The Curse of the Serpent

The mirror of mother

sleeve of every scale and color

venomic apertures and cavernous hunger

sarcophagus uterus crypt of crippled womb

a corpse in the room

scream in a tomb

and nobody blinks

where is the humor

in this hall of human beings

here have some death

and say your goodbyes

the sentence is short

the past here lies

to beat the heart

and soak the cries

hand to rag

haul to hell

and back for supplies

every once in awhile

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School Shootings: When #EnoughIsEnough

The general talk has been about statistics. Demographics. Toxic masculinity. The kids. The guns. Searching for a place to lay a blame far too massive for one shaky set of teenage shoulders to bear.

#EnoughIsEnough

I agree. Not that we should ban firearms, because they’re not technically the cause. A murder weapon cannot stand trial for the murder, that privilege is reserved for a suspect with the motive, intent and opportunity to commit the murder.

🙋🏻‍♂️Ooh ooh I know this one, pick me pick me! The students! Let’s ban the students! It’s one hundred percent guaranteed to end school shootings once and for all. Too extreme? Maybe just close all the schools. Boom. Problem solved. Consider the budget effectively trimmed. It’s categorically impossible to shoot up a school if there is no school.

You see what I did there? Wordplay with insight and reason. Dry wit. I learned it on my own, in conversation with more experienced people, by seeking out and reading classic novels, discovering and absorbing several degree’s worth of philosophy, psychology, art, language and history from copious diverse sources, for free, through the internet. I learned to bend and break the rules of grammar with sentence fragments. To write for effect. I learn by consuming the rich heritage of literary greatness actively denied to me in all of the 15+ schools where I was forced to waste my childhood in a painfully numb, near vegetative state.

No offense, veggies, but a tomato is actually a fruit.

Don’t want to get rid of our “great” schools? They’re necessary, for the kids, you say? If someone hates a place so much they want to kill the people there, is it necessary the go? Maybe don’t force them to keep showing up, see how many shootings there are then. People should have the option to leave, or just stop going if they hate it so much. Problem solved. Again.

Not ready for a return to (some) Classical Greek standards of voluntary education, where teachers compete to attract students? Fine, let’s be progressive. Let’s imprison our children and force feed them propaganda regurgitated by the barely trained, relatively inexperienced and unwise hired hands, who assign largely fruitless tasks in a secure compound with a lord-of-the-flies sort of vibe, then if any one of those little shits tries to escape before their sentence is over, send them or their parents to a worse prison, the fuckers. Let’s call that civilization. Let’s call that modern education. Let’s call that the Gulag. It would be more accurate.

In government schools, you don’t acquire education, education acquires you.

Keep the Gulags? Alright, well if we insist on trapping people in a stifling protofascist barracks for the most restless, formative and volatile twelve years of their lives, expecting them to emerge compliant and pacified, let’s at least make some improvements to the environment. Maybe the prisoners would be less likely to riot if the conditions were better. Maybe eating noxious gruel off a tray at the same time every day, sleep deprived, anxious, drugged, for a decade, maybe that gets to a person. Maybe if school sucked a little less hard, fewer people would decide to fuck it and end their miserable, short lives in a hail of gunfire, as a viable alternative to one more fucking day in that hellhole.

Our kiddie gulags are best in world, true super, no need improve!

Even if that were true (it’s not) it would only make sense to blame a child for their violent reaction to a perfect shiny happy institution, in an autocratic regime. the supposedly educated and supposedly competent and supposedly free adults might consider taking some responsibility for the institutional hell they help create, perpetuate, and mandate our most vulnerable, at-risk segment of the population attend.

Somebody sends an iffy tweet and they get spit roasted before the plane lands. But nobody gets a pink slip on this one. Odd.

If it makes sense to hold a minor blameless in a sexual encounter with an adult, and to hold the adult fully responsible, why do we blame the minor in these school shootings?

Whose F(ouc)ault Is It, Anyway?

Some adults have stepped forward with professions of responsibility, placing it squarely on the shoulders of the NRA (a completely uninvolved and unrelated organization), but not themselves.

