Humans are devolving
No question
Just dissolving
Into madness
Short-lived
Empty mindedness
If that’s what you feel
So be it
The rest of us sit outside
Nothing left to hide
We are anonymous
‘Cuz the oligarchs won
…see you in the next life.
A ticket pinned to the thigh reserves it,
the whole cadaver is parceled off - of course.
Legs are a late harvest, these often-indigent parts
carry a visual poverty long after the body is plucked.
Under watchful eyes the young medics
separate muscle groups, filter large blood vessels
from fibrous runnels, hesitant scalpels
seek out fascial planes.
The leg is devolving to scraps,
yet, ingrained in the tissue
I sense residual shades of a former life,
seaside postcards, old photographs,
perhaps campaign ribbons, odd tokens
amongst yellowed newspaper clippings,
all briefly surface as conjectured images
beneath a probing knife.
The gray flesh retains its personal history,
I imagine that behind the knee
there is a wife, children, and a separation
all spectrally etched between femur and tibia.
Much of the ensuing bone-whittling years
are demonstratively scored
across a formaldehyde and jelled narration.
The students suppose they dissect a limb,
while I notion that I turn over bloodless pages,
of an unwritten story,
and now the last few attached ligaments
remain as threads that speak at last
of a long journey’s end.
Pocket-Gazes
Night depressed—
black spirits, spiders,
demanding, retorting,
an empty vessel, titanic with trauma.
A downturned smile, flagellate,
disillusioned, demoted, disinterested—
dystopian dysmorphia.
Dolls.
Masks.
Spills.
Blood.
Oxygen.
Water.
Decaying. Degrading. Devolving.
Despair, disaster, disappointment—
disappear.
The lexicon collapses inward,
a ladder whose rungs only fall.
Sand sighs. Water shifts.
Hands disembodied.
Faces detached,
checked out.
I flail,
a swimmer drowning in a teaspoon.
Watermelon empathy—
bloated, barren.
A clock face melting, Dalí’s sky.
I am Picasso’s fractured mouth.
I am Van Gogh’s shell-ear,
smashed on the rocks.
Amy Winehouse cries, hollow,
vodka-veined, restrained
inside a music box.
Maya’s muteness.
Florence’s failure.
Mary Seacole’s poverty.
Nightingale’s lamp guttering.
Angelou’s song stilled.
Seacole’s hands trembling empty.
Yet outward—
instead of inward,
instead of into my pocket-gazes—
there might be,
just might be,
a shimmer of stardust,
a touch of moonlight.
Hope, a dot of light
in a cavern of dark.
And yet,
it illuminates the sky.
Is there something in the water or air
that's spreading stupidity everywhere?
Children aren't learning their lessons in school,
vying to be the latest TikTok fool.
As a whole, society's devolving:
a worldwide problem, in need of solving.
It seems everyone is glued to their phones:
no individualism; we're mere clones.
The internet has morphed into a cage,
where stifled minds stagnate and disengage.
Hate and bigotry have gained a platform:
outrageous behavior is now the norm.
We're losing our ability to think
for it's much easier to interlink.
We're banning books, and we're ok with that:
letting the net filter what we look at.
If stupidity's something we can't fix:
try throwing common sense into the mix.
There is something wrong with people today:
AI does their thinking; what can I say?
A ticket pinned to the thigh reserves it,
the whole cadaver is parceled off - of course.
Legs are a late harvest, these often-indigent parts
carry a visual poverty long after the body is plucked.
Under watchful eyes the young medics
separate muscle groups, filter large blood vessels
from fibrous runnels, hesitant scalpels
seek out fascial planes.
The leg is devolving to scraps,
yet, ingrained in the tissue
I sense residual shades of a former life,
seaside postcards, old photographs,
perhaps campaign ribbons, odd tokens
amongst yellowed newspaper clippings,
all briefly surface as conjectured images
beneath a probing knife.
The gray flesh retains its personal history,
I imagine that behind the knee
there is a wife, children, and a separation
all spectrally etched between femur and tibia.
Much of the ensuing bone-whittling years
are demonstratively scored
across a formaldehyde and jelled narration.
The students suppose they dissect a limb,
while I notion that I turn over bloodless pages,
of an unwritten story,
and now the last few attached ligaments
remain as threads that speak at last
of a long journey’s end.
Internet
has woven the world into a tangle of introverts
made us think that our fellow man
is a slow-minded, dangerous dullard
Internet
and mankind do have one thing in common
in that they're bipolar entities,
in the wink of the mind or a tap of the key
they're capable of love and rage
painfulness and joyfulness
peaceful contemplation
or mindless devastation
Man's
soul is devolving into a dead blue seed
in the metal garden of the devolving machine.
--Reapers Dreams--
Met the grim reaper in my dreams. Tried to put it on pause and he used a chainsaw to hack off my legs.
Death always finds a way to make sure I don’t walk into the light.
I look unto the abyss. Without surprise, the abyss looks back.
Infinity, as a dead star…Limitless potential, devolving into a clutter of nihilistic absinthe. Liquidating the insides of materialism. Yet, remaining in the prison.
The realm of vision.
Extraordinary imagination. A cosmos of gravity, the weight takes hold.
May one ever have a moment of silence, in the fireworks of oblivion?
Horrible blobs
crawling on the radar
threatening detonations
punctuating torpid oppression
promising a merciless deluge
Robotic insects invading
Wrathful humans devolving
Nature devouring
Order dissipating
Ambient lyrical drones
bathing the dystopic landscape
inculcating visions of an alternate world
Priority Devolving
Chasms of Unchanging
Echoes Reclaiming
A note pinned to the thigh reserves it,
the whole cadaver is parceled off.
