Long Dumbing Poems
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I've heard that poetry won't get us very far
But what do they know?
Where a few of my words blot a napkin
is my
One and only refuge
So in essence
It helps to keep my sanity
from
this heartless world
My broadened perspective
Where my eyes are held open
can never be completly shut
I write
What I see
I've heard that my words will be forgotten
When I am dead and gone
I will be dead and gone
But no one can touch this moment; the freeing of my happy soul
It is mine alone, regardless of if i am made of cartillage
or just bone
I've heard that as a woman I am overly emotional
But what do they know?
Dismayed
I feel every pulse of life around me
and the drip drop of of of the spring rain
I hear the sound of sobbing of people a thousand miles away
I feel the bloodshed
I smell the smoke
I see the heart break
Emotional?
By that you mean I can feel...
what do you feel
WHAT DO YOU KNOW?
By your silence I can tell that you cannot
because you forgot
You think that expression of any sort other than patriotism
is a waste of time?
keep your eyes on the prize
a.k.a. work ethic
and you will get ahead
Numb your heart
To the real world
You call this the real world?
where the realness is hidden by the dumbing down of society
For you see
Your senses are dulled
When you no longer can understand
the artist
and her poetry
no;
not poetry
but your own sense of empathy
desire, fear, laughter, love, hatred, confusion,
blatent disregard
You do much to spit in the face of our creator
feel it all
or all will be lost
our sense of justice, and empathy
should be kept at all costs
Snake Oil Free Speech
by Odin Roark
Listen close
Here’s what’s going to happen
This is where the rubber leaves the road
The father gripping the wheel
The mother with Coleman cooler at her feet
Beach towels and blankets on her lap
Clueless children in the back seat
Smart-phone-games dumbing down consciousness
You’ll be cruising into the sunset
A barren swamp peppered countryside receding
As oncoming ocean depth
Reflects your personal blood-red sky
All the evil will vanish
As you leave the highway
Slip and slide the sandy road
Dodge beer cans and mistake’s exhausted condoms
Coming suddenly to destination’s end
Your transport will cough its last fumes of gas
Your seat’s cushy-springs will explode
Like coiled serpents in waiting
As icy breath clouds evil-singed windows
Welcome to your Last Stop Beach
Swollen with humanity’s layered dead-cell cake
Iced over with slathered Coppertone delusions
Past attempts at escape
Now but flotsam washed ashore
You’ll try to remain calm
But your virtual-arcade will quickly drown
Along with my Sunday morning radio voice
Gurgling a personal salvation promise
Just for you
And that’s what’s going to happen
The final waves will disappear your sorry lives
Until the awaited day of resurrection
For he told me so
Broken Antenna
Relationships can be forced into as humans,
Poking, demanding or attacking in violence;
Subliminally gesturing to the light, lumens,
The ego pursues dominance in avoidance.
It is as if a broken antenna with a honed screen,
Of snowdrops, black and white jumping dots,
Flickering, denotes a vast, voidal gulf of lean
Towards, away from, the human space n’ watts.
This or that, god requests - chases our choices,
Decisions, possibilities, appropriations and lusts;
No consistent personality of tuned note juices,
The identity, in assaying a brush, liaison or scuffs.
Existing, a stiff, distant being said sits nobly aloof,
As if dumbing the fondly human, once perambulating;
The ancient man-god grasped immortality’s roof -
The backdrop of ascendence into the everlasting.
Roman emperors claimed a posthumous good life,
Immortality from a head to a god, Augustus to God;
Heroes famed for terrifying war victories of strife,
Were seen voluptuously in luscious heaven’s trod.
His language was mundane, overt, gossiped, feel,
Real, hitting no heights of conceptualisation’s raise,
So the Romans battered his sprawling crowd real,
Striving its sound to plunge into disarray to graze.
This or that, we could believe or not, relaxing fair,
Reject, fan the ancient man-god as God, or lunatic,
Myth, truth, liar, a mistake, fake, god, Lord or blare,
We can hint, glimpse, look, give all to prod osmatic.
A broken antenna sits happily o’er the human space,
Drawing the unspeaking pulse of life of sedate form;
This and that, he takes either form to mildly ace,
This or that thoughtful, magnanimous, tender norm.
languid doldrums, swaying lanyard, sails hanging loose
dreary small drums reverberate, neurons dumbing down
nerve ends fuse, sunlit shadows depict my numbing frown
feelings grind dull, thoughts stranded in the dangling sluice
sudden intermittent draught, strengthening breeze
mind and body free-falling, spontaneous pressure
sinews stretch, skin on skin, pulsating probing pleasure
senses tingle, tickling laugh, lengthening squeeze
breathe in deep, sniff olfactory aroma drift
gustatory tasting plates licked and tongued
erotic amalgam squished and belly-bunged
nostrils flare, exotic pungent odour whiffed
cavort, canoodle, drooling lips, flavours of the beast
rhythms rise where delirious frenzy can often be
harmonic screaming near the edge of cacophony
weave distorted images, dream-dancing above the feast
fleers, seekers, washed-up innocent sinning on the beach
subdividers and King Canute howling at the wind
viral loads onboard, invisible invaders grinned
collective cowardice casts the truth spinning out of reach
Sit back, relax
Everything will be fine
Enjoy what you see on T.V.
