Sunday, December 31, 2017

Confines of an Over-Extended American Empire

In a bread basket lays our food
Kansas, Egypt, Iowa, Russia
Wherein does a consumer economy get?
Wherefore do the mechanics and electronics come?
And why does oil subsidize the free trade...

Oh, Mr. Robot's premise of Stock Exchanges
Why is there so much money?
Whom do the fatcats buy their Blackberries from?
What breadbasket is therein protected from drought?

In ages by-gone when goods were transported by people
Long ago when bread and circusii reigned fervent hearts
People starved from drought in Egypt
And their economy shriveled with the hot sun on Pyramids
For they lacked food to feed their economy and slave labor.
With nothing to feed their people and empire, and armies galore.

A mere lack of electronics Mr. Robot would end your show
Would end your quest,
Just as Don Quixote would have no war inside
To tilt against windmills.. without lance in grip and mind,
And war of mankind against the sure and steadfast.

Without a motherboard, circuit in washing machine
Timer chip in oven, switch in vacuum, LED lightbulbs
Transistors in Power Grids, Switches in Google searches
An American Empire would grind no more grist

For, They, these days make the bread we eat
From a Pacific Theater and united Asian trade bloc
That will inevitably break-up.  They always do.
Those Chinese are tempered people that kick all walls down,
Presumably, because they know how to build them;
And know what they do.

Saturday, December 16, 2017

A Penny For Your Thoughts

My love's heart is a jar
Filled with living water
All the joys and hopes and dreams
Filling to brim

And left outside to freeze
Rimmed with ice, melted at core
Closed and cold
Swimming internally

She brings inside
Her frozen heart
To soften and protect
And to clean and fill

Perhaps with canned meat
Perhaps with strawberries
This is her heart
She does what pleases, her.

Tuesday, October 31, 2017

12 Years of Old News

It's 9am, I'm tired
Thought hot coffee, swirled.
A small cup of joy,
I dip into lakes naked.

Where are all the loves
In the sky that created time?
Why does hate worm it's way
Along the Earth where we stay.

In the cloud's eye I feel as one.
The straying mote floating like bright
Drifting, as smoke drifts.. my life, carried
In the stillness, nearly invisible, except for the light.

My love is a familiar love now, comfortable and in reach
Trusted..  but infrequent
My love is a friendly love, that seeks companionship
Lonely..  but loving

And I float on and on and in spiral's reach of galactic clouds
A speck on a speck on a pale blue dot
The heavens holding all of spacetime,
In worlds' series of circles enfolding.

Love the great universe holding curiosity about itself
What's over the next mote, page, life, thought, taste...
Overlittle.. but learning, laughter, love, and life
In the light passing through the clouds of di-hydrogen oxide.

What a curious feeling, this cup.
Feels like my soul has wings
Where is psyche off to now in this winnowing
I dive off dock into calm ocean, naked.

Thursday, October 12, 2017

A Shot Rings Out

A shot rings out, echoes through the canyons of buildings
Rolls through the ground
Another person dies, another crowd

How many dead, lost count
300 mass shootings in as many days...
Another Mom gone, and another daughter dead
Another man, someone's baby, red.

And we spend our money building prisons
And closing schools
Which would give skills to earn a living...
Other than cheating, stealing, lying  ..killing..

Another shooting 200 injured
Gun Control being gutted
Health insurance being gutted
Mental health funding gutted
Social Services being gutted

It's almost like big-government, big data, and big money
Don't care about the people that are creating their value
In their money, but in their bills, too
In their bills, but in their house
In their home, but in bed, too.

The wealth of nations' resides in its humanity.

Friday, October 6, 2017

Tryst Twixt Cupid's Psyche

My Psyche with beautiful wings
Dances with the couches
Reading books and playing games
Plays all day with the dogs of Diana
The sheep the cats the horse
Brings dreams to Cupid
To forge into arrows

My Psyche can't sing, can't dance
But she's beautiful in the meeting
The hot dish, the cup of coffee
Her body sings in my blood like honey wine
While reading _poems to f*ck by_
And her wings take her to eternity

Narcissus even fell in love with her beauty
But she left to play in forest wild
And his will left alone
Gazed on his body, it was something,
Until he was struck with vanity
And binded yellow and dumb.

My Psyche I would suffer mockery
For her kind heart does not know why she laughs
Does not know cruelty
My Psyche I am in love with
And hope to steal a billion kisses +1

My Psyche is a beatiful rose
Meant to spread her glory
Reaching into heaven's sky
With roots in hell
To bring love to worlds' story

My Psyche is another love I cannot compare
And I hold her dear
Oh, to hug her in my arms again
To feel her body heat
To feel her heart beat
To press her lips against me
I should love my Psyche, with butterfly wings.

Thursday, October 5, 2017

You Don't Write, You Don't Call... don't you love me!?!?

