the more i care

the more i care less, the better it gets

N.A.N.`

we need a senate supervillain
we need a secret hero
we need a peoples park
we need better radiation

the giraffes went polar
"polar, polar, polar" they went
their necks now blue
craning for to drop the tree topper or to topple the tree

"polar, polar, polar" in English just like that
the cold giraffes in the new American north

The Architecture There

The architecture there was predictable. The library looked like a book. Still you don't see that in every town. It was worth a visit. The shelves were empty.

Archive

Trying to account for what we're all supposed to remember. Empty archive. Surprise deficit.

In madness relax

In madness relax

Ring them Nobels, ya heathen. On Lenny's birthday no less.

Took a minute to look in on online Dylan detractors questioning his literary qualifications. Hunch there's a lot of overlap with those who think he can't sing.
Conversely, more legit argument against writerly merits is he's such a great performer he makes mere lyrics sound like poetry.
He's both a great singer and a writer of some remarkable shit.
Prizes are for carnival games anyway. And ain't nobody can write like a carnival better than Bobby D.

open letter to Trump voters, only one I'll write

Hillary Clinton is consummately quintessential American politician. so yeah that's more bad than good.

Donald Trump is deranged, and he's getting what he wants: to shape reality as one of his disgusting reality shows. Please realize how sick this is. We can't want to live like that.

What is there to say about love other than to praise its necessity.

What is there to say about love other than to praise its necessity.

Plan

There should be a holiday for each emotion, which is different from an emotional holiday. People complain about the weather and about weather forecasts but only really rave about the former. I have a radical national food plan in which it's always available.

I Am The Alternate

I am the alternate, the replacement. I am pledged to warn you, comma, it's true, but I have an exquisite exemption. He's not coming back; the one you seek has no substitute. Consider then that I have been returned as a Herald, for no One.

Untitled Assessment

He contorted himself into a tiny corner of the electrorate, hoping to make an impact. She offered her her heart and in return all she got was her halfhearted rejection - the most selfish kind. The children still had hope,  the ones young enough not to know what hope is.
Then autumn then autumn then autumn then Fall.

Through Two

I switched to airplane mode
yet then received your notification.

I pulled the rotary phone out the wall
but still you rang.

I made it rain
I made it rain!
and anyway your smoke signals.

I opened my door the second you knocked
( uh-uh
musta been
the wind or
something )
.

Some Mistakes

A long time ago I married a despicable, dishonest person who never cared about me or my well-being - though she did find me both convenient and entertaining for about a decade. I was a grown man, but I was naive, gullible, and believed her big, facile lie that she loved me. It's a mistake I'm still paying for. Some mistakes have far-reaching, even irrevocable, devastating consequences. Please don't vote for Donald Trump.

I'm forced to sleep you know, it's my humanity. Must not be much left, the opinion was voiced, being up so late for no reason.

I'm forced to sleep you know, it's my humanity.
Must not be much left, the opinion was voiced, being up so late for no reason.

The Commune Was Asked

The commune was asked for a marketable tale. They were asked as a put-down, really.

They cooked up a franchise and got rich.

Eyes Havoc

Strung out with joy, they wrote a ditty: "The Eyes Havoc" so done before, and a hit yet again.
After the chart fade they had one good cry.

reality*

she was high on life, and that led to an intervention by reality* in the form of her meddlesome peers.
yes) they debated
no) they didn't make the caring choice

   - but it's just life" said suzy, the sane one and the voice for justice

but no, the others were conniving, they saw a chance at an
 In†erVention™ and they went for it by gum, her welfare be damned.

'Wellllll," the drawling judge said, "you've really got her on a technicality by gum (!!!) but you can call for an INTERVENTION /-/ why who am i to stop you?"

"JUST YOUR job, the job of Justice,!''' cried Suzy and her wailing rebel gang of fine ass chefs and exquisite tailors, free throw champions, saint-embracers, .500 hitters, artifact sewers, stitchers of wisdom (perceived and at times redacted), true patriots to the one forever country The Human Heart, locksmiths and pickpockets (heroes again like the one Christmas), sweet ladies in moonlight who protect pedestrians, and other defenders of
  ----____-_______---_-_ LIBerTy with InteGrity!

(cried from a slightly different script with the customary lead-in:
   :"What can I do about it?" presumably, the original script having been lost immediately, before the first airing.)

There Is A Lie

there is a mystery,.
there is a dark sadness.,
there is a lie.

