Posts tagged ‘election’

December 13, 2016

i guess i am afraid too…

i think of our fast time
when and where the fear
holds us tight, when
we tell everyone
how afraid we
are about everything
and anything, everywhere,
so vocally, so knowingly,
and how our ways only
will most likely change that fear.
then i think
about a class that
i took a few weeks back,
one of self-defense, surely,
when and where the
instructor told us all
to not be afraid
of the dark, or not
defend ourselves if we are
and we find ourselves in it.
i mean, it seems so easy,
but the basement can
be really scary, the dark alley
can be truly terrifying,
the misunderstood politician
can seem as the devil incarnate.
and then i remember
looking to outside St Paul,
out on the cold streets,
crusted in white hard snow,
alight with daybreak,
that cold that is out there
in the sun is more
dangerous to us–30 minutes and
you are dead, and that
the summer clothes hanging
in my gloomy basement are
only as scary as i make
them myself, they blow in the wind,
they touch me like shadows,
they do what i tell them
to do in my head. this is what i fear:
the irrational fear of others.
so, i guess i am afraid too…

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December 11, 2016

mission control, i got a cold.

ah… mission control,
my pink floyd head
can’t handle the
layered, fluffy driven
snow. i thought
about that easy idea
for a moment and
shoveled it past fast;
a dog’s muted bark echoes;
beyond cut crystals
that adorn clear glass.
what a cold day to be
spreading out on this
red yoga mat, sooo ready
to take a shit,
ready to sip my coffee
with some honey in it,
in a tall white mug.
sort-of, kind-of like me
in the right light.
ah… mission control,
where is john glenn,
where is our politics
as usual, where is
my old cold medicine?
got to watch meet
the press, got to…
tell me what i should do.

November 10, 2016

as they say: the end is nigh, (so smile)

apparently our world
is crumbling to
the ballot scattered ground,
over clear democratic process;
i might understand that:
you win some, you lose some,
(the electoral college decides),
you comfort and console some,
you congratulate and celebrate.
or ~300 in St Paul may protest.
or a sheer silence thickens.
or Chuck Todd gets sad.
i don’t know, ask CNN how to feel.
standing, watching from low,
at a distance, there is nothing
to do, but observe the fray,
it doesn’t really matter…
like most, i am lost for words.
time to breathe in and smile.
we all made it through Bush anyway.
america will most likely move on.

October 10, 2016

fact check

usually when i fact check
it’s from an uninvolved 3rd party.
now that’s usually, just for reference.
though this isn’t science,
this may be far less important.
10 electors will vote for the lot in Minnesota:
electoral college, USA. usually when
i fact check, it doesn’t really matter…
(now perhaps the same for voting)
more of a hobby. you can go to
mplsscene.com and fact check that.
see how it’s all right there and only fair?
see how “facts” don’t really matter?

March 13, 2016

Interconnectivity

Emboldened symbols
cut with meaning of

three hundred million heads
colliding

over a spider web cache:

How will I think for myself?

July 27, 2014

Things just concern me

Vote for Logic,
put Robots in Office.
Mandatory polygraph tests
for candidates assuming the role…
Don’t fret though,
I’m partial.

They say ‘follow the leader’,
and ‘to each their own’,
in unison,
broken record on dusty gramophone-that old.

Tupac and train-bridges,
Como and El-P,
at the corner market,
buy fluids then flee.

Child yet full-grown.
Can’t say won’t.

Rationality and realism postponed
… For gold,
by cold souls,
hard-truths thrown like stones,
you know.

One asks questions;
starts trouble,
causes problems,
-Iconoclast-
the ground rumbles,
and is labeled
Fast as on the double.

Then you forfeit all.
No more missed calls.

C’est la vie
“That’s Life”

Caught between wrong and right
and day and night;
and delight and plight.

I digress.

My friend,
I’m all right (spelled right).

Things just concern me.

November 6, 2012

Coffee, Reading, and Votes 11/5/12-11/6/12

More material than a craft store…

Starting word wars with scholarly whores.

 

But, anyway, we wake up in the same bed, problem solved.

 

And that one time began like this:

A Cat in a window with different colored eyes.

Light blue and light green, contrast clearly defined.

 

Walking to the cafe to spend a few dollars.

 

A pumpkin ahead smashed to death on the side-

walk right by to Bob’s for java and the warmth inside.

 

To open up my eyes.

Just to open my eyes.

 

I sat back, watching peers through a window as they went on with their lives.

Strolling.

Contemplate the day; a pint earlier, though it was morning, but not before sunrise.

I was patient, life then was boring.

I couldn’t find a surprise.

 

A modest work for a modest pay: the modern modest’s only way.

 

Art, Drink, Sleep, Fuck, Write, Etc…

Shut off the light and pray you’ll make it through the night.

Breakfast of champions.

Feeling cramped again.

 

Start the day.

As they say:

 

What are you doing with your time?

Are you still studying?

Brain bubbling?

No, not really, I am just waiting to quit.

I’m loving it, reading a lot.  You know-

Books are legit…

 

And minding my own fucking business.

 

 

(Then I listened about)

 

Anxiety of national responsibility on their lips.

It sets in, as hearts dip.

 

Even worse my Ma is sick.

