Ghost Whisperers

On the fringes of plausibility

the usual suspects congregate

Spinning tales of intrigue

peppered with bitter conspiracy

Those who desperately wanna believe

are always the easiest dupes to deceive

Such useful idiots are they

to spread the poison gospel

that pollutes social media today

Delete Bin of History

passive AGGRESSIVE man
destined to bite the hands
of his many enablers
who perpetually look the other way

Of course there will be consequence
and desperate historical analysis
but it will all be a fruitless retrospective
of the rewrite guilt trip variety

Suck It

Scattered socks and shoes

strewn across my floor

Shedded clothes clutter the scene

melding with container remnants

of devoured deliveries past

as my vacuum lies dormant

Powerless to perform it's task

in this accumulated mess

I know I gotta get off my planted ass

and somehow clear a viable path

to unleash the dust sucking beast

and reclaim my next to godly cleanliness

My Twitter Addiction

Use to think I was lonely...

A forlorn forgettable freak...

A sexually frustrated geek...

Then I fell into this shit

Now I know I am NOT alone

Spending heavy segments of time

with this clique of desperate exhibitionists

No, I don't wanna see your saggy tits

and I surmise you don't wanna view my scruffy dick

Please oh please do share your thoughts on current politics

Let's fight like bitches for the amusement of rich celebrities

Maybe they will retweet the bullshit we write

Make us stars for our fifteen minutes of eternity 

What a pathetic lot of losers are we...

By now you should have ascertained

I am NOT here to make friends

or grovel for your approval

Who the Hell are you anyway?

Just random letters on my smudged screen

Blips desperately seeking social validation

Here we are all equally insignificant

Gloriously and forever anonymous

One way or another I am going to have my say

Go ahead and block my sorry ass all eternity

Report offensive me to the content authorities

I am NOT here to make friends

Revelation Impact

Jumped from a fourth floor window

Forty feet down to the ground

Cause five stories seemed too high

and two simply would not do

I wanted to die just right

Needed to feel my bones collide

with the waiting earth below

to finally and forever know

just for that last crash moment

what it was to be alive

Freaky Sheep

I know you want me
to stay in my assigned lane

React in the prescribed ways
as the playbook dictates
for all crammed in the pigeon hole

Sorry to disappoint...

I wanna make my own choice

Which very possibly
will not endear me
with all the other sheep
suckling on conventional orthodoxy

Post Apocalypse Harvest

The tide rolls in as scheduled..

Churning a foamy blanket..

Always good to see old friends..

Though we know it's temporary

We hungry gulls wait patiently
for the inevitable global revolution
to reveal the feast when the tide recedes
as we reap the spoils of planned anarchy

Rolling Hollow

Don't wreck my non sequiturs
posing as avant garde art

So what if the message is unclear?

I'm shooting for a higher truth here

Scour between my clouded lines

After empirical analysis you will find
a great spiritual reveal
about the depths of my emptiness

Mirroring our frivolous society
wrapped in a transparent shroud
of disposable nothingness

The Theory of Maybe

There is no reality like alternative reality seeping through the cracks of the Multiverse Time and space when bent do get frayed as the dimensions become stacked and overlayed I know this blended Universe concept is mind bending disconcerting but it's just another well meant theory

that went off the tracks rogue A comforting blast of scientific creativity designed to bolster our species self esteem that we be all knowing beings

just faking our way through the Cosmos

Every Day is Mother's Day

In this womb existence our very first sensation is the warmth we feel with the body we share.. Every being's origin of a life eventually to be tethered to mommy's body during her period of gestation.. This primal love connection is hard wired in our psyches for the duration of our lives

Slugs and Bugs

I do so prefer living under this rock

with all the slugs and bugs

a repelled society seeks to suppress

The conditions in this environment

are damp and cool

even in the most oppressive climate

Our hard cover exterior

offers protective shade

from the deadly effects

of the glaring spotlight

which brutally evaporates

and reduces to dust

we non conforming types

the outside world rejects

We just wanna exist in peace

though many of us suspect

those you deem beneath you

will still be around

long after your fragile

house of marked cards

burns to the ground

Ghost Writer

I find I write my best nonsense
when scribing anonymous
to a ghost audience

Only then can I be honest
and not fret about loose consequence
from the legions of friends and foes I know
saddled with preconceived notions
about who they perceive me to be

Familiarity certainly does breed
honesty inhibiting self censorship

Poison On A Sharp Stick

"Time to bail on this failed experiment ! "

screamed the frustrated mice legions

trapped in a nowhere maze

not of their own creation...

