Long Usurped Poems
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blue war red hot political issues dont amount
to a hill of beans
when Sword of Damocles count
approaches zero hour
as global tensions mount
signaling increased chance
trigger finger will free
avast nuclear winter
(across world wide web) re:
leasing plethora pyrocumulus
mushroom clouds tree
mend us planetary explosions
annihilating webbed wide
world, an irrevocable earthlinked debacle
spelling widespread species
multitudinous extinction
ex post de facto after super
bowling powers (wannabe) vied
to wrest empowerment spanning
entire realm sans third rock
from the father, sun and holy ghost,
who turned substantial pock
kits of flora and fauna
once populating oblate spheroid ad hoc
significant swaths of life forms
pulverized and/or turned to ash
transformed into radioactive wasteland
after war mongers brash
lee usurped hegemony
(ruling inhabitants
of Gaia with an iron fist
with a smidgen of flavoring
courtesy of Missus Dash
superfluous taste enhancer,
when sibling burnt offering views
between Venus and Mars incendiary
tolled mourning news
smithereens sole remnant
poisoned every square inch
from weapon of mass destruction
that did cruise
engendering thick noxious fog
(disabling fox and roach)
while smoldering seas and continents
skull and crossbones didst poach
amidst the gasified, liquified, pureed
where holographic ghoulish super bowl coach
rendering lifelessness home for menagerie
where virtue trounced vice as organisms
(particularly one primate) didst try
(predominant 21st century simians)
tool heave with amity, comity, and empathy
animals and plants an experiment
that went a wry
presaging a nuclear winter with nary a winner
implicating mankind as the absolute sinner
instantaneously after Doomsday Clock
signaled point of no return
where grim reaper the sole grinner.
Form:
Homeward James: by Bill
For the king hath arisen
nsync with royal couture
decked out and bedizened
to the nines resplendent blindingly,
I telly you to envision
colorful dress exploding,
qua gaudy flashy
gold flecked fission,
this quotidian get
up courtesy commoners
copious colossal co-gent
coffers, stoking inquisition
condemning criminals
(predominantly crude
crepuscular Cro-
Magnon like creatures)
amidst a bloody
sea of crimson
and clover, where within usurped
hinterlands, there flourishes
enslavement jurisdiction
hard (heart sell) earned manumission
thru sworn fealty to attend
willy nilly, and
pamper ruling powers,
sans whimsical nocturnal necessitation,
especially eunuch horns
dill agent allegiance,
asper unquestioned prurient qualification
eventually (meaning soul posthumously,
quintessentially, and
subsequently) acquiring redemption,
plus bridging the gulf
between life and death,
viz longed for unification
as penultimate non plus
ultra holy communion
despite disparate, distinct,
and diverse denomination
afterlife automatically bespeaks,
concedes, and decrees equalization
erasing mortal edicts
against fraternization,
whereat atheist and/or orthodox
religious attain graduation
figuratively hewing eternal
(fashioning noteworthy Gabriel)
angelic exhaltation heavenly melodies
exhorting glorious habituation
incorporating individuals
into idealogical institution.
Cold air whistles acquainting
me with Arctic Blast, when
roundly forcing acquiescing
into half foursquare corner, activating
most recent spate of
ideal linkedin warm weather
ah...,my favorite sweet
spot for read ding
partially secluded from
gossip mongers addicting
fellow nosy residents,
who rarely brave elements
of style lush nature addressing
natural environment, sans leaving
comfort of their hermetically
sealed apartment adhering
to zero risk exposure
even during pitch
perfect weather adjusting
cessation to renouncing
"cabin fever" administering
most potent panacea
for heavenly solar fling
nay, most every tenant
here at Highland Manor
prefers vicariously admiring
terrestrial flora and
fauna, even when nature
bursts forth with adoring
"The Rite of Spring" adorning
the snapchat buzz zee
flight of the Bumble Bee
the still frozen, yet slowly aerating
rib rock solid state terra
firmae slowly alleviating
thick slabs of iced over terrain
indiscriminately allocating
patch of landscape
legion limitless almsgiving
then as instagram dusk
preempts afternoon alternating
cathartic, fantastic,
and iambic anesthetizing
magic, opportunistic, and therapeutic
reverie blitzed, viz banshee screaming
mother nature's wound
dead spirit expressing
agony dost vent wrath
heartfelt lament vacillates, manifests,
and explodes analogous
qua red bull who readily
didst get smitten angling
to expunge anguishing
cumulative racking torment
hell bent on annihilating
primate responsible species
akin to a silent spring announcing
slow but inexorable annulling
guardian (nee abuser) role usurped
by *****sapiens,
who need answer
for relentlessly antagonizing
writhing, lowing, and bristling
Planet Earth!
