Archive for January, 2017

Tick Tock

January 31, 2017

In lost days
dark in future memory,
parasites reigned
like too many ticks
afflicting a mighty moose
no matter how large, how strong
how great the struggle
relentless hematophagic mouths
reduce the once proud
to fur draped bones
and so it was
for Western Man
gray, bloated leaders
and their dogs
leeched the land and people
of resources, hope
of belief in the world
and their fellow man
as all laws once
established to protect
like a flea collar
around the throat
of a nation,
were removed
and cast aside
turned inside out
so that the powerful
were shielded
and the weak cast out
the fatted white bloodsuckers
wanted it all
and they got it
debtors’ slave camps
legalized rape
murder of minorities
corporations granted immunity
to slaughter the indigenous
to poison whole towns
choke the life
from the wilderness
until no wilds remained
without regulation
they consumed all
free from punishment
they did it all
in those lost days
lost dark days
out of memory
out of time


Welcome to the Well

January 30, 2017

feel the plummet in your gut
the physiological descent
that coincides
with your social fortunes
the staggering jolt
as you drop
lungs in your throat
like the colonized
like the genocidized
like the American Indian
like the Polish Jew
like the Aborigine
on the shore
in sight of massive sails
on the horizon
feel that now
Mexican American
feel that now
Muslim, Woman, Queer
feel it disabled veteran
feel it
scientist, scholar, teacher
feel the free fall
in your balls
in your ovaries
in your overalls
like Lysenko’s farmers
failing in the face
of ideology’s success

Big Problems

January 27, 2017

In your moment, unfortunately
nothing is small
it is an immense
unfolding drama
and you are caught up in it
whisked along
in the turbulent surge and retreat
of agitated tsunami waters
that have inundated
all aspects
of your trouble-plagued life
as you see it
but from the audience
your drama
is a play
put on by the third grade
swollen boards
creak beneath sneakered feet
and overhead a hot lamp
smoking dust
triggers a lone fire sprinkler
that dutifully discharges
a gentle mist
descending on smiling
upturned faces
catching artificial rain
like snowflakes on extended tongues
the tsunami is a dud
the crowd applauds
you are the lone child
that one we all know
who cannot roll
and cries
in spite of unexpected joy

Science and the White Supremacist

January 26, 2017

Western Man, or if you prefer, Europeans and people of European descent, do possess, tenuously, something of which to be proud. It is the West’s greatest gift to the world. Science, the scientific outlook and method is distinctly and uniquely of the West, but the world is its universal home.

Science adheres to irreducible and stubborn facts gained through observation. These facts are passed along from generation to generation within our Universities. This is the pride of the West, specifically, of Western Europe. This is what the West has to be proud of, but white supremacists, the vain descendants of these Europeans, take no pride in Newton, in Vesalius, in Galileo, in Kepler, or Giordano Bruno. Instead they opt to be proud of their heritage, but if their heritage is not science, its irreducible and stubborn facts and their transmission through the generations by the Universities, then what is it?

For them, it’s something so nebulous and genetically fleeting as the color of their skins. It is the conquering war-like spirit of their pre-scientific ancestors: Vikings, Teutons, Saxons, Gauls. They take pride in the ancient parochial squabbles of ignorant savages, in violence, in death, in war, in the type of petty human bickering that was to found the world over.

White supremacists are not proud of the renaissance. They are not proud of scholarly institutions. Rather, they attack Universities regularly for a variety of imagined transgressions, which includes the teaching of science itself. All they are proud of is their pallid complexions.

More than not taking pride in the West’s great gift to the world… the West’s gift to the East… they actively reject science. They reject the irreducible and stubborn facts of scientific observation and posit “alternative facts.” White supremacy’s denial of science includes denying the efficacy of vaccines in preventing disease, denying the hand of man in the alarming climate change rapidly overtaking the planet, denying the genetic, paleontological, geological and comparative anatomical evidence of all life on Earth’s shared biological origin. This denial of the one thing they possess, tenuously, of which to be proud, while simultaneously romanticizing their warrior ancestors in the hallmark of a delusional people on an ideological crusade. And ideologies fail (for example, take Communism and Facsism… please!)

