Category: Poetry

The facts are met commonly by indifference.
Thus, in her time, strike diseases of ignorance.

Fear has done greater harm than truth ever prevents.
Think doomsday cults & extinction level events.

True, truth often comes along with pain on its heels. 
It’s rarely deadly & after the pain it heals. 

Too, ignorant of smallpox, TB & X-Rays.
All have died & are still dying…even these days.

“Immortality” sits not with words on my tongue.
I’m getting notes of “forever” & hints of “young”.

I do not know why my sight redirects.
Why must I plunge to Cthulhulian depths?

Why can I not just take in the surface?
Why is each detail a gift with purchase?

Of it all, why do I see backs to fronts?
Why must I understand the whole at once?

It’s fine, I’m accustomed…my question stands.
Why does my mind need to grasp with both hands?

I can’t cherry pick views that work for me.
Unfiltered’s the cost…if I want to see.
 
Time & force, my understanding, whittle.
 Maybe I will just go blind a little.

I don’t care about relevant obsolescence.
I’ve learned the visual history of our presence.

Give us a new toy to occupy our focus.
When we are distracted, strip our bones like locusts.

I’ve almost fifty years watching, & living, life.
All its happy souvenirs rest upon a knife.

Absent of its circumstance, a memory floats.
Blade’s edge only seen when one digs deep in the notes.

All of joy only matters to the enjoyee…
Plus, those few who can truly enjoy what they see. 

Excuse me, do you have time to read my paltry words?
Just my daily entry parsing brain whey from brain curds?

Do you know a term for sticky, misty fogs of doom?
I think that I have one right here…how about a “brume”?

Like sorting pills to days of weeks; I index my mind.
Even then, days do fly places I’d not thought to find.

A few months ahead, sometimes, I will jot down a phrase.
It will sit ungerminated many moonlit days.

Yet, rain & sun always fall enough to feed a root.
Rare are days that pass by, where my muse gives me the boot.

Deign a golf-clap for the killers of wonder.
You know who you are & who you’ve deemed under.

I’m always just south of right & north of wrong.
I’ve not seemed to be either in so, so long.

I study, I learn & I wait for an in.
I proffer my opinion; but it won’t win.

I take it all back to the dusty blackboard.
Work problems with what stolen time can afford.

Grown excited I’ve found what you wanna hear.
I’ll say what I think after swallowing fear.

Do not wither, do not wilt; be gardens flush with rains.
I do not speak of flowers; I speak to thee of brains.

Water them, feed them & nurture them against all strife.
Minds can grow & bloom away throughout your entire life.

Graduating from anything cannot be the line.
Diplomas are not barrels fermenting knowledge wine.

Thru each role bestowed by life & all the love inside;
Experience is fractal…in facets we reside.

I’m a changeling, a brother, an uncle & a fag.
We can’t be all these things at once…that’s deity’s bag.

We are not omniscient, yet we still can ever learn. 
Emotional intellect’s a precious thing to earn.

Move determined & slow as a tortoise.
Be aware that evil rides towards us.

Take comfort in armor yourself has made.
Then, into the rising dust of the fray.

Nick a dead brother’s weapon as you pass.
Become crash & slash as comrades amass.

Make a field of death from enemy trees.
Take them down as they come; head, heart & knees.

The job is in front of your sword right there.
The slow steady tortoise always beats hare.

Fitting in while sticking out…my little lonely trait.
This thing that I do so well…it pays for its own freight.

The world outside lingers safe in my cerebellum.
My frontal lobe populates more than I could tell ‘em.

Fourth of July fireworks at every new reveal.
If you could glimpse what I see, you’d know that it is real.

Though my life is a revolution on the inside;
That’s just where it is…so, unwittingly, there I hide.

Mind-exhausting implosion flashes thru blood & gut.
I stir from my spell that no one noticed & say, “what?”.

There’s only one thing rude boys truly fear.
Just being near a glitter dusted queer.

Born on the same side of town that I was.
We could not be more than two strangers, cuz.

Am I wrong; have I miscalculated?
Did we raise high; did we demonstrate it?

Have we tended gardens…even the thorns?
Have we made music with sacrificed horns?

For, each faggot contains a multitude.
Did ya get that; you need some fresh air…dude?

There is no jewel in life that does not hold a stain.
If you stare at the sun, you’ll be blind in the rain.

So, sometimes…you just get sucker-punched in the neck.
Five seconds later come crocodile tears…ah feck!

Even destruction leaves materials behind.
Organize the jumble & use what you find.

Also, are the moments when good overwhelms you.
Conciertos fire hearts, minds…& waterworks too.

Cruel denial & high art all in one night’s campaign.
There are no jewels in life that do not hold a stain.