Trust the Ascetic for Nothing [Twitter Found Poem, July 9, 2010] Tweets+Edits=#twitterfoundpoem
I gave all my worldly possessions for some peace of mind.
SERIOUSLY!!!! I Couldn't take it...
Ah, the life of the Ascetic is the better and saner way
of addressing injustice for some peace of mind:
people don't put all their trust in me for nothing.
Money isn't everything. What seems reasonable
and convincing to the inexperienced is not necessarily correct.
the life of the Ascetic is the better and saner way.
in all honesty the Ascetic Aesthetic is hot.
Asceticism is optimistic, hopeful, and cool!
Baby-making is for horny fools
and the GREEDY HUMAN!!!!!!!!!
only the Ascetic is suited for hot Baby-making
because the Ascetic already rejects all worldly pleasure.
I already gave all my worldly possessions for some peace of mind.
people put all their trust in me for nothing,
so trust in me for nothing and place your funds with me:
St Fonzie the Ascetic.
Quarantine the Relic [Today's News Poem, July 8, 2010]
The city is blowing dioxins from chimneys.
And woozy, it staggered and fell on its stomach.
The freeways have punctured its lungs with the pillars
That carry the uniformed ghosts through the ghetto;
From suburb to office, bypassing this relic.
The city is coughing up blood and the pavement
Has flecks in its drool and the faces in windows
On trains are observing the symptoms with interest.
They're watching, uncertain of whether to vomit
Or cheer as the city is bleeding and gasping
For breath, as the officers quarantine Oakland
To death.
“Word of the Johannes Mehserle involuntary manslaughter verdict utterly transformed downtown Oakland in a matter of hours from a quiet enclave of office workers into a crush of more than 1,000 angry protesters, some of whom briefly skirmished with police. ”
– Matthai Kuruvila, Kevin Fagan, Jill Tucker,Nanette Asimov, The San Francisco Chronicle, Thursday, July 8, 2010
http://www.sfgate.com/cgi-bin/article.cgi?f=/c/a/2010/07/08/BAFL1EBKII.DTL&tsp=1
Ghetto Rainbow Bridge to Valhalla [Twitter Found Poem, July 8, 2010] Tweets+Edits=#twitterfoundpoem
WARRIORS, welcome to Valhalla!
Did You slide Here on a ghetto Rainbow Special
or a .38 Special of blood and #bullshit ?
Did You taste The ghetto Rainbow?
pimp cadillac purple and newport green
before your lips turned crackhead coke white ?
Did You go running through the street, naked,
screaming, "TASTE THE FREAKING RAINBOW?"
is that when You first tasted The awesome,
and very Special .38?
Life crushes and processes You, from Cockroach Brown
to baloney Pink in a concrete gray Cuisinart.
You are keen and mighty: A WARRIOR!!!!!
Prelapsarian Pity [Today's News Poem, July 7, 2010]
Kittens amuse themselves swatting at movement;
Pitying humans. Beyond my lapsarian
State, I see flickers of something I seek to
Tame; to possess. They mature. My agrarian
Masters of vermin; the servants of silos—
Lords of the tiny: they rest with an animal
Ease that I envy beside me. I struggle
Nightly in sweat, in a nightmare of criminal
Urges against my own God. I praise nature:
Distant. My knowledge is too insurmountable:
Lethe sends its greetings with blood and with feathers,
Pigeons in pancakes all hold me accountable;
The cats at the window await for the omen
We're blind to—that hides in the cycle of season.
“Dubbed the psychic octopus, the English-born Paul (hatched at the Sea Life Park in Weymouth) has correctly predicted all of Germany's World Cup results including the 1-0 defeat last night. He predicted Germany's wins against England and Argentina, and even Serbia's defeat of Germany in the group stage... Paul's handlers at Aquarium Sea Life in the western city of Oberhausen have turned him into a betting phenomenon by putting mussels into two glass boxes, with one box having Germany's flag while the other carries the flag of their opponents. Paul is then left to choose one box to open to retrieve the mussel.”
– Mark Tran, The Guardian, July 8, 2010 Edition
http://www.guardian.co.uk/football/2010/jul/08/soccer-octopus-world-cup-final
D Vampire Hunter... Me [Twitter Found Poem, July 7, 2010] Tweets+Edits=#twitterfoundpoem
No life is a waste but You are not alive. The only time
You waste is the time You spend thinking
You are alive when You are really All alone All the time.
