Posts tagged ‘Wars’

May 29, 2015

A Ride to Work with Late Masters

Sweet smell of morning
and leavings of last night’s rain
were scattered about,
sluiced on glass and ground,
left abandoned for drying.

A naked wrist called to remember Warhol.

The wild storm came and went,
as 4am was time, as day break was birthed,
as the tired feeling that reels one to a cold shower expires,
as eyes to a mirror interrogation, to face this—
was deep and strong.

Hands never moved on the melting clocks, where ants carried away.

Haring said, “I am becoming much more aware of movement.
The importance of movement is intensified
when a painting becomes a performance.
The performance (the act of painting)
becomes as important as the resulting painting.”

In order to become whole energy burst through,
coming down pieces, it restored movement.

Where stiff blades of grass begged of overcast—end this holocaust,
“Just drop, fall already!”

And it happened, moving in a storm-window screen
as a runaway train through a dark tunnel,
as a maladroit thief in the night—confused at access, loud.

And that was the waking siren emboldened,
no firetruck’s scream, no squad car whoop, no alarm bells ringing.

Dali enjoyed watching Gala with other lovers, they came.

This sound predated them all,
and it was just pressure and water and air and now.

I caught the leftovers in a rearview mirror flared reflection
at a stop light turned red; the droplets cascaded down
at the truck’s growly acceleration.

Soppy beads rocked in zigzags about the exterior of a blackened rusted frame.

Sun caught on the cloy smell of dying lilacs—sweet,
chain coffee in the console—weak,
and exhaust from a boxy bus that was slipping by noisily—disgust,

motivation to kill, the latter cacophony in soft mushroomed cartilage.

The formers caught porous nose at the same time.

We were all traveling in the storm’s wake to get somewhere,
and some of us were living unnoticed.

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March 21, 2014

Conscious Continued

On the State Level:

What is Freedom without Oppression?

 

Sunday liquor sales we don’t mention

Exclusive capital through resource retention

Taking the environment without apprehension

Marijuana is off the books because opiates pay pensions

 

Then we walk with hanging heads

Then we eat what we’ve been fed.

***

Paper collection friendships

Corporations part of a faceless community

But they have our president’s holy graces*

Existence thriving in high places so astutely

 

Their tree bearing tainted fruit

That is only being eaten by the ignorant and aloof.

 

***

As I am:

 

Taking the bus to work

Wearing same dirty old shirt

While not putting on airs

Not pretending unawares

 

Liars hold more account on the politician’s ear

Forsaken bent sinewy grotesque and clear, yet standing tall they still appear.

 

***

The trains roll through the station

But my Amtrak is late

Here’s to frack mines devastation

The passengers will wait

 

This one has been delayed

On to better days

Money rolls in, they can’t differentiate

But we must remain

 

Priorities not for minorities

A lesson in disgrace

Haven’t read the history

But what’s important before today’s date?

 

One could tell a story

And call it reality too

One could fly a sign

In hopes of attaining food

 

Desk sit forty hours

No wonder why I’m rude

Don’t count the flowers

Straighten up that rebellious attitude

 

That’s all.

 

This is local-

They appear global-

 

What about America?

What about global hysteria?

 

*Currency