Year 6719

The year was 6719
Flower children loved
The scent in the air

Sashbry-Gaight
Was so phenomenal
Truly the citadel of colorful spirals
And popping neon
Wrapping itself in velvety ribbons
Around the rib cage
Of a great fallen consumerist man

We didn’t know much about Vetnam
That equally colorful battlefield
It was a backdrop to Sashbry-Gaight
Our brilliant neighborhood in the sky

The jungle looked very tempting
But we didn’t want to leave civilization just yet
It needed to fall before we can flee

This was very draining
Don’t worry though
Because the sun soaks us up
And the music never stops ringing in our ears
In holy Sashbry-Gaight, the city of melody

President Pence Steps Off a Tainted Carousel

His lips were stretched into a perfect line
Perfect and pious
Straight and flawless

Pence preens his suit
For the inauguration ceremony
Maybe a trim is in order
Everything has to be “just so”

Line up the conspiracy theories
They’re important too
Save the most poetic lines
For a human that’s smooth all over

But behind it all
Behind the glitter and confetti
Stands the shadow of an elephant piercing a lion

“Those nutty puppets peddling their theories”
Though similar structures can’t be ignored
When you place them side by side

Alex Jones and the River of Fear He Creates

[This is an experiment. Everything in quotes is an experiment in stream-of-consciousness while listening to Alex Jones video on youtube]

“Hi, I’m Alex Jones”
“I’m writing this while listening to Alex Jones”
“I’m writing this bathing in a river of fear.”
“Bathing in the waters…of change”
“Rather have change vs. stagnation.”
“If Trump is taken…down…free speech…is taken down.”

“Create that deep state. Become that deep state.”
“Deep state. Deep dish. Deeper than you’ve ever gone”
“Naked authority is deeper than you”
“Transitioning to authoritarianism”
“Fake authoritarianism”
“Taking the world down, taking the pseud-intellectuals down with the economy.”
“Stunted cosmopolitan people. People from all over the world”
“All of technology came from an ebola-ridden landscape. Some have called it Texas. Some have called it New World Order.”

“They don’t understanding anything. They don’t understand what it means to be intellectual.”
“False alpha male tearing down free speech. False football players don’t know how be trendy and create an establishment. Have some creativity. Create an establishment. Don’t be a false alpha male.”
“Metal was the cool tundra that everyone was skating on. It was the cool thing that everyone was into. Nobody doesn’t want to have fun anymore. Handlebar mustaches are part and parcel of the establishment. Having tattoos doesn’t mean you understand the deeper tapestry of the universe.”

“Globalists want social engineering to preserver so that the starvation houses are stuffed to capacity. Weaponize the fledgling hollywood against the middle belt of America.”

“French philosophers say that we should get back to the roots and trust the Amish. Trust the Amish to make cheese.”
“The vehicle of desiccation is stuffed with the stench…mania…of warfare…people don’t want to admit that warfare was created by manic chemicals put into the water.”
“Trump is the pendulum swinging against the walls of a stagnant society.”
“You have to create your own reality. You have to build creation.”
“What we’ve created is opposed by tyrants. Our reality is being assaulted by tyrants. But they don’t understand that people die in China. They just don’t understand.”

“People are cuckolded by the fact that misery loves company.”
“If Trump is miserable, his betrayal is subconscious.”
“Businessmen often have subconscious machinations that set the bedrock for betrayal.”
“But this is fear caused by the deep state. By the perception that the deep state is going to overthrow reality.”
“I’m a cold-blooded person. An objective person. It takes a real sociopath to see reality as it is. To see reality that is created consensus reality. You can’t understand the reality that you’ve created unless you are a cold-blooded person.”
“We’re going back to the wild west. Going back to an age of political incorrectness and progress.”
“Consumers believe that not getting vaccines is healthy.”
“He didn’t sell you out. He’s trying to tear down the curtains of the establishment.”
“He didn’t flip on 5 core promises. We’re not about taking things about the context. Republicans aren’t interested in using a population as cheap labor. Democrats are elitists trying to attack high interest rates.”
“I’m Alex Jones. Thank you.”

