Don't Feed the Meter

 

A liter is a gallon?    
     
An ounce be a gram?

These metric units
I just do not understand

Once upon a time long ago
America was all set
for an all inclusive
metric conversion 

Out with the old

In with the new

Join the rest of the world        
and measure together
in beautiful global unison

The upgrade just did not happen

Our stubborn traditionalists
rose up and refused to permit
the advancement of progress

as they always do

To this day
they continue to be a source
of national embarrassment

So maybe someday my country
will join the party
of uniform measurement

Though I would not count on it

Grave Reality

 

Eventually my temp friends
the tipping point will be reached
where our walls of delusion
get eternally breached
by the irrefutable
no longer deniable truth
that all things do end
and that none of us passengers
were meant to exit this mess alive

This fleeting life we share
was always meant to be
a one way suicide mission

Perhaps our legacies
may briefly survive
our kept from us expiration dates
but there's no reprise
for the built to fail mortal bodies
we were assigned at birth

So I suggest with all humility
we as a species collectively
gather ye rosebuds while ye may

Stand Up Species

 

God is there for you

looking down from heaven

around the clock 24/7

This divine force

is the perfect solace source

in times of grief 

but for God's sake

a weary Lord would be thrilled

if occasionally

we could stand

on our own two feet

and self soothe

Free will atrophies

when you always choose

the easy path

of deity dependency

Mix it up once and awhile

and show the Master Creator

that though we always

appreciate his loving support

we possess the power within

to rise up and proceed

sans prayer crutches in times of need

Random Sampling

 

When I reached the last dot
to be connected
of my scattergram existence
I found myself at an inflection point
which gave me pause
prior to launch
toward a scary new direction
far removed from my comfort zone
messy as it may currently be

This blank page future before me
could turn out to be anything

Such an unsettling uncertainty

about what tomorrow may bring

While this is a very normal reaction

it's always been counterproductive

Never trusting in the power of randomness

that guides most of our actions

far more then we wanna admit

The self generated contrivance

that we are somehow in control

as masters of our destiny

has been the source

of human disillusionment

ever since Adam felt compelled

to take a bite of that damn apple

Tripping En Masse

 

Down this narrow aisle
just me and my carry on
which is a misnomer really
since my baggage stuffed tight 
comes with wheels attached
to keep things light

So slowly I roll
trying my very best

not to brush against

and inconvenience 

my fellow solemn passengers
on this grind of a trip
that ends with our shit
all getting communally crammed
into the size inadequate

overhead bin

Repeat and rinse

For upon arrival

on the ground

we collectively know

our cumbersome luggage in tow

has to somehow be taken down

to accompany us weary travelers

to our final destination

way over the rainbow 

Satan v. Humanity

 

My client Satan

would like his critics

who believe it or not

are still legions

that is he has had ZERO

negative influence

over the affairs of man

since he retired

from the morality corruption business

back in the late 16th Century

All the sins of the world

since then

fall exclusively at the clay feet

of God's own very flawed creation

So consider this a legal writ

to cease and desist

with all this

"Devil made me do it" bullshit

or face losing more

than your eternal soul

as we will be filing law suits

to bury your slanderous

alibi spewing ass

in civil court

JiNGled and JaNgLed

 

Late one warm Summer’s eve     
sleeping with windows open wide
I hear the soft melody
of distant wind chimes
        
Random notes gently cascade
beneath an audience of stars
in a unique symphony
co written with the oblivious breeze

So very symbolic
in a metaphoric way
that only would be 
poet philosophers can appreciate

Fate is the wind

We are the music

At that very moment 
as I ponder this cosmic relationship
with a pillow over my head
I suddenly recall
how much I DESPISE wind chimes

determined to mess with my sleep

Deadly Insulation

 

I often lament
that I as an older gent
can't love
or even lust anymore
over busty young vixens
who sashay my way
without being
labeled
a "dirty old man" perv

I call extreme
age discrimination
against my disrespected team

For here I am
in the fourth quarter of my life
and I still secretly fantasize sexually

like all hot blooded males do

Only now the girls
are young enough
to be my daughter

EEEWWWW...