Where do people go when they work
The hive eats them up
Borrows them while they're out
Finds them returning
Gives them  back to the world

Where do people go when they die
The dark eats them up
Borrows them while they're down
Finds them when busy
Gives them back to the universe

Where do people go when they laugh
The joy eats them up
Borrows them while they're bored
Finds them when light
Gives them back to the joy

Where do people go when they love
The fire eats them up
Borrows them while they're lonely
Finds them when surrounded
Gives them back to their family

Where do people go when they're anal
The pedantic eats them up
Borrows them while they're critical
Finds them when they're awake
Gives them back to the asshole

Where do people go when they read
The focus eats them up
Borrows them while they're spelling
Finds them while they're concentrating
Gives them back to the library

Where do people go when they flow
The role eats them up
Borrows them while they soul
Finds them while they're creating
Gives them back to the woald

Friday, September 22, 2017

And When My Mom Left

And when my Mom left
The cellphone stayed on
And sat there wondered
How to tap into that connection
But try not, do. and I did

Wonderfully, Amazingly
To find myself in Heaven
With a Pocket full of movies
And lightsaber by my side
While the Devil and Angel battle

I'd.. finally'd... seen... the first scene
Of yesterdays fair play, though suspected day
And scripts was playing, perhaps season finally, today,
Caught in the middle of two chessman, until board,
And let loose light enough to knock the devil down.

The series between heaven and hell,
And finally caught the first episode.
And still I wonder what curosity caught me...
To initially listen to hip-hop and chill,
'Cept, it's great when it's conscience.
Fun night, I smiled, briefly, but don't usually.
Found a trip light, and laying on the ground.

Just thrown in.  I was just thrown in about ankle deep.
A different life I had to learn in and swim.
But now I got an apartment that keeps me...

And when my Mom left the cellphone stayed on.
And on and on and on.
My Dad though, frustrates me, as he ages younger
I get upset with him, though he says very little
It's always hard to do everything oneself,
When everybody knows what one should be doing.
Plus, what one has to do for him or her self,
When they just criticize you for it.

Thursday, September 14, 2017

The Moon Rock that Pined

A love of mine
Has never felt closer
She walks with dignity
In the world of dirt that is life

And yet, I've never felt lonelier
Or more isolated
That.. isolated, from opinion or judgment
But also just from the messy thing life is
That I've studied...
That I am...

Like a piece of moon rock,
I reside sterile and forgotten
Having been ejected from some cataclysm
To rest on ground upon some forest floor
Non-plussed with the sticks and close views
From each of my nearest neighbors

There isn't a we, here
There is a me, but I rot here
With the rain and snow
With the sun and the thunder
Slowly splitting to dust
An ancient relic of foreign lore
An ancient wisdom, too

And this little moon rock
Feels alone
While a maiden nearby
Forages for her rock garden
Having passed me by
For easier, cheaper, stronger, better

But I come from the stars
I have watched nebula explode
I've seen the rise of man
And continents collide
I've lit up the night
And rest now, watching empires
Of ants marching along a deer trail
For the love of a queen and a scent

I wish I had a love of my own...
!For I am Moon Rock!
With a longing so alone for companionship
_Unrequited... Even_
As I rot to rubble, under a leaf by a beer bottle,
In the great Emerald Empire of the carpenter ant.

Tuesday, September 12, 2017

For My Food is SPARTA!

My house is still after long nap
Oddly the dreaming continues
And the conflict..
    Takes presence.

An old arguement resurfaces
As I peel a tomato into my bowl of rice with rosemary
And the food has centered me.
Cleared the agitating smoke
       From within my room.
Without having digested a molecule of ATP
Without really having absorbed anything, yet.

Somehow knowing I'm o.k. is enough
While I'm not waiting for it to be o.k.
Okayness is on it's way
Where I'll meet it, with a bigger belly.
And my mind is calmer, and seeking comfort.

Is that heretical?
To seek comfort.. calm... silence..?
It totally isn't.
Just like fun in of itself isn't a sin,
Or a laugh somekind of putdown.

Its the quiet, at ease with itself, Night
That spreads rest at no cost to one
The relaxed activity that says why bother...
Comfort, that boon of health,
Even the sick have an ounce or two of,
And the cool night has enough to shake a stick at
While the crickets mark it's passing tide of calm.

How ridiculously harmonious
Should I have a small bowl of rice and tomato
And two slices of cheese every supper,
Would my time always feel velvety?

Wednesday, September 6, 2017


Not much to say to an empty room
But I just saw a man and also a woman
Shrivel to death instantly
After placing a small amount of sand
Into their mouth.
Sounds like a plot bunny

Their bodies blew in the beach wind
Away rolling up the hill and away
Over and grey, clothes tattered and frayed
Until a man came to say you must rest on packed earth
"Because it's hard!" he claimed as I poked my finger into it
Leaving a hole, and scooping up a chunk to show
Him how soft dirt really is, packed or not.

Was he another of the kind of nefarious creature
Whom abhors the taste of Earth in their mouth?
Another, whom dirt is poison Extreme! too potent to portend
Too real to be mitigated?
And what's up with his need to make me uncomfortable,
If I just magicked him up to keep me from being lonely

I've heard the calling Reason on the borders of this world
Whispering, "come back, you're too sensitive"
Whispering, "come back, these are your imagination"
Whispering, "come back, that is all in your head"
And I in my loneliness and humility have invented life Extrodinaire!
While some of the people I invented, hate me...
With long days spent undermining their priviledge to be here.

Forcing me to endure yet another day with people of my unchoosing
Though every therapist everywhere for all eternity will claim otherwise.
That I do have a choice! I have a choice...
It doesn't feel like it, just as one does not choose the family they're born into,
Or pick the genes one enters into lottery for.

