Power Trips

Ye Ole Holy Ginsberg walked Milvia street

Under this same, vast blue skied umbrella

Heartbroken by the same city block dominoes

Avoiding eye contact with the school boys,

Thinking nostalgically of past lovers during youth.

Could he have listened in on 

The homeless whole-heartedly swearing aloud

To no one but themselves

To see if they said his thoughts?

We share dirty pavements, dirty minds.

The man is dead, he is not anywhere anymore 

No revolution came, can barely whisper about it on the streets

This land is all marked up, I can't find earth

Just Capital and Labor, Garbage and Sex

But nothing I don't want these things. 

So, I walk Milvia street 

Under the vast blue skied umbrella

Heartbroken by the same city block dominoes

Avoiding eye contact with the school boys,

Thinking nostalgically of past lovers during youth.

In a getaway, I found Ginsberg's steps, "primitive" heartache. 

If there is no wild, where to stumble then?

Into bed for pillow talk preaching 'bout Lenin, Vanzetti, South Central LA? 

Ignite the population explosion with a two-child match and dashing husband? 

What path to pinpoint down and scuff up with bottoms of feet? 

Universe is a road map! Must be a road map!

Don't let us be wrong about this one now

Revolutions written down on paper spells: F O L L Y!

Absent-minded postindustrial fuck talks circles

Figure 8's for the deep-pockets

Straight lines to hell for the radicals!

There is no wild left for hiding

Only a bronze plaque is left by bureaucrats

At his cottage to say he once was here

Like C-dawg and a sharpie in a bathroom stall
But fancy

Semantics

Choose carefully t h e w o r d s

Assigned to this ?

These words

Are sounds or straight and rounded lines!

They are not this.

Have yet to feel them?

To be them? to do them?

Sounds and lines ESCAPE me...

NOW must take them,

Assemble noise to represent

To the man what he did,

What I didn't want him to do.

What did he do?

My words come out sweet

Jar in throat incarcerates intimidation,

Eyeing it as a prize

Choose carefully

or he'll never know what he did

Kubrick morality:

Grotesque for a good time.

He kissed sweetly and gently after,

Remained calm

In steadfast stillness and silence

Choose carefully the word

Assigned to this

The crowd will slur and coo

'Bout the sounds and lines forever

(Forever being only a WORD)

What is this? What was this?

Atentado VIOLENTO ao pudor

Have you yet to feel be or do such?

Words come out sweet

They don't come out at all

He'll never know

Whatagoodtime,Stanley

ARRR AYE PEEE EEEE

is not that broad, sunny light

mourning for christ

mourning for christ mas

morning

eyes shut

in disbelief

in inhumane sub-reality

not unlike my mother's womb

once was

ARRR AYE PEEEE EEEE: shapes taking up space

His human body after mine: shapes taking up space

What was this?

And could i keep it at a pronoun

If i did it proudly?

SAVE FACE that is?

Or ought i shout it when he passes,

So that the other girls don't go

and play?

Show & Tell

Tight wire dental floss

Drags out toxic times

This is cleaning up

Bacteria slime can no longer

Stow organs for their own keeping

Mime to those surrounding

What you find

What we keep quiet

Is the best to know

Could stop a riot

Could see into others eyes

And count their losses

Could look straight into the sun

And not become blind

However, sublimely

We waste the string and

The rinds caught between teeth

We keep them secret

Humanity reaped by waste

So, that you may walk

Bemused by the backlash

Of your own thinking,

Completely

Alone.

Patriot

A short story depicting how we are all secretly deviant.


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Once We Grow Up

From here, there's but only progress

Always breathe from the belly

But nonetheless always always progress

and yes, make that one request.

i will think of the words 'onward forward'

until the sounds are senseless. synthetic paralysis

of my own damned doing. dear lord, i confess

i neglect such progress. naked in the glades,

snoring under a store's stoop, 'onward forward'

conquest!

Imperial eye bashed in the barbarian brains

Bring them christ!

Off with their heads, possess the chess board's squares

And press time and space into

Greenwich, International, imaginary lines

Expressed with paper: Treaties and treasures!

Dance without knowing the planetary steps,

The source of our food, the atoms under skin

holy are we!

slowly, nonetheless, the earth,

whose life like the groundhog was left on repeat,

by your hand, digested the savage mammoth ; savage polar bear soon

though protests its own self with progress,

sparing the stable soil always always molesting molecules for higher order

normal natural in the span of a hundred mya

maybe we can make a deal invest to get the best

spare us

Aware of each new expression coming on,

My mother professed this progress

To be holy and spared

so I, too, may be holy and spared

Gave such great care for those first few years

Yearning to forget that glass of wine before bedtime

A qualm with the patriarch ending in damned distress

Thoughts of what it was all for

Yearning even more to undress these demons

More or less progress was the deep sea

Not impressed, For good nutrition and convincing company,

She attested, "Go live your own damned life!"

Onward!

Forward, where to go from here?

An evening prayer would not leave me spared

i was never holy only hungry

christ was drinking grape juice and eating bread

progress surpassed by the angle of the sun

and how it infests that particular time of day

yes, eighty more years here as a guest

with the finesse of a flat line

in the breeze at shore under florescent lights

gliding through the glades and

ushering the underside of store stoops

savage!

She'll Be Comin' 'Round the Freeway Bypass When She Comes

The city limits stow away family friends lovers in
Neatly organized neighborhoods of cells They sit
And they wait for their detainment to end for
The light day when we can wholesomely whole-
Heartedly lead lives together, again
Watch television to soften my absence
until then. Loved Ones, City Slicking Crooks
Of morality who take from third worlds
Never sought or defended who take
From the Dearest disinergrate
who never sought or defended for there
Were too many things etched into concrete
To do's Brain chemicals subsequently
Boiling to prevent ensuing danger
Eyes crookedly spinning
Back and forth for stardom, safety, love
Freedom YOU Jailhouse Company,
Taste buds soak in light pollution come night
Burning ozone ash and the stink
Of a million other men who may seek you out
But never defend you against the slime
Of humans who only walk talk like humans
Uncanine like dogs Cats who cry on the dime
For dinner because they can not seek food
Or defend against the hunger
Assaulting fault lines in quaking, caving bones
They die domesticated

Learning Complacency

Five comes after four ten more and it's fourteen
But not fiveteen but rather fifteen the young chap
Spins in numbers, new to the art of order
Sitting on the fattest and last branch of the only tree
In Tulip Grove apartments strip of grass called lawn
The boy eyes the rows of cars stacking themselves
In order promptly at the stop light He begins the count
When the light's freshly red 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7
In another world he would be counting trees and shrubs
But he was past counting to one quite some time ago
And this was really all there was
Order counting calling objects by their right name
The cars contain no humans
They are red #1 white#2 blue #3
and nothing meant anything
more.