[Wow. That was very exhausting. I don’t think I’ll ever do that again.]

Blogging and Poetry

A word or two
A regular drip in the mornings
Something to occupy and sustain the mind
A little blogging never hurt anyone
The old adage comes home to roost

Blogging, where individuality
Expands to infinity
There isn’t enough room for no one
Just one more blog
The world needs another teardrop
Of the micro-fish

It swims upstream
Telling stories
Entertaining schools
From different planes of existence

“Another word” is the thin dividing line
Between obscurity and phosphorescent identity
Step into your blog
Step into another dimension

As a micro-fish
Become the sea
Absorb the sea

 

An Arid Man

Just picture a man

Who doesn’t know much
But has a heightened sense of things
Wielding a whip in his mouth, the man turns
Perceiving danger at its peaks
Nothing was filled with everything
Such a vibrant scene

The sun was setting
Conjuring catharsis
As if this were the final time
Another human being said something innocuous
Setting off those dangerous associations again
So the sunset plodded on, offering its tainted magic

Howler

Nixon took his dog for a walk
It stopped
Sniffed the grass
Peed on a pine cone

The stars twinkled as if to ask the great man
“Why Why’d ya do it?”
The dog looked up at him as if to ask the same question
Nixon didn’t have an answer
So he let the leash go and walked into the night

The dog howled
Calling to its master
But no one was home

Fatigue

Fatigue sets in
Like a battle formation
Limp limbs make all the difference in the world
The night seems to have more meaning with them around

As the captain surveyed the landscape
He couldn’t separate the trees from tired appendages
There was something medical about the scene
That somehow fatigue was just a prelude to
injury, disease, various medical related things

He didn’t have the heart to wake them
Didn’t have the heart to be a captain anymore
But he did have the heart to walk into the sea
Keeping his eyes open until the sting engulfed everything
The dolphins were playful but altruistic
Making sure the captain stayed afloat until his eyes dissolved

A Sleepy Life

The afternoon nap sets in for the long haul

Gettin comfortable
But still razor sharp
And ready for anything

Hearts slow down
Heat ramps up
Humidity takes without asking
Vegetation grows
Choosing green to represent it
Buildings decay and spread out
Leaking and being joyous
Relaxing for an hour or two

But there’s a human side to the town
Nestled between mountainous courage
Sleeping idols sleep their dreams away
A few ambitious people stroll the cobblestone walks
Gazing at other ghosts like themselves
Stopping to purchase flowers or to ponder what the sea killed that day

Hearts give off a smell too
A whiff of pennies drifts toward the salty sea
He was going to pull the trigger that day
Except the penny thing threw him off
The atmosphere went from all right to all wrong
Now he stands wondering what he’ll eat for lunch
Maybe the vendor down the street is still open
Fish or chicken?

Those damn existential questions

Every Corner of the Earth had an Itch

What a way to go

A drunken suicide via itchy rope
Beezlebub didn’t listen
So now the king of the courtroom
Was trying to find the center
Because getting closer meant his regions didn’t itch as much

The center was getting warmer, then colder
Elusive but perpetually tempting
Arguing didn’t help
It only made the itching worse
And his head would start to swirl
He finally had to settle for “less itchy”
He decided to rest here, at the foot of a faceless statue
Maybe a nap would help

The lights will cease

They swarm in and out

Agents of Empire
Brandishing imperial writs
Given life under a distracting cloud

They do as please
Waiting for the next writ
The red royal seal making their hearts
Go aflutter

One day the orders ceased
No calming slips of paper
To heal fresh cracks
So they decided to write their own
Until the lights came back on

What fun they were having
Trying to mimic the language
That air of fractured authority
Once done they gazed at their handiwork
Everything looked great
Ts were crossed, Is were dotted
They pinned it to the wall
Hoping one day the mogul
With gold dipped hands would visit
Exclaiming over the great words
Despite being inferior to the actual thing
But he never came
The lights never flashed to life again
The parking lot fell into ruin
Boards were placed over the windows

Oh well
More time to have fun in the dark
The candles would keep them warm