But perhaps I live because it is one complicated environment
Hard and difficult for whatever seeks to devour me as food
With lots of hard to reach ideas and books within which to hide
And I in my fecundity, will outsmart the naysayers,
Like a crow, and enmasse...  To one day feed on them, whom eat on me.

Thursday, August 3, 2017

The Heavens Having Stooped

I'm to the movies today
The frantic chase of moonlight
The brief touch of black
The recycled glasses in 3d-sight

It's fun
Who pays what
a paper stub
That fades to nothing
A million or more

Popcorn peppered floor
Sticky pop stained carpet
Dimming lights, staring eyes
Arm-rest sharing and fights

Mom and pop movie nights
Holiday season release
Trips to town pay-per-view
Netflix and Hulu, DVD too

Then home alone or maybe food
With stars in one's eye
And the moon hanging lower
The heavens having stooped to fake you

Saturday, July 15, 2017

The Exit Cycle

I want to leave stage left
I'd like a faster than light economy
One wherein we synthesize the iron
For a foundation of galactic empire
I'd like a moon colony, too

Somewhere way out, say Hercules
Lifting grid iron up into sky

And if water is life,
Maybe we can make it...
Take the hydrogen and synthesize oxygen
And back with the gasses we're energizing
Put down and grow up the grasses
Corn, wheat, what have you
And harvest with the electricity
We generated
  making the water for the plants.

The energy of stars
Can take as long as one likes to sow
The world has no end,
     Why shouldn't we go!?

Friday, July 14, 2017

Drippy Moon

The moon so full
It drips into my life
With camera brimming
The moon fills the sight
And down spills some Moon
Bathing the lands of night
Making silver black...
And blue, silver sights

And when we hear the sylvan call
Of chirruping from every bowery
The silence is merely interrupted
By our own footsteps powering
The crush of leaf, the stir of dirt
The brush of branch, the curse of hurt
The dogs of hunt, the cats of meow
A scolding squirrel, an alarming bird

The paths slap back with every footstep
In magic and fantasy, and in science and fiction
Superstition being outpopulated and overcome
Afore they competed, and now lie battle done.
The mystery and dreams are still powered on
But the elves are scattered, the lore despun
Robots and Computers and Machine Guns and Ammo
These, were all but dreams someone loved
For gnomes too dream in Ages of Reason, you.

And so with adieu, the moon drips lower
The crickets grow quiet the night gets colder
And two lives snuggle
                       a little bit closer

Wednesday, July 12, 2017

Step-Wise Beginnings

My projekt is not done
Every key opens the door
But only to another door
It is a puzzle piece only leading
To three more pieces when fitted

And like an arduino
This projekt can be built upon
For I guess I'm making tools
To satisfy my pleasure of making

Say I fix my car, now what will I do
Say I make a weather station...
That in of itself won't give me what I want
And the TEG projekt, generates electricity yes,
But where will this carry me in the future

So I'm still left to my own designs
The shed a shed
The supplies a supply
At some basic level, a squirrel preparing for winter
Endlessly running around for little more than survival

And I, a self-described polymath, enjoy the successes
Squirrel-like in my puzzled brain with pumping blood
As I seek acceptance, companionship, and opportunity
Whether that's meteorological, geological, or astronomical.
The physicality of these I cannot escape.
I wouldn't want to, making is release,
And variety is the spice of life.

Monday, July 3, 2017

Portico of Galaxies

A poem a day, will keep my mind playing
Up in heaven, down in clouds
Flying around with ideas bounding
Star to star in nebulae above
Their light gracing sky's earthy love
Their meaning mending with stitches and suture
Our past is the key to better future
Both dreams we've had and lives we've lived; Perhaps,
Waiting for a mate to survive a zombie apocalypse
Or waiting for knocks on the door requesting Gandalf's task
    Billions of stars
Trillions of dreams
And but a few voices within, to keep one company
In an architecture of plurality with wisdom,
justice, tolerance, and my courage speaking
    While the natural world bears us to live...
And all the worlds I've met, all the roads traveled
I like here the best,
    this's where I can find me myself and I.
And though some are fake while they try to be real
  Or some are real while they try to be fake
I spend my days occupied, and played,
  Never being one that has to always escape.
Life isn't hard, but life isn't always easy, either
  No matter how easy going I might appear to you.
I too require water and food, a place to sleep.
  I too need acceptance, companionship, and opportunity.
The problem isn't the type I am,
  but the type you think you are.
It is Mary that Mary cries for.

Thursday, June 29, 2017

All the Tetons Erect

The Earth is not going to last forever
I can only see the future
What is going to happen
Will and can
Man will not be

The land is land
The plant, a plant
But vanity and commonplace, is not
What is, is eternity

The slow grinding of mountains up
And the spread of new weeds abound

This is.
There is no we...
Except in the virtouseness
Of what I can perceive.

Life is.
When we can be.
When we can live,
Well life is what we please.