With science we all win, but for the white supremacist the benefits of science are too egalitarian, and for that, they’d rather no one benefit.

I do take heart; however, that their mean irrationality and rejection of facts and evidence will be their undoing, just as it was the undoing of their savage ancestry that they worship so.

(If this post distresses you, then please, do not allow it to do so. I vow my cockamamie poetry shall return on the ‘morrow!)

Congested Compassion

January 25, 2017

human in sickness
to think only of one’s self
assessing symptoms
listing, first and foremost
I am sick
followed by
I am congested
I have a cough
my muscles ache
my lungs hurt
I’m running a fever
I have chills
this is everything
the human obsessed
in its condition
with its own well-being
when the health goes
the world goes with it
death’s imminence
inching nearer
blinds to all
when you no longer care
for anyone else
you are dying
compassion and charity
absent from your heart
is life diminishing
from your blood
do not,
I implore you, die
stay alive
breathe deep
continue to love
to be kind to others
to extend hospitality, warmth
and aid
do not to malady succumb
to desiccating disease fall
wrung dry of future hope
of benefit of the doubt
of innocent until…
live, damn you, live
stay alive
breathe deep
suicide is simple
it’s what you do
when you no longer care
it’s what you do
it’s what you will do
because I know you
human, sick human

Creeping Death

January 23, 2017

o, my aching head
I may have overdone it
but that’s good
it ain’t bad
tell me
if you don’t overdo it
then what have you done
you’ve underdone it
overdoing it they say
you’ll die young
but why
because overdoing it
makes you age
all the things that make
you older faster
are the things
you want to overdo
that’s why they’re overdone
but what’s underdone
you don’t want it
underdone poultry
underdone pork
a death sentence
and that’s how you die
real young
by never letting yourself
get old
never letting yourself
get overdone
which is definitely something
you want to let yourself do
so do it
overdo it
so let it be overwritten
so let it be overdone

Plunger Decree

January 20, 2017

3:29 a.m. paranoia
twitchy eyes
furtively dart across the words
finger flipping franticly
images scroll rapidly past
on high alert
making mental note
a list of traitors
scanning bloodshot dry
seeking signs of treason
as the minutes
of the bowel obstruction
tick by
septuagenarian legs sleep
elderly circulatory system
in hard decline
crying out for the nurse
to help him stand
needles in feet driving deep
as dampened silk
collects the excremental residue
from the asshole
braced against the basin
feeling seeps back
creepingly returns
unsteadily back to bed he dodders
his tiny fingers fumble
around the Android screen
typing angry
as if
by their own volition
beyond his never more than meager
his short pudgy digit
stabs down
as if
from Hell’s heart
a missile or a missive
it’s all the same
as long as everyone knows
who is overrated
who is a loser
who is an enemy
it brings to him
this unloading of petulant wrath
a small satisfaction
one that he could not attain
a top his gilded commode
the one suitable throne
for the little shit king


January 19, 2017

I want a song
to fold up
like an origami man
elderly invalid in a wheelchair
one who you can tell
was stricken paralyzed
in his prime
and not by time

I want that
three dimensional
paper representation of music
before me
to unfold and smooth out
its creases
carefully with my palms
upon the bartop
careful to avoid
condensation rings
slowly evaporating into sticky memories
on the imitation wood grain

I want to feed that sheet fresh
into the typewriter
and on it compose
a poetical representation
of the song I want
its notes
to fold
to unfold
to wither and absorb

The Guy Across the Street from the Beast

January 17, 2017

The rat pope raises paw
makes the sign of the cross
blessing the faithful masses
loyally attendant
assemble at his call
their minds his whim to alter
little sacrifices
to his vast ego made
reason in a snare slaughtered
into the trap they go
believing in the cheese
their necks for his pleasure snap
dying for their master
will they find peace in death
will those they leave behind learn
the dangers of sweet words
the threats of poisoned bait
or will their mistakes repeat

How to Lose

January 13, 2017

I press my advantage
between the heavy pages
of a lost civilization’s history book
alien words
long extinct
preserving the pedals of a flower
for which neither I
nor they
had a word