Category Archives: poetry revision

An Ode to Our Bubble

I am easily distracted by life
Mesmerized by the detritus cast off
By the dizzying rotation of strife
In this way I devolve: become a sloth

12/30/18

I naïvely attempt to comprehend
All the supercharged notifications
Contemporary society sends
For its momentum’s continuations

Why do the shenanigans of others
Strike notes that resonate with my soul?
Mayhem, thievery as well as murders
Show me people’s failed ways become whole

With increasing frequency I see
Vaguely conformist people act out
& bourgeois acceptability flee
Killing peace’s opportunities stout

How does a man or woman deputized
To enforce our pecuniary rules
Come to commit these things we demonize
Though they have been furnished all of the tools?

Are these defects in individuals
Or is there a systemic problem?
If the problem is particular souls
Why d’we have so fucking many of them?

How do common problems metastasize
To the 1st deadly sin of homicide?
Why do people insanely fantasize
That killing others will restore their pride

Mornings, I greedily turn on my phone
Looking for the world’s outrages current
Today, see how a man gunned down his home
Then spend the day plotting how we’re diff’rent

I should look for the similarities
Between the homicidal & myself
(& not the curious specificities
But psychological traits on our shelfs)

For the man who kills his whole family
Is, 1st & foremost, a man just like me
That something has modified insanely
(I’ll investigate how this came to be)

But my smartphone is designed* to keep me
Judging & distancing myself from him
& in this way I will never truth see
For without understanding, life is grim

So now please help me to inventory
The physical reality of life:
Not covered with mythology hoary
But with hints at the meanings for this strife

Remind me that the pain is just friction
Ev’ry physical being must endure
It’s the obverse of orgasm’s diction
That we might get to enjoy, to be sure

Some cleverly attempt to configure
There is metaphysical unity
Where “all is part of a perfect whole,” sure
(I cannot buy that “non-duality!”)

12/31/18

I don’t need the evil to create good
Innate in my being is right & wrong
I know that “right” is the action I should
Try to commit as my daily life’s small song

So I must confess all the ironies
Of this long poetic meditation
About people who overthink theories
But, sadly, my style is rumination

This doggerel will not ever surface
In the journals that real poets respect
For these are simply thoughts in cursive
That good editors clamor to reject

But still I tap all my fingers counting
Out ten syllable vocabulary
In which I try to add thoughts amounting
To something that has some meaning to me

& if you have read this far along, thanks
Because this is merely the digression
Of an old man looking for other cranks
Who are disappointed with depression

This interminable stack of stanzas
About a human’s vision’s raiment
Is hardly an extravaganza
But is just another entertainment

*programmed

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Reality Sonnet From Photo

All the realities that we enjoy
Are merely some thin projections’ shadow:
What’s seen by us are visions we deploy
From the base existences that we know

The concrete reality that we see
From gentle breezes to birds & buildings
Are things that are & things we just believe
Existence is consciousnesses’ gildings

While it is painfully obvious that

There is an external reality

Within which we are all totally trapped

Without beliefs is falls to frailty

Here I have spent some time meditating

On the nature of truth: start berating

Evolutionary Paradise



So Paradise is inevitable

All the good books guarantee pure subjects

These encourage actions desirable

But are the facts science seems to reject

Perhaps we are just fortunate primates

Filling evolutionary niches

We are the best versions of the bonobo apes

Plying tools and speech into our riches

Personally the stories of heaven

Attract me because stories always do

Dense carbohydrates of life they leaven

(Even if they are not remotely true)

If you’re looking for heaven’s paradise

Enjoy today, that’s my only advice

No Heart



Heart Transplant Dreams Die

A Black man died in Georgia

With no opportunity

Lived the short life of soldiers

& died in iniquity

 

His bold imagination

Took him to a life of wealth

Though his realization

Did not let him keep his health

 

He wanted thug life glamour:

All men’s fear and women’s love

For this “respect” he’d clamour

But true fate gave him a shove

 

Young men live “wealthy dream”

But die when it’s not what it seems


http://www.nydailynews.com/news/crime/ga-teen-donated-heart-dead-crime-spree-cops-article-1.2169324

Jose Ortega y Gasset Meets Ice T

I’m glad American’s are doing well

And we keep accumulating things

I believe this is a marvelous Hell

That we can buy such so many belongings

The toys & luxuries of the Pharaohs  

Available to sisters & brothers

Wealth & pride of material composed

These “things” that separate us  from “others”*

We now have wealth’s magic appliances

Walls festooned with numbing moving paintings

Gadgets & trinkets of alliances

Made between us & power’s restrainings

All “the [simple] comforts we demanded

[Are now] mandatory” & commanded

Opinion in Terza Rima



I am wondering

Whether opinions

Improve anything

They’re Hellish miñons

These thoughts we cherish:

Evil’s champions

Thoughts we should nourish

Are suffocated

Vacuum nightmarish 

Our thoughts sedated

By self-righteous “truths”

“Justice” debated

We discuss our proofs

Sanctimonious 

Justifying grooves

For life copious 

Others will suffer

Proofs commodious 

Justify buffers

Selfish opiates

Numb us to others

Loser’s Choice



You get to select your poison

Which horror is your preference?

Public death, headline emblazoned

Common death, little awareness?

Atomized over the French Alps

Unpredictability sung

Life distilled to some Facebook scalps

New’s research: Internet wrung?

Or laying bleeding between cars

Part of cost of modernity 

One of life’s little human scars

Die for Right-Now’s eternity?

Which death is more tragic to you

Public pity: alone & true?