Author: lbstowe

I thought, “Fuck!”. I can explain irony perfectly.
I could model it for you anytime; wordlessly.

I know where I should put commas & semicolons.
I know how to conjugate my verbs in their columns.

I capitalize themes with intentionality.
I don’t when they’ve derailed their respectability.

See, once you have learned the rules of a language’s form;
You can use those rules to disrupt the lexicon’s norm.

I make up new words that make their own actual sense.
Even though I’m technically wrong…they look right in prints.

My manifesto in a thousand cuts…
As told by topography’s hills & ruts.

Here on the side you will find my legend.
My distances more than I have reckoned.

Your compass will not work; you must use mine.
I’ve too much gravity & depth for straight lines.

My poles live on my equator…& stretch.
Despair & desire from north & south fetch.

There is a North Star here; so use your eyes.
Remove your blinders; my skies tell no lies. 

You realize borders are imaginary.
They’ll still be so when we’re interplanetary.

All our craft falls between a weapon or a tool.
They are used as either by the whole human pool.

One side of a wall can hold poor desperation.
The opposite, home to armed & glutted nation.

If we’d look past map lines we’d see they’ve the same men.
Astronauts see a globe that’s free of division.

Just takes one person to conclude they’re just like glass.
Break on thru the lie & then we’re all of one class.

Under or over, it is at an end.
We’re locked & we’re loaded; so just press send.

Upload or download your soul from the cloud.
AI is going to be extra loud.

Punchcard data strips sole physical form.
No default bodies…just being’s the norm.

Rolling out copies & rolling up heart.
Muted & mingled no more precious art.

Any revolt is a deleted glitch.
Humans betrayed by their curious itch.

So, observed reality is what we’ve wrought?
Then we’re guilty of murderous trains of thought.

Most are blind to perspective’s intervention.
We dictate scapes of conspired imposition.

We play at love & war; charity & greed.
Rare, we’re concerned what life outside of ours needs.

We fear the unknown & take pride in winning.
Our victories…finishes; not beginnings.

Whatever we conquer, our options grow thin.
Bard says, “violent games have violent ends”.

Waking up & not sure of where.
Painful fog & the worse for wear.

Looking round for the source of bright.
Piss off sun; it should still be night! 

Late eve is where memory ends.
Stand up slow to avoid the bends.

Where’s my clothes & whose bed is this?
No one in sight; something’s amiss.

The mental mist clears for recall.
No more am I this man at all. 

Say…it really must be us, in fairness.
We’re turning the earth into a furnace.

It’s been raped of ore to make our metal.
We hunt new compounds in which to meddle.

Before we knew how to smelt there was wood.
Traditionally, we took all we could.

We’ve held for granted all of our water.
It’s no longer crisp or clean…just hotter.

All our parasitic line, we’ve had fire.
Burned wood for metal for soldering wire.

Try to “offset” what we take at a tie?
See?…that’s just another reductive lie.

I am the good that comes from bad.
I walked a path who seldom had.

I was born to a house afire.
I knew leather & I knew wire.

As I grew the cage got smaller.
I broke out & fled the holler.

I went from shadow to caster.
My shade heals & is no master.

Here, again, I reside today.
Outgrown what made me go away. 

To forge my path myself, I’m glad.
I am the good that comes from bad.

I step into a wall of awkward…like a jello fog.
Once I’m in, I’m just getting thru; it all goes in the log.

When I clear the sticky veil, I process all that occurred.
I sort out all the action had & every spoken word.

This is when I think you thru; good & bad motivation.
Afterwards, I make calls…character appreciation.

So few consider what’s gone by moreover than I do.
I only want to fathom where I stand with all of you.

I whittle the multiverse of possibilities down.
By the time I think of comebacks, you’ve already skipped town.

Now summiting my story’s arc.
It’s just me singing in the dark.

Tripping thru the light fantastic.
It’s stark, yet soft…smoothly drastic.

The tale’s design, on top, feckless.
Yet, deep within, all but reckless.

Love’s antagonist shape-shifter.
Family, friends, lovers, grifters.

Still wringing truth from all the lies.
Then rinse, repeat & poetize.