Time is too slow
for the anxious sufferers...
Too quick for the fearful.
A flash for the greedy
and celebratory acolytes,
further than a penalty,
for those who lose it...
For those who live in love,
is always immortal
and infinite...!
Agitators ambush America
anger attacks, abstruse
acquaintances and adversaries acrid
absolutism acolytes abrading
abrogate acrimony
America, arise altogether
amend, amend
Her words were rootless,
they were buttercups churning in a cyclic wind;
sweet if you like sweet, but never deep enough
nor strong enough to be hurtful or loving,
Her poems came with the bland smile
of a sociopath.
Naturally folks considered her an angel,
one sent to us by ever-loving poetry gods.
Dead now for many years
she is read avidly by latter day acolytes;
the tepid tapioca of her words
turning many a fan doe-eyed and limp
as if they had just been shot
by an arrow straight from cupids ass.
A spanner in the works
I have dislike of all royalty who stole the people's land
Their acolytes were given titles to ensure their loyalty.
Privileged aristocracy, the guardian of transformation
Modern days robber baron is a continuum to be sure
The people walk alongside gilded horse-drawn carriages
Cap-in-hand, wave flags and accept their lowly life.
Watch out for that ideology
Bad effects on your psychology
It bleeds into our sociology
‘Til we hate one another’s biology
Let’s make a pact
To get our facts together
Have no ideology
Whatsoever
Hitler and Stalin and Mao and Amin –
Terminating angels of some fantastic machine
Marx and Weber and Keynes and Rand
Raised a fist of thought in hand
But Peter and Paul and the whole Roman Church
Didn’t wanna leave anyone in the lurch
Ho Chi Minh shoved me on a Mekong barge
Meanwhile, the Castros were living large
Let’s make a pact
To get our facts together
Have no ideology
Whatsoever
Apostles, ideologues, acolytes –
Whatever gets you thru the glassy night
The world is your battleground and you must fight
Just watch for the mines under your short sights
It’s finally Friday night
there’s not a professor in sight.
If you think I’m happy - you’re right!
My homework assignment is light,
I just have an essay to write.
We and our sister suite will unite,
dragging a couch over, so the seating is right.
We’ll binge on Ozark most of the night,
‘cause we’re all Justin Bateman acolytes.
Pizza and ice cream will be a highlight,
in an evening of lazy delights.
I wish you could join us on-site,
but a quarantine prevents the invite.
She may be petite
or large...not the point;
Moms are Republicans;
she may have small feet...
or large – either way,
hurt their children
and they step heavy –
Democrats to-rue-the
day, they turned from
the peoples' good to
pay-to-play – the ultimate
maleficence. The Devil's
acolytes....
A young woman, her form
still bearing a mirage of beauty.
In her detail she decays
closer still, a beauty returns
as a micro-delicacy.
Her charm dips in and out
like a swan through the bodies spoilage.
Da Vinci and his artist acolytes,
those red-handed anatomists,
all owe her rent.
The swan should be redrawn,
blood-money paid
with those same blunt tools
they broke into her with.
Wisdom murmurs amid paucity of things—
seekers contemplative in cross-legged trance.
Pondering vaguities pensive meditation brings—
to apprehend with nonchalance of glance.
While to acolytes, such subtleties impinge—
denied are those of stifled grasp.
For in their minds a fetid dinge,
mundane failure to enclasp.
Stunted ones thus held in thrall,
ever signal their incurious pose.
While unmuted is a mounting wrawl,
from those abhorrent in appose.
The blind above in fog would lead,
who daily task us for our gaze.
They tire us with unending screed,
and we ignore while they abrase.
Rather would I summon stillness—
watch quiet water smooth a stone.
Free myself of this world’s illness—
love gently life I choose alone.
More or less, half a century ago,
A darkness hovered over this world,
Our generation dwells in this darkness today.
When does the light of hope become evil darkness?
When the generations that come after become the personification of evolutionary failure?
When we worship inanimate, emotionless stellar mass,
begging it to cater to our every whim?
When, (not if, WHEN) your child is less likely to die from an incurable disease, or fighting in World War 3, than falling from a 4 story building, after shouting, "Look, i'm SUPERMAN!"?
When you wish upon a star,
Your dreams don't come true.
Walt Disney's vision comes to life.
A vision where survival instinct is 0%
A vision where we depend on this cruel universe.
A vision where his disinformation kills off future generations.
"It's only a dream."