I am thinking B.I.G., I am thinking dark and tired, I am thinking about starting a fire.

 

Trying to be inspired.

Bukowski said don’t try-its written in stone above his catacomb.

 

It’s the water around it.

 

Don’t doubt the happenings at a glance.

Wait to review the past.

Then think before you act.

 

And I was tired moments later.

 

(Then I listened about in another direction)

 

The Beatles were playing and everyone was buzzing about politics.

 

January 20th, 2013 everything will change.

They say.

The tea is warm and tastes a bit bitter,

I thought.

The coffee smelled swell and everything was well.

We all sat, we were all lost in thought.

 

Then I took off.

 

Warm place downtime.

 

A transgender lady spoke to a gentleman about stance as David Bowie played one of his classics.

I finished a book and couldn’t find the right words.

 

God damn, I can’t wait until tomorrow is over.

You can’t say that everyday.

October 22, 2012

Thoughtful Drones

I love you more than I trust Western Medicine:

Lay in the waste.

Take note of the wreckage…

Relate to what you’ve witnessed with minimal discretion.

 

I hate the job that makes one question fate:

Advised to resign or die, or ride on the side just to get by.

We all get along, and then we are all gone.

 

I like the way things sound when the meaning is found:

Back, bi-language, tri-language, trite paralinguistic remarks; physically aimless, tainted, fit and smart.

Ageless claiming to be famous, rolling their eyes.

 

Tell them to fuck off.

 

I dislike the feeling of ummmm, ahhhh, things change…

Better known as my better half-there’s like 50, and 50 more wishing, so I will speak on their behalf.

Get a raft and 2 paddles, only joking…

 

Hit the gravel, I’ve been stolen

And broke,

and sold to someone across the ocean.

 

Care to follow?

 

I am indifferent to the rubble that builds up in the back.

Trash-talk bins full, you can see them through the window.

Its the truth, its fact.

 

I would stop and look to find the bottom of the bottle, but there is too much shit to get into,

-so I just swallow, rules of the model.

 

I am different to the same.

We are all the same in the fact that we are different.

 

The light seems to be dim though;

The ideas seem to be diminished.

And then its finished.

 

There are no definitive features on the face of society, only a blur of melting pot steam.  

Seems we have all lost a lot, seems we are all bursting at the seams.  

 

I see it.

Agree?

 

 

October 19, 2012

No Destination. (Downtown Minneapolis)

Colorful soppy leaves under feet, what a rare occasion.

Orchards and stripped trees pray for precipitation.

 

While we bundle up to avoid a single drop.

Rain hits the roof:  Clip-Clop, Clip-Clop.

 

Drought conditions on the outside, but our minds are wet.

The clouds haven’t left Southside(!) yet.

Concerned meteorologists can rest, the day is set.

 

Fake passion, do we really care about our jobs anyway?

What do you do?

No, what do you do?

 

Not just for pay.

 

Everything is art.

 

Woken from rest by the pitter-patter and a cacophony of buzzing.

Have we heard this sound before?

Will we hear it evermore?

 

The world is drying, the world is dying.

The Midwest will be a Tropical Paradise some day.

 

Hardly a cold day in the city, hardly a month into autumn; vegetation obviates a blossom, as we gossip of the coming snow and frozen bones-we are set to dress in costume.

 

Of day, of before dawn, all dryness is gone.  Prepared, however, not.  Nothing lost.

Memories do no justice to Windchill.

 

Pavement shines, belts whine, as vehicles drive by.

 

Aggressive and agitated as the Metro Transit driver guy.

A honk from a passing friend, watch for pedestrians as you flood the skies again.

 

They are shit for shambles as they amble through the day.

Make way.

Make way, and take a gamble.

 

Traveling north by cracked roads, noticing small things; a black hat left by the wayside, debris, a soiled glove, trash, broken glass, and traffic lights flashing, dancing on glass.  Slipping past.  The minutes tick, an attempt to be on time.  Time passed.

No morning transaction is complete without me on my feet.  No one drinks if I miss the mark, few will get their fill of the bakeries heart.  The pay doesn’t matter, it’s the experience before, the journey to work, that makes it worthwhile.    

I wish people could see the streets like they are downtown in the early morning twilight.  The few, the proud, the individuals that get an unadulterated presence of Downtown pavement.  The idea that in a moments notice there will be too many ships afloat on this ocean to see.  An impossible feat, but here it is.  I wake early by occupation, by habit, by passion, for a payment, a paycheck, yet my payment is allotted before I get to the office.  Things to take in, things to think about.  Accomplished.  

Take to feet, take to bike, take flight.  Take to the night.  Live in another time, other than as you would have imagined in your life.  Maybe things have been misunderstood.  Maybe a night owl can be a day laborer, maybe the early bird can sleep late and still keep a worm on it’s plate.  On a date, on a ladder, and climbing faster while avoiding disaster.  The journey.

 

There is a world out there, on the opposite side of your schedule.  A world you can find, if you only keep difference in mind.

With or without you, this orb spins.

Getting out and about, out of the house, to take it all in.

 

I am one of the many who traverse Nicollet Mall daily.

 

***

 

And they still talk about building a Pipeline over an Aquifer.  WTF?  I thought they wanted to conserve.

Try water.