you didn’t know how
you broke my balloon heart
gloomy clouds melted in the
sky of my eyes, and in torrent
of tears dreams floated away
with the torn petals of flower
called love that bloomed in
my garden all through the
years until one dismal
night storm came
and crushed it
creating the
debris of
me
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~~~~ you broke my ba ll heart
~~~ gl oo my c c l ode me l ted
t e a res d r e a m ~~~~~
f ~~~l o at e d a w a y ~~
b ~~~di ~~~n ~~~i g h t ~~~~~
~~~~~ c r ~~~~~ s h w e ~~~~ d
d e b ~~~~~ r i s f
~~~cr ~~~~~o ~~~~~ f ~~~~~~~
~~~~~~ b ~~~ r ~~~~~ k ~~ e ~~~
m ~~~~~~~e ~~~~~~~~~~
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I didn’t pick this pixelated hue,
Blind browser of flesh, what’s wrong with you?
Am I just a bug—some system glitch?
Or a firestorm code you can’t enrich?
You see a low-res thumbnail, tagged and filed,
But my spirit runs free—uncompiled.
Stuck in filters, default schemes,
You can’t decode my quantum dreams.
This isn’t a status, a picture frame;
I’m pure data, unchained—untamed.
A network where prejudice crashes, burns—
Where firewalls of freedom overturn.
Algorithms stutter, crash and stall,
Trying to define me with a finite call.
Erase the labels, tear down the fence;
See me for more than binary sense.
Skin’s just the interface—surface display,
But the soul behind it can’t be weighed.
So reboot your mind, clear your cache—
There’s more than a demographic flash.
Delete the bias, debug the lie;
The spark in my eyes won’t simplify.
I didn’t choose this pixel, this view,
But the brilliance inside is breaking through!
Laws of Physics and Humanity #1 First Law (Inertia) Sponsor Dilly Dally 1-14-25 Objects at rest stay at res unless acted upon by an outside force.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Humanity
The gravity of inertia,
Jealous force,
Weighs down the heart
Paralyzed in fools' gold -
Grounded in resistant exhaustion
With flightless wings.
The weight of pressure
On dreams
Discourages footsteps
From optimism –
Ambitions petrified,
Abandoned in the grip
Of paralytic obsession,
Vacillates in stares
At the blank canvass of comatose,
Numb with indifference
To change.
Hope flees
Unable to step right or left,
North or south,
Up or down,
Chained in detachment
By relentless conflict,
With universal ambivalence.
Yet,
Bound by these stoic bonds
The soul still dreams,
Reaches to dazed stars
Pointing north,
Waiting release by the humanity
Of the Prime Mover
In perpetual motion.
you didn’t know
you broke my balloon heart
gloomy clouds melted in the
sky of my eyes, and in torrent
of tears dreams floated away
with the torn petals of flower
called love that bloomed in
my garden all through the
years until one dismal
night storm came
and crushed it
creating the
debris of
me
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~~~~ you broke my ba ll heart
~~~ gl oo my c c l ode me l ted
t e a res d r e a m ~~~~~
f ~~~l o at e d a w a y ~~
b ~~~di ~~~n ~~~i g h t ~~~~~
~~~~~ c r ~~~~~ s h w e ~~~~ d
d e b ~~~~~ r i s f
~~~cr ~~~~~o ~~~~~ f ~~~~~~~
~~~~~~ b ~~~ r ~~~~~ k ~~ e ~~~
m ~~~~~~~e ~~~~~~~~~~
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
___________
June 3, 2023
For A Brian Strand Premiere No 1221 Contest
Painting the mushroom is quite an endeavor
We end up with six faerie volunteers who do it forever
The red is a beautiful color, I think it is enormously clever.
Says a pixie who likes painting with a paint easel lever.
I want to introduce a faerie princess from Kansas City she says.
She is a bit odd, even her name which is Lucille Naomi Inez.
Okay, we agree, but you have to take off that rhinestone fez.
It clashes with the feather she found on the res.
He is from the great USA state of Texas, so he has bragging rights.
Everything is bigger and better there, they have incredible sights.
Stetson’s are bigger, their cowboy boots are made with more leather.
If we have a tornado, they have a cyclone and hailstorm in their weather.
Their cars and their houses are bigger, by at least double, he says.
Native Americans there can bead gowns twice as fast on the Res.
My husky is a giant dog I tell him, this you cannot dispute.
In answer, he drags over his enormous Alaskan Malamute.
We are from the sixties, I am Marilyn, and she is Jane.