REST IN AGONY
WALT DISNEY
1901-1966
EAT FECES AND DIE TWICE
'Tis in a manner far from thrasonical
That I come to you in full canonical
What I chose to do was to instill my love
On acolytes below while I was above
When the holy Church I entered in my prime
I, the Church,entered many, time after time
Those altar cherubs whom I picked out to spoil
I anointed warmly with my sacred oil
How could I resist faces so innocent
Wreathed in the swirl of the thurible's scent
To hold them close tightly and their soft flesh feel
Made my whole self dizzily tingle and reel
How truly uplifting was my fierce,fierce joy
When I had communion with a chosen boy
They knew our closeness was clearly God given
And that in confession would I be shriven
For all the worldly good I did on God's earth
Then entry to heaven is my deserved berth.
Alas,your Grace,you cannot in all conscience enter here
Too much dark concupiscence on your soul sits,I do fear
Too concentrated were you on carnal desire
That leaves you to roast now in the eternal fire
Begone! For scandalising the young
Round your neck must a millstone be hung
And into the depths of Hades will you descend
There to endure your torment without end
As the days shorten and skies darken
Greenwich meantime feels like a lean time.
With a heavier coat I go out scarfed,
my hat pulled down, to find those last leaves
compact in corners and crevices.
With whitening fingers gloved I crouch
and pluck them for leaf mould; while wood lice
watched by a robin, head cocked, alert,
are plucked as he darts for a morsel,
as blackbirds too pluck the last berries.
As a north-easterly blast attacks,
it is time to retreat from the chill
wind into a defensive shelter,
to sharpen secateurs for pruning
apples, blackcurrants and gooseberries.
Winter battles as the rain rattles
on the windows, probing and testing.
I bring in some logs and lay the fire –
match to kindling it begins to roar.
Now dusk it's time the curtains to draw.
Hot drink clasped, I behold a new moon
crescent up into a clearing sky.
There beneath the starlit canopy
snowdrops begin to poke through the grass
as if to reflect the countless stars.
In the morn I rake moss from the lawn
to keep warm – it pays to keep moving –
with aconites as if acolytes
soon to join a vernal procession
into the promise of renewed life.
an archway
an archway opens onto a soporific plaza
which pours outwardly in colorful asymmetric
displays that once incited the bones of an organic past
steeped in a rich broth, an ancestral heaving stew,
quietly simmering to a point of boil.
the humble ones, once, alive to the core, move to and fro,
cornered and stultified by conventions, babbling broken mantras,
they attempt to sooth the spirits daunting deadly pricks
the lipstick girls of the labial folds, who exist beyond the pale
of a refracting sun’s light, hover between ghostly spheres
of a lost sacerdotal history;
wet with gloss, they yearningly enchant youthful acolytes,
who, painted in salacious priestly pastels,
patterned up to placate the Ones,
are fully endowed and exuding in virginal carnality,
fall willingly into their own demise, caressed by the
spreading tongs, in the act of sacrificial obligation.
an archway opens out to a thriving and heaving plaza.
Darkling of stealthy in some cauldrons iron pit
a pestilent brew stirred by centuries
breathed upon vaporous ignoble spells
such a voodoo curse to strip the innocent
rendered in black swallow venom bid them to drink
Yet poison by pin drop is slowly added
a curtain so black seethed implicated
in vile purpose to betray and to all life a foe
bring the acolytes to fallen
and damn them all
Nail them high on bloodied wrist
and gather sanction to fears egress
let them inherit the torment of its silence
and lay division by insidious potion
this separation of human from spirit
And by foul word utter this incantation
and in sweet mouth offer false revelation
so to the priesthood of economical demons
impart the whiplash of a lie
and in torture the demonic shall control them
Lay sickly the veil on the eyes of truth
in seizing, grasping every falsehood
trample life to the unquestioning dust
leave the tie to eternity bereft
and call it death
By apples Eve and Adams snake
Edens garden and the world remake
a pestilent brew stirred by centuries
and lay division by insidious potion
this separation of human from spirit
The preposterous fictions many
profess to be unvarnished truth
warp the very fabric of our universe --
cause those long dead to walk among us
through the spectral midnights in our minds.
The bone dust of those past millennia
films our eyes, coats our shelves
of sacred primers, those missals
unquestionable in their catechistic
authority -- so we become
the acolytes of those controllers
who have themselves always been
instructed, conditioned, and suppressed
by generations of such teachers --
through example, reward, or punishment.
Think! Open up your mind!
The truly free do not fear to question
and to decide the truth or falsity
of any proposition, any statement
or assertion and to declare
what they have concluded to be true.
Or false.
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