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.