There is a tree, Let's climb
it (shall we ? we shall)

there is a sky
and we all sang it:
there is a sky


there is a sky
there is a skythere is a sky
there is a sky

there is a sky

there is a mystery,.
there is a stark madness.,
there is the sky.

the sky"
  - we all sang it

the sky"
the sky"the sky"
the sky"

There is a secret
come listen we moan


There is a secret" we moan "come listen'

"a secret
   a start's blandness
 a melodramatic demise"



But there is a tree, Let's climb
it (shall we ? we shall the sky)

We Went With It

it was a really sentimental crayola feeling but we went with it. color-kept everything within the lines but our faces. they flowed everywhere and jutted and sparked , spilled over and broke through like an autonomous heart in and betwixt all around the skeletal and beyond it. but prismatic not just red, like i said crayola.

then are argh our faces, our faces ah yeah faces are on the TV. see she says 'baby, our faces" and i agree "yeah let's always baby our faces Ooh,' and she's with:

- yes of course darling, but no i mean on the Tell-E!

and we dialed up the e-Tell, a sorta steampunk tablet that brought in broadcast signals not just via the web so yeah in truth it was the telly literally or nearly.

our faces. so that was it then, so clear that the lines were vertical, dig? so we split man (not going to wear the horizontals) right between them like we had just become famous for and then it was the twenties again - the 1920's - so we didn't stay and she went to the remix, as was her gift, and again we could dance to it. sentimental, crayola kinda cheesy dance because that was it (the holiday; i mean it was the holiday after all) right then: the mawkish embrace, the proper acceptable steps, the national raffle when we were yet again back on tv. but our faces had their way still, that was our hook. it was a good act, took us to stages all over the world, took us to the Vatican and everyone left - and still no one around. Been long enough now, we've accepted we are obliged to take charge.

True Stranger

(In celebrity news, I just happened to walk past Chloë Sevigny at the art museum and she's remarkably, strikingly beautiful - more than any art could be.)

Everyday navigating my walk through the world's ways I exchange half second glances with strangers, to avoid collision, acknowledge humanity, etc. When the stranger is famous there's an imbalance, you have some existing notion of their existence but of you they know nothing, as a stranger should.

Ineffable Expletive

The Islamic State's doomed bloody march to an impossible global caliphate based, like all religious exceptionalism, on lies & delusion and birthed in the heinous incubator of indefensible exploitation and assault by the US, our allies, and our cronies, brings again to light the darkest of truths, proven throughout millennia: While man has succeeded merely at inventing god notionally, we are expert at creating - fully realized - Hell on Earth.

Perspicacity is No Substitute

Perspicacity is no substitute for proximity.

 Wit, woven, shackles the celebrants' ravishing embrace.

   Fearful academics falter, navigating flimsy obstacles easily penetrated,

     and the world is bereft of a new generation at beauty's uncharted pinnacle.

Circular Encyclical of Vanity's Chill

Never mistake disregard for anything shy of contempt. It is more contemptuous than open vilification, and merits the harshest form of scorn - which is, unironically and perhaps unsatisfyingly, disregard. It is an unwitting confession of heartless selffoolness, and the silent triumph of elevated narcissism for all.

New Dream for Everybody

they made a new dream for everybody. it ha[[ens as soon as you sleep. it’s like burnt paper.
we all took to daydreaming./instead

, the Same old Finish.

there was another new story and it had the same ending.
 you wondered why the radio came back on its appeal, the same old finish.
but that’s what it was, woodgrain nostalgia when every excuse is a festivity./

(return of the radio. fin)

THese TRends

it (this) is a frightening time for the people, she cried. we must relinquish these trends
\
\\a common reaction to the truth followed

she was a hero anyway

here’s what happened. they met at the mall

here’s what happened. they met at the mall and had a baby

they first met when both reechoing from explosive accidents by chance. then on way later to mall, by chance. see there was war then, or something, they were in the  mall a long time, along with a few others who made it. really, everyone who’d made it into the mall made it. the son was some old saint. this time he'd been away for a while.
she was a sweetheart, knew her in transcript. He I never much took to, but he knew the opposition. Knew it too well, some said. But. no, I’d say - he is one of us, loyalty is not a concern.

but my main widow and I knew they were being embariswindled by some third party huckster, an outside ambusher in the carpet economy/ rode in on the backs of people, then wanted their p[raise. that sort of shit of the species. Built something from nothing that upon creation was nothing still. iWarn you all and i mean it.

at the same time the whole town was dancing/ me i was against it. why? am i a bad fellow in this tale? do i begrudge people their joy? no, it was a distraction is why. for the first time ever, dancing was the specific exact distraction. you realize how dangerous that is.

the son turned them to singing. it was the right maneuver. that’s why he was a saint again. that and a couple other reasons. usually the same sorta reasons each time. the daughter this time though she wrote some songs. the family had an aura of fame around them this time, that was different. and the enemy seemed practical. somehow the certain dancing resumed with a happy bit of levitation. everyone thought they were holy this time.
at that i decided the town was too weird for me and I returned to the States.