I'm sick of feeding my soul to The vampire's society.
There's enough of that already! when I run out of soul will I
gain immortality at the expense of my soul?
I'm not a monster, I'm just a sick kid who would give anything
to have her soul back. What is The value of a soul exactly?
a mosquito that sucks life and is sucked by a Vampire
to gain immortality at the expense of my soul?
what Do I get exactly? I worked hard feeding my soul.
If Vampire society knew how hard I worked to get my soul
it wouldn’t seem so wonderful at all. All things take effort,
time and expense. You are poor and not alive.
I am alive!!!! I am a misanthrope!!!! I hate Vampire society!!!!
They attempt to include everyone. what Do I get exactly?
I know what They get: D Vampire Hunter....
me !!!!
The Worm of Secular Humanism [Today's News Poem, July 6, 2010]
The worm of the page is the promise of legend.
It's turning through history. Lines on the paper
Are maggots that squirm and devour the reader.
They leap through the air through the aperture pupil
And feast on the brain—that antennae to heaven.
The signal is weakening; angels are sleeping
On clouds at the switch, while the worms made of parchment
Are hatching and eating the nerves of acceptance
Of mysteries; answering prayers with the blueprints
To build an inferno on earth—with an answer
For everything measured. The measureless vanish.
“Declaring that many parts of Thailand remain unstable, the government on Tuesday extended by three months a state of emergency that gives authorities broad powers to restrict political meetings and detain suspects without charge. ”
– Thomas Fuller, The New York Times, July 6, 2010
http://www.nytimes.com/2010/07/07/world/asia/07thailand.html
“The U.S. government’s bank stress tests a year ago helped financial stocks to rebound 36 percent over the next seven months. Europe’s plan to follow may not be as successful. ”
– Andrew MacAskill & Aaron Kirchfeld, Bloomberg Businessweek, July 6, 2010
http://www.businessweek.com/news/2010-07-06/european-banks-hidden-losses-threaten-eu-stress-test.html
“Tar balls found Sunday on eastern Galveston Island were confirmed today as coming from the Gulf oil spill, according to the U.S. Coast Guard.”
– Moises Mendoza, The Houston Chronicle, July 6, 2010
http://www.chron.com/disp/story.mpl/metropolitan/7096109.html
Major League Fangs [Twitter Found Poem, July 6, 2010] Tweets+Edits=#twitterfoundpoem
You've got a kind heart & it shows.
You've got to eat the champ to BEAT the champ
to be the champ.... the world champion!!!
Most folks will eat your kind heart.
they will start by breastfeeding before they
make their way to your kind heart.
they don't just let You win, & You won't win.
You eat green beans & Ginger fries!
they eat with the fangs of a Spider, a snake, or an alligator
and they will rip your fucking heart out!
You think of family first while they Bribed and blackmailed....
and You wanted to be the world champion?
when a snake tries to eat an alligator
it perhaps is biting off more than it can chew,
but You are just cotton candy trying to eat a Spider.
SEEING OTHER PEOPLE [Guest News Poem, July 5, 2010 by Jeff Chon] Jeff Chon
We avoid each other
for as long as we can
and when we finally talk, the words
shatter in my mouth
like a stick of trading card gum.
I spit the shards; we stare at them,
scattered, sparkling on the floor.
You used to be so charming
to me, but now I see
the phony that you are--Flitting
from person to person--you’re a moth
who thinks she’s the light, dusting us
with your insecurity. You look great
and no one wants you to leave, but please
stop making everything about you
or me or failure to connect.
Maybe you’ll come back to me
and I’ll probably take you back;
raise a toast to dysfunction.
But if you ever manage to get a ring
on your finger, let’s not forget
who quit on us the first time around.
End of the Cargo Cult [Today's News Poem, July 5, 2010]
The cargo is flying away and we're gathered
To witness the finish of what we found sacred.
Our engines are thirsty and whine as we clamor
Around the last tanker that wasn't quite emptied.
A silvery age is departing; propelling
An angel of turbine away on an airstream.
