The Kept

First the smell
of baking bread 🥖
then the hunger
of a black hole 🕳
so death draws
upon the human soul 💀

No end is the goal.
What drives you, though? 🚗
No credits will roll.
What’s pushing us through? ⏭️
Where are we going and
what the $^*! should we do? ⁉️

Continue reading “The Kept”

I Get Up At Five

Why don’t you just appreciate the people you brought into the game of life through the gate of your physical being, the man who unlocked you is within them and within you an eternal unending loop and he still loves you despite your tendencies and misdeeds and still he would rather you not leave and still he says return to me and make the whole thing a romantic comedy not the self pitying tragedy of promiscuity and reasoning for tyranny that runs through everyone if we are honest with ourselves at least, but to deny it so is a travesty. 

Harmless hold one another in the embrace of vine and tree, as it was then, is now, and ever will be. Believe in none of these shiny new suggestions, but question your long-held stands, your cast iron demands and out of the frying pan lands you in the fires of your own wroth, the spark of thought begot and forgot. So skilled in satisfaction self-applied for sustenance and healthy confidence, prowl and stray while your real wealth is away, the half of your limited days. 

And then what’s the play? For one I repent of my ways and I’ll wish you the same for your renaissance day, I would give you the gift of your beautiful lives to have and to hold again and again, a reminder of what we are, what I am, what I would have done if it were my one and as cruel a mistress did to me what has to the speared father and sacrificial son, the little mother a wounded womb with what’s been done; may you be spared the rod for spoiling the children so skirted and shunned. 

The reflex, the routine program we run upon drowning: we just push people down to escape the terrible sea but we can learn to swim, it’s actually incredibly easy with such calm waters we’re in. The tree and the lake are forever your home, wood nymph, they need you now more than you know, but one hundred percent of the time, though. Persephone sleeps beneath dirt sheets every other week, and for what? The bitter seed to spit at the feet of the dark lord we can all someday be. 

You get the love you deserve through your loving service, sorry that’s just how it works, pardon me sorry not sorry because it still fucking works which is more than most can say, but hey, if you can pretend with me like it meant something, you can do it again, but for real, from now on and without end, with humble heart amend.

Emotional Archaeology

Born into real estate slavery, water might be the one remaining place that’s free to live in, a pacific public property, but is it fit for a family to live sustainably?

With labor and collective thinking, maybe. Nothing that ever comes easy is worth it. Nothing is ever as hard as it seems. Maybe there’s freedom in poverty, in the post-apocalyptic Gini coefficient we might yet fear into being.

Why do we give all of our time to a place we hate, doing things we tolerate, just to take time off for a change? People leave their marriage just like changing socks. They drop off their kids like a post on a blog. What would happen if we all just walked away from our jobs?

What if we left behind the arrogance, the nautilus of pride? What if we never lied? Those comments made in a mood one day, the white wine one time things that were said, they live on long after we’re dead, a plastic Texas floating in oceanic tragedy.

Why get paid a minimum-wage for your finite and precious days? Life is a game for the living to play; everyone that’s alive today is making the world what it is in their own special way. A chess match you can’t take the moves back, once you take your finger off the peace, that’s that. It’s finished. Rome was sacked. There’s no going back home. Dead and buried. Long gone the creed of cutthroat. Get up and get on down the road. Don’t let them get your goat. Dig a foundation, not a moat.

The less you talk the more you hear. The more I listen patiently, brush away the dirt of ages to peace together shards of pottery, the handiwork of my ancestry, the more I find they’re so much like me. They live and die and in between they find the time to love and sleep and eat. What did you do today? How can I help? What do you need?

Forgiveness granted, even withstanding our fierce brutality, the violent tendencies of matter stirring restlessly in the torment of a rageful cosmic fantasy, lava spilling into sea until the butterfly of the conscious mind alights upon the flower of our humanity.

The Ballad of Randy Weaver

Picnics in the summer sun.
Idaho family fun.
Big time job for the man?
No thanks, I don’t think I can.
Don’t you know, they’d try again.

Caught me in the trap they set
My dog, my boy, my lovely wife
Won’t be coming home again.
I said no to government;
Take my life, I’m through with it.

What are you afraid of Uncle Sam?
Bought and paid for Uncle Sam?
What’s it mean to be American?
The motherland of last stands
Pilgrim pride, bloody hands
Freedom for all or none?
Stop fighting when the war is won.

Excuse me officer, you’re blocking our sun
Mirrored shades resisting the male gaze
Animus of ancient rage encaged
That story bleeds through the page
The weak cut down before their age
The lion doesn’t share his mates
And so all the more he makes
The lioness’ pride he takes
Until his jaw line breaks
And his grey mane shakes
And the dusty earth quakes
And so in crawl the snakes
To ruin everybody’s day
Take what you love most away
Your hide, your hair, your inner life.