BUT make no mistake,
The world does not need,


Sunday, June 11, 2017

Star Power

The Fusion Race has been begun
By the Chinese in a 102-second run
On reactor EAST February 3rd, two-thousand sixteen

And like the flight lasting fifty-nine seconds at Kitty-Hawk
This light lasted a hundred and two in China blasting
At 50-million degrees Celsius reacting in Soviet Design
Fusing reaction of hydrogen and hydrogen over and again
Bumping up and fusing atoms with atoms
Melting down, fusing, and releasing energy between the meeting
In chain reaction to create more heat to fuse more fleeing
The whole thing running on heat to beat
The twenty seconds by Princeton's machine

The Age of Fusion has begun
And what star will we explore
What avenues of peace will it light
What roads of war will Fusion ruin
But it is in the hearts of Mankind this resides
In the hearts of men that fight and defend
The rocky road shocked with roses with staff in hand
It is must, to see, with Fusion amongst our lands, now,
And the power of stars within our hearts now playing
Speeding US, speeding people into the future's dream.

Legacy of Pennies

I went to the gas station today
189 miles some odd gallons
26 gpm

26. gpm.

My truck gets 15 if I'm lucky
And with 353 million registered vehicles
I've got 5 and find it impossible to save money.
The population of the U.S. is only 323 million.

But with that 26 gpm, I need only one gas tank
My truck has two.
And with that 26 gpm, that small change of 10 gallons per mile
I'm able to go and fill up only once a week.

Cause I broke domestic oil production down for 353 million vehicles
And it's about 11-16 gallons per week, per vehicle, and I have five
PLUS amazon and ups and fedex which can really add up, So
I've driven less than my allotment, a lot less... 3 vehicles less, Or
About 33 gallons less.

Hell of a lot to remembered for,
"Oh, he was less bad than he could've been."
In a world that equates Success with more bad,
If the world is being destroyed by it.

Think of it, I'm doing less bad, and excused
While those creating this world are exalted,
And in the process of doing More of everything(that I'm doing less of)
To end up destroying the world more than, I'm doing less of.

Confused yet?  It doesn't have to make sense.
Apparently, all it Has to make is a dollar,
And they'll just count the pennies later...

Thursday, May 4, 2017

Techlobytic Exposition

I can't write enough
Put enough purple in the painting
My red is a little light like the xerox machine at the Library
But maybe that's its shade, red light
The blues get watered down

I'd like to explore the solar system
Put the orbit harmonics into consonance
Every 8th distance with inclusion for a junkyard or two

I want the bugs to have a brain
And intimate the massive horde which I have no control over
But can interact through sight and sound and smell
Is so numerous, it's like throwing dice to alter the odds
In an endless wave of statistical priviledge of persistence

I want to write that my cats understand me,
And there is no border between what I experience and they
Because I see what they sometimes see, which isn't to be seen
Which is unseemly to whom may think it an affront to have an open mind

And like wanting to pick every flower, I want to use every word
But I can't write enough... or maybe, don't know all the words
Or all the worlds MY words reside in, and so can't pick the yellow spring
To place in a small vase next to electronic picture frame

It's not fair.  I'd like to construct a grand piano, a great pipe organ
That one might play and spits out logical constructs in rhyme and metaphor
Press a key to color them a little deeper purple and a darker blue
Make my red light, alizarin crimson, and have it come out poignant
Like a lemon yellow sun and purple clouds, Heart felt,
To surprise even myself, to help all my problems after song

I'd like to construct a great pipe organ with all the keys coded
And write poetry down like a scoresheet to produce everything sorted
But there's no way to get it into brains without writing composition,
And I can't write enough

I'd like to write, I had this dream and this invention...
And sat writing emotive composition after pathetic composition
So they locked me in a cube, to study the brain-changes, to see if I'd go mad
And now I'm their secret, dead, because they forgot to feed me..
As proverbial skeleton in a closet, trapped,
A secret, starved, and dead, now.  And my purple doesn't anymore matter.

I can't write enough.

Friday, April 28, 2017

There Is No Planet B

It's Arbor Day
With the branching, branching, and branching possibility
Up above the shit it was buried in
To reach into Heaven's holding

It's Arbor Day
With the wondering, wondering, and wondering branches
Up above in the crown of green glory
To wander the Sky's open grace

It's Arbor Day
With the flowers and cones, flowers and cones, flowers and cones spreading wide
Planting the next generation's bowery
To nurse Erect proper up-bringing

It's Arbor Day, It's Arbor Day
And the orchard is greening, the soil is wet
Find a rake, find a hoe.. let's plant
To bed Root needs of civilation

It's Arbor Day
And the plants bowering glory in safe harbor
Breaks the wind, rain, and snow
To partner With in community

Monday, April 17, 2017

And the Doves Cry

On the vergence of yesterday and tomorrow
I am caught, between the infinite all and nothing.
Like a bird on the wing flying through two peaks
With river below flowing one way and only one way
Merging into pooled water or distant ocean
I on the wing, with rain starting, even here
There's flying life up in the clouds
But one has to be small, So very small; To survive..

In the nexus of heaven and hell
I am caught, between wilderness and civilization
Like a pioneer plowing a field for some barley and wheat
With rocks piled up like a rose bush, cast to side
Merging into tree line or distant forest
I behind ox, with sun shining, even here
There's joyous smiles up in the mountains
But one has to persist, always persist; To survive..

Above the threshold of peace and war
I am caught, between insanity and cleanliness
Like a denizen of life passing night and days
With hideaway disguised like a hollowed out log, quietly dry
Merging into time or distant history
I below sky, with clock ticking, even here
There's not enough time for everything
But one has to wait, always wait; To survive..

