Friday, March 20, 2015

Isn't It Lonely

Isn't it lonely
Girded by herds
Of cattle, average and homely
Isn't it lonely
And aren't we only
Darkness and words
Isn't it lonely
Now that the dream's a bit b'yond the deferred

Isn't it lonely
Surrounded by logos and mottos
A lost soul bowling
Yes, isn't it lonely
When you play the pins 'nd are left folding
Before more organized crime's monopolized lottos
Isn't it lonely
As puppets in Plato's grotto

Oh, isn't it lonely
When there's more in the body
Of material things than holy
Well, isn't it lonely
The parasites drink you stealthily, coldly
The smiley, owned newsman slipped in and got thee
Yes, isn't it lonely
When the comics are more curious, honest and godly

Isn't it lonely
That the jokes hold more
Than debates we're holding
Isn't it lonely
When even the tags on your leaders are phony
There's more genuine on the block in the whores
And isn't it lonely
Still believing in cultural and countrywide cures

Isn't it lonely
That the simplest part they can't seem to repair
With all of their wealth, feigned outrage, filth and gloating
Well, isn't it lonely
Rusting and aging and bony
America, the almost fair
Isn't it lonely, oh so lonely
The stench of decay hovering low in the air

Wednesday, March 11, 2015

So, So Alive

Up the boulevard spring rushes
A cool but warmer stream bearing discarded papers
That skip and flit in the wind
Scraps, junk searching, longing confusedly in an ocean of soot
Currents, convection, motion defines it
Like the oceans that nustle the continent
Every continent
So little's still pristine
But then, no mother ever was
Employment is absent
There is time, there is time
Repose for a moment, reflect
Breathe in the winds of change
Exhale yesteryear, with its miseries and hardships
There will be more, but relinquish them now temporarily
You are one with time, walking forward
Like the tramp up the block, by the railroad crossing
Which long ago brought masses here
Before the mass was hollowed
With the culture
But momentum's now the word
Dense once again
Filled to the brim with emotion and pensivity
Love and the like they're yours
Tomorrow means promise
Past the poverty here, the decay
And the rules of a system
Uncaring, unbending
About as generous as it used to be
Into a space unknown
The nebula of human accomplishment
Something from it surely
Touch that oaked face
Rub your hands over its barken scruff
Contemplate the joys, the difficulties
The puzzles, their solutions
Lick thy lips
Another coarse scoured surface to scrutinize
Like any soul in the world
Physically worn, chemically transformed, yet somehow improved
By existence
This is truth
You are here, you are now
You are human
This is life, and you're alive
So, so alive

Friday, March 6, 2015

At The Fork

In the end I'm a savage
Propelling the anguish
That streams the beginning too
An ape at the core
A conqueror more
Of the kind and the world and the truth
Behold their queer proxies
And ideals so lofty
They've almost concealed their real aims
But pick up a comb
And sift through what's known
And admit, at the head, you're the same
Preposterous reasons
Foul acts so deceiving
An exsolved conscience surely would blush
But it's all in a day
Of the pious and lay
In a howl destined not to be hushed
Withheld in a podcast
Observing the outcasts
And the casts, incasts, reels, what's to say
The world's been castrated
Confounding the fated
And man is at odds with his ways
The mind planteth seeds
For a million misdeeds
Murder and rape and their blood
And I am no different
For my soul has been rifting
At the fork of the id and the good

Sunday, March 1, 2015

In The Arms Of Betterment

The earth it claims a thousand forms
How every face our ways define
But it's better when the winter's fruits
Garnish the lonesome, whispering pines

In some matters placement matters not
Whether capitols low or choirs high
It's better that thy love be there
To raise the world, to bury time

And if on some cleft and conjured plane
Too vague to touch, too wide to spy
Thy love shall not be present then
I'll not concede it's well designed

Though shapes in ours are loathsome most
They grant a charm to finer finds
And grieving well the species knows
Wanes mute beside a luck like thine

And anything the stars may hold
Shall change not how they're quite aligned
By fate prescribed, 'nd thy love ordained
You raise the world, you bury time

