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When You Judge
When you judge is it with wisdom or ideology; a punishing, judgmental ideology based on ancient theocracry?
With your convictions, are you certain of the deeds and thoughts of others; so much so that if you were a local sheriff in a small town at the height of the Covid pandemic you invited vigilantes to patrol main street because the evil in the hearts and minds of everyone was worse than a…
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Foster Foolsrite
Foster Foolsrite is casually dismissive,positively when he doesn’t need to be
Foster impugns prudence, defensivelybecause all about him is corruption,and he’s just doing what he needsto get by
So Foster asks you if you know the lordwhen you pay for his stable services,disregarding your heart and mindbecause he isn’t so sure it is his
“The world is full of unrepentant peopledoing bad things,”…
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The Mind Shook Fits with a Pen
The Mind Shook Fits with a Pen
Because I couldn’t type
deliberate and preciseI took it upon myself to say,myself to myselfso there wasn’t any confusion,all of my life I have been putting myself down, with bitter moral authority
from the belly I cough and heavefrom the seasonal diseasethat blinds my mind with headaches and fills my days with age
I anguish and worry and blameas if I were trying to hate distrust awayI await my…
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The Hero and the Chorus
The Hero and the Chorus
Tragic hero, coupled and juxtaposed with chorus you are witness to your transience and continenceyou are a formation of structure and willconceiving and believing in nominal valueas though yours is to bear witnessto the object not valuedself contained, a thing in itself as a work of arteach to itself, perceiving and conceivingeach a work of art that does
the artist as his or her own fictionyet,…
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Waking Mind
Waking Mind
You clank when you walk, as if you were a rototiller on edge tearing ditches into public roadways
You are a bird ill conceiving possible notes beyond the intersection of the Grand and I
I step into your footprints dancing to a chorus of ukuleles and curmudgeons
I worship silkworms, grant them existence through hindsight and ruminationso that the organization runs on the fly with…
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Dead Shoes
I step in dead shoesclay feet with toes of stonebones grind beneath my feetI stand and pause between pacingsa refugee from the referee who wastesmy time
I am spitted token of association made anewa generational shoot, a sprout from a crevicein a sidewalk
Would that I were a comfort from the hungerof the pathologies and the associationsso cumbersome and untrying
but i am above fixations upon…
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Who said I Could Fly?
Who said I Could Fly?
The man on the drug ad looked as though he were made up by a mortuary cosmetologist; walked like a zombie, wore the blue suit of a sales executive, had the smile of the dental industry. “You, too, can be like him, if you do what you are supposed to,” says the matter of fact voice of Apollo. At least that is what it says with the sound of the television turned off. “Quit ridiculing us, you lazy…
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Stuck in a Groove
Stuck in a Groove
I was born in the mid 1960’s in the second largest city of any state in the midwest. I was the night time janitor singing emotive, annoying social lyrics to all the guitar riffs I loved because I couldn’t identify with the subject matter of Pop songs. It was a bit of a torture to say I liked Foreigner or Boston because I actually did, but if I said I did I would be identifying myself with a…
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A Parting Shot from J. Arthur Quibblestones
A Parting Shot from J. Arthur Quibblestones
I can’t speak for woman. I am not woman. I can imagine being a woman but that would be only a man playing make believe. But shuffling through the years with various mates, that is something all people tend to do. There is no normal or natural. There is just people following their instincts given the choices. I am a biological male and while I find women physically attractive I don’t desire their…
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Friendship From a Godly Farm Man
Friendship From a Godly Farm Man
I gave you my friendship, spared you no dime. shared my spirit unselfishly and overlooked yours for years. And when it came time to give your property to your grand daughter I became a pariah, a drifter, a ne’er do well on his last leg – in order to get rid of me a few months earlier than we had been planning for six years. I became subservient to your legal entitlements and your political god.…
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To the Slaughterhouse
No one is home, or maybe they arethey’re just not answeringwe cannot connect fingersacross the electronic divide data mines data minds not necessarily treasuresbut a bag of surprises meaningless until given meaning
An irascible old farmer’s wife scowls her disapproval of the world at large written in bits of disfigurements, pounded into context between her ears
Her household resembles her…
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Eddie Sees TV Faces
Eddie Sees TV Faces
Eddie sees TV faces when he looks at us. When he sees himself in a mirror he sees himself on tv.
“New Doogies Cheese Stix: only 5 bucks at your nearest pizzeria. You got pepperoni in your teeth.”
Eddie likes to make believe he is Humphrey Bogart, giving a performance with a calm, exaggerated grandiosity and lighting a cigarette before making a self absorbed and theatrically arrogant reply. He…
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He is Standing Next to You in Line
He is Standing Next to You in Line
-Old but a “when are you going to grow up” old. That’s what he is. Still light on his feet and loose in his hips. Manual labor makes a person heavy on the feet and stiff in the joints, with a pain in the neck from watching the time clock. Makes a person walk like a judge or a deacon.-How about a 60 year old yoga instructor then? A Right Wing Yoga transsexual who insists he is a man. -Why not…
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Thick Books of Poetry
Thick Books of Poetry
Thick books of poetry are dauntingseemingly taunting from behind their coversraising phrases that could’ve been yoursbut pushed by others we will sound alikeon a path of self discovery
the knower recognizes the hooksof convention,the appearances of thingsand gives tokens and homagewhen it brings life’s necessitiesbut doesn’t accept being seen as a devil or an angelHe is on the level,a square…
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Symbiosis
I tilt away from hearing her as she explains her nature as though it were a theatrical arrangement to a group of men in her husband’s garage as he fixes the brakes on my car.
Your friend is too talkative, she tells her husband later. I don’t like him. He needs to shut up.Who are you?Somebody.Right now YOU are talking. And you’re bugging me. Real civil. He don’t like you either, And I gotta…
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Of Raw Quality
I am an onion beneath the surfacea bulb petrified by the flashI think myself into faceinto attentioninto mass reflectioninto oblivious inward directionand pin each person into place
Aware of the tandem of dark and lightdismayed by a contentious yet conscientious insightI draw pictures of what could be ordinary reality
If I could be more than a sign on the crossi would be more aware of myselfas…
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A Stepsister's Funeral
A Stepsister’s Funeral
All it is is flipping the visual around to the other person’s perspective. That fear and anger with which you defend yourself with political abrasiveness, that judgement and dismissal of your fellows; it all is born of context and all you needed was to be part of a captive or captivated crowd that was told to see things from another point of view. How would you feel if you were that other person?…
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