Friday, April 14, 2017

Prompt- Clarihew ; from day 14

Donald Trump
Is a blustery and bossy leader.
Having dinner at Mar-a-lago golf club,
He watched a man eat crow on the 9th hole.

Tuesday, April 11, 2017

Inna Sense II

Trump bombed Syria
And the mercenaries dividing the country
Get to kill, and kill, and kill, until
Basically there is no country left
But one big well, filled with black grease
That will ease their conscious of stealing the inner cents
Of dollars pumped from the ground in push and pull.

That isn't leadership, but boss hoggitude...
Get on the ground, and pull our country into success
Rather than sitting by desk, sit in the field:
And know what food is,
Talk to the ant, to learn pernicious ambivalence
Feel this heat, and be thankful it rains in this country
Shake hands with the farmer, He/She built this Land...
And every land. before. time. and will do so again..

Cause this Conflict was presaged by water and food shortage.
This Conflict was presaged by hunger.
Should we sooner shoot a man because he's hungry,
Than give him a piece of bread?

Trump in your Tower with the eye above,
Forsake this war, Forsake the beating drums.
Throw down your makeup, we come from humble stock.
The rejects of every nation has made America Great!
Come home, and live like an actual American,
Half-good at everything, and twice as good as the next person.
Come home, alive, to your peaceful family,
Whom want their brothers and sisters to come home, too
And share peace, as well.

Death-making will only ever feed the crow, the goth, and visighoul.
And will put you on the wrong-side of history.

A Resistor Blew Up, Yesterday

Bop Prompt - day 11 - from NaPoWriMo.Net

Collapsing, the World, falls in.
Little things one by one drop from the cursive:
Elbows wear out cleaning the dirt,
Hammers swing heavy putting it all back up,
A car, needs a headlight and blinker from a deer last night,
A house, needs a battery to capture emergency power,
A fridge, always the fridge, is getting on empty.

And yet, she persisted

Her path takes her to the corner store.
Where constant nibbling by the devil, actually keeps it open.
The window outside always views mountains where mass wasting...
Lightens the load, and more rises uplifted.
To think lightening up, brings more crap.
With a thing checked off, now she had 5 more to do.

And yet, she persisted

She does it.. and gets home to fall on couch
She rests, as the couch rests, as the floor rests on Earth
And way over in Australia, there's a wooden bench with a person resting...
The rain falls soothingly, drips down with all the other drops
Calming her to sleep, as it slowly rivules down the glass.
The world all falls in together, everything all at once, keeping lives together

...And yet.. she persists..

Monday, April 10, 2017

Melting Snow

"A man on a deserted island Won't eat the only last goat If he's starving of hunger" -Anon

Even my cats are lonely
As they play with their friend
A mouse
In the house
     that ticks empty
The passing heart
Yearning for life, love, and laughter..
Again to learn happiness' new smile

2 score months plus one
And I the sole inhabitant with my cats
Alas, time has forgot
And the swallows sleep in snow this April
Though Crocus sprout but now lay dying
In frostbitten lands that lie dead as well

Though Pine stands erect, and green, and flowering
Much else stands sodden and bereft of dignity
From the great neglect of winter storm and rain

Where is the shining face that says sweet words
On honeyed tongue with joyful cry
Where is the rising earth that makes pregnant life
On passioned touch with soft whispering

It is gone, frozen, cold, and buried
Having paid visit to Lord Charon
It is gone.. and now only visits in memory.

Sunday, April 9, 2017

Like and Dislikes

I prefer making.
I prefer honest words.
I prefer being unhassled.
I prefer new places.
I prefer sleeping under the stars.
I prefer people whom smile with you.
I prefer talking with me than at me or about me.
I prefer audience participation.
I prefer seeing everything as much as I can.
I prefer seeing the planet from outerspace.
I prefer walking a short distance.
I prefer homebrewed beer from a bucket to something
from a can.
I prefer relaxing music to relieve stress.
I prefer dancing to just sitting and watching a band.
I prefer group discussions.
I prefer union made products to made in america.
I prefer simple illustrations.
I prefer artistic renditions to a photograph.
I prefer imaginative discussions about devices
that don't even exist or probably don't.
I prefer electric labor-saving devices.
I prefer going to the moon when the only
option is sitting at home on the couch.
I prefer light conversations to discussing
everything that's happened to me today.
I prefer watching fish during waking hours
where I'm not at work making someone else rich.
I prefer options and benefits in friendships and jobs.
I prefer a woodstove to propane cans or open fireplace.
I prefer using as few bullets as possible when I go hunting
or fishing or camping or hiking.
I prefer buying myself flowers or finding my own.
I prefer having more than one pet.
I prefer long beaches.
I prefer glow-in-the-dark colors.
I prefer cool ponds.
I prefer science fiction books that are super weird.
I prefer keeping in mind the world doesn't revolve around me.
I prefer to stay home on Friday the 13th.
I prefer the point of life is happiness.
I prefer the point of happiness is funnage.
I prefer people to look at me if they're talking to me.
I prefer remembering the departed often to specific occasions.
I prefer to keep my life private as I would my religion.
I prefer carrying my own bag and other people carrying theirs.
I prefer holidays that can be celebrated for a week.
I prefer hardwood floors to tile or carpet.
I prefer poems that don't talk on only about what a person feels
but play with some kind of modeled thinking.
I prefer open windows when I'm feeling sick or bored or whenever.