Legs are a late harvest of the indigent.
Their limbs carry a visual poverty
long after the body is plucked.
In a small room, I separate
muscle groups, filter large blood vessels
from fibrous runnels.
My scalpel seeking out fascial planes.
The leg is devolving to scraps,
yet ingrained in the tissue,
I sense residual shades of a life.
Seaside postcards and old photographs,
war ribbons and yellowed newspaper clippings.
The gray flesh retains its memories.
There’s a wife behind his knee,
bone whittling winds have not erased her features,
her youthful form still entwined
around ashen ligaments.
A child climbs up from an ankle bone,
as a sinewy plasma -
it has no substance of its own,
but borrows and gathers a varicose presence.
Sights and scenes invest
a limbs mangled landscape.
Images that can’t be cut away
by living hands.
Some imagine they dissect a limb,
but I turn bloodless pages,
read images once squirreled away,
that now form these sinews
of a journey’s end.
Parental desperation
is the dreadful flee bidden cause
Children separation
is the inhumane quarantine effect
Trying to cross the sovereign divide
is narrow mindedly viewed, by more than a few,
as a pestilent travel venture
Ill will is the chilling, unhealthy reception
The uncivil solution: Create an insane policy
for poor souls seeking asylum
Man-made designation is an animal control way station,
(also known as) Borderline K-9 Cages
See the perennially sad puppy eyes
laying fetal prone on the morgue cold, concrete floors
Watch the waning wag of the tongues,
their thirst for freedom dying behind iron bar doors
National psychotic behavior is borderline criminal,
keeping children in cages is morally indefensible
Diamondback mutes devolving into what?
Mental worms turning into heartless slugs!
Children developing separation psychosis
is a lonesome doggone shame
K-9 kids were never meant to be raised in cages,
yet no one wants to bear the blame
But many of the kennel keepers
have gotten so inured to the ear-piercing, borderline pain
And the womb-ripped parents
are never told where the aborted-trip children were taken
Through the decades, over the years,
Supposed to be most superior in the sphere;
We went backwards, faculty enslaved,
Darwin cries in his grave!
Humans lost humanity,
Animals won the race,
With selfish motives and vanity,
Printed pieces of paper we chase!
Behinde the screens we hide,
Nobody to face;
In judging we take pride,
At the cost of fellow's disgrace!
We swear, we honk, we shout,
Impatient we've turned out!
Loving, sharing, caring, helping,
Seem terms from textbooks;
Educated for earning,
In the mirror, lets have a look!
Beings meant to evolve,
In terms of heart and brain;
For universe's problems to solve,
To feel each other's pain!
Hope to go back to the times sane,
To live with love and harmony, once again!!
3/6/2018
Rarely reaching the expansive ranges
Where infinity influences reality changes
With illusion marked stigma stamped impressions
Sparingly accessed acceptance processing life lessons
Voided all non-existent concepts entered into calculation
Subtracting negative signs doubling positive discrimination
Facing minutes handed seconds clockwise directional hour
Provided additional limitations restricting free powers
Lawlessly abiding thoughts trapped scribing under thin glass
Persuaded temptation daily weekly monthly years pass
Beliefs based beyond cellular systematic space
Uncontrollable devolving of our intelligent human race
Technological aspects statistical advancing mathematical rations
Places recognized first second third in numerical fashion
Reality set standards store a suppressed revelation
I am one of realities patients
Prescribing divine elevation
Merciful Mirror
‘Merciful Mirror on the wall...what is the greatest of our fall?’
The invasion of illusion the greatest of your fervent fall
The absorption of confusion the bigotry of your brawl
The ties that bind you within a decumbent diversion
With eyes that blind you in a camouflaged conversion
In your reflective Majesty of malignant Kings and Queens
A taunting travesty behind the sabotaging smoke screens
In your collapsed cognition of a wandering wasted mind
Within the arrogance of ambition you have been confined
In moments of reason your thoughts delude in deflections
Solitudes in secretion devolving divided dissolute directions
In deep and dormant the evil entraps your scrumptious soul
In a tangled torment as perpetual puppets terminally troll
Mirrors of infinity and infatuation you must eagerly escape
Before the darkness and damnation pulls on the final drape
Within the shattered silences a delusional dimensional attack
Your vengeful viruses will mirror the world of a bridal black.
Sept.21.2017
Mirror Mirror
Sponsored by: craig cornish
Love is abominable to hate,
hate is contemned by love
Two opposite ends of the spiritual spectrum,
they are metrically pre-dia
Hate can be measured quantitatively
by the number of tears you cry, and sob of
Love expands, it abounds;
it can't be measured by any number
Love is like infinity,
it's a circle that's perfectly round
No beginning, no end ...
love is a pure wave of light,
which is so diametrically opposed to night
Hate is abominable to love,
love is contemned by hate
Two opposite ends of the spiritual spectrum;
one is always right on time,
the other is always late
Hate begins with an evil thought,
then ends in acts of iniquity
Devolving into entropic darkness ...
every sin you will feel,
as you thrash around blindly
Love will let you see God,
to see the truth of the spiritual spectrum
Love and hate:
Two forces diametrically opposed ...
truth always revealed,
lies always exposed
Love and hate:
Two forces diametrically opposed ...
love always revealed,
hate always exposed
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