Blood Red Hate

Foremost know
before your birth
they hated you
to keep it in mind
is the only way
not to take it
personally
because that
is likely the greatest
evil of it
how impersonal
their hatred is
an inhuman loathing
a ruthlessly cold heartlessness
that has nothing at all
to do with you
as an individual human being
it is simply you
as an existence
wanting things
they want exclusively
for themselves
that you think and believe
you deserve certain rights
is anathema
to the society they desire
your health and happiness
is the target
of their hatred
and should you complain
or protest
obstruct or criticize
against their agenda
they will blame you
for who you are
if you are sick
it is your failing, morally
if you are gay or ‘of color’
a woman or disabled
it is you who
have brought upon yourself
all that you find unfair and unjust
they have given you everything
how dare these sluts
these faggots and niggers and cripples
voice dissent
you cannot conquer their hate
it is total
all encompassing
if they were ever anything more
than their hatred
they are not now
hate has consumed them
eclipsed humanity beyond them
a dark shadow army
of monsters
cheering for your sickness and death
know this and know it always
they hate you
and it’s your fault they do

Untitled Until Ending*

Compassion withers
mine for them
as increasingly I see
they have no more
than scavengers
squabbling over carrion
have for the fallen flesh
upon what they in frenzy feed
companions of gluttony and greed
disciples to it
shallow and callous
they screech their malignancy
insinuate it
into the heart of society
rotting out all decency and civility
making way
for the dark cancerous growth
a blossoming of antisocial lawlessness
the stinking flower of which
blooms septic across the sky
a shadow of shit
spread from sea to sea
without shine
the scintillations of the light
dying on the waters of life

*This poem is titled “Grand Old Poopy,” but the author of the poem thought it best the reader’s knowledge of said title be postponed until after reading in order to avoid accusations of using political bias as a tool to guide the reader’s judgment of the work.

No, on the Contrary, Fuck You Faggots

the brave
are not what they seem
bonded as brothers
in momentary desperation
under the impression
their comfort is in danger
of affliction
a world of privilege rocked
instability
economic anxiety
hopelessness and hate herding them
on to march
as if to war
in their own streets
armed and uniformed
as they pick scapegoats
and pass the buck
on personal responsibility

this is not a portrait of courage
but of fearful cravens
cowering in the disguise of force
of numbers
driven by their sense of their growing obsolescence
in dawning horror
at a slowly leveling playing field
and thus bravely do they join
in violent protest briefly
spouting words of valor and supremacy
until foiled and routed
assaulted under words
and public censure
they return to their comfort never lost
now fearful of losing it all
and they cry
a peculiar cocktail of shame and guilt
tearful fits of childish self-pity
groveling to the camera lens
sniveling for the mic
uploading their presumed unjust persecution
for all the world to mock

Day Old Bread Philosophy

back into dream
coma mulch
fertilizer of god-sprout
mass-subconscious
uprising to be
caretaker, gravedigger
afterlifer
as ephemeral nourishment
born of glyph
desultory tales
chaotically feverish
splendidly ebullient
the divinic cycle
the ecstatic system
the seraphic spiral
around and around
gods boil, evaporate
condense
water anew
never ending
as long as
man is dreaming
steady
mold growing
colonizing necessarily
as population outsizes
devouring the spoiled
no longer edible
bred beyond benefits
except for nightmares
and here are the devils
joining the circle
hand in hand
twirling, spinning
let’s rock, let’s go
kumbaya my lord
kumbay-motherfucking-ya!

You Are There

everybody’s name is a place
signifying themselves
where they are
where they could be
names are a location
a destination
where people have been
where others still
have yet to visit
as a permanent residence
rarely
or a holiday spot
a brief time spent
in the sunshine of us
a time for them to remember
fondly or bitterly
their place in life
as it intersected yours
cross streets
We Boulevard and
They Way
a place, a spot
a happiness, a regret
where we were
what we have been
lost mostly but look for yourself
and you’ll find home

You Voted Republican You Fucking Shit

Your pre-existing condition
that suddenly occurred
is explained to you
that it was the will of God
and to you is said that
that will
Like God
is eternal
fated before time began
and therefore
your coverage
shall be denied
and also
ha! ha!

The Tide is High

The seas will not creep
a stalking predator crouched low
patiently and steadily advancing
ever higher
up our shores
to the contrary
it will rise to the skies
circling grim potential
fiercely falling upon us
in one
vulture-hungry cry to claim
the fresh and easy corpse of our land
our cities, our industry
farms and homes
shall be made the ocean’s own
and all denial of the water’s
heated supremacy
will be the burbling bubbles
of last gasped, drowned ignorance
bursting through the surface
a dead cry
at low tide

Momentum

Dwell on it
live in it
be of it
all you like
still
the moment
lunges indifferently past
to oblivion
leaving behind all
your dwelling
your living
your being
a vast featureless expanse
a desert
without sand
without heat
without
desolate howling wind
and mournful coyote call
no matter how hard
how tenaciously we try
to hold on
to maintain
a perfect picture
of perfect recall
we can’t
we scatter
we dissipate
we dissolve
within
our dedicated resolve
dwelling, living, being
ruin, death, nonexistence
fight as we might
document as we do
here it comes to pass
here it erases to…
[final line deleted]