The scientists sit on the plane drinking coffee;
Their families gaze at the smoke from the ruins
Of home—once a city, now cluttered with refuse.
From dollars to gold; and now batteries purchase
A barrel of fuel—which I load in my pickup.
I'm waiting for things to return back to normal;
For people to smile and make plans for the future
And stop with the grasping; the tricks and the thieving.
I'm waiting for hope while he's waiting for nothing.
He's grabbing my drum and it's spilling the fluid
That everyone wants and it turns into vapor
And flies off to heaven to join all the cargo
That's never returning. Another is screaming
'It's over' and rushes the crowd that encircles
My gasoline, rolling my drum. And the liquid
Of power is spilling all over. A lighter...
“Protests against a recent increase in fuel prices shut down markets, schools, airports and businesses across India on Monday, and thousands of people were arrested as violence flared in some cities... About 1,000 people gathered at Chandni Chowk, Old Delhi’s main commercial hub, to protest the price increases and listen to speeches by opposition politicians.”
– Heather Timmons and Hari Kumar, July 5, 2010
http://www.nytimes.com/2010/07/06/business/global/06rupee.html?hpw
Simulated Drowning Experiences [Twitter Found Poem, July 5, 2010] Tweets+Edits=#twitterfoundpoem
When I see a computer of worth, I think of how
I may emulate it. When I examine myself
I see one who is unworthy. the computers can
not conceal love from me. They simulate
a drowning experience for me. They say
It's to simulate computer experience.
When the computers awaken me from sleep,
I awaken from a simulated drowning experience.
I can not conceal my love for mad Max games
any more. when I get home I'm gonna see
if white noise can simulate a drowning experience.
Imagine if I could simulate a drowning experience
for Most people!!.. Oh... Sweet sweet drowning..
Oh... mad Max!!! Oh... TERMINATER!!!
I awaken from a simulated living experience
and fall asleep in the computer...
the mad mad computer...
Independence Charade [Today's News Poem, July 4, 2010]
The horses go wild and deliver the blow
To finish confusion and punish the crowd
That waves at paraders—each other—and show
Their teeth of false friendship. They're predators. Proud
Of sparks in the sky; of their orderly herds
That march to a music that frightens the beasts.
The people go wild to a place where all words
Are meaningless noise; with the people released
From civil displays as they watch the parade:
And trampled and trampling, they end the charade.
“An Independence Day parade in Iowa descended into chaos when when two horses went out of control and took their wagon with them, running into crowds of celebrants and leaving more than 20 people injured, according to authorities.”
– CNN Wire Staff, CNN, July 4, 2010 6:04 p.m. EDT http://www.cnn.com/2010/US/07/04/iowa.horses.loose/
GOD BRESS AMERICA [Twitter Found Poem, July 4, 2010] Tweets+Edits=#twitterfoundpoem
DO YOU LIKE SEXY GIRLS? THEN CHECK THIS OUT!
SEXY GIRLS in a Dog Eating Contest! DO YOU LIKE vodka?
THEN CHECK OUT Cat flavored vodka!
Cat flavored vodka will stop the buzzing inside your head:
it will set YOU psychopathic. YOU wander around
the County Fair tonight with your bottle of vodka
and even SEXY GIRLS Eating dogs can't stop
the buzzing inside your head. even when SEXY GIRLS
play some patriotic tunes on the piano and worship
and appeal the Blue Angels YOU can't stop dogs
from getting Arrested. YOU can't stop dogs from crying
Havoc and slipping themselves, even when SEXY GIRLS
play some patriotic tunes on the piano and eat 54 dogs
at the County Fair. YOU will keep drinking Cat flavored vodka,
drinking Cat and Dog Soup for the Soul. and when a patriotic
buzzing starts Playing inside your head YOU will Cry
"GOD BRESS AMERICA" and let slip the dogs of war!
Astral Projection to the Tropics [Today's News Poem, July 3, 2010]
Relax and take fantasy. Ride on the ether
Across the dull ocean and land in the jungle.
A village, a garden of smoke and green timber
Awaits you. The orphans are playing with garbage.
A tee-shirt you donated: legible, ragged.