Unallied, Mortal

Exiled from the light, coveted by the dark; though thwarted by God at every turn, yet still I deny the Devil the spoils of my soul. Angels and demons at play, and I - abandoned and chased, chaste and abandoned - an unallied mortal at the frayed reins.

Unallied, Mortal

Exiled from the light, coveted by the dark; though thwarted by God at every turn, yet still I deny the Devil the spoils of my soul. Angels and demons at play, and I - abandoned and chased, chaste and abandoned - an unallied mortal at the frayed reins.

Hibernation of My Instinct

hibernation of my instinct
  leaves me plum for the slaughter of my
    robust soul

Yaldabaoth triumphant?
  - Fuck y'all,
      children of the flesh,
        I awake
                 .

Aquatic Love Mystery, With Heroes

aquatic love mystery, with heroes


????


.


???

!!!!

?) but how:

I’ll show you
            .


merfaith, see?

belief
     .
in the watersway


( but it’sdry here, betwixt us, theycried (pointing )

( &so then ’twasn’t )

 - just add pepper
         
. the end

not a poem: On Ali

other night happened to listen to Another Side of Bob Dylan for first time in years and I Shall Be Free No. 10 came on, where Bobby comically threatens to make Cassius Clay's face look just like his own, and I thought - what a thought that both these guys are still alive.
didn't post that though, felt morbid, seeing as how i'm seeing Dylan in a couple weeks but much more so knowing how long Ali's been in terrible health thinking right then his time cannot be long, Next day there's bad news, next day he's dead.
i dunno.
when i was a kid, he was still going, he looked like a hero. he just looked like he was the good guy. he sure talked like the greatest winner there could ever be. then in junior high school, i learned about his stance against the war and that made him more of a hero than any stance in a ring.
thing is, there are no heroes, it's not a real thing, a hero. but there is the heroic, and that was heroic, that was righteous.

blonde on sound

i was just now thinking about something i didn't post yesterday, something ididnt 'write, whic i din't post due to timing but ifelt the wrong timing would have been right and just now i relazied the wrong timing would have been perfect. Relazied, in deed, (not just in a word).

The Assistance Agenda

Walking DTLA thinking a moment that living in valley makes me feel like dying; suddenly hapless homeless one who can't get a dime nor anyone's time, mebbe that's it,  says of self "maybe I should just put a bullet in my head" so I say "I was just thinking the same" & homeless person pauses, thankfully doesn't mistake my reply in its loose grammar as a putdown endorsing his own action as he may have, instead gets I'm on about THe SELf too, & so pause over suggests team effort, "together" is the word - which is really only invitation I've received to join anyone in this town for anything, so that's nice and all - and I say "NO. No one'll like that, that's weird, double suicide?/murder suicide?/pact? No no no, no one's going for that, and just all no, don't. And No." & walk on, hoping his lot lifts, but not lifting a finger to help, though I lifted my voice purely within the assistance agenda, even though it's measurable just how much, in sympathy, I instinctively exaggerated for effect (THE reason to exaggerate, ain't it always ?) For see, foresee, he led the witness of my own thought, me / I misled the expression of my own head to respond to his proclamation; wasn't thinking valley makes me *feel like dying,* it's that it makes me feel *like I am dying.* Solution, to move, was maybe to here, downtown, like I've thought more than a decade. It's not working out for that guy, but it just might yet.