A totally unacceptable
violation of calendar gap rules

But I just can’t help it
that I internally throb
like all in heat dudes do
when presented visually
with sweet feminine stimuli
but of course if I get busted
giving the old side eye
to a scantily clad fair maiden
I'm labeled
attraction inappropriate

A leering Lolita lusting creep
if I do not suppress
my desires 
as stealthily as I can

Not a healthy situation

No wonder so many 
of my repressed generation
drop dead
of heart attacks
trying to hold back
the raging hormonal flood
breaching the flimsy stigma dam
that is so against
our natural masculine urges

Timeless and Forever

 

When we were dating

Doing the whole
best impressions game

The air was filled
with witty banter,
wry chatter,
and well rehearsed lines

The charm button was always on
for obligatory small talking

If the relationship proceeds
mutual trust will seep in
over the course of time

Impressions now cemented

A look can speak volumes

Even thoughts intertwine 

We no longer feel required
to fill in the gaps of silence
with awkward noise
  
Embrace comfortable love

The slow burn which sustains
when cold fronts blow through

Don't Look Down

 

Fuck these suppressed urges
that currently
seek to dominate me

Straining to break free
from carefully controlled captivity

Clever rationalizations
weaving a web
around my
wavering conscience

My pious handlers warn me
these demons must all be contained

Constantly restrained
by the sticky residue
of my spent insatiable desires
that would eventually
destroy me
and the free life
that I cherish
if I don't learn to respect
their consequences

Follow the narrow path

Play by the rules

Cause we can't 
always do
whatever the Hell
we wanna do

Get with the Programmed

 

Our studies
here at the Propaganda Institute
definitively concludes
that Useful Idiots
are much more easily fooled
than those citizens who choose

to actually use their craniums

This makes these
feeble minded

pliable rubes

the perfect marketing tools
to spread and disseminate

the processed version we did create
of social media mass disinformation

Downpectations

 

I don't need

no frickin happy pills
to get me through

these endless days

Don't desire

that chemically inspired
mood suppressing

glassy eyed facade smile

that passes for serenity

I really don't need
no psycho analysis 
mumble jumble therapy
whining about
how I despise my Mommy

Now I take each day
with
low
expectations

Minimalist aspirations

Manageable frustrations

My self hating defeating

contraction action plan
demands absolute acceptance

that I ain't so bad
and we misfits

collectively be
flawed pieces
that don't necessarily
always need to fit
conveniently
in this jumble

of a puzzle
we label reality

Conceptual Living

 

The blender  
of a few well placed
electrical discharges
in our underutilized brains
is where inspiration
dances unrestrained

Creations of virgin purity
immaculately unstained
by doubt bombs
pre internal and external scrutiny

This suppressed blueprint
always displays 
natural perfection

If only we could reside
in this secure womb
of abstract excellence

Instead we gotta endure
these broken implementations
that perpetually leave us wanting

Forever seeking
the next future
untarnished surge of creativity

Fizzled Out

 

When she kissed her prince
there was zero electricity

No hormonal chemistry
that basic biology demands

No tingle in the toes 

So she let practical happiness go

Even though she knows
physical passion is as fleeting

as yesterday's Earth moving orgasm

Fare thee well

to the perfect man
to be happily ever after with

in a sustainable fashion

Done in by finicky biology

All that remains
is her everlasting regret
for releasing
long term contentment
that fell into her lap

Glorious Numbness

 

Welcome to the wreckage of me

languishing beneath

this deafening monotony

My life has become nothing

but a blaring white noise symphony

An unrelenting static blasting cacophony

playing out as background filler

to drown out the silence

where all my past life regrets

have taken up permanent residence

And yet

things could always be worse

as I soothe my self induced pain

with trite time tested cliches

Counting my blessings

while we gather ye fucking rosebuds

Why the Hell would I want to do that

when this languishing self pity

keeps me toasty warm

with all my fellow

downtrodden soul mates

huddled together

at the Woe Is Me tavern?