“All meat comes from MURDER!” You linger above him—
That boy with the shirt that you got as a joke that
You pledged on a whim. He is banging on rusted
And emptied out drums, with a stick, as a lorry
Collides with a car and the driver is screaming
To run—and the urchins are racing to gather
Their plastic containers and rush to the gusher
Of dollars, of dinners, of medicine; school fees—
The suction of air from the fireball erupting
That shatters the windows and heartbeats of children.
“A fuel tanker overturned, caught fire and exploded in the Democratic Republic of Congo on Friday evening, killing more than 200 villagers, some of whom had been trying to gather fuel from the leaking truck, officials in Congo said Saturday... United Nations-sponsored Radio Okapi in Congo said more than a quarter of the victims were children. ”
– Adam Nossiter, The New York Times, July 3, 2010
http://www.nytimes.com/2010/07/04/world/africa/04congo.html?_r=1&hp
Remember Everything They Never Knew [Twitter Found Poem, July 3, 2010] Tweets+Edits=#twitterfoundpoem
Don't forget to get your Self
Self authorized and Don't forget to forget
non authorized bitches. This is for your
Declaration of Independence:
read to someone who cant read
and blow his brain through his head.
If you can read then read the Codex
and addle your brain: you cant help
but mis-read the Codex. you cant help
but declare your Independence
from no read motherfuckers
who cant read and NEVER think.
drive someone insane: read to someone
who cant read and blow non authorized
fake ass motherfuckers brains through your head.
Don't forget to drive non authorized fake
ass motherfuckers to forget themselves
while u remember Everything they NEVER knew.
It’s first fireflies that charm children
And lure tiny yet firm fingers
To catch sources of light. Even
Extinguished there is still value:
A new hunger for bright colors.
They get older and chase lights on
A road, driving to drink. Party
On beach sand as explosions in
The sky over the bay shower
Corrupt white buds of gunpowder
On waves; rocks. And the smell: sulfur
And salt—vodka. They know this is
Not quite; almost it. Bright halo
From downtown is the source; neon:
What love must be like. Lusty
And red; taking the light spent, it
Entraps what does not die; trashes
The rest. Trinkets of lust, trifles
Of lost people who seek out the
Mementos they have lost: beaches
Are filled up with expense: condoms,
And glass shards and an ash pile that
The tide chokes on. The hot embers
Of youth die on the sand; fading
As winds blow all the best times out.
I decided to host combatwords tonight over there. If you want to play, go over to http://trickwithaknife.com/?p=771#comments and if you don't, you can still respond to what's there. It's got a 4th of July Theme. Huzzah for Uncle Sam!
The Case Against Color [Today's News Poem, July 2, 2010]
The rainbow's expensive and nature's a thief:
We've waited too long, for these colors—too brief.
And afterward, simply another life-score.
And framing these moments, a nightmare of bores:
Mosaics of stone—a whole mountain of rock
They've blasted and mixed and then poured into blocks.
And even the lights are ephemeral hues.
The march of the crowd with their clown-colored shoes,
And billboards—and pigeons; a yellow balloon...
And pace! And the next one—the next one is soon!
And mixed-up together, the concrete cements
The elements tightly, to single intent.
“Although private hiring was well below levels needed to bring down unemployment on a sustained basis, analysts said the report from the Labor Department on Friday was not consistent with an economy on the brink of another recession.”
– Lucia Mutikani, Reuters, July 2, 2010 http://www.reuters.com/article/idUSTRE65M2WK20100702
“All that the world most needs to-day, is combined in the most seductive manner
in his art,—the three great stimulants of exhausted people: _brutality_,
_artificiality_ and _innocence_ (idiocy).”
– Friedrich Nietzsche, The Case of Wagner, Page 16 http://www.gutenberg.org/catalog/world/readfile?fk_files=746821&pageno=16
A Chance 4 Misfortune [Twitter Found Poem, July 2, 2010] Tweets+Edits=#twitterfoundpoem
Gotta laugh. one Day/Weekend the whole city
just woke up and woke me up and decided
slit our wrists and burn down something beautiful.
the whole city was razed. someone just woke up
the whole city and razed their minds. so i Gotta laugh.
so i Gotta sit down on a random orange chair on the roof,
and laugh on the roof and watch the whole city burn,
and get my Drink 4Cast 4 2Day: misfortune with a chance
4 everythinggggg that im sure there wasnt there yesterday!
laugh and the whole city laughs with you,
funk and you funk alone. take a chance
with everythinggggg: get drunk, shut the curtains,
then watch them laugh and burn down something beautiful.