If truth has its own thesis
That hardly needs emphasis.
If untruth's antithesis,
Post-truth's perhaps synthesis—
Untruth’s sis, and a miss so famous,
Year twenty sixteen’s pet amorphous!
If unstressed syllable is thesis,
The stressed one's known as arsis,
I need no stress, said thesis,
Untruth's usurped all the emphasis,
Her sis, the miss is much-crowned,
Post-truth pouts a visage frowned.
If truth a fulsome fact is,
And untruth though fictitious,
Still lives in relative ease,
And post-truth, a smarter miss,
And anglers' much prized a fish,
That might one day be a cherished dish.
We know, truth oft silent is
Faced with dogged emphasis
Of lie, who an ace sprinter is,
Faster anywhere reaches,
Where post-truth ready to greet,
Welcomes it in ways discreet.
Post truth may enjoy long lease
In this New Year in sure bliss,
It’d live a life of effort-less ease
Judging from how the mood is.
It fits the times like fine rhyme,
I’d say: post-truth be the mood of time.
The only hope for truth if hope there's:
A proven marathoner it is.
__________________________________________________
Post-truth was the pet word of 2016. If truth is multi-dimensional as Jain philosophy believes, post truth is even more dynamic as this piece says.
___________________________________________________
Happenings | 08.01.17 |
The ‘classics’ section is not small.
Ranks of tightly printed editions
squeeze a concertina of time.
The glossy acrylic smell of new books
is cordite to my nose,
I dodge a graphic array of explosive masterpieces.
Movies have usurped many of these books
Wikipedia factoids précis lengthy sagas,
Hearsay, and word of mouth
account for whole aisles of masterpieces.
There are just a few left,
books that keep their obscure tales
under cryptic wraps.
I could take them home, maybe fill a single shelf –
speed-read my way through,
or maybe just read the blurb and the last chapter
just in case I am ever asked.
Seeming to decipher,
The count of the sample,
Whether white, red or dead,
It appears, each is ample,
The blood of our lives,
Not the fluid, arterial,
But the beings, among them,
Usurped the toy in your cereal,
Their daily appearance,
At the start of your day,
Then emerging in time,
As the sun went away,
Their cohabitation,
With you, not by choosing,
But the result of divinity,
And the Creator's own musing,
A parent, a sibling,
Those snags of the branches,
All accounting for something,
When relations are stanches,
Unlike other vows,
Ceremonial, contractual,
Once out of the womb,
They are dogma and factual,
Commandments and law,
Reinforce these intentions,
Though no matter or slight,
Ever fades from contention,
Blood is thicker than water,
And universally sold,
Never questioned or doubted,
Whither silent or told,
Then, some days out of many,
When zeal and self,
Decide this is the day,
I want off of the shelf,
The blood test is given,
A puncture of flesh,
Your judgment, by others,
Disregarded as fresh,
The clan, it has spoken,
Based on magisterial virtue,
Eat every last word,
Though it might only hurt you,
But, you are in the know,
Of your first name and surname,
And the choice may preclude,
The outcome of this game,
It is time you stand still,
Concern, only internal,
Which cancels your date,
With the family tribunal,
It's never forever,
The scab always heals,
But, now, it might cover,
Something new to reveal,
The blemish is formed,
Hiding old wound or issue,
It is never the same,
Reinforced by scar tissue,
Hopefully all cells involved,
Can now work together,
Creating new bonds and sealant,
And tougher than leather,
You emerge understood,
By reason or force,
Avoiding all separation,
Death, disaffect or divorce,
There might be some others,
Trials of unknown decree,
With the plaintiffs intact,
Or scouring leftover debris,
You have done what is needed,
And can sigh in relief,
Your resolve and conviction,
Firmly held your belief,
That blood is essential,
It fuels, ignites verve,
And yet until it is tested,
We know not whom it serves,
So, we test, and retest,
Find the vain to extort,
And if too much is drawn,
We can simply abort.
(12/9/01)
I was adopted . . .
one morning in the mists of yesteryear
when the sun glimpsed over the pallid shone house
next to the abode of my mother and my father
on came a harbinger of desolation. . .
I died that day though I knew it not,
nor was I to understand,
comprehend
this death for many winters past and fallen to the way side.
I was five summers new,
five winters older . . .
I was born Patrick . . .
I was to have my name usurped
by those wretched things called Free and land
and this is all I have to say about them . . .
Therein lies the beginnings of my cursed life as it was to become,
and thereto
you have the birth of my coined out naming of Mishiimin (apple).
I was raised by whites,
in a white town,
had white friends, white schooling,
white church propaganda indoctrination,
and there under the unseen
but felt
fist of white society
was I to be remade into . .
apple.