Pumping up the frivolity

as the jukebox howls

much needed insulation

Now the drinks flow freely

Her perfume ignites

my raging testosterone

for yet another round

of shared carnal distraction

wrapped in sheets sweat stained

Morning comes as it always does

as we put away our toys

to the all too stagnant

back to the grind refrain

Pain is our partner beast

to be temporarily restrained

even if living numb

is the only way

Test Pattern

 

The trick
to aceing this test 
of an existence
is the realization
there are no wrong answers
cause this poorly crafted exam

is so damn flawed

Just like muddled us
mired down

with too many open ended questions
and multiple variations
of correctness
that can only be

graded properly
on a steep curve

In the end

after we put

our number two pencils down 

it's probably best

we score the whole judgmental event

as Pass/Fail

to avoid unnecessary

messy confrontations

WE the People

 

Stop knocking diversity

as a dire threat to democracy

with your ignorant digs...

Don't piss on the concept of unity and indivisibility

like they are such radical philosophies...

Why is it that the kids today

can see equality's beacon light so clearly 

while my bitter generation still clings

to the old ways of darkness?

Lapping up all the old deceptions

laced with lazy stereotypes...

Instead of being prisoners to our history

we should be the ones leading the charge

to permanently blast away the sins of the past...

The times truly are a changing  

so we dinosaurs best adapt

and get with the inclusion program ...

Let go of the segregation we once knew...

The American Revolution continues. 

Dumb Struck Cult

 

If you have the audacity

to now label Twitter 
as the letter X

cause a man child

billionaire says so

If you actually believe
the Gulf of Mexico
is now the Gulf of America
because of an idiot's decree

If you relate
to the inbred morons
who dream of Canada
one day being the 51st state

You are in a mindless cult my son

Run your nonsense

up the flagpole

as some sort of sick

loyalty litmus test

Rename and rebrand

reality to your heart's content

But at the end of the day

We all laugh at your naivete 
and the ass you rode in on
for the bowel movement
of the MAGA accident
soon to be flushed
down the toilet drain of history

What a relief that will be

Be True to Yourself

 

The chances of you and I
escaping this flash orgy
with our virtue still intact
is virtually an impossibility

The paper thin fragility
of long ago Sunday School morality
drilled into our fair heads
well before we were ever acquainted
with the pleasures supplied

by partaking of physical temptation

As the years accumulate
and the implanted guilt dissipates
we realize finally
the futility
of constantly restraining
our natural urges

based on an ancient second hand text

written by self serving hypocrites

and passed down through the centuries

by charlatans and control freaks

Tibi ipsi esto fidelis

Angel Bust

 

The heavenly chorus dropped down

from the azure sky
singing hosannas and lullabies

Everywhere we went
the cherubs were around

Century piled upon century

We heard the music
but not the sound

Never focusing on the lyrics

They politely requested
we sinners join their harmony serene
but we did not take
these messengers seriously

So this pissed off ensemble
quickly transposed
to apocalypse mode

While our ship
was sinking
the band played on

A dirge for us all

A requiem for the gone

Wither Americana

 

The MAGA legions
wear red threads made in China
and preach American exceptionalism
dispensing missives of ethnic nationalism
that have sparked conflicts
throughout history

Wrapped in red white and blue
the America First crew
eschews the world view
for a narrow myopic reality
that have fueled wars
throughout history

Peeking out from behind the wall
the protectionism mob
of anti globalist guardians
practice excessive tariff levies
guaranteed to wreck economies
that have led to recessions
throughout history

and so it goes...

Events will spiral out of control

Of course
those pulling the strings

from behind the scenes will profit

Strife will be the norm for the rest

Perhaps this time
our ignorance proves fatal

Death being the ultimate destiny
of all empires throughout history

Or maybe

This latest episode

of self inflicted agony will make the best painful lesson

that resonates with us for once An ignorant child

who burns their hand on a hot stove learns to never do it again

At least in theory

Can of Frustration

I hold in my grasping hands
an aluminum can

of precious processed beans

A nutritious and delicious source

of fiber and protein

vacuumed sealed

to prevent outside contamination

The proper device of entry
is now required
to penetrate this stubborn 

protective container

I have the tool, but not the power
for it seems the electric current is out

(Serves me right for not paying the bill)

No old school

manual opener to be found

in my kitchen junk drawer

of assorted relics

Feeling substance deprived

frustration gets the best of me
as I fastball fire

the uncooperative can
into the innocent wall

Out of sheer spite
and the forces
of acceleration repulsion
the bastard projectile beans
ricochets back
and bops me
in my slow reacting head

Now both parties 
of this needless conflict
are feeling dented
bruised
and unloved

Anger always leaves a lasting mark