Upside Down

Prompt from NaPoWriMo.Net
write 9 lines

I woke up, and found a bed to lie in
I stood up, and found a pot to pour
I warmed up, and found my email full
I sat up, and found my work to do
I wrote up, and found my thoughts cohere
I looked up, and found the sun ashine
I listened up, and found my friends' smiles
I waited up, and found my brother calling
I stayed up, and now the evenings down.

Saturday, April 8, 2017

Redesign Renew Regenerate

We had no idea when the world fell...
That money itself was a convenience.
I mean, not having it, was always a problem..
But having it worth nothing.. sucked worse.
And wanting it my whole life, and now
Having a cool million, but unable to buy a cup of coffee.

We had no idea.

The women's league want soap, among other things...
But that's the biggie, they want the hunters to render fat
To make soap.
The hunters league want arrows, among other things...
But that's the biggie, that and fishing line or any wire..
To catch game.
The techies league want panels, among other things...
But that is the biggie, that and copper line...
To run electronics.
The mechanics want batteries
The farmers want manure,
The ranchers want feed...
The loggers want gasoline, good luck with that.

And it's ALL little things
The kinds of things you think, of course.. 20 bucks.
Nobody cares they aren't driving a Rolls Royce
We care we don't have juice to check our email
Or gasoline to get to the P.O. or P.X.
We don't care about your chainlink watch!
We'd rather have 5 clean diapers for our kid
But without soap or money being any good
We gotta wash that in the river without any.
We care about having to boil every ounce of water to drink.
We care, we care about you, and being unable to help.

Too big to fail?  It's a house of cards!
With a tiny million staples missing...
We're talking no olive oil, no salt
You ran out of it yesterday
And you're staring at a pile of beans, wondering...
Do I eat them or starve until they grow.

Why, why me?
Did I cause famine?
And with it came war, disease, and death
Or maybe disease came first,
Or maybe war came first,
But I digress
A regular house of cards with a million staples missing.
Just little things, like Soap!

And I, finishing my first bowl of stone soup,
Lest we work less, earn less, consume less
spend more quality time with our families
And buy less crap. 

Thursday, April 6, 2017

9 Views On Waters Edge

NaPoWriMo.Net prompt- day 6
Write about the same thing from different perspectives

I saw the waters
Smooth sailing
Look at us clipper this shit

"Have you ever seen that?"
Mirrored stars on tiny island with an outhouse.
Such still waters_______________ we needed to shout.

Shoot and pool
The water eddies and is gone after half around
It's deeper there you know.

Moments lost in time
Like teardrops in the rain
May my memories puddle into broad water.

What lynne is this beyond yonder way
Looks deep enough to fish,
If you got the tackle, I got the perch.

Water is life
In this country, who controls the water has power

And we found evidence of water
But most the snow was carbon dioxide
Maybe it all evaporated with the atmosphere

"This is some watering hole"
Shuttup, and give me a drink
Cash on demand

The source is the ocean
The mountain is the beginning
Everything else is history

A Sad day of April

Writing prompt Kat Lawrence
"I'm taking a Mulligan"

My friend calls, his Mom, "He needs a friend"
"come out, come to school and visit me," I say,
"Come over, and visit.. forget straight A's.."
"I was a B average, and this is Ivy League!"

So we pal around the campus, he comes to class
Sees the teeger, the dave, the amorphous grave known as the rock
We sneek over and paint it something blue, just cause.. you know
He spends a week, we find a house party.. he gets laid maybe

Fuck school I remember saying in my head
And it happened for me, it happened
And we find a place to be happy in
Where backbiters do not find our dread to mulch

He spends a week, and forgets his friends' drama
And gets his game on, reading on weekends
Video games on weekdays
And puts his life together by visiting more schools
And goes, goes, goes to the moon

Wednesday, April 5, 2017

Ardour in the Arbory Writing prompt- day 5
"Write about nature"

A little simpler than shrubbery and one gets grass
A little hardier than brush and one gets trees

The shrub grubs and grabs onto rock and water
Grows thick along the bank, and thickly blocks an ankle
Saying "You Shall Not Pass," but threading one can...
Though a thorn or two might catch, leaving argument in shreds.

The rose is a bush whom likes to preen in the  summer sun
Disclosing and disrobing it's pleasurable treasures over and again.
And roses can grow quite tall, if properly mended and cared for
With hips aplenty come Fall, and in a comfortable bed.

The alder is a curious example, growing catkins shoulder height
As a tree grows mightily, or as cousin bush.. strong and wide
Likes the road, the byways, the waterways, the places people tread
Makes a good companion for hikers, and the elderly.. a friend.

Many bushes...  Some are trimm, But some are brush, and other.. really trees
The variation is astounding that one can plant around with ease
And easy going, as plants go, having a woody stem
And most any tree will grow bushy, if but above, then below them.

Most the bushes I know are pleasant enough to greet
There's the stem from the Mountain Spray, And memories from the Alder tree
My Dad loves the Roses, for the smiles they always bring
And I love the Huckleberry for the sweet and sour treats.