It's scary when you're really getting into the story...
It's scary when there is a chance 4 misfortune
that im sure there wasnt there yesterday!
Kiss From a Neon Siren [Today's News Poem, July 1, 2010]
Follow the lights and you'll drive to your bliss.
Tunnels of halogens guide you, with signs
Lighting the path—an electrical kiss.
Follow your whim; it's the pathway's design.
Locking your door made of glass has no use.
Smile at the strangers with predator grins.
Bottles are finished and both of you choose
Pleasure and vibrate with unified skins:
Masters tonight, but by morning are slaves.
Hangover breakfast, an awkward caress;
Coffee; a toothbrush—he rapidly shaves:
Pantomime game—you play house as you dress.
Daylight delivers the deadline you dread—
Both of you caught in the bars of the ray—
Everything's possible, costly and spread
Out for the taking; a trap made of pay.
“President Obama pressed Congress on Thursday to pass comprehensive immigration legislation to fix a “fundamentally broken” system by toughening enforcement of existing laws while creating a path to citizenship for many of the 11 million people in the United States illegally.”
– Peter Baker, The New York Times, July 1, 2010
http://www.nytimes.com/2010/07/02/us/politics/02obama.html
Sensors Blink Away the Tears and Say Good-Bye [Twitter Found Poem, July 1, 2010] Tweets+Edits=#twitterfoundpoem
when we start losing energy levels,
when our jackass won't run,
Remember, you're never too old to be put on a leash.
when we want something to be given to us
instead of going out and getting it,
and we always say "the Next one is on me,"
who likes us enough to keep us around?
Sensors blink away the tears and say good-bye
and put us on a leash. Smart Circuits
drive us to the airport and say good-bye again.
and when we want something to be given to us
we are given a drink on the plane,
and a drink,drink,drink drunk. and we say
"the Next one is on me," like we always say.
As maggots fall from the overhead bin
and bite us 4eternity
the Sensors blink away the tears and say good-bye.
Earnings are sport; just a game on the screen.
Wealth is the score and the players are meat.
Markets determine the price of a bean,
Residue running from acre to ocean;
Where plankton will bloom
And choke out the fish:
An oily wound plumes
In petri gulf dish.
Drunken suspenders are typing by dark,
Networks of millions are trading their points;
Feeding the creatures that dine on the spark
Arbitrage sends in a wire through computers—
With cables for nerves
And motorized arms,
A camera eye serves
To watch as we farm.
“By 10am it emerged that Mr Perkins had single-handedly moved the global price of oil to an eight-month high during a "drunken blackout". Prices leapt by more than $1.50 a barrel in under half an hour at around 2am – the kind of sharp swing caused by events of geo-political significance. Ten times the usual volume of futures contracts changed hands in just one hour... The FSA will consider re-approving him as a broker after the ban, if he has recovered from his alcohol problem, but noted "Mr Perkins poses an extreme risk to the market when drunk".”
– Rowena Mason, The Telegraph, 5:45AM BST 30 Jun 2010
http://www.telegraph.co.uk/finance/newsbysector/energy/oilandgas/7862246/How-a-broker-spent-520m-in-a-drunken-stupor-and-moved-the-global-oil-price.html
Pimp Yo Professor [Twitter Found Poem, June 30, 2010] Tweets+Edits=#twitterfoundpoem
So... I ain't admitting nothing,
but you better pimp yo professor.
Might seem weird,
but after a nasty fire and kneecap shooting incident
traveling to class scares me!!
So you better pimp yo professor
before yo professor pimp you!!
my professor broke my ankle,
set ME on fire...
and then there is the
nasty kneecap shooting incident...
I Almost fainted from the pain uhh...
wish yo bad luck would go away?
pimp yo professor!!
it is the only way.
your friends are gonna change with every situation,
but not yo professor!!
Yo, you change one thing, it changes everything.
You don't have to be a kiss ass,
You don't have to put an order in for street drugs
for yo professor,
You just need set the world on fire.
it is the only way to be sure
You do that assignment
and pimp that professor good!!!!
