Posts tagged ‘violence’

April 21, 2018

(welcome to minnesota) how to talk about what is important

while many are out
protesting gun violence
and the moronic, petulant
politicians
that they hate for their hatred (irony),
transit workers are being
beaten in the streets to silence,
Minnesota families are being taxed
beyond belief to silence,
and social media is acting big brother to silence.
i am not sure that we all hear.
but you don’t
care, and you are there.
go fund me about it.
go start some new petition.
go join a herd of same.
i have too truly.
it is my true duty.

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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?

July 7, 2016

a traffic stop in St. Anthony

humans in their ways find shelter,
to hide from that such news
which they do not understand, in ways
to keep to keeping, to keep on
and go, and most–and i, will never “get it”
the agency of those in such high towers aloft
and their fears they decide on,
to encase and to deal fateful cards
to those so swiftly and so finally so nearly
in such a manner, so wrongly,
in circumstances we could all now weep,
for the images we see we are all now there.

March 31, 2016

JC MPLS

i do wonder, dead
or alive, with or
against, subjective
or fact, right or
wrong, can’t we
all just get along?

probably there exists
no change, where there
exists no neutral…
probably you already
know about this smart
dilemma in your beliefs.

May 6, 2015

I used to live here, Whittier South

And those injured and suffering went along
Carrying bandaged faith and sore teeth,
smelling of sour mashed sweat,
rubbing tender eyes,

as empty cans and bottles littered
the Whittier South yard where they sauntered.

Harmless props save for the thought.
It was a weekend to remember forgotten.

Sunlight carried split-skull interactions,
churned ladles in their tender stomachs.

If only these plastic chairs could talk they would be perfect witnesses,
chucked into red-ash fire
at the utterance of a word.

Feet kicked aluminum to metal sound,
and “see over there—there’s the compost.”

Now, can I have a beer?
Can I have a piss?

November 25, 2014

Little Bird (On such a Violent Day)

Side-walk bare-
A thin bird lands,

Picking through crumbs,
With its beak,
While a moment later
It takes to fast air.

No sex, no gender, no opinion, no chaos… no care to compare.

This feathered,
Dark-speckled fuzz-ball;
Natural, not from test-tube,
Sweet sounding creature just is, -true.

Picking up
Hopping round;
Scrounging for what
Lie on the ground.

-Concerned only with its food.

July 31, 2014

Taxing Life

Life Taxing:
we sit behind walls to pay for sitting behind walls.

Wheels spin, no gas on deck,
armies fight wars waged for black gold;
these things are related.

Glass punctures and creates an escape,
you sit roadside with a flat-tire and deflated ego.

An IED blows off a soldier’s leg,
an obese man eats a sandwich and drinks a diet coke,
a beautiful young model hates her reflection; finding flaws;
a CEO makes money.

And no one knew the half.

Birds fly,
rivers flow,
a book weighs down a hand,
words play heavy on the head.

Cottonwood seeds float on thick air,
tombstones bask in the sun.
So far away no voice could reach;
even so not of native tongues.

Days we have lost and the one that just began,
my toast is burnt,
furniture sits un-rearranged.
Affects leave me unchanged;
for certain of, same, -oh distaste.

Life goes on
a cat meows
a clock ticks
the heat moves in and settles down
Fall is here.

Only this time it’s without you.
I wish I could tell you about that.

January 6, 2014

Spare the Rod

My father used to say, “Spare the rod and spoil the child.”

 

I think it was some church thing.

 

He used to say that,

But he doesn’t say that anymore…

 

Now I am bigger than him,

And people talk a lot.

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?

 

 

September 6, 2012

Everyday New

A new life; new walls, new people, all involved.

 

Walk small, walk tall, and most of all don’t fall.

 

All inside, now clean it out.

All about, now go without.

What have we left?

 

Just one phone call-

 

We had a small portion of a six pack left and a moderate buzz, which was more like a hangover.

 

Whatever it is we will throw it away.

 

Like a new day.

Like a new tomorrow.

On a new track.

Hold back.

 

Burn the rest.

Burn it to the filter.

Burnt out.

The rest is filler.

 

The fire smoldered until vanquished by lack of accelerant.  The light was heaven sent, yet I was spent in a moonlit residence.

 

A different location, more pretty girls.

Locomotive at the station.

A different world, we notice

We notice more.

 

Choo-Choo.

 

A new life just ten blocks up and down.

Homeward bound, lost and found-to hear the sound of a familiar voice.

 

She cried when she left, I left with that…

I cried before and held my breath.

 

I tried but couldn’t die.

 

Friends lost in sorrow, we borrow…

We mourn, we are bored.

We take all in suspicious tolerance and then ignore.

 

That day was so bright, we almost couldn’t let go, but you had to.

You had to.

The grass is greener.

You had to.

 

And then you did.

 

There is nothing new under the sun; there is no originality, only authenticity, especially in this city.

Sadness and smiles have been around all the while.

This is not special.

 

Yet, we hardly notice things we hardly notice.

 

The sunshine was brighter in the loss, Bosnian (the language) seemed fathomable and old-fashioned-she said, “Fuck off Mother.”  I said, “I am not your brother, I am just here for the money.”  She said, “Lovely, now get back to work, Honey.”  I think we had it mixed up a bit, but I kept working. I looked at her crossly as I picked up the broom.

 

And then…

 

I took off.

Like a rocket.

Punch.

On to the next big everyday situation.