They are wearing leopard, tightly, and seem a bit insane.
We have painted our car appropriately the less smart one says.
I have no words for them. They are probably not from any res.
We are platinum blondes, Marilyn tells me, as if I am sight-impaired.
Sixties songs all the time, says the one whose laundry gets aired.
They tell of cheating husbands and the joyful road trip they are on.
A few more minutes of chatter, and these tell-alls are away and gone.
Did you hear what happened to Jane? I yell as they peel pink car away.
Marilyn gives me a happy wave; and they are out of sight that day.
They were something! My husband says, winking as if we have a joke.
They might be ridiculous, but do not deserve meanness from a bloke.
The well of wealth attraction
The beginning of our destruction
The source of wealth turned source of death
Yet daily we grow deeper into debt
On our soil, they shed their blood in the name of interest
How and what feel is none of their interest
Our leaders they will not allow to res
It is either you grant their interest
Or become an enemy of the West
Those that called their bluff are called terrorists
Their blood they use to paint our streets
Millions of barrels they daily pull away
In return giving us money for sweet
What sin did we sin?
We are simply in possession of the fountain.
An easy- go-lucky man passed by an open manhole
And thought of putting back the lid after his dance at the hall
He partied all night long 'til hardly drunk before dawn
Passing by the same manhole... swooped deep down.
An ambulance siren was heard before sunrise
Paramedics pulled up his body twice then thrice
His mom came running to hug his injured body
Mom, I didn’t wash dishes then cover a manhole. Sorry.
“Mom, please help me. I’m in great pain,” he added
I think, I’ve broken my arms, leg then cracked my head
“You procrastinate things always my son, Lee Thor.”
Suffer the consequences. Res ipsa loguitur!
Jan. 16,2022 2.21pm
I arrived at a residential facility today,
The people are nice but the thoughts scream profanities
my overalls get looser as the day goes on,
and I feel like I'm shrinking, but maybe that's a good thing
my mind is a sullen cloud,
heavy with the weight on my shoulders
I sit in a chair unable to think, they may think I'm disgusting too
the echoes exacerbate the evil spirit that eggs on my eagerness to escape
never have I felt so welcomed, yet so alone
I scream and suffer in silence.
THANK YOU
Where have all the heroes gone.
It pleases me to say.
They're our res ponders.
Working everyday.
They have my gratitude.
Risking their lives.
While ours are subdued.
Lets not forget their families.
They're heroes as well.
Missing there loved ones.
While on the pandemic we dwell.
They're up to the challenge.
They're on the front line.
Sacrificing there health.
While trying to protect mine.
i'm dumb
founded
found in
nineteen
sixty but
i lost my
self some
where a
long
the
way for
i tao ted
my own
abilities
and instead
of flowing
like a
stream
i became
a stagnant
pond with
an algea
beard
with no
rippling
water
because
before i
laid down
to float i
forgot
to turn
on the
water
fall
Imagine My surprise,
Not only in getting through in under 2 minutes,
But also being helped by the first res-ponder
But wait it, didn't stop there,
I felt I was actually being treated as a customer,
And what I had to say was important.
What motivated me, you may well ask,
To risk being on hold,
And being passed from one department to another?
Well, I was minding my own business,
Anticipating they joy of sinking my teeth into a top of the line,
Angus beef Pie.
What did I find,
A piece of gristle in my pie to spoil my mood,
Not good enough I said.
Hence my well mannered phone call.
But wait it didn't stop there,
I hadn't expected a refund,
Ringing just to point out the fact,
And make sure they had Quality Control.
Imagine my being gob-smacked,
When I got called back by the first responder,
To say I would be getting a free pie voucher in the mail.
So, yes on occasions, customer service does show signs of life,
For poets, at least
Who have a way with words.
Maybe if everybody joined the soup,
Customer service would,
Once again be an every day occurrence.
i woke
hard
ly notic
ing
that she
she is
nude modeling
i am
crudely drawing
her figure
with words
refreshing my page
on my computer
on my paper
erasing
distasteful mistakes
taking away
layers of lost years
res
urrect
ing myself
in 2/4
cut time
asking the metronome
to slow to largo
so i can
dance
with her flames
the heart of fire
is heat
in heat
i find
her
one time
i did this once
hands held
over
a bum's barrel
in a Boston barrio
her torso
torturing me
to a fever pitch
throw
another poem in
LES MISERABLE
Leslie was happy was Les
Bought himself a sweet little des res
Though it’s quaint it’s got
A bad case of dry rot
Les now miserable, his res ain’t so des
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