Yes, it's a love affair, mainly the wilding bush...
Unseen beneath could be hiding, maybe something plush.
So, be careful when placing foot, or something you might crush.
The shady places are home to denizens sometimes, keeping cool and fresh

Many was there a time when without friend or home
I'd lie down, and dream of peace.. beneath the green and shrub...
From the phrase of lying low, in apartments one is standing up.
I'd sleep beneath the stars, beneath the stars and bush
And I'd dream about the world, and what it means to be.
(Maybe, that's why Holly.. is so popular back East)

Monday, April 3, 2017

What Qiameth Drives Us

Prompt Mike Welch- PSH
"use 10 random words and revise"

Toogit, or not toogit
Whether it is better to upgrade
Or preserve what we hold dear...
Novanoids everywhere answer, This question
Toogit while gettings good, but then.. Nova!

The Nekmits and Yinydds in hyslerium will burn the cities
And the country, as country folk go.. will go..
Just as the rain comes and goes,
Just as today's earthquake and tomorrow's peace.
And all dropperclears pick themselves up and invent.

It's the way of the world staid mundane, then hysleria
One day palace then next day mountain... of rubble
If the grain silos could be made bulletproof, I wouldn't have to be,
For who can fight with a full belly, and lots of food, folks, and fun.

Esuypicly, the Four Horseman crawled away
   ..unseen with good harvest..
The bad dreams turned good, and good dreams lulled forgetfulness.
Esuypicly speaking, plague and pestilence
   ..hold in hand nothing against a full silo, and a fuller larden
And all the worlds hunger, is a global debt owed to itself.
Nanoarrowicly, Peace today if we grow food!

Health tomorrow if we grow peace!

Elegy for my Mother- Lynne Vosen. 1943-2014

Elegy prompt from

My Mom used to sit and fold laundry watching soaps.
I'd sit there with a toy car,
                wondering, "what's wrong with them."
And later she'd sit and play video games on iPad.
The same gap-toothed smile when she'd look over,
The same dark-eyes full of depth and caring
                wondering, "will his life be better than mine."

And I have that gap tooth, though with surgery,
          you'd wonder where it went to.
I thought her beautiful for it really
When we'd go to ceramics, or service, or shopping
She'd smile as if to say, "like me or not, I'm still happy."
Or scowl, "like me or not, I'm still mad," if I'd been bad.

And all through her life she took that smile, those deep eyes,
Seeing and speaking to the inner truth of things and of you.
Making home, making music, making right again things she could
And making certain things didn't go wrong, both for her and for you.

And with a small gap between her front teeth,
                              She'd smile and laugh and joke
To leave one knowing the world isn't so screwed up
                              With people like her in the world...
Leaving one knowing everything doesn't have to be perfect to be right

Leaving one knowing they're loved,
                              Just for being them.

Sunday, April 2, 2017


Prompt from Elizabeth Alford- PSH

"A child can ask questions that a wise man can't answer" - unknown

Why don't you play?  Why do you die?
Can't you stand up and say, "I am strong!"
I got up today and I was tired.
But then I was hungry, so I had cereal.
There's no school today, so I'm at home.
There's no school anymore.  I'm so bored.
What do you want to do for fun?  Let's do it.

All my friends have to work today.
All I have to do is go to school.
It's so boring, my teacher wants me to be somebody.
I'm like why?  Is it fun?
She's like no, "but you get to tell people what to do!"
I asked her, "is your name really Carol?
Like my step-mom's!!!"

Then my teacher took out a dollar bill.
She said, "With this you get to tell people."
"And the more people you tell what to do,"
"The more of it you give away to them."
So I gave my Dad a hundred dollars and told him,
"I'm staying up all night watching Netflix!"
I'm going to be grounded forever for taking it from his wallet.

I was grounded.
My room has a television set,
So I watched all night on Netflix, and watched all night anyway, with headphones.
I have to stay inside until the snow melts, and flowers spring.
I'm so bored.  Why don't you want to play?
Why do you die, slowly?
Can't we stand up and say, "I want to Play!!"
And we can dance awhile on the devil's grave...
And we can all be young, at least it's Fun!

Wednesday, March 29, 2017

Someday Sunday

The people around me, watching,
Not all(entirely) curious.
Some cause they were told to.
Some cause they're just around.
Some judgementally...
Some cause they're called to it.

But we're always hardest on family
Mine like to settle scores...
To zero out the hate with hate.
But whom ever really adults except a parent.
Not my brothers, not my sisters...
When they can so easily borrow my delusion,
To believe they're fixing broken by breaking more.

Typically how gang-lands wars start,
Or football games.
Who's carrying the retribution.
Who's got the bomb, blow them up.
Until the money runs out.. tick-tock..

I hardly know all the faults of my family
But they're all there
Just as well.
Nobody has ever expected someone to be perfect,
Except hypocrits

All is well then with my brothers and sisters...
Cause aren't they so loving!?
Why do I have to be perfect?
And why must they change their clothes after church?

Friday, March 24, 2017

The Profits One Paves are the Paths We Follow

If there's no way to save your gains
                                       in the stockmarket play...

isn't that like putting a penny in an arcade machine

                     till you're out 10 bucks

                                             having had a great time,
                                                         since we keep nothing when we die?

