Cover for necro-mania, and other horrors, worked by epstein, deviation
From accountability; apperition like; I
Seem to see? In violence both near and
Far..into a mud, it seems is set the bar'
Most info, screams of only war, yet the
Shrieks were real, and i guess still are.?
From those sacrificial, innocent ones..I
Wonder? Who among us really sleeps now
Well.? And feels affected.' Yet time itself; has yet to tell? Tranches of info to
Light stay coy? The torrid tomes of pred o
Viles..Dear girls and boys' much abuse and
Slaughter.' Yet who wields the knife? Or guns? Or bombs..? How i curse this blight.'
Some light..I crave, yet darkness reigns..'
As ex-royals and current dignitaries, play table top
Games.'
Abstract ideas flitter about in my brain
like butterflies navigating a stiff August breeze.
I try unifying them into something,
a patchwork quilt of grandiose dreams
showcasing profound thoughts
that I feel are worthy of sharing
with strangers and sycophants,
maniacs and mentally sound,
downtrodden and dignitaries,
paupers and princesses
in hopes of making a lasting impression
that will forever change their lives.
But before unveiling my work to the world,
I scrutinize the stitching,
then question the pattern.
Thinking that it’s not good enough,
that it requires additional refinement,
I tear apart the completed piece.
Quickly I discover that it can’t be resewn,
reassembled
or recreated.
What was once coherent,
vibrant,
profound,
now lies in ruin.
These scraps of doubt then entomb me.
Unable to manipulate the fabric,
I remain immobilized
by a misguided attempt
to cover my perceived imperfections
and bury my profound neurosis
so my frail ego
will be shielded from nonexistent ridicule.
You may notice someone in power
Wealthy in either financial fortune
Or social freedom, or popularity
That makes you feel inferior to keen
Thereafter, you wonder the reason
Underlying all the distinction between
You and them, and effort for alteration
But for whatever reason, you fail to gain
Thereafter, you turn to loose hands
And show obedience by pretending
No jealous of others luck and setting in
And forcing yourself hypocritically
Obey and flirt them by forbidding your mind
Of being dignitaries and persistence in truths
To be in cavity alike pets and tools
Without selfness and auto dominance
The doings you act are biologically right
Aside from being morally wrong
As evolution says , the doctrines are urged:
The finner you adopted to the environment
The greater chance you win the competition
But where are the moralities then?
Come on! they are hiding in your soul
Wondering when you are going" to be"
Charitable person, otherwise, hooligan!
Then tell me, what's your confidence
As a human who is morally sound
While also biologically win?
The town fathers
are long neglected by scavenging vultures,
locked up as they are,
in the wood cabin, we call the town museum.
Inside the shack, there are old tintypes, sepia
photographs and the usual rural relics.
Outside, a small patch of lawn
divides the past from a main road,
one that bridges our hamlet
between two swelling and brawling cities.
Those cities also have their metropolitan relics,
grand achievements forever displayed
for groups of bored schoolchildren.
Outside, vultures are shood away
by men in HazMat suits.
Our community fathers are black-suited
grim featured farmers and church dignitaries,
even the mayors that are still alive
look out from their portraits
as if wishing for the odd vulture or two.
Nothing else around here bothers
enough to matter much.
Fields are pushed back beyond backyards.
We killed off all the rattlesnakes years ago.
To see and be seen
on the ubiquitous TV screen
Dignitaries came
to Jimmy Carter's funeral
Thank God the cameras
stayed out of the urinal
The other night
Visiting in a dream a foreign land
We waited in expectation
The arrival of a group of alien dignitaries
Somehow involved in guiding the culture.
When they approached across the sound
In a dark and rough hand-hewn canoe
I ran out to take pictures
Only to find a half dozen or so headless chickens
Standing patiently in their effortlessly gliding craft.
Superior alien advisors in the form
Of small dark brown headless chickens,
Baffling for sure,
And frustrating when I couldn’t get any pictures…
A sure sign of dreaming or just a block by aliens.
Yet the humor of the moment didn’t escape me
As I turned to tell another baffled guy
To look up Mike The Headless Chicken
A real thing that survived almost two years
With only a brainstem.
Which provides some clue I guess
To the symbol of superior beings without heads
And thus complicating brains
Dark and primitive in their dugout
And yet still, within the absurdity of it all, superior.
(11/20/24)
Police will work for the government, not the community.
They will stalk the homeless, be merciless mercenaries, entrepreneur, agents provocateur.
Women will be bought and sold. Even some of the married ones.
Fissures will line the roads from sinkholes and earthquakes. Walking, driving anywhere will be a hazard.
There will be businesses and homeless street business.
Info and dirty deeds, sold.
Cannibal diners will be the nouveau, patrons will be the next course.
Cyborgs, cybernetics and children will learn to be street savvy.
The Hunger Games will be real.
Running Man will be real.
Prostitution will be done in the open.
Haters of Christians will be narks, in charge.
Satanic priests will be their dignitaries and lords.
Everything you do will be tracked.
Groups will be punished
Non Government sanctioned Militias will be outlawed.