I first encountered the realm of Prince

I first encountered the realm of Prince on the shelves of the record department at our local Venture, Venture having been somewhere on the department store spectrum between Woolworth's and Kmart. They suddenly had a Prince section, and his first three LPs. The cover of "For You" struck me as pretty cheesy and basically generic, the cover of "Prince" looked super cheesy but also sorta uncommonly fearless, and the cover of "Dirty Mind" looked dark and serious and obviously revealing & made me think - wow, this guy does whatever he wants.
A week or so later, right after my twelfth birthday (I know this now because it was released on my twelfth birthday, and as much as I loved going to Venture I would almost certainly have not gone on my birthday) they also had his fourth LP. That was it; the cover of "Controversy" made me certain: this guy has got to be great. I still wasn't ready to drop my scant allowance on someone who I had only heard of by way of seeing his album art for first time in past few days (I recall I bought nothing on either of those, nor on most, of my very frequent trips to that record department) but soon I heard "Controversy" and knew the record cover gave me the right impression, the music was amazing.
I'll admit a year later I was annoyed when kids at my junior high who I didn't particularly think were cool or had good taste were into Little Red Corvette, but what the hell. There was that preteen year there where I had learned of this mysterious, funky, vastly talented recording artist. My musical taste and recognition of artistry were just forming, and I think highly informed by just how incredible the title track to that album was. Thanks, dead fellow I never met. I mean it.

There Are Some Bridges

There be bridges I'd best burn, lest I mistake them for traversable.

Wayne v Kent: an unlikely & reserved defense of the latest meta spectacle

Sorry, kids - another "not a poem" entry from your poet-in-exile:

I find critical consensus on pop culture as suspicious as, or maybe even more suspicious than, commercial consensus – so I watched Batman v Superman. Some common critiques are spot-on; many of same are exaggerated relative to general treatment of the genre; and some are peculiarly lazy. It's not nearly as bad as Man of Steel nor is it as utterly negligible (nor as dismissive of real source material) as Age of Ultron.

In context of action adventures featuring the supernaturally powerful, I’m leaning toward the film’s few successes outweighing its many failures. It’s shocking that I'm even remotely defending Synder. Revealingly, the most damning criticism accuses him not of being a hack filmmaker or lacking own vision (however hyper masculine, objectionably Objectivist, juvenile, or primarily visual it maybe be) but of taking too much of a dark &/or personal risk with supposedly surefire corporate intellectual property. His latest movie's most interminable sequence is apparently obligatory in this sort of endeavor; the frequent daftness is in no way unique; the collisions of big spectacle and mawkish sentimentality may feel intuitively irreconcilable but are actually such standard issue as to perhaps be unavoidable (maybe even emotionally honest) at this scale; and the Luthor character needed some (why so?) serious reconsideration. But for biting off so much, the director chews a fair amount of it down to fairly digestible, and he benefits from having Affleck as the most buyable Bruce Wayne the big screen has had. (Opening credits validation for creators & comic fans: Bill Finger finally gets his name onscreen - even if it really oughta go before Bob Kane’s.)

To Snyder’s surprising credit he does make a movie that, more so than the titular costumed conflict (and yes, their fight scene does deliver) is Wayne v Kent. As much as he’s been knocked for not getting the big blue Boy Scout, Snyder grasps these characters enough to focus on the core conflict. The issue isn’t how a bitter billionaire with just wits and fists can power up enough to take on a nearly omnipotent alien. The real battle pits a traumatized rich orphan from the shitty part of town, grown so damaged that his grand deduction skills are manipulated by the most vain and transparent of villains, against the working class farm boy made good in the shiniest side of the city, whose idealism has been nearly terminally taxed. It’s no great accomplishment, and it’s all handled at a surface level, as the director is known for. So, fine, they both love their mothers. I’ve seen shallower messages delivered in far less maligned pictures with nary a cape nor glowing pair of eyes in sight.

Cruel fate and the ice cream lady

Cruel fate and the ice cream lady 
Both cold as can be
But only one serves it
Soft and sweet

Not a poem: on Trump v Cruz

The Trump panic on much of the left and on the supposedly more serious and responsible sectors of the right obscures (maybe intentionally on the right) rather than illuminates the essential truth: that Trump's political rise is merely the natural culmination of decades of Republican rhetoric. Ignorance is a virtue, bluster is strength, and prejudice is righteous. His ascent is greatly abetted by the well paired mingling of alleged Republican values with our ever cheapening commercial culture, of which he's an accomplished purveyor.

Cruz is more dangerous than Trump, and his presidency would probably be more disastrous than a Trump administration. This has been my stance on that smug Canadian/Texan lawyer from the beginning of this campaign and former President Carter recently said as much. Trump speaks the long-standing GOP talking points, unvarnished. But unlike a lot of those loons, it's unlikely he believes half this shit.

Of course Donald Trump is utterly unqualified, and even more vile.

Solo

- "Solo?"
- "So very."

Slighted New Year

"If you're slighted, fight it," advised Father Time, adding "if they diss you, they'll miss you!" Baby New Year in a fit gave his first shit.