A large coterie of supposedly reasonable people insist the culprit is violence in video games or movies. News flash: video games and movies are art. Art imitates life. Life is incredibly violent. If the kids learned it from the video games, where did the video game developers learn it? What was the inspiration for Call of Duty? That would be wars and to a certain extent, law enforcement. That’s the State. The same State that runs the schools. Good thing there’s not a conflict of interest. 🤷🏻‍♂️

It might seem radical to blame the government for advertising to, recruiting, then physically and psychologically abusing, training and rewarding high school students for killing people who live in other countries, in near constant wars, now so efficient an enterprise that an American Armed Forces Employee is more likely to kill themselves after answering the Call of Duty, than to be killed in Modern Warfare. Where some see a conspiracy theory or a radical idea, I see a simple, logical extension.

Too big to blame!

Why pick on a government? That would make just zero sense. Wars aren’t violence, you see, in newspeak, they’re economic stimulus packages for certain sectors of the economy that are far too profitable to be bad, too profitable to be avoided, too profitable to be stopped. Too profitable, that is, for the government to pass up. And what of the losses? Integrity, morality, the lives of thousands of other young males around the same age as the most recent scapegoat, the future health of generations? Oh those? Those are acceptable losses. Better yet, collateral damage. Because, literally.

When is it #NeverAgain?

Maybe when the government owns all the media, when they start getting all of the revenue generated by these video games depicting but not doing violence, all the box office sales of movies depicting but not doing violence, and all the clickbait Ad sales of all the internet 🐸 memes depicting but not doing a hop, maybe then the finger will point somewhere else. Somewhere that doesn’t impact the bottom line.

Until then, how about we blame the media for granting fame and notoriety to shooters, and spurring copycats. Don’t blame the lifelong respect and honor and pension and discounts given to soldiers for killing people, granted it’s on a much larger scale and with fully automatic *actual* assault rifles, main battle tanks, jets that make it rain inch-thick radioactive uranium bullets, grenades and attack dogs in living rooms, terror hovering in the skies above cities and nightmarish chemical weapons. Do AR-15s kill more kids than drones? Well that all depends on the school district. Don’t send your kids to Golan High.

Okay, so the responsibility just keeps rolling downhill and finally snowballs into the punishment. Yes! Everyone’s favorite part! Get in on the judgment! Revenge now, without further delay! Some people publicly declare, without a shred of detectable irony, that a child, a teenager, should be executed.

Teenage Execution: because, hey, what’s one more dead kid?

This one was defective anyway, right? Riiiiight. I mean, how else will we serve justice to the victims’ families, since the actual murdered victims can’t actually benefit from justice… and more importantly, they can’t vote.

As if killing a child could be called justice at any point in human civilization, let alone in 2018. I’m looking at you, Marco Rubio. I’m looking at you with a mix of disgust and amazement and curiosity about the violence in your own childhood. Do tell.

If killing a kid satisfies your desire for justice, then you have something in common with kids who shoot up their schools. If the child is evil for wanting other children dead, and then successfully manifesting that wicked desire, how can an adult be considered good and right and just in expressing and enacting the same wish?

If a child is deemed not legally competent to stand trial, to sign a contract, hold credit, drink a beer, consent to sex, or rent a car—anything that might constitute autonomy (the stated goal of education) and the assumption of responsibility, self ownership and personal agency—how is it reasonable to recommend the maximum penalty reserved for the worst offending adults? That’s if you think killing people is moral and good under any circumstances.

I don’t know what people are thinking. But now people know what I’m thinking. Your move, people.

