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Peter Chrisler Poem
number 10.)
Appropriations will be cost effective only when mass production is labeled'for
esthetic use only'.
number 9).
All committee decisions must be based on my own and no one elses.
number8).
The 'sleek new modern' must be based on Baroque precepts that stem from
facistic-anarchical individualistic expression over the state.
number7).
The media is to be tightly controlled based on my novel
number6).
There is no number 6.
number 5).
The deliniation of taste will be non linear.
number 4).
I will be awash with cash I now don't have.
number 3).
Teenage angst will be programmed into everyone well into their eighties.
number 2).
There may be a number 2 in a parallel universe.
And the number one result When Artists Finally take over the World is........
ME!
Copyright © Peter Chrisler | Year Posted 2006
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Peter Chrisler Poem
Is it the dream
Or the dreaming?
Is what the know
Or that great big unknown if
That shades all
Knowledgeable disability
Body able
Brain addled
Thoughtless conjecture.
I don't know
But keep trying trial
Period over.
Next lifetime guarantee?
Copyright © Peter Chrisler | Year Posted 2013
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Peter Chrisler Poem
The wresting groung for old homos
Is full tonight
Because we spilled so much of our youth
In endless repeat anonymous encounter
That it was not enough to end the world once
More than a thousand medieval nonyears ago,
That spun off revolution in the sixties
Into reactionary shaved heads in the ninties.
They're scratching their old heads
Saying what have we done when we were young
enough to know better
Than dad
Because we had more fun than zoot suits
That women diddn't catch on
Until they got mad enough at us
To start their own rest home
For the partiers who came too late
To catch onto the disease that followed
Our young release
At the old new
We now are.
Copyright © Peter Chrisler | Year Posted 2007
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Peter Chrisler Poem
Shall I dine on the poor
Because their abundance lowers prices?
Can I look at those eyeing my grocery bag
Filled with diet pills for my dog
And say circus elephants have a right to die
While we live too many
None of us stopping for another care,
Another cause too much for media.
Medea killed and became song.
Too many die alone each day
And still beef prices remain steady.
Diners Club accepts Master Race.
All othere wait by the road
That never ends to feed on themselves
Feeding becoming less fancy-frenzy
The further in you go.
The trouble that will never go away.
Copyright © Peter Chrisler | Year Posted 2006
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Peter Chrisler Poem
I diddn't notice my mother's jewelry she wore
As funeral procession becomes vain bonfire
The mask older becoming amber aspic
As more relics are worn more frequently.
Diamonds are too much for the grocery store,
As amethyst doesn't wear well by day anymore.
Still we have the whole set of pearls
To wear at dying processionals.
I haven't a thing to wear at my funeral.
Let's put it off as long as we can
And I'll keep buying more time.
No layaway though.
I don't like the way that sounds.
Copyright © Peter Chrisler | Year Posted 2008
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Peter Chrisler Poem
Have the light in the small
take hands accross hate
smelling of self,
realizing the big picture real
we really are beyond us,
dwarfing ego to the all
systems go on around us.
We are a part not wholly aware
but big truths can be learned,
drumming in our beyonds,
So our behinds don't fall
into abyss full self
we make our lives not part.
Apart the sea.
Rise.
Copyright © Peter Chrisler | Year Posted 2007
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Peter Chrisler Poem
I'll never know God
Because father won't let me.
The order I'm all out of
Doesn't fit under my skin.
My robes hang unused
As if I were never there.
A schism envelops my know
Because I KNOW
If Jesus really walked thru that church door
He'd be ushered out
Unto the unwashed
Before they could get any money
Out of him.
Copyright © Peter Chrisler | Year Posted 2007
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Peter Chrisler Poem
I don't get along
with myself.
The nagging starts
as soon as I get up.
Get up you lazy bastard
there are others out there
you have to deal with.
I get along with everyone.
LONG GETS THE SHOT.
I don't get along with yourself.
Get along until you wake up
and get yourself ready.
It's time to join the hordes out there.
I wonder how they get along?
Copyright © Peter Chrisler | Year Posted 2006
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Peter Chrisler Poem
We've sped up the mating game in the city.
It used to be just one experience young
Lasts forever till death do we...
Then we chose to have choice.
It's a womans right,men just dance.
Then men and women discovered each same
And you can get fresh flesh every night.
What were all the names of my youth,
When new young are still there to be had.
I'm twenty -one forever and can still get away with it.
I will go on replicating my youth till my teeth fall out.
Some eighty-year-olds I know are still getting away
With it.I know.I'm getting there.
Copyright © Peter Chrisler | Year Posted 2006
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