Posts tagged ‘politics’

September 10, 2017

poets, spiders, and sponsors

i researched the spider
that i murdered on the floor with a shoe
and thought about climatology
and biology and how
one is perhaps theology and
the other is perhaps fluid language opined, and/or not.
something like an afterthought, after thought.
sametime i made sure my coffee tank was on full.
and aghast and in pitted anguish
someone forgot to turn on the den fan,
i need this air to move around a bit
save for stuck being in stagnation.
only spiders and silverfish live in the basement, the circle of life.
i think this, then i have no worries for my feet.
a million to one i watch an NFL game today
and wonder about the forced labels
and watch as he turns the can and
bottle to showcase for the cameras
their pricey established names, wow, how wow…
also, i woke from a dream about
winning the state lottery, $50,000–
what a nightmare, to welcome the new day broke.
here shaping language in other countries for monies,
still can’t speak it right right here, in a basement.
again, i researched that spider, crumpled, dead, still,
something between brown recluse
and another spider more innocent
the one that no one cares about,
that kills the just-as-offensive silverfish scum.

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September 9, 2017

logically you are not even if you say you are on account of your actions and that language’s histories

i wonder if when I,
poets, activists, or protesters
disparage Western concepts, culture, constructs,
in their precious american English
they realize that they are
wading in the deep waters of
conflicted ideology.
(i am not defending or attacking it, just a thought.)
i wonder if they realize how careless they potentially look.
(tho it could be misread or misinterpreted, easily.)
the language of the Oppressor
suites well for an offensive, good thought… Lorde’s

master’s house with master’s tools (as explained):
same with antifa violence–end’s means,
or narrow-mindedness politics, not for me.
some things are only those things in name.
i want actual world peace.
i literally want equality.
i have begged for equal parental leave rights for fathers.
(and sometimes i just want coffee or beer.)
i can’t care though in a world of apathy towards definitions;
maybe you can see what i look like through texts.
there must be a proper algorithm for that.
i write in it,
i teach in it,
i think inside my head in it,
how do you do in it?
language is that prevalent, do you think in second languages?
probably told something
about how i am in it by someone i don’t “know” in it.
but i must re-reflect in it, hypocritically.
do i wear cotton clothing?
most likely my parents did, and their grandparents did…
that crop we should truly burn for its despicable history.
who is this building i live in named after?

Occam’s razor a bit more and start removing those bricks too.
every pattern is another pattern resembled: what did it mean, again, then?
that lovely beach you go to, named for?
he must have friendly-fired at some point, making it somewhat ok.
did the Viking‘s not sack Dublin perhaps
raping and killing and plundering that Emerald Isle?
something about my favorite football team that doesn’t win…
the homeless may sleep for free in that structure’s shadow, cold tho.
i can’t recall because i wasn’t there
but these poets, activists, and protesters,
perhaps, they are backwards really–me too,
with language rooted in vile pasts they (and i) despise,
so fluid its will can change fast daily
just to make some poignant moral point work out for a new sign;
like media statisticians, i can make numbers speak too.
get them to sing like a well-oiled machine at church.
a few words in print, alas, but my Narrative… shit.
i can speak another language.
i have visited new and different lands.
i will never stop reading or changing my mind on anything and everything.
perhaps, if you are a globalist who has
never left the States and who only speaks
one language, mother tongue, how good are your big ideas?
practicing and preaching are two different things.
no big deal though, just saying, reflecting.
so how would you like to say what you think now?

September 3, 2017

you cannot know ever

do go ahead, appeal to me:
be open, be thoughtful , be free.
be like the antilablists be:
no “know”, no fact, no meaning.

August 26, 2017

AI will figure it out for us! Yay!

i am ready for the killer robots now,
i want them to come faster, posthaste.
because robots don’t do politics,
they just act and that’s it.

there is no discerning nothing to them, affirmative.
in times like this, i think antiindividualthoughters
would be the ones to really worry;
not me tho, the ones with big group ideas.

b/c ai doesn’t care about feels-sentiment,
only what you are, what and where, now.
not what you want to be or what you believe.
ai doesn’t fret about your god(s), her rules,

unless you program them to and such.
preference and seems take a backseat.
like children they are honest.
like surgeons they are exact.

like weapons we should be concerned.
like counterprotesters they come in “peace”.
i think that scares people tho;
stop violence on “both sides” tell the robot,

probably a robot won’t care for the names
for the intentions, for the allegiances, or the Soros monies–
sees something: pew pew pew, kaboom, stillness… robots
i am sort of worried about ai, and not,

but then again not really so much
i am only human-kind, kind of flawed, will go when to ash.
i can only assume what will be our “future”,
i can only just breath and see and be and me.