Friday, February 27, 2015

Haast Oud Amsterdam

Submerged in the tar of the city
Consumed by the blacktop metaphorical
Dissolving outside in, or is it inside out
That's poetry talking, not science
Ain't it a shame how society
Amplifies the force behind the spell of our vices
By mesmerizing us with temptation
Constant temptation
It knows us so well
By design it does
Give up on morality whispers modernity
Let the worst things within you frolic madly
We can manage their consequences
In the global garden of funky pharmaceuticals
I have danced
By dint of my misery
Synergized with a sickness
Part cultural
Part indigenous
With an ample contribution made by human weakness
I will dance again
But it's never copacetic
Not entirely anyhow
Years ago
I ran from the city of paper
To the city of trees
With the utmost celerity
To escape an ecology unbefitting my taxonomy
But their trunks have been toppled now
In the name of development
Which seems far more practical than ideals are by nature
How the East creeps West
Like the hemorrhagic fever in Africa
Consuming the countryside like a brush fire
And all things untainted
Eating at the nation as it always has
But more thoroughly now has it infiltrated the host
Its tentacles have reached every fiber, every cell
Of a once thriving organism
Poisoning it
A am a child of that virus
Of that great caldera of the Northeast
Which billows a contorted, perverse non-Western ideology
So adept at imitating wisdom and progress and Westernness
Which I have risen above on many occasions
Beyond the flames and the heath and the flows of human debris
Wading through the fresh vapors of my dreams
Willfully blown
Though not deftly so
I was always more misunderstood however
Than incapable
And never shall I transcend in full
The range of my origins
I am ultimately its
Possessed by the infrared
Of the urban
Never could I completely be
Something other
Than the smouldering ash of the American cauldron
And I often pay reverence to its hedonism
With mine own
I lie as a lamb before its agnostic altar
And I plunge myself as I must
Deep into the fire of humanity
Down into her magma chamber
Like my predecessors
To scald myself permanently
By desires that compel me
As I transmutate into something both greater and lesser
At once
All at once

Friday, February 20, 2015

Imagine, Imagine

She whispered so sweetly in vapors so wistful
Of futures quite concrete but surely quite fissile
Of gardens and children and houses of white trim
And as my eyes heard bright words, their blues went on brightening
But down to the heart the wend's not an arrow
Through decades of doubt in the vent and the marrow
Fall the daintiest melodies by the load of the cynic
As the highs of a rube by the base urban critic
Who's witnessed the death of too many ideals
The coerced pragmatist's ally's only the real
He grinds up the raw in his gears unforgiving
Compressing immortal concepts down to the living
But sometimes may downgrade the hope and the promise
To less than the truth though no less the honest
Omitting uncertainties so subtle and volatile
Do not confuse improbable and impossible
There's far more to man than a vain mind's pretensions
But if you see just the least then you must expect it
Don't maim by excess faith in thy crass descriptions
The soul by which progress must breathe and be driven

Thursday, February 12, 2015

The Gift Of Purpose

Swipe down at the crystal stream now running
Past thy paw but never past thy cunning
And pluck your dinner from the architecture
Of the inner life that chose your venture
Every dawn I set my ear to nature
A precious piece that shan't make it to later
As dew long gone at noon by 'vaporation
Like so from us the robin's tune is taken
Oh, to never examine thy purpose
Yes, steady as good gravity to worketh
Muddled by the depth, socratic humans
How for the blind there's no descent there looming
All to know is known and driven duly
As thy instincts speak they speaketh truly
But I am a morass of circumspection
And I have not a cause nor a direction
And I long for the feline's noble clarity
She stalks the hills in perfect linearity
And never questions any of her aims
Or turns back on the path from whence she came
To be just who we are is quite a gift
't preserves one from the white and blowing drift
The beautiful, severest arctic clime
Where light and print 'lone lead to warmth in mind
In the winter of the soul so cold and desolate
Thereby have great men been left desperate, penitent
But grafts does it fine traits into some beings
Which make the social 'quations less agreeing
By putting us at odds with commonality
That in turn irks its foe potentiality
By which each calculation earns some liberty
Though with the outcome's width can widen misery
See wisdom mind you isn't always gainful
Since earth's ruled by the staunch and the disdainful
'nd am I more than a man with absent purpose
Bleeding in the plutocracy's service
Only time will tell I know not now
And to overthrow the plot I know not how