Posts Tagged ‘the world’

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get what you want

Sunday, May 1st, 2011

Be careful what you ask for, you just may get it.

Gays and lesbians clamoring for marriage will end up having divorces —
something new perhaps and rarely any fun;

Fed-up Arabs seeking freedom and dignity may end up having
more repression, poverty and disappointment — that’s a sad one.

Something for nothing, a free lunch and easy money draw many
to learn as in an ancient Chinese proverb:

How do you know it’s good?
How do you know it’s bad?

To paraphrase the Stones:
you can’t always get what you want
but you always get what you need.

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healthy, wealthy and wise?

Monday, April 25th, 2011

Just this past week I was anglin’ on
a saying attributed to Benjamin Franklin:

“Early to bed and early to rise
makes a man healthy, wealthy and wise.”

So what ever happened to healthy, wealthy and wise being
sought after like some sort of ultimate prize?

It seems that lately these virtues are cries that
so many people hold as Evil in their eyes.

If you’re healthy, there’s a crowd that’s heard whining and
ascribing your good health to something genetic

while their own habits of sedentry and over-dining have
led them to a condition that’s truly pathetic.

When it comes to wealth the assessment’s even worse; your
frugality and good choices are reviled as a Curse.

And when you try to pass along any of that Wisdom you’re
heard as the purveyor of yet another conundrum.

So instead of health we race toward illness and morbidity and
in place of wealth we get more lack and want.

In lieu of wisdom we’ve accrued ignorance and stupidity. Now
these New “virtues” are all that’s left to vaunt.

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here we go again

Monday, March 21st, 2011

here we go again

here we go again
here we go again
here we go again

again, her we go again
we think we learn
we think we burn
we think we learn when we burn

here we go again
here we go again
here we go again

again, here we go again
we think we earn
we think it’s our turn
our turn to earn and burn

here we go again
here we go again
here we go again

again, here we burn again
here we earn again
here we turn again
but never learn again

here we go again
here we go again
here we go again

again, here we go again
it’s our turn to burn
’cause we always burn
and never learn

here we go again
here we go again
here we go again

again, her we burn again
we are the burners
not the burned
here we go again

here we go again
we think we are the learn-ed
because we’re always the earn-ed
here we go again

burners and burn-ees
learners and learn-ees
her we go again
will someone stop us please

again, here we go again
here we go again
here we go again

here we know — again
here we blow — again
here we go — again

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color me green

Thursday, February 3rd, 2011

Green, green, green, green, green
Close your eyes, green, green,
I mean it, close your eyes and just see
green — green, green.

Green, green, brown, red green, green
green, brown, brown, red, green green,
evergreen trees, green, green, brown,
green, brown, red, black, white, gray,
green, grey, flowing creek, rushing water,
green, green, green, brown, red, black, white,
green, green, green, brown, red, black, white,
green, green, brown, red, black, white,

green, green, brown, red, black, white,
blue, green, green, brown, red, black, white,
blue, blue, green, green, brown, red, black, white,
blue, green, green, blue, brown, red, blue, white,
pitter, patter, blue, gray, white, gray, green, green
rain sprinkles everything, gray, green, blue, white
green, green, green, green

Breathe deeply, blue-green, blue-green, gray
white now red, orange, yellow, red, red, red,
brown, red, brown, green, red, brown,
as the bear devours your leg, red, red, brown on green.

We are always [green] surprised by what we [green] don’t expect.
So be ready for the [green] uninvited and serve them your best
green, green, red, brown and black, black, always black
— and blue, blue, blue. Boo-hoo. Woo-hoo. Blue, blue.

Green.

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one ton run

Wednesday, January 12th, 2011

Rain again stains the main plain pane
and the sun is fun when you’ve won a ton

But to rut your gut with a slut and a mutt
your butt must be cut with a nut in your hut.

Its crackers for hackers you slackers
when for smackers and stackers you track

And wonder and blunder with hair all asunder
to fund her down under with someone who gunned her.

So pick up a stick and lick on a tick
for thick as its trick is its click on your wick

When the rain is a train with a mighty refrain
some drain must remain inside of your brain.

The son with a gun’s not the one on the run
for the sun on your bun is just for my fun.

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forked tongue speaks of two-sided coin

Wednesday, September 29th, 2010

I’ve always prided myself in my affinity to differing camps
the intellectual and the down and dirty normality
to the enjoyment of drink and drug, the rewarding joy of physical labor
to the engaging discussions of rhyme and reason, of art and taste;
to the endurance of agonizing pain and demoralizing realizations;
to the lofty exhilaration of conceptual discoveries and spiritual quests
along with the defeats and losses that seem to recur without end.

I love the raw expression of joy and anger, of winning and defeat
the stultifying numbness of boring repetition and the thrill of revenge
the finding of friends and the gifts of lonely pursuits
the open discussions of inner most fears and the quiet reflections
on secrets closely held and never admitted.