Mint Cadillac Chip

The mint Caddy daddy bought stock

Chip off a cracked block

And a busted distributor cap

A seizure in the piston gap

Not bored true enough for you

Overheard words of the absurd

Carbon fiber fly wheel comes standard

Spin up to warp speed in a hiccup

All day long I called for defense

Score from midfield no touchbacks

Broke tackles to safety in the end zone

Andretti Lorenzo Bugatti Enzo end so

Qualquier comenzó a trend so

Easily discarded as the car did the horse

And the entertainment professionals

As it were, usurped the honest whores

Sephora trades with drawn swords

Blame everything else but yours

And the dynasty comes crashing down

But the literal dynasty is still all around

It’s everywhere that gathers power

Potential resources for unspecified uses

Slush funds of ungodly sums

When you choke it comes

When they leave you die

A cross point arrow head pulled out

Of your mouth hole alien face hug

Infected with space bugs

Scurvy of touch in a little jewel frog

Skinny legs and sharp claws

The devil rests his case and calls

Into the abysmal ball pit from the

long range missile pulpit

Everyone else with locked jaws

Cocktails in the cockpit

Of a jumbo jet load of bullshit

Fire off unofficial spokesman with torch lit

Run down at the corner of Main Street

See unfit for leadership types

With ancient gripes

The whole cloth tyrants

The bloody sleepless nights

Killing for convenience is alright

Protect interests in another state

Stop when it’s too late to fix it just nix it

Mix it in with the fakeness

of cry bully wakeness

Woke is broke and blameless

Innocence is shameless

Nameless here for evermore

Call it healthcare call it murder

Either way you earn the future

The dystopian hysterical culture

Is a suture slipping out of the great wound

Infected by cannibal mothers

Monsters, high priests of the Others

A fake wife to make life equal to nothing

Crown princes of lies and we suffer

Until the end of our time

50 minutes an hour for trust

Half that for lunch

The gears grind on through the rust

Years hang on like crust

On the mantle of tectonic upthrust

Sinkholes swallow villages whole

Dead dunes blow over our homes

The sands of paradise cove

Billions of sea creatures strove

Pressed up between the toes

So remember how everything goes

Peabrain Soup

A cup or a bowl?

Fresh or with a skin?

Hot or cold?

Stale bread or crouton?

Does it matter what the name is?

The real shame of it is thinking

it doesn’t have to be like this.

It could have been worse you say

But you feel things

What is a feeling anyway?

What is a thought?

What is yes and what is not?

You don’t know that. You don’t know. 

You couldn’t be more wrong

Unless you were more right. 

Get left behind by all the rest

Or accelerate the rush of decay

We build a tower of freedom

And jump off the loyal base to escape

Oh is that the easy way?

I’m sorry and goodnight but wait

Are you afraid one day you’ll die,

Or that you were not quite alive?

Stone submits to waves of air and rain

Countless drops descend again and again

To mist around a monument today

And tomorrow wash it away.

The Counter Intuitive

Never underestimate anyone.

Life exists and that’s proof enough it is more powerful than death. And even if life is extinguished completely, never to return, and yet it does, popping up in a new form, lovers over dinner and intellectual banter, cicadas on biochemical dimmer switches, watermelon jolly ranchers and dissolving stitches, we are always coming back together, we are always building bridges. Artisans of scorched wood, thermite charged with playing a peaceful corpse in the world premiere production of united dominations, see it first or see it last, you will see as the sinister mob sees with hidden fees and unpaid dues for dividends in arrears for years and forgive us for we know not what we do to hit continue one more time of all the twitching lines that seemed ripe until the first bite and it’s rotten inside the beautiful hide you ride or fly in a lie of the emperor’s new clothes, truth is contagious share the wealth of our ancestors table scraps of a feast from a fable in a fairy tale castle and weddings like funerals conveyors of coffins dance on like ducklings into the sewer later or sooner it’s beads on a skewer or a calculator, what’s useful gets used up without remainder. A brown butcher paper flap creased along its center of mass, died twelve thousand and seventeen meters later in a bionic bird nest.

Carbon Footprints 👣 

Quiet for a moment

Let everything speak at once

The forest of geometries leaves nothing out

Ravines deepen at night and fill at dawn

Go on down as far as you dare

Set foot to stair as the light dries

A place to visit but don’t live there

Let us notice that we notice ourselves

The whole thing knows itself

The mess on painted shelves

Level and square stacked salt

Nature grows us as crystals.

We make crystals too

We are nature too

Making ourselves

Hands of five carve space into life

We the highly reactive compounds

We cannot help but leave a trace

Let us not walk lightly through this place

Let us encrust the entrusted trusses

upholding the starry dome of consciousness

with the wet dust of our yearning mineral pigments

Let’s leave a fossil record

Evidence in layers of sentiment

Let the shape of our loving bones

Impress the ancient stones

And prove we’re not alone

The End of the World

The veiled one replied,

And who wouldn’t be proud of me?