What are you afraid of in this land?
Bought and paid for native land
What was taken from Americans
The mother of all last stands
National pride, zip-tied hands
Freedom for all or no one
This civilization of war cannot be won.

Picnics in the summer sun
the family all having fun
Ruby Ridge and everywhere
give thanks, take good care
Try it, just try it again


You can love me once a week at dinner
Cause I love me enough for all us sinners
Not losers or winners, universe is ever
expanding its search
For what it’s worth an urchin gets inside out turnt
But that’s how it worked in the wild back when
A klein bottle doll on a sandpaper shelf
All tangled up in yourself you slipped and fell
Run tattle tell down the well a young one
Filled the well up with tears and the
dog came stumbling after to a lot of canned laughter
Chasing up the ladder of a ball turret gunner
Don’t go on alone; faster and faster into the chamber
Brass balls aflame where fame is the name game
Come home lame for shame for the same damn thing
The ruling class of newfangled spin cycle swindlers

If you can love a bunch of war criminal mistresses
or wall street widowmakers
raining rejoinders on witnesses
Invoice insecure inmates interred
in the work hard play hard camp Friday in the yard
Birthday cupcakes of condescending cow waste
Commute to the burn unit factories
of fallacies fermenting fetid delicacies
Garrulous growl gallbladder grizure great grandfather
Slithering sadistic slick sarcastic sever tendencies
Package treaty, coastline receding, ice sheets retreating,
lifeline reeling numb the feelings,
so appealing not to be dealing
With those concealing the need for plant based healing
Or the equivalent of ice cream, spoon, and I’m listening
can’t you see it’s not the same as prozac or wellbutrin
Viagra, fluoride, spray tan orange, insecticide,
genetically modified Doctor Frankenstein
Go with kama-sutra and some whole food nutrients
But truthfully it’s an exercise in futility,
you’re all gonna die eventually
But humanity will birth the next
hyperdimensional sentient entity
Transcending our understanding
without evidence of concomitance
Defenseless and relentless colonists
all our old habits die hard with a vengeance
hard to break and hard to make and hard to fake
so I wake and bake and slake thirst with water
not cocaine cola not a rock and rolla elvis impersonator
Two chain success is not progress
in the face of habitable exoplanets in the goldilocks zone

Scan it plan it drone it land it man it terraform it
hand it over to the robot roving caretakers
Technolovers self assembled in vats of nanomatter,
one planetary resource party platter of superintelligent
interconnected organisms, android or spheroid,
proto-humanoid photodiodes in a cardioid pattern
At the end of the epoch known as the Kardashian era
and onto a real civilization of Kardashov type one
And one day we’ll upgrade to type two
And if we maintain the course we intend to
The spark that we lend is the spirit and breath
the quark level animus that’s scale independent
Fractal segment of superstrings
wriggling in and out of existence
Temporary potentialities resolved in higher dimensions
There’s something I forgot to mention
Say no to pharmaceuticals, don’t trust the schools,
Life is a game where you make up the rules
Love is for everyone, kids and killers and fools.

Salem Stag Party

i’m sitting in an office chair
a horrible plastic foam affair
nothing like the iron throne there
they used to sit the young girls in,
the spinster single ladies of sin,
the warty wastrels wandering wooded streams,
and set the fire of hell beneath
to get off on the screams, it seems.

After the confession session ended
the seared flesh they discussed was tested
the roast was sliced and served al dente
her poor stained soul be blessed
the altar boys were all obsessed
with every writhe and wrench and protest
a quick fire quiz-show flavor contest
witch mystery ingredient is best
the savor of a smoking breast
wafted on the scent of conquest.

Papa put in a transfer request
send them to the wars he said
the harlots hard raised and bred
tie a funnel to the head
the proud with holy water fed
desert rats in paper cages read
the whole lot wrought of the undead
foul and red the prison bed
fill the whores with molten lead
satan’s wormhole closed and fled.

The leak of demon seed is staid
the tomes and cobblestone corpses laid
to wretched rest on the wrathful day
we take up our rightful place
wizards of the warm white clay
wrung in the hands of a bastard deity
sitting on the throne of chivalry
anathema! apostasy! a thrilling plea
in picaresque defeat of ecstasy
intangible grief thrown up a tree

uniform grey in the green
harrowed on the mustard seeds
quartered by apocalyptic steeds
in this case of a basket in the reeds
where the ancient crocodile feeds
in denial full of empty needs.