graves
please, may this come to pass
it is the only option
if humanity is going to make it