Muddy Waterfall

 

The mega contrarian
we engage during times
of extreme frustrations
feels no need for standard consensus..

So excessive is he
with his negative commentary

and strength of mad convictions

we gravitate to him naturally

making him our grievance leader

by popular acclamation...

Today in a fit of inspired rage

he proclaims himself anti gravity...

Declaring war 
on a universal cosmic force

of some scientific import

that holds our movement down

in this quagmire they dare call solid ground...

This outrageous pronouncement

makes us love him even more of course
for his rebellious purity

and fearlessness of consequence

When the forces of authority

finally begin to pay attention

of this anti everything man

they will descend with a vengeance

to cart our anger focal point away

On that sad day

we will collectively rage

and make grandiose plans

to liberate our hero

the establishment had done wrong..

Only then

after the smoke dissipates

will we finally see

that this beast we did create

wanted to be nothing more

than a flash martyr all along..

Just another false populist prophet..

Cashing in on his contrived movement..

Disillusioned us

will tumble back into a society

that looks down on our existence

as deplorables awash in ignorance...

Alone again..

Til the next savior drops in..

Maybe at that time

we'll have he the numbers on our side

in this perpetual us versus them conflict...

Only then can we defeat gravity and rise

Waiting on the Credits

 

That powerless feeling
of being a spectator
in your own life...

Sitting in the back row
watching the movie play out
like a flickering shadow
of a dying tree
swaying in the persistent

currents of time...

You know the show is gonna end...

Now just a question of how and when

Speed Bumping

 

Linger not all day in the history aisle..

Stay with the here and now for awhile...

Though the present may sting

and happiness severely lacking

opportunity is always lurking

in places you never expect..

Today's pain 

which seems so chronic

and doggedly persistent

will soon be filtered

by the rising waters of time..

 
Current hurts diluted away
by the balm of suppressed memories

that while never deleted permanently

will get sunk to the darks depths

of a shadowy forgotten trench

This immersed shit

may get dredged up occasionally...

Usually accidentally

when we choose to reminisce

and take refuge in "The good old days"

that were not as great

as we desperately wanna believe

So these sour blasts from the past

do serve a necessary task...

Providing much needed perspective

as a counter balance

to rose colored nostalgia

that lures us in

to a dangerous trap

that yesterday was all that

 

Unsung Champions

 

You too can be
a hero of heroic deeds...

Doer of brave 
and noble things...

Not as hard as it may seem..

Courage is not only
running into a fire
to save a stranger...

It's not just confined

to physical feats

of daring do..

Or even taking the hits

of unjust consequence

to do what you feel is right

Courage is
staring down your demons..

Big and small alike..

Senseless and irrational..

Now doing your duty
for your family...

Simply being there day and night...

Wearing the yoke of obligations..

Without complaint or gripe..

That's quite the accomplishment..

It takes a lotta guts
to be a responsible adult

Rolling Dystopian

 

The revolution unpeels...

Ugly truths are revealed...

Former friends choose to repent
lest they march to the guillotine...

  
Welcome to disillusionment
as disingenuous demons
hold out their slimy hands...

"Join our lesser of two evils crusade"

they hiss cynically
to we numb prisoners
who really never had a chance
fighting against such a stacked deck...

The air now reeks of capitulation...

A putrid sweet chemical scent hard to describe...

Now we new citizens
have been properly indoctrinated..

The memories
of our former subversive lives
power washed and obliterated...

Freshly minted members
of the one thought collective..

Though still not fully trusted...

Cause when we pass
former comrades in the street
a flash from suppressed yesterdays
penetrates our conditioning...

As we nod unknowingly

to our buried past
like a reflex action
our new masters
will never fully control

Surviving Whatever

 

Run for cover
when she rolls her eyes
and wistfully replies
wrapped in a mournful sigh
the dreaded
WHATEVER...

Feel the earth crumbling
beneath your feet
and brace
for the inevitable
conversation crushing
Death Star corollary
I TOLD YOU SO...

Our outmanned

woefully outgunned gender

has to always remember

that any battle engagement

in a war of words skirmish

with the feminine side

will invariably lead

to our pride gutting demise...

Her verbal skills are far superior..

Her memory of past slights dominates..

If it comes to a war of sexual attrition

she possesses the biological resources

to outlast and torture you with your own needs..

This is one relentless adversary

with skills crafted and honed..

A battle hardened veteran

of many intergender skirmishes

with warriors of her own kind...

Against such formidable opposition

the only sensible survival position

is to yield the field of this argument

and live to die another day

  

Mother Machine

 

Fear not the A.I. revolution
coming to a device near you... 

The next advancement in tech
is not going to mutate like SkyNet
and turn civilization into a smoldering wreck..

I got news for both you humanists
along with the disciples of theology...

We've turned this beautiful world
we inherited from the dinosaurs
into such a muddled mess 
maybe it's the next logical step 
in the evolution of the time line
that the machines get a crack
at taking the wheel of planetary destiny

The Broken Opposition

 

All the best grievances
from the battered warriors
who long ago
lost the cultural war
have been submitted
and beaten to death
ad infinitum..

And yet they persist

with increasing futility...

Clock battlers of a reality

they no longer fit in to

as their former dominance

unjust as it was

slips into the abyss

of desperate combat politics

Now reborn and refurbished
as martyrs of progress..

They play their frayed victim cards
in a last desperate gasp
to be relevant...

These sorry misfits of history

will turn on themselves eventually

and land in the crevices of a past

replete with hatred and prejudices

we would all like to forget