Dirty Work

She was as useful as a
China doll in the Saharan desert

As fruitful as a
Damsel without distress

As clever as a
hand-fed toad
As wanting
as a heavy diaper’s load

Someone else to do it
Wash my dishes
Clean my toilet
Bury my dead

Someone else to do it
Fight my battles
Pay my bills
Rub my head

Someone else to do it
Take my stand
Free my hand
Transform my lead

Someone else to do it
Kill my meat
Fix my health
Make my bed

Someone else to do it
Teach me
Learn me
Feed me
Help me
Entertain me
They said,
So, she said

Someone else to do it
Govern me
Harder, longer
I like it like that
They said,
So, she said

This Too Shall Pass

Virus fever
Jealous sister
Love’s vain fury
Topsy turvy
Fingertips over tongues
Mellow days just begun

A firefly’s light
A dew drop’s plight
Sweet and sorry
A long night’s folly

A father’s fear
A mother’s tear
Buds and blossoms
Trees and mosses

Damsel’s dreams
Moody sighs
Days of lies

The highest hopes
And lowest notes
The great and mighty
The sad and flighty
All dozy dotes
And little lambs eat ivy

Who Are You?

Musician. Pied Piper. John Galt.

Tarot crafter. Football master. Lover to a fault.
The games we play.

He who makes the world dancers dance.
She who sings his praises.

They who sway
Beneath your say
We who breath your lies
Troubadours selling
Our his-story

Cooking your meals
Making your seals
Our her-story

Who am I?

Am I one, who
Rejects his gifts,
Or denies them?

Am I one, who
Abuses her faith,
Or neglects it?

Who are we?

Are we ones, who
Or Destroy?
Then deploy,
Innocents to
Test our toys?

What of our sorrow
When we cannot fashion that
Better tomorrow
We peddle
Across the waves
Ever morrow?


Killed for

Usurped for
Order ab Chao

Simple Symmetry
Replaced by
Complicated Circuitry

Gentle Waves
Destroyed by
Tesselated Tracks

Re-imagined as

Re-formed as
Clockwork Orange

Recrafted for

Plowed for

Traded for

Sell, sell
To the sorry souls for
A song

Awe to Exploit

I sat silently on the boat
swaying its magical dance
the foam lifting
the salted splashes soaking
The wind boggling and buoying
shifting and roaring
bounding like a tiger
over a narrow moat

I sat alone in the wood
a witness bowed
sweetened even
like a feral kitten caught
by the scruff

Pitiful me silly pest
where I awe with no goal
they exploit and over-run
where I see whole
they see un-done
the tree of life
under their knife
Only systems to be re-mastered
in their never-ending quest
from sea to sea
and soil to sun

Roots lasting from long since
osage was our only fence
hedging secret gardens
whispering hallowed dreams
weaving lore
to the nature we adore

Where I see only life divine
they see only dollar signs
our trees their treasures
home to a thousand species
an oasis sought
brought to rot
by sorry souls
pulling tyrannical levers

Snob Appeal

Not Nietzsche nor Dostoevsky
Not even Shakespeare
Only free to shopping spree
Their lack of care over clear
Lowering minds one ad at a time

Glamorized, Desensitized
Label crazed and Icon dazed
Smacking mystified
Programmed and hypnotized
Calvin Klein is so divine
Madonna in Prada sheer refine

Stumbling through Babylon
Bumbling Humpty Dumpties
Substanceless fed by stress
Material girls
Boys with toys

Lulled by pharma
Dulled by drama
Diverting precious resources
Ignoring karmic forces

Memory Holed

Like they never happened
Like roaches in the basement
Their rotting carcasses
Swept under the carpet

We choose good times
Can’t you see the signs
No ugly allowed
Nor pain, nor facts
Just juggle those masks
To make us proud

Or display them loud
With a colorful tattoo
Pretending they weren’t taboo
And all is always fine with you

Whitewash and minimize
Feign by gaslight
Transfer and twist
Fog and spin
Such fun laughs
Never admit defeat
Then rinse and repeat

Scream them harmless
Shun she who reminds you
With a potent cue
To fill your brain
With only
The vapid, fake and inane

Truth is for troublemakers
In our realm where
The Mythmakers reign
She most stuffed with happy lies
Wins this lifelong game

Backseat Driver

Toxic femininity
She’s not going to do it better
She’s going to tell you
You’re doing it all wrong
Mansplaining quite a blessing
When superiority comes not in deeds
But in pitiful pleads

Domination by guilt
Seduction through shame
You will confide to her your greatest pain
She will say you’ve misunderstood again

But I’ve been wronged you’ll plea
But you’re always wrong she’ll explain endlessly
She’ll say exactly how
You should feel about your day
Distract minimize redirect
Manipulate you with lies
Until your mind is fried
And your tongue is tied

Everyone agrees
The whole crew, tribe, family
It’s just YOU!

Swallow your tears
She demands
Run the gauntlet
She’ll scream
Then you might get to kiss our ring again

Diamonds finely cut she needs
Or smirks you’ll still receive
Tragic as it is you say
As she promises you
A fine fruitcake
On another day
All the while making you wish
You were somehow magically gay

Artists as Parasites

Life extension more crucial than life intention
The high elevated past the sigh
The spring delegated to the step
Death pretension usurps God’s invention

So fitting the jokers poke the setting
Sucking fun from battlement losts
Spurring laughs from the abject dafts
Sweating magnificent obelisks wetting

Strutting like ambulatory prions or
Windsor peons
Wafting in the surge of basic bitches
Singing perils as joyful witches

Milling about among Egyptian craters
Claiming your space larger than cryptic criers
Grasping at claims by abject liars
Building on fames of moon-swept baiters

Fulfilling the dreams of ancestral vampires
Projecting a screen of mastery
Dancing a dream of bombastery
Exploiting the human joy of desires

Presenting as Lords
Ready and willing to destroy
Over the hoards
Setting yourself as decoy
While still in deep bow to your

Miners of the Universal Mind

The poet creeps through passing time
The painter sweeps up every rhyme
The crafter weaves a vein of gold
As musician strikes the molten load

Descending together
Tight on their collective tether
Marking all celestial signs
Looping ‘cross forbidden lines

Troubadours pine on resinous lies
Dancers key on resonant chimes
Together tapping on infinite schisms
Gifting follies from dichotomous derisions

The muse resides there below
Forever chirping ‘bout her great glow
In a bottomless pit with ghouls fervently lurking
But from time to time, when her mood’s just fine
She’ll let you escape
With a tiny sip and solid lift
As her canaries each morning
Sing last notes as you’re climbing

In the abyss frauds will linger
How could they not?
When fawning clowns sense their rot
Clawing, snorting, taking by force
Palpably disconnected from true source

Spreading their filth, collecting their souls
Their lives but tasks beneath flimsy masks
Hardly miners at all merely flees and ticks
Surface parasites painlessly flicked

Away, just as you should
To chime and feel fine at
How tight is your line
When to the light you emerge to
Find your home in the shade
Of all the treasures you’ve made
With all those tiny sips saved

From infinite journeys below and above
Viewing specks of stars through the leaves
Marching ants through the trees
Fields of flowers full of bees
Igniting Infinite
Creative sparks of spring

Those of the miners’ great faith dream
At work all through time and space
The artist as witness of divinity’s trace
Forever re-pollinating our Universal case

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