Category Archives: #Poem

Paper Maché Identity Sonnet

The remnants of my dreams cling in fragments

Like the torn strips of wetted news paper

Soaked in Wheatepaste and glue to be pliant

I’m only a paper maché cover

The pasteboard mask that I present to you

Made up of the finest linen paper

Is a simulacrum that is untrue

Made to help me pull off this bold caper

Who is anything more than a puppet

Strings leading up to the bold puppeteer

(Or a hand reaching up to control it?)

Once we know this we can play without fear

The script that we are performing each day

Was written long ago & far away

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Pathetic Suicide Sonnet

I have mixed emotions about this death

The murders he committed were social

The actions he did had a wider breadth

All of America remains crucial

Racism’s territoriality

Has been like this since the Pilgrims landed

Treating colored inferiority

Like it is a fact is so wide spreaded

That even those who would never chase Blacks

Accept that cops do it regularly

If you think this ain’t true, remove ear wax

& think of stop and frisk more honestly

This beige academic has judged that guy

But in my heart of hearts, I know not why

Make America Good Again Sonnet

Hats Read: “make america great again!”

To sell mythical historical lie

Of colonial racism’s given:

Made it easier to be a white guy

“Make America Good Again!” we said

To point out the half truths in the red hats

America’s greatest with unions red

Coal miners, uneducated, earned lots

Our country is being let by its id

Brutally consuming its memory

We’ve become like some six billion ton kid

Rampaging back through bleakest history

Rest assured many will be sent to God

To assuage our damaged egos: that’s sad

Las Vegas Viva Sonnet

What if the shooting was terrorism?

(Albeit subconscious insanity)

Perhaps he was fighting for untruth

That was told to him & he internalized

Perhaps he was fighting for something great

That exists just in imagination

A time when myths were lies we could create

To build a more tractable creation

The America John Wayne has portrayed

With repressed Women, Indians & Blacks

Inspired the purchase of the guns he sprayed

Onto the concertgoers naked backs

We have created a reality

Without meaning besides banality

Sonnet as a Plea for Freedom

I must escape the media maelstrom

The vortex of virtual violence

Where the ideas of the basest are shown

For the bottom line wealth’s prurience

From the right wing I get primitive lies

Parroted by the mainstream media

Obscuring their white supremacist ties:

Equivalence: hypoglycemia

From the left impotent sanctimony

Dribbled keystrokes from a million iPhones

“Being Right’s” the vapid patrimony

Of people who forgot how the knife’s honed

So if you want to save me, send a letter

To a politician: make him better

I Weary of These Infernal Patterns

Rhyming Review: •The Gargoyle Hunters•


New York’s mood during metamorphosis
The “now” seems particularly cruel
Thus •The Gargoyle Hunters• will begin us
(This is today’s true literary jewel)

The meditations on what New York means
Complete with adolescent adventures
Of a free-range private school nerdy teen
All of which brought back my teen-aged culture

The relegated and crazy mother:
In an informal commune of borders
& the dashing obsessive father
Scavenging & barking out orders

A family painted on black velvet
Of private middle school dilemmas
Puberty and thievery’s strange couplet
Trapping our young Griffin in its clutches

Seeking approval & confederates
A scandalous collaboration’s made
Of two romantic thieving delegates
Who predate architecture’s colonnade

The father’s long term goal, disrupt the son’s
Immature middle school romances though
(But they do infect all the grown up ones)
It turns out we become the man we know

Iconoclastic rev’rence for icons
Is their spiral staircase of DNA
Though their collections give New York lesions
Their compulsions they cannot deny
Personalities’ personal suburbs
Those individuals on the outskirts
Of the mover’s & the shaker’s worlds
Are unfortunately too often hurt

The workers became shock troop of dreams
Marching right across convention’s front lines
To achieve the goals that the dreamer schemes
Little men enabling grand designs

In the end the dream is the loyalty
An all encompassing fidelity
That will become middle-aged pleasantries
Wrapped in older people’s sweet vagaries