Monday, March 6, 2017

Eating an Climatic Elephant

Have you ever made something piecemeal,
The box comes, the designs laid
But saving, saving, saving.. then grade assembled

Have you ever cooked a four-course meal
The platter comes, the recipes picked
But cooking, cooking, cooking... then horse-cart eat

Have you ever said you were sorry
The convo comes, the remedy made
But explain, explain, explain... then staid rest

Have you ever cleaned an entire house
The people start, the surfaces wiped
But declutter, declutter, declutter... then preeningly smile

Have you ever painted a landscape
The idea sketched, sky and land colored
But layer, layer, layer... then placard hang

Have you ever met a monday
The week ahead, the groceries bought
But labor, labor, labor... then partially play

Have you ever wrote a chapbook
The poems picked, the book laid out
But cut, cut, cut... then stole fat-look

Have you ever hiked a mountaintop
The map gotten, the trail followed
But step, step, step...  then piked shout off

Have you ever loved me
The smile given, time spent with
But hug, hug, hug... then doves' ring

Have you ever flown in dreams
The ground everywhere, then missing it
But racing, racing, racing...  then lost coffee

Thursday, January 26, 2017

Two-and-a-Half Minutes to Midnight

the clock is ticking
on my day-old-coffee
on my central-air
on my clothes I bear

decimation of every 10th second
30 seconds tick off
and I'm at 2 and a half minutes
UNTIL midnight

our destruction we've ensured

The clock is ticking
on my forest
on my roads
on my family

Leaving me to wonder
What good is big Data
What find is big Government
What shit is big Money

Madness in the bedlam brings beds to lambs
And a light to cast away the demons onto the cave wall

If we're lucky, we'll adopt fact-based reality.
If we're lucky, we'll have you helping.
WHY, if we're lucky, it's all-ready-done.
If... bigness should follow suit...
Why, we could play cards that last hour!!!

Tuesday, January 17, 2017


A winter baby,
My first flower remembered by concrete
And back street by earth in Spring
Backyard violets
Tiny and so purple

But now they spring bad
Big Bad Government
Big Bad Money
Big Bad Data
One weaved genetically with the other
Leafing out, flowering out three

Stealing our power
Stealing our money
Stealing our respect

And I'm left wondering did Dada know this?
Did Kafka, and Plathe, and Descarte?
What would Leonardo scheme?
What would Michealangeo paint?
What would Da Vinci invent?
What would Donatello do?

In their poorer living
Faced with eternal enslavement...
Must it come down to climate change

And if clock is reset,
Must we really live without time
For an age... without eclecticity...
Hand to mouth.

Sunday, January 15, 2017

Worlds Flow and Crystallize

the water
the wind rejoins

as I sit and watch

the sunshine
the earth holds us all

and I ask, and ask, and contemplate

my stillness
my body flows

another world dispels doubt and despair

I am me
I know who I am now

while adirondack doubt and despair take a flying leap

I show out
I quickly close the door

returning to fire, I let its warmth flow through me
like the fire and vibration of life
returning to me, warmth warms

eclectic universe

addendum finds my own way home last night, too

the four elements
my neighbor speaks on truth today

The body holds the heat in

I'm doing
and sit while holding no-doing

another sunny day grows up

Saturday, January 7, 2017

Towers Outing

I wander stilted, The layers peeled
Up, off, through
The last hack here left me unsynced
Bereft of depth matching, twisted an ankle,
And the ping beacons weren't helping...

Ya, I'm on the upper v-lands, westside
Where our bridges are continual construction projects
And Clears only come once each snowfall

Here's scenic, constant edification
Surrounding ecology, wildlands with wildlife
But with that come wildfires, too

Just not a lot of people
And fewer still that can edit vrshtml
For the augment layers supported by modem
Our ONE cellular tower, privately owned.
Not a lot of use, I guess.
Not a lot of people.

But there were some layers
I downloaded what I could, anyhow
With my handme-down phone
I use to get handme-down clothes
Now I pay for those and get seconds on electronics

What might my 3rd childhood bring...
Handme-down jobs?  An UBER for yardwork?
Handme-down property?  I do not know.
But it's probably somewhere already, in a thrift store.

So ya, downloaded the layers
And walked around, but the ping beacons were dead
The cheap jobbies installed had clouded solar panels
Their batteries were dead, or just erratic,
Pinging off spurioiusly

But it was fun, went up to Towers Park
And there were all the plant names hovering
And season-cycle trailers and gifs
Most of which were missing because without a link
The download is massive for imagery and gifs
But the libraries filled in with words that gifs didn't.

One guy spent two-weeks up there camping
And spent it making an artistic layer
It's cool, most the trees in charcoal
With animal recognition AI plugin on in color
Full 3d-layers in oils for most the bugs
And the deer I saw was perfectly depth-matched
For a whole minute, till said ping-beacons anyway.

My mom and I chatted next to the creek
And I bought time for us on the NFS-wifi
And I could see which pictures she'd shuttered
As they floated past onto the upload stream.
I Oooed and awed as I uploaded audio of several stops.
She shared her twitter feed as I made sandwiches.

Then her robot ran out of juice and she couldn't connect
My eyeballs were drooping low, too,
And she was showing steel.
So I got the dolly and loaded her back up
And motored home to give her a high-five.