Best Iconoclasts Poems

Annotated Achilles amends fallen frame amputees

Bulimic Barbies browse media monkey banalities

Cameo clouds cling to beaded breath curios

Dopamine dreams delineate check cash desires

Echo endophfins eulogize bullet brain excrement

Fecal folly fantasies reveal relevant frivolities

Gonadal grownups gulp secret scrotal generosities

Helical hemorrhoids hinder senior stricken hemocraps

Idiotic ideals idioiosyncrate postpartum...

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     Statues, iconoclasts love to destroy
     Toppling monuments brings them great joy
        Keeps them all limber
        As they shout ‘Timber’
   ...

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Echo blasts,

as it's all hunky-dorey in an iconoclasts contrasts,

displacement of my courageousness on a dumb-fast
tele~cast,

the resumed movement 28 days later wasn't even just as fast;

it was what was all along in my
aged economical forestry please-

in a delved and dormant door-mat that I once seized-

it came...

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Puppy!
She is one of a kind
A woman of reason and love
Purely ossified and ornate
Puppy! A mother of all people

Slender but not much,
She’s a figure of compassion
Ready to share with others in their plights
Happiness of others is her joyful rewards
Touching every heart to burn,
and to live...

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CHRISTMAS GIFTS


Churches – fill with cameo believers,
He sits outside shivering in the cold,
Returning to the fold - self deceivers
Immune to fate - no battered cup to hold.
Snow swirls in mystic funnels lacking faith
Tantalizing visions adrift in space
Manic angels praying with homeless wraith
Acknowledging the cold and...

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There it is,
and swept along, the common wind
of everyday reality, leading
through the metaphysical and
to infinity. There, and just for us.

It is too soon ignored. Too soon,
conformity. Too soon
the halloos are but faint upon our ears.
The marchers will retire; iconoclasts
abandon the most distant cause.
The infinite is...

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Let me tell you about my dream 
My father said, putting me on his lap 
It was a dream that has always seemed
Too impossible and hard to grasp 
I dreamt that I was alone on a cloud 
Looking at our nature being felled 
Observing the...

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I did not wish to sleep with old gods 
that stand trying to evoke the grey skyline of modernity

That preach on hummingbird wires 
that murmur telemetry through echoed iconoclasts.

And as the aging blue repetition spatters on a new cosmetic smile 
that fades with its bedfellows...

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Each of us is a warrior:
For earthly survival,
For the Lord of our soul.

What determines the time of service
For each individual warrior?
Conscription? Consumption?
Was this culprit a volunteer?

An honorable discharge
Is really all the old warrior seeks.
In the end the medals and commendations
Don't matter
As iconoclasts, gathering dust at...

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The politics of religion,
its statues on fire
All martyred saints burning
in canonized pyre

As cardinals of vengeance
seek new hearts to be stoned
Inquisitors ramble,
the Creator on loan

The religion of politics,
 papal decrees
Guilt laden promises,
 salvationists fee

Crusaders on horseback,
twelve Apostles alone
Which is more dangerous,
the Word or the throne

(Chorus)

“Raise the...

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I've walked at a peculiar
angle

As I've laughed at peculiar
circumstances

I've aged in the most peculiar
of vacuums

And went on to love in the most
normal of ways

I've worked in a spirit
of defiance 

As I've traveled the many miles
from compliance

I've lived within the confines
of the moment

And written of those...

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I've walked at a peculiar
angle

As I've laughed at peculiar
circumstances

I've aged in the most peculiar
of vacuums

And went on to love in the most
normal of ways

I've worked in a spirit
of defiance 

As I've traveled the many miles
from compliance

I've lived within the confines
of the moment

And written those things...

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To not appease the critics,
success within our grasp

The charlatans of written words,
venom of the asp

They bury deep inside their dens,
ordained iconoclasts

Passing judgment, casting blame
—on what they fear might last

(To T.R.’s ‘Man In The Arena’ March, 2021)...

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You walk in hoping for solace or a smile,
instead you’re ostracized by iconoclasts.
Oh what irony!
Becoming what you profess to be against,
don’t you see what a joke that is? 
Now we’re overrun with hypocrites.

Safe spaces aren’t so free,
they’re not open to all who enter;

Copying a cadence...

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