But where does this leave me or is it carrying me
into the continuing maelstrom of this scattered and shattered existence
seeking a roost, a place of comfort amidst my refusals to accept it
along with my desires to fly past anything resembling a cage
into which a solace may be found but lost in this continuing turmoil
that I find so orgasmic in its chaos and juxtaposing energies
that to my properly addled mind offers a unity of life and death.

The two-headed angel speaks with a long and forked tongue
of the two-sided coin, the double entendre and the double-barreled gun
of the one-for-all and the all-for-one
becoming the one-as-all and the all-is-one
in the place where all roads lead to none
and the waning moon is the setting son.

So go fuck yourself and leave me alone
to find my own way past this overdue swoon
where the high-blooded hipster is bad-to-the-bone
and the struggling loser is a man-in-the-moon.

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bubbles

Tuesday, September 28th, 2010

The yellow barking of a hand saw,
the swirl of rubber on pavement
the squawk of the electric drill
over the riffs of Coleman Hawkins

The eternal running of those with wheels
searching for peace and a piece
that passes them with no understanding
but satiates for a moment their greeds.

Winds in the cords of dreams and memories
strum at the fibers in her neck and twitch
at her crotch while humming in her right ear
come back and move on in relief, sweet relief.

Settling in to the cacophony of dirigibles
slanted toward the pane onto the yard below
harmonizing in delight at the sound of birds
and the sight of squirrels hiding their faces.

Minds can think and even realize
but never recreate the realities that have passed
into oblivion and memory with scents of myrrh
and old fish trembling in ecstasy’s blight.

Lonely sounds bring comfort to the bridge
as airplanes and telescopes bend toward the night
into which pours the candles and blocks
that burn out of sight and darken our world.

But, the dawn brings a replay of echoes
over and under each other that weave into a piece
that plays its symphony to bears and doves alike
while the dreams for the other subside and fade.

Keep paddling and pushing, planting and burning
as the willow spurns the turtle, so does the swan
swim in the air that wraps its tendrils around us
bringing home that longed for effervescence of life.

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rotting to perfection

Friday, September 17th, 2010

I used to feel like I was part of a mass movement for good
like a particle in a sea of positive elements all moving
in the same direction generally, each contributing
even though we are all very differently endowed.

Now I feel more like I am a piece of discarded refuse
in spite of my continuing contributions and activities;
a piece of rotting food on a pile of more rotting food
used only to fuel the vagaries of a few vultures and rats
who quarrel over the few remaining bits we comprise.

Politicians, bankers, generals, preachers and pirates
feeding their insatiable egos on the rotting remains of civility
and reasonable order, enjoying especially the mindless
scent of their misguided followers’ rantings and alms,
pushing them further into the greedy nirvana they crave.

How far will we have to rot here before we become choking
in our putrescence — how vile must we get to have an effect
that reflects the nature of our situation until it rightly gags
the devouring giants and hungrily-nibbling rats
toppling them into an abyss from which they again feed our growth.

Its probably just another example of the balance of everything
over time, repeating its rhythmic dance and my anxiety is nothing
but my part to be played in this tableau so here I am,
promoting being to the extreme, being to our limits and just a little
beyond since that is the essence of life — pushing and pulling.

Whoever you are, now is the time to act out, to hold no reins
and be a part of the life that surrounds us in this beautiful chaos.
Burn brightly from every orifice and do your part what ever it is:
devouring and becoming fatter yet or rotting and becoming putrid
enough to do the choking of those greedy bastards. Get up and dance!

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more on cultural entropy

Monday, June 28th, 2010

No one wants to take responsibility anymore
No one wants to stand up and be counted
No one wants to be bothered

Everyone wants someone else to take responsibility
Everyone waits for someone else to do something
Everyone wants to be left alone

What ever happened to integrity
What ever happened to the can-do spirit
What ever happened to community

Slackers, blame shifters, cowards and sloths
all shouting give me and expecting it for free
without a thought of sharing or conserving

So use it all up, and when its all gone shut up your face
and die in your rotting hovel surrounded by your waste
and become fertilizer for my roses.

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self esteem

Friday, February 5th, 2010

The height of self esteem is buying yourself
a 93 million dollar statue.

The value is not the piece of art but the buyers ego.

There is about 20 dollars of metal, a few hundred in casting fees
and transportation plus

the artists other amortized expenses, though the artist is dead.

Its value comes as a competitive number in an auction
which is just another pissing contest for the wealthy.

The piece itself is not so special, really.

Buy a country, buy a statue, be the biggest.
the ultimate in self esteem.

Why not rescue a country
suffering from devastation, hunger and strife.

Too realistic, too mundane or soft.

Buying something ephemeral has way more ego value
in its intangibility

though the piece itself looks like a starving human.
The depths of self esteem.

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