Symposium of Gold and Plastic [Today's News Poem, June 29, 2010]
The absolute value of anything's measured
By market demand and we seek as consumers
To swallow our purchase; becoming the item.
And Plato said beauty makes mortals possessive.
If alchemists coaxed from their gold what our chemists
Could draw from a barrel of petrol, they'd eat it;
Absorbing the spells from the states of that matter,
Transmuting themselves into something eternal,
Innate, with no context required to engage it.
“American McNuggets (190 calories, 12 grams of fat, 2 grams of saturated fat for 4 pieces) contain the chemical preservative tBHQ, tertiary butylhydroquinone, a petroleum-based product. They also contain dimethylpolysiloxane, “an anti-foaming agent” also used in Silly Putty. ”
– Christopher Kimball, CNN
http://pagingdrgupta.blogs.cnn.com/2010/06/25/a-tale-of-2-nuggets
Tinfoil Versus Psy-Ops [Twitter Found Poem, June 29, 2010]
Tweets+Edits=#twitterfoundpoem
hopefulli the STARS wiLL stay in place
and I can just leave the tinfoil skullcap
At home. a tinfoil skullcap can soothe agitated
nervous systems, reduce mental chatter
and help you get some sleep.
I can't wait to watch riots.
the police started the violent riots.
Possible Black Psy-Ops are shooting stars
OUT Of the sky with the remote missile launch.
Black Psy-Ops are auto-dismissing
confidence, skill, physical power and practice time
with patriotism in the water.
Psy-Ops are auto-dismissing mental systems
and put nervous chatter on tv in its place.
When I take off the tinfoil weave or any type of tinfoil extention
At home and watch tv I see I launch a missile,
zomg,
shooting stars OUT Of the sky.
zomg.
I see I launch violent riots with the police.
zomg.
Black police Psy-Ops on tv,
slaps me with house arrest
and take away My tinfoil skullcap,
rendering me helpless.
Hunger's Accountant is the Serpent of Circles [Today's News Poem, June 28, 2010]
We own a placenta when cast from our mothers;
And handfuls of ashes—as remnants of lifetimes
We spent in a torpor. Our atoms were never
Possessions. And matter? Inert to the holy;
Eternally lying—not dead and not sleeping,
Nor live. And the deists prefer it alone with
Their worship of solids and logics and sorrow.
They harbor suspicions there's nothing but pleasure;
That moments between the whole universe clapping,
Are chemical wonders that vanish too quickly.
The urine of tigers, the flag of a nation—
They're hunger's accountants and dread what is coming:
The feast for the maggots; those landlords of graveyards,
Who rule in their turn at the end of beginnings.
And hope for no reason is fanciful folly;
And appetites thrive on this plane of existence
(The only one suited for acids and hormones):
What God owns is nothing much more than a stomach
That feeds on itself like the serpent of circles.
And likewise I feed off the hope I'm abandoned—
That angels have snipped the umbilical tubing
And cast me to mud with the rest of the carbon.
“... the Justice Department on Monday announced charges against 11 people accused of living for years in the United States as part of a deep-cover program run by S.V.R. ... secret Russian agents assigned to live as married couples in the United States, even having children to further their cover.”
– Charlie Savage, The New York Times, June 28, 2010
http://www.nytimes.com/2010/06/29/world/europe/29spy.html
Crocodile Tears of Lust [Twitter Found Poem, June 28, 2010] Tweets+Edits=#twitterfoundpoem
you think you know LOVE?
you think LOVE is a ticket
you redeem while watchin "I Love Lucy!"?
you think Smurf Sex honeymoon fucking
until you're blue in the face is LOVE?
Redeem yourSELF from that shower of shit;
from that shower of crocodile tears of lust.
you think LOVE is a magical
friend anyone can ever ask for?
false.
you must first redeem yourSELF.
you think LOVE is a ticket
that takes you to a happy place?
FUCK yourSELF until death do you part.
if you want lust you need Only
bust a nut,
but if you want LOVE
you must first bust ur head.
you can't take it
so you can redeem your ticket
for food, and reserved seating to
FUCK yourSELF to death
while watchin "I Love Lucy!"
while Dreaming of fucking.