They will no longer hide that Google is a government agent.
Bibles will be considered hate speech propaganda.
Poetry will be filtered through the Government, like the News is.
1.Audios include interaction with journalists.
2.Audios include conversations with government.
3.Audios include conversations with military personell.
4.Audios include conversations with the premier military head.
5.Audios include personal and governmental dealings.
6.Audios include interactions between the first family and extended families.
7.Audios may include conversations with serving judicial appointees.
9.Audios include engagements with foreign dignitaries.
10.Audios include directions / orders by personnel involved.
Note.Hopefully this release will bring betterment to Pakistan..
Irony, often, enacts comically fatal roles,
Brings dignitaries down from their highest pedestal poles;
Sometimes, in a symbolically pragmatic costume,
Of the protagonist, destruction its role does assume;
Julia Gillard, Australian feminist Prime Minister,
Kitten heels! Fell over public! Earned laughter sinister!
Unprejudiced slip! Humiliated tentatively!
Escorts and envoys, though, waited on her attentively!
Her fall followed her fiery address on male chauvinism,
Fall on grass and fall-from-grace were linked to her feminism;
Did Julia Gillard abet the Western Australian State,
From the crown of the United Kingdom to terminate?
The alleged treason, with her falls, harmed her reputation,
As her opponents wished, these led to her resignation;
Conservatism of foes, I'd conclude, is cause of her fall,
To cry in wilderness, yet, she has felt, has been her call...!
20 April 2022
In suppression of treason what motive or reason Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Joe Maverick
The Horse.
A horse gives joy to everyone,
By those that ride them just for fun.
There are others that race them, a quarter mile,
and those that do it Kentucky style.
We also see them trot and pace,
and teams with wagons, that love to race.
They are also quick to run a steer,
and buck a cowboy without any fear.
We see them jump a fence and wall,
and play the sport of Polo, with a mallet and ball.
Their elegance and rhythm we admire,
with a magical movement, they inspire.
They will control an unruly crowd,
that often becomes offensive, and very loud.
They are also used for ceremonial events, to honor Dignitaries past and present,
they are more than a sport for Kings, but are a challenge for others, to achieve many things.
Held to expectation cast by citizens
Mirror assures return of gilded grins
Ballroom brag pats his back
Dancer has handshakes lubricated
Dignitaries' approval demonstrated
Slide through sludge of embellishing
Climbing supply sets steep trajectory
Chainmail armour can't crack
Schedule transferred into twenty four
Long clock pours hour numb typhoon
Two day growth rubs grey flat reflection
Ajar loss odds conjure slam of rejection
Glass heart arbiter fears attack
Campsite composed becomes complex
Company pivot competitively, sniff index
Windswept wolf is braced for coals' ignite
Empire pain laid relabeled, corporate heist
Exposed turgid slapped by lack
Asset confines his value crushed for cash
Worthless in combustion, a city collapsed
Identical colts interrupted
Bid for counterpart acclaim
Business fortune corrupts
consecutive boys verbatim
21st February
Tycoon's Forbode
There were era's as old as the game itself
The lots were casted and fates decided
The era of old ways will soon fade
To welcome, the emergence of the new
Each gave way to the rise of the newborns
Nurturing them to become fully equipped
In the ways of the game
Soon the seats where filled with
Different official dignitaries
Men of timber and caliber
In the council of the parliament
The Parliament of vultures
To please the feet
A carpet is laid
To please the eyes
A carpet is laid
To please the ceremony
A carpet is laid
To please the dignitaries
A carpet is laid
To please the honoured guests
A carpet is laid
The carpet
Stepped flat and smeared
Is never to be overlooked
As it's a symbol of
Beauty, wealth, authority and solemnity
But a carpet isn't the best oblation for god
Except one's piety
I sit rolled in a corner
Almost forgotten
Quietly ignored
Crimson velveteen tufts
Densely packed
Underlay visible
Obscuring the majesty
Only ever ceremoniously unfurled
When dignitaries visit
The streets I cover
Usually covered in dust
Dirty and dank
Freshly cleaned
To impress and fool
In the fetid air
The tang of fresh paint
Dingy corners spruced
The homeless ushered away
Children beautifully laundered
Flowers lavishly garlanded
Overflowing bins emptied
So when I am laid out
And smart soles
Tread on my blushing fibres
The illusion is complete
And with my presence
The bare truth hidden
Fleetingly…
Till they have gone
And I am rolled away
Then in my absence
The putrid decay
Of real life resumes
On March Seventeen on St. Paddy's Day
Finbar and Connor drank close to the bay
they ate green saltines
and caught wild sardines
but without any jacks, they couldn't stay
they whized and staggered up dingle harbour
sat at the marina, and ate hot spicy chowder
they whistled and sang
while their stomachs? oh dang !
out to the jack, they pushed it out farther
Finbar and Connor off to Dingle, County Kerry
to join the big parade of pompous dignitaries
light and airy feeling Holy
tooting out just like a Dooley
the day just fell away like wind in the prairies.
Feb. 26, 2021
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