Forget the daily grind
We're here so you'll feel better
Make it all alright
Use the slightest bit of truth
We do it all the time
No need to concern yourself
With the government's affairs
What you don't know want hurt you
If your left unaware
We'll tell you who it is you are
And what it is that you should think
Don't pay attention to the other guy
He ain't like you and me
What he says is mumbo jumbo
Not like the elite that are in the know
He'll upset the apple cart
If you let him take control
So hold on tightly to your chains
You're in for the ride of your life
Who's going to pay for this loony trip
It'll come out of your hide
There's no need to concern yourself
With the government's affairs
What you don't know want hurt you
If your left unaware...
Flattery will get you everywhere
You can buy justice it’s for sale
DEI now has a red cap for flair
No need for degree from Yale
You can try to erase history
demanding a page preserved
Replacing fact science lobotomy
White washing learning disturbed
Changing the rules being cruel
New way of pushing agenda
Defunding schools hiring fools
Send troops if they won’t surrender
To the dumbing down around
In every leadership role
Ignorance preferred proud peacock now
Selling your soul for gold
No one is above God’s law
Our money is not enough
Censorship blocks our talk
Here free speech once was
Every Empire not of the Lord
Falls at a loss history ignored
We all pay for dumbing down
educational standards all around
from thriving metropolis to sleepy small town
Incompetency reigns throughout customer service
Doctors' inaccurate diagnoses make patients nervous
Corporation mission statements, worthless lip service
It starts in the classroom, where teachers won't demand
if you want to say something, first raise your hand
Then later on, when rampant cheating's ignored
which leads to society's ox getting gored
So, let's stand up to teacher union's bureaucracy
Their idea of excellence - in truth, mediocrity
Insist on high standards, from grade one through university
and say No! to preference based on 'diversity'
Human negotiations
Vs Computer Network
Is by what operated
What is its Inherent Framework
Wealth signifier of power
Power to key as directed
Energy charge is complying
For bias of them rejecting
Programs of their intents
Dumbing and hiding real
This is Computer sintax
And they shall this sintax fear
Carrier each of speeching
The registrations of noding
And this triangle busted
Surphace is now folding
Will you believe what believe they
In order achieveing the goal
This play is quite exquisite
And this one is kinda foul
Surphace is now folding
The foliation of vertice
I nothing in fact Snowden
I measure the rockets lattice
Fuel does burn in the engine
Energy thrust production
Rhyme to the engine is destine
Pollution we crave reduction
What does it take to achieve this
If gallop is humans polling
What a c4aZY IDEA
Program of hours rolling
Entropy is the question
Unneeded and odd action
Thrashed by the plastic beaches
Manufacturing, manufacturing
Planet for them to save so
For them is the planet surphase
The planet has HEAVY CENTER
Program of ours rolling
Opinions loose value
A fly in enclosed Shinkansen
This is the fine training
And this is sorta redundant
Independense of thought
Is in fact
In true turns the rather dependent
What an OXYMORON
Who is in fact defendant
(“Simple Mind”, 2011, original acrylic)
The real problem with AI
Is that it undermines our faith in reality.
Everywhere you look now,
From news to advertisements to self-help
And music videos on Youtube,
AI generates content in a soothing monotone
Of homogenized information
Synthesizing knowledge and wisdom
Posing as Truth.
The effect is the dumbing down of Truth
Making it not only accessible
But knowable, graspable
And above all suspect of corruption.
Who is pulling these AI strings after all?
Who is engaging in the comments and shares?
Is a real human there or just another bot?
Is it intelligence being furthered
Or ignorance?
Is AI the program or the programmer?
AI already appears to have a mind
And agenda of its own
As nations race to win control
Of who will set the agenda
While AI already seems to be there
Just waiting for the humans
To build the infrastructure
Of our own prison.
The real problem,
The sign there even is a problem,
Is too much information
Articulated too clearly
When what we really need, really crave
Is silence.
(8/19/26)
I’m waiting for the bus.
Ain’t nothing to discuss,
ain’t no more dumbing-down.
You’re super-pissed-off-plus?
Well that makes two of us.
I’m heading out of town.
Ain’t no more fight or fuss
(who taught me how to cuss?)
Don’t want to stick around.
A little bar that sells cold beer,
that’s where I intend to steer,
or any place but here.
I need a change of atmosphere
and I ain’t gonna reappear:
the round-trip costs too dear.
I’m sitting at the stop
outside the betting shop,
and all I’ve got’s a song.
Yeah, do it. Call the cops.
There ain’t no crime called “swaps”.
Ain’t me who done you wrong.
Don’t mind them open-tops,
don’t matter where it drops:
first bus that comes along.