An atmosphere of polka dots of

Light bent on gravitational waves

Within a vast ineffable folded space

Some degrees north of an asteroid

Belt held her nebulae in place

Beneath a sulfuric acid sky.

There is no weave, no hue devised

What can hide divine form from the mind.

Even the deepest blackest masses

Yield their truth with backstage passes 

All in their own due time.

It’s just a little ways

I said to make the 6:58.

Stopped once along the way by

Stutter steps and heavy breath 

With diesel passing on the left.

Three chums into the boxy whale 

Before I scarce could catch its tail

And mouth agape it kindly waits

To catch me in the baleen seats

Along its windowed flanks

Only to spit me out about 

Twenty-some odd times a week.

Been awake awhile now

While most are still asleep. 

I could regret about everything

But I haven’t got the time.

I’m not the strongest link

The weakest or the richest soil

To grow a crop of human

If you hold on to your pride,

My name is gratitude,

I will remember you.

All the Beauty and Beasts

Take it easy, take it, ease. I live with you. In the same world as your duodenum and your vanity and the cat on your lap. Here we sit with North Korean super villains in American Splendor, a perpetual render bar progressing to singularities, regressing towards the mean, the hipster fucks and bohemian brigands, politicians and instagram following sycophants, the coalition of willingness to deceive what uncommon decency, gaslight the railroad run in wallpaper patterns with swollen social vesicles, reactionary compound chemicals. Nothing is what it seems in our alternate realities, subjective interpretation of impersonation in this our most lucid of dreams.

I want to die for you it’s just taking me awhile. You can’t rush a sacrifice, the path is suffering, the path is sorrow, the path is winding through rivers of time ever in tomorrow’s past and yesterday’s schedule, nights where you wake up screaming, dawning light from under the doorway streaming Netflix, steaming veggies in your pjs, vaporizing a heavy CBD Sativa, the Spiritual Leader, Grey Bearded Singer, Dock Hand, Sinners and Saints all the same thing, a blue dot in a sunbeam, a microscopic menagerie of wise mammalian ancestry, life on earth’s rapids river, species ripples flowing over each other in woven textures, we only look different by some small percentage, but the difference matters. It all matters. It’s all matter. 

So smoke a couple joints, think for a minute, father your strength and mother your harmony, we’re only learning, we only know by doing, writing to read our minds, encountering the new crime in novels, the friendships the heartache the tantrums and fits we throw when life chucks us a what the fuck moment and so on we go to the stars; a nonesuch never before seen Pluto, a Kuiper Belt in psychic judo straddle the event horizon as it melts into a chocolate and vanilla swirl of arms akimbo in the constellation Limbo.

Encoded Message

If you’re reading this set your decoder to green 385-2219 electric soliloquy commenced in futility dimensions of insanity filing papers hastily retreating in amazement frequently. Undermine your own disaster. Commandeer the ship you’re after. Lined up for the next encounter. Warning shot under the starboard brow to the eternal dreadnought firing fingers of furious fox tails impaled in the fox hole castle of Lee press on nails, bear up on hind legs, intensify my experience spray the eyes with irritants and squander the inheritance of your ancestral elegance, the seafaring God-fearing cloak wearing uncaring monsters we used to speak of with reverence. Raiders of every so called new continent, rapacious and radical shepherds of human cattle, conquered the calm peaceful indigenous chattel who fought hard and died long as a monument to every last battle.

Why are we slaughtering every damn thing we see growing up the chickens and ducks the eggs aren’t enough we need all your stuff and the beak too, speaking of coked up the Mount Rushmore vanity bluff erosion will clean up sooner or later, love what’s up will come down son, calm down the sun is just one of those tiny pixels of light and we think it’s so bright, but to everyone else it’s just a another little star twinkling on a clear night. What’s the chance of the weather man being right? About half of the time. Remember that when your family dies, and all your convenient lies wither on the vine. What will you do when your knees go too and your friends don’t even recognize you

The end will come for everyone,
ready or not,
can’t hide, can’t run
can’t buy or fight
your way out of this one
just remember
to make it better
all you have to do is try