"Let us, then, be up and doing, With a heart for any fate; Still achieving, still pursuing, Learn to labor and to wait" -Longfellow

Monday, April 24, 2017

Current Events

1
Bemoaned deranged
Weeds grow
All the same
An orchestra climbing to
Crescendo's windows
Flowering in jagged
Perfumes
Rotten

Breaths of
An imperial brigade
All tooth in the limp afternoon
Humid

Dug ground
Mother of all bombs
Like a summer's cyclone
But innocent
Of chaos
Buried into intent and
Temporal cock
Envy

Chocolate cake
Chinese to make the
Hands look big
Power to
Part the desert and
Scream

Warnings onto

Child slate

So tall now

Aren't we
A
Big boy

2
Can you tell me what exactly
It means to write poetry
Right in the fuckin' face of ww3
And nothing left?

It means zero
As per
Centuries'
Slaughter of amnesia and decay
Especially
In the dry spots or wet

But that's what I'm prepared
And peering down
I can't believe you
Won't see
The joyful open
Mouth
There plain
As final day

Wouldn't we need
To stack emerald mysticism
Across from calculated
Nihil
To befuddle
At least?

Shrieks of
Bombs
That are imaginary
Insult reality
For compassion's sake

Like stargazer lilies
Blind and unconscious
Mock themselves

But the oranges
And particular pinks
Versus gray
Have always enchanted

A frontal assault on the
Void vacuum
Undergirding
Mere death

Are we writing for
Our children's children after all
Or
To explode now
Pleasantly?

Tomorrow never
Gave the treasures
It promised yesterday
Anyway

And the
Robot I was meant to be
Will understand
If our minds weren't ever
To last entirely

Through our genius
For
Asserting ourselves
Via jizz
Spread
Far

Like molecular hope
Suddenly
Set forth
Violently
From an exploding
Cosmic
Mote

Can you hear
Our
Innocent
Radio plea
From so long
Before?

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