My dreams were white,
my legends white,
my desires always for white,
my voice spoke and bled white,
my body was red,
my face red,
my hair red,
my past long forgotten,
lost,
ripped,
shredded,
. . .
torn from my heart,
my mind,
and thus eviscerated from my soul was red
and long thereafter
did this one Miskó Ki'zis (Red Sun) bleed and bleed
until
this screaming throat was heard no more,
nay
not even from my own lips,
my own ears
my screaming was silent. . .
And gone one morning did the red from my people slip away,
slip away till all was vanished leaving all this shell behind. . .
one barely breathed two legged apple.
So it was in hell,
I found my shattered soul,
splintered mind and ravaged heart
and there in the bells tolling of sorrows raked across all there I did see, found I,
of all things,
in hell,
that abyssal helix of despair dredged was . . .
this one sighted a glimmering whisper of hope . . .
It was in hell I learned to breathe,
it was in hell I learned to live,
it was in hell that I was remade into all that I am now,
will be,
ever aspire. . .
and never once did I dream. . .
In the city of desolation
I became one
all over once more as I was born to be
many empty nights of winter past;
from seven shattered corpses
I found
my way back into the whole of one . . .
When Martians landed from outer space
They requested to meet a world leader
So Donald arrived with a smirk on his face
But soon turned green with an alien fever
The Martians decided to probe his brain
to see if they could cure his malaise
Their readings showed that he was insane
so they zapped him with powerful rays
Donald started to twitter deliriously
but the Martians understood every word
They didn’t believe he’s taken seriously
as his tweeting was totally absurd
The Martians communicated with telepathy
Using thoughts no one could understand
An interpreter was called immediately
and declared that as leader he’s banned
A torrent of tears fell from poor Donald’s eyes
His orange skin turned an odd shade of grey
The Martians usurped Donald and to his surprise
Their first earth words were ‘have a nice day’
The Martians decreed immediate world peace
And that we must all live in perfect harmony
We must love one another, all wars have to cease
No current world leader even dared to disagree
Latest news on Donald is he’s now in a better place
He sits in his rocking chair with a grin on his face
Take me to your leader Contest
Sponsored by Caren Krutsinger
8/6/18
Besotted winged pollinators
roistering barrage drowned
amidst general insectivorous cacophony
indistinct auditory signals communicated
intermingled with bounteous wafting fragrance
midwifed edenic floral pullulation
sensate admixture viz colored spectrum
amidst unrehearsed extemporaneous
orchestral suite bedded lambs
amorous ewe man like bleating songs
nature all aflutter actively socially vociferating
profuse living color rainbow pastiche
teeming soundgarden smorgasbord
cornucopia ignites mordent Utopian aural swath
visual vistas stilling spellbinding
spilling riotous carpeted web
uniting doubting Thomas's existentialism
despite unanswered queries
asper diverse modalities each specie evolved
to survive despite countervailing destructive forces
generating plethora pandemonium ironically
promulgating harmonic exemplary convergence
Highland Manor concourse aflame with new life
parented by instinctive imprimatur anonymous patents
now genetic mapping usurped with untold outcome
analysis bred crispr discovery Earthlings fiddling
glorifies honied indemnity Judeo-Christian kudos
leaves of grass kudzo resistance mutation immunizes
biosphere once prolific differentiation shrinks
becoming monocultural setting virtual stage
catastrophe plus food shortage would become
global debacle predicated, sans virulent
viral and/or bacterial strain renting asunder
tripwire unspooling delicate webbed whirl
already widely compromised more so
since Rachel Carson wrote Silent Spring
*****sapiens population explosion
pits profligate predilections planet Earth in extremis
dire crisis cavalierly dismissed humans
in hot pursuit racking up superfluous wealth
dirty deeds done dirt cheap - tricking
mother nature, who will unwittingly
spring scrumptious feeding off scrimmage
forcing capitulation or total extinction
meanwhile fostering long tall floral inflorescence
a composite having sessile flowers
apiary abuzz, cuz queen bee
can no longer wax bereft of royal jelly.
Ranks of glossy printed editions
squeezed into a concertina of space.
The acrylic smell of new books
is cordite to my nose.
Then in softer contrast,
the musky ambiance of the old and well-thumbed,
a well used dust on dust-covers.
A tactile nosegay of leather-bound
classics.
Fact or fiction,
all are revelations revealed.
The appeal of the alphabetically ordered,
arrayed in an athenium
of only passing inquiry.
Movies have usurped many of these stories,
as well as Wikipedia factoids, reviews, e-books,
and word of mouth accounts.
I crouch and stretch
in a confined alcove for a few volumes
that have kept their obscure tales
under cryptic wraps.
I could take them home, maybe fill a single shelf;
speed-read my way through,
read the blurbs and the last chapters,
just in case I am ever asked.