August 24, 2017

things that matter

i don’t mind the alarm bells ringing 5 am
or having to make the coffee early then
or the way the news sounds on Google Home
or what MPR says about anything ever, so unbiased

or hard politics trying to make my very day
or nice lies trying to tell the real truth
or peace carried out through violence, it’s ok…
or how you say i am this or that or the other

i don’t mind these things because
they really don’t matter to me
i don’t mind because what’s in front of my eyes
i don’t mind because you don’t mind or matter
i don’t mind if it goes unnoticed

because it doesn’t really matter to me
because it doesn’t really matter to me
wonder how i tie my shoes tight today
wonder how i feel at 5 pm getting out
i wonder why they waste their time

wonder if the hurricane will drown us all
wonder if it cares about looks or ideas or groups
wonder if my shirt fits my chest right
wonder if the astroid blocked the sun
and with stupid glee and glasses we watched

August 16, 2017

Dying symbolism and passing theory 

Crumpled symbolism making it better in its descend to the grassy ground, I wonder about stopping something with that something and if it works out OK, Lorde, truly. Cellphone videos of fists and kicking, “peaceful”.  Lines crossed.  Helmets are weapons today. Comedians got one joke now. One Nation apart, distancing tomorrow.  Ruined sheets. Egotistical egos. Hateful hate. Misappropriated tiki torches. Bad pants and industrial haircuts. Worse ideas. The days of just being ten fingers and eyes open and happy and content and broke and not concerned; the days of counting down to the alarm’s alarming, counting on something, to the dry desert flooded by hopeful theory and new belief. Cast away religion and makeup and history and what you were before. There is no news, same old.  Different focus today. Something about under the sun. Who doesn’t want more, can i see a show of hands?  Notice me too. Not that sign! to change the mind and find no pleasure in no appeasements, no pleasing the cannot be pleased. Straw-man, Instagram wants me back and I want peace and world love and for everyone to just dance hand in hand again because we love each other and we want something better, or what used to be a dream.  

July 23, 2017

if monsters could leave the city

oh tru morning between aging cof
fee and covfefe and chuck dick,
one resignation away from a full deck,
and the meeting the Washington press
people who are good actors–
i mean really fucking good actors,
for saying things like fair and
balanced like a fat thumb on
the honest scale but it doesnt matter.
not like the gamma rays cutting,
not like a baby bouncing new teeth
through the clouds haloing above
the old trees and cut grass: lawn boy:
a broken pinion and the late sunday paper.
more gas on the ground than in it,
more save the world than wtf? locally
heard a domestic disturbance yesterday,
saw someone stealing a mainstreet car.
i suppose if i dont shave
the people who i teach in China wont care
probably wont notice beyond my American smile…
coffee again, father john misty again;
i like the art on the vinyl.
car parked in our odd garage.
monday take out our hot garbage.
so many movements to make,
only got to make movements.
i want to take the time to watch the snake
eat itself slowly as they say bye bye Betsy–
to hear her say she wont have it,
and i think what does
she think of party-made monster,
probably should get through Frankenstein,
probably should hideout somewhere.
or like a scapegoat leave the country.
if monsters could leave the city.

April 28, 2017

success story

today’s modern success story:
create a meme that
everyone enjoys, something clever,
something liberal but not free.
maybe you do it on FB…
don’t lose friends while you are at it.
get it to go viral,
maybe 1 billion likes, MAYBE–god that would be great,
(and you forget to monetize that shit)
especially on YouTube
however don’t say what you actually think
because they will
shut down your channel… make it pc, appease me.
start a meaningful movement with
the aforementioned clever idea/meme.
go out and cause a scene, disrupt and scream,
and no justice no peace, believe, be seen.
get asked to go out and repeat.
as i have been, “Terry would you like to speak?”
no i have to have surgery on my teeth…
get your followers to believe.
go out by any means, by any means.
you know what I mean.
become a major success.
place all your bets, no frets.
and then realize that
likes on facebook or twitter
or any livestreams
or insta
or on the local stations
or in the local coffeehouses
or in the local publications
or on all the scenes
wont pay your rent.
won’t pay your college debt.
wont buy drinks for your friends.
won’t be enough to pretend you have affluent parents.
you get what you get: nothing.
you only make money for the people that
trick you into being a part of it,
you are the product of advertisement,
you work for free, for them.
now, go out and find a second job,
because your lovely dreams
are just things you
wake up from,
as snowflakes in the sun,
as the bill collectors keep calling and calling.

April 23, 2017

things are pretty hard now

things are pretty hard now…
like buying a house in St Paul
before the 2017 housing market collapse
or opening an English muffin
to make a counterintuitive egg sandwich,
i am wondering if last-week’s leftovers will
make me sick today.
aver that’s how we relate.
legs hurt from kickball and surprises as of late.
head feels like empty pockets
rotting root canal sockets
and a hungover English lesson
on technology through technology
because of technologies outdated;
maybe i’ve taught more than you,
been called “teacher” too,
and still don’t know what to do.
trying to not be the biggest fool
in the biggest fool theory.
i want to build equity
and they want to build an effective wall.
watching for the collapse, the black hole trap.
tooth killing me, what bite.
much to laugh on, no more fight.
you can find me smiling at tragedy.
you can set your robin free.
i found a garden hose
at the corner walk
took it home and saved some money.
there is so much time to go outside.
it will either happen or it won’t.
whatever happens is supposed to.
and i don’t even know if the lawnmower will start.
at the end of the day their speech pattern is the same.
things are pretty hard now…
you should read more about it.

March 23, 2017

so much variety a person couldn’t find the same publisher in a room of twin publishers, with the same ideologies and inspirations and movements and where their coffers catch ($)

conform
or be
ignored.