A rodent task force was convened

to explore the varied alternative exit strategies..

All the most toxic poisons available

were laid out on a warped table..

None of the options seemed very promising

but the best worst choice had to be made..

Can't stay in stagnation forever

though there are many who want to

cause they fear future uncertainty

dire as all possibilities seem to be..

Such are the trap doors of history

for we only study the paths taken

and never the discarded paths forsaken

that actually may have been better

  

Zoomerang

For every square on your screen
neatly stacked and arranged
there is a head waiting to be seen...

When the audio spotlight is activated
the enlarged face so designated 
is chosen to dominate the cyber conversation

This is the new Zoom democracy
our brilliant tech wizards did create
to fully empower our confined congregation

Those dinosaurs still seeking human relations
will have to pray when world rotates back
liberated body less people will want to reengage 

Don't count on it....

Boot..Boot..Reboot..Boot

Need to hit the reset button

to return to factory settings

since this damn thing ain't working

The reset button I just can not find

For it's existence would certainly inhibit

it's well crafted sleek aerodynamic design

The instructions manual has also gone missing

Much like my present absence

Assigned to dysfunctional obsolescence

Guidance is quite useless anyway

Lost deep in this quarantine life abyss

Where time is now as irrelevant as reset buttons

Sharp Pin Meet Balloon

"I am the State"
Louis XIV proudly exclaims
to the cheers of the mob
who chant his name

All the many character flaws
the authoritarian carries
get magnified exponentially 
and bubble to the surface

For power without responsibility
really does corrupt absolutely

Now operating beyond restraints

Devoid of checks and balances

The heads of Kings swell eventually
bloating to the point where the now insulated
self proclaimed Sun God
gets totally detached from reality

Once the tyrant becomes fully deluded
their eventual descent
becomes an historical imperative

Which would be of course
Louis XVI's harsh headless fate

HISTORY REPEATS...HISTORY REPEATS

(rinse and spit)

Clicking on the Crucifix

Did you happen to see
the latest rocking vid stream
starring Jesus the Nazarene?

That log haired socialist freaky preacher
recently snuffed out by the authorities
for speaking of love and other treasons

Got over a million views the other day
Replete with numerous hearts and sad faces

His dream of reaching the masses came to fruition 
for he was now finally an internet sensation
which probably came as little consolation
though this brutal execution exposure
did get his radical message out
about peace and turning the other cheek

An extremely painful way to succeed
if you've ever been to a Crucifixion
you know exactly what I mean 

Anyway, in today's insane episode
of a show we thought complete
I'll be damned if the J Man
we had all seen previously bloodied and deceased
did not rise up and somehow beat death

It may just be amazing CGI
but it sure as Hell looked real to me

I wonder how he is ever going to top this?

Light Reading

I rail incessantly about life's iniquities with my lit match which faintly illuminates but more oft than notgets swallowed by darkness as personal anger clouds my potential poetic proficiency
So I write not for fame or profit but for those rare moments of word clarity when my flicker ignitesto a beacon flame as my rants finally penetrateand ultimately obliterate the shadows custom madewe all too often create
This joy of unleashed creativityinsignificant and invisibleas my words may beis what fuels lonely meto keep writingbeneath this cloak of anonymityfor self esteem therapy
Thank you for your attention

A Faded Shade of Jade

Standing alone
in the rain

Holding 
the bag again

 