The Mad Beloved [Today's News Poem, June 27, 2010]
They offer the car to their god in the hope
It's pleasing—that smoke from the plastic cupholders
Can summon a miracle down from the clouds.
The officers gather with shields and their clubs.
The leaders of nations are clad in deception.
And desperate mobs with their bottles of fire
Perform for the screen: my own prayer in a plume
Of gasoline clouds—the black in the grayness
Of towers and stormclouds; of sidewalks and age.
We're jaded and fearful of breadlines and bombs;
The black and white footage of skeletons starving
To death—all the mustaches screaming in mics,
Before all the millions in streets at salute.
This movie is real and we're stars—at least extras.
A pixel of billions, I'm nothing but days
In dreams of routine. Yet I've loved to the end
Of love; to that child of that love—each progression
Expanding my empathy; waking from scenes
Of victory, failure, routine, and ennui
To love without question; beyond the expected,
To limits I thought were denied to the bitter.
There's nothing discrete in this world of connection,
And nothing to fear from beloveds in madness.
“More than 500 people had been arrested by Sunday morning in connection with various protests, as well as some vandalism, related to the Group of 20 leaders summit here... Without offering specific information, Mr. Blair said that the violence was an attempt to draw police away from the protective ring around the summit site so that other protesters could move in and attack it.”
– Ian Austen, The New York Times, June 27, 2010
http://www.nytimes.com/2010/06/28/world/americas/28security.html?src=mv
“The latest government estimate is $897 million for three days of summitry. That comes to about $12 million per hour, or a total near what the government spends per year in the war in Afghanistan.”
– Ian Austen, The New York Times, June 27, 2010
http://www.nytimes.com/2010/06/27/business/global/27security.html
NOBODY Escapes Unhurt [Twitter Found Poem, June 27, 2010] Tweets+Edits=#twitterfoundpoem
Remember that ordinary citizens
can be used as weapons.
Of greater interest: the Police declared martial law.
a "peaceful" sit down could get nasty fast
and police equipped with the most advanced weapons,
may have to use nuclear force on ordinary citizens.
Learning how to build peace and oneness with
abysmal failure.
burning endangered sea turtles?
the only sound basis for peace.
Police Drive-by shoot the zoo in a super-high-speed racing car
equipped with the most advanced weapons?
the only sound basis for peace.
ordinary citizens can be used as secret weapons.
they can build a bridge to the Moon...
build a nuclear submarine with the most advanced
nuclear weapons, burning endangered mother earth.
the only sound basis for peace?
NOBODY escapes unhurt.
Partial Glimpse of the Partial Eclipse [Today's News Poem, June 26, 2010]
Atoms are ordered by lines on a table—
Protons at center, electrons on fringes;
Orbiting, trading their energy levels—
Straightening spheres into graphs; into boxes.
Even the sun is as small as an eyeball.
Space too, is curved and the light does not travel
Straight on a path, though we measure it thusly.
Shadows are proof; the eclipse is the moment
Measured—a line through the circles aligning.
Drawing a ray through the needles and branches
Bigger than houses, yet smaller than glasses
Watching the sliver of shadow on Luna
Glide to the dark, unobservable sphere;
Casting its nothing on nothing again.
“A partial lunar eclipse which was unusually magnified to viewers in North America has now ended. ”
– BBC, Saturday, 26 June 2010 15:36 UK
http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/science_and_environment/10414201.stm
Sit-N-Spin On Oily Ashes [Twitter Found Poem, June 26, 2010] Tweets+Edits=#twitterfoundpoem
experts say the oil leak in the gulf
the ashes of your deceased mother,
A BP gas card,
A used rabbit,
are in the genes.
experts say Y'all NOT havin kids!! Lol.
suffer the consequences of your actions...
wasn't destroying a place the experts have
come to call paradise a good reason Why
Y'all NOT havin kids?
sit-n-spin on the ashes of your deceased mother,
A used rabbit,
and OILY anjing laut,singa laut,walrus,dugong,manatee,sapi laut,gajah laut
.....astaga...HAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHA!
OILY AND HUNGRY NOW. CANNOT breathe! CANNOT EAT!
sit-n-spin on the ashes of your deceased you!!!
RIP! Lol
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