Which breaks
of course 

Cause it's been
that kind of day 

Feeling betrayed

by fake friends
I relied on 

My faith in humanity

takes yet another hit

with each
passing disappointment 

The cumulative effect

of continuous
disillusionment 

A cocoon of numbness

envelopes me

as expectations fall

Now fully encased
in cynical walls

that serve to provide

a false sense of security

from life's external storms 

 

I am now 

a solitary prisoner
of jaded isolation

I am now

a bitter remnant

of a raging pandemic

I am now

a self defeating virus

Totally infected

A mutant strain

Socially distant

Locked away in quarantine

by a terrified society

that wants nothing to do with me

Can't say I blame them

Life In Quarantine

Here we be yet again Rote routine Forced reality Clicking on the favorite defense mechanisms we wrap ourselves in to make it through yet another endless day with minimum pain A safety hedge against the risk of rotating variables unknown Saying the same old things to the same old faces in this brave new virtual ZOOM community The spirit atrophies in this vacuum of social deprivation as options dwindle on our islands suffocating in isolation Time has stalled Days now blurred The calendar burns Waiting for a rescue package to bail us out of this misery we will all look back on and laugh at someday

Thinning The Herd

The village elders are assembled
at the cemetery outside of town

Stale refreshments are served
on this once hallowed ground

Compliments
of the gun toting hosts of this dance

The Progress Squad
are charged with the patriotic task
to force the vanquished to face the facts
about a transition opportunity

A once in a lifetime chance
to exit this weary existence
with a shred of dignity intact

Fake negotiations have been tried

Coercive means will now be applied

Even staler pronouncements are made
by the revolutionary captain

Informing the chained prisoners
that they are no longer part of the plan

The elderly are simply too cost ineffective

A drain on our great economy  

They are the scapegoats of yesterday

The lame who are slowing down the herd

Charred wreckage to be cleared

Humane arrangements have been made

Just sign on the bloody line

Shovels and coffins will be supplied

To bury this obsolete generation
as if they were never here 

Sickness Tripping

Mired in this pandemic
of virally toxic grudges
the unrelenting relics
of this damn existence
torment our sorry asses
like an oozing pus infection

All the ancient prejudices
now broadcasting across multiple platforms
on receptive global negative frequencies

Biases we can't seem to lose

Such is the dark course we choose

Riding the snarling horse of the Apocalypse

A beast destined to one day wreck us

Sock It To Us

Henceforth...
we are now stripped
of all past arrogance
and misguided pretense
of our tribe's thread superiority
from the impartial ravages
of the consistently insidious
natural unraveling process 

For it seems in the end
after all our brash proclamations
about national exceptionalism
we were nothing more
than a mushed up mountain
of mismatched socks
randomly strewn across the floor

Beast of the Unknown

The beast we do so fear owns the darkness we gotta traverse through to get to the light waiting patiently for us on the other side
Today the beast is dominating
Seemingly growing exponentially
Feeding off our despair
Spewing out the ignorance and false narratives that drive every panic

History has taught us time and time again the only way to defeat this beast is to leverage our strength in numbers

A coordinated intelligent counter assault on the forces of darkness over running our position currently

For you see it's up to you and me my besieged bunker mates to fight through the fog of self pity

Once our enemy's cover is blown we can slay the insidious Beast

Bury the monstrous Unknown

Celebrate the cessation of calamity

Return to what passes for normalcy

Though we gotta remain vigilante to the unsettling reality that the dark beast of the Unknown will rise again some day

Circle The Wagon

In this now cramped environment
we are forced to push back
on any and all intrusions
into our staked out space
lest we be moved
off the entrenched positions
claimed by ourselves
when we invaded long ago

While our base core remains strong
the fringe elements too long neglected
have commenced
the inevitable fraying process

We now begrudgingly have to acknowledge
that fate will one day ride against us
when the tipping point of history is reached
and the meek finally wise up
to leverage their superior numbers

Then the revolution comes
as those of us who today
reek of self entitled arrogance
proceed to lose our heads