Saturday, January 30, 2010

Rebel Rules

The tyrant weakens his rule by weakening what he rules with his rules. The rebel is as evil as the tyrant overthrown but until he is maintaining enough institutions to cripple other people as much as the tyrant did there's a period of freer living which allows greater prosperity. If there's a boom and bust cycle it's the rise and fall of states. Humanity's booming then cancerous elements grow their unneeded tissue, disrupting healthy processes, until the body they keep with them decays, they're removed from the larger human society, and with healthy forms of laborers left the pace of man's ascent quickens again.

Thursday, January 28, 2010

Lent

See the crown is blemished,
tarnished, scratched and sullied,
it reflects a littered dirty floor,
has gaps where were stones,
the points are bent,
its' sides cracked,
the old face wearing the symbol knows it holds no power,
and I look 'tween his wrinkles rimmed by white hair
and see no hope glimmering there.

The joker laughs and prances near,
he speaks riddles the king can't hear,
their answers insults to raise noble moods,
lament rules their hearts and cheer can't intrude,
starved as it is,
in this famished land,
where smiths turn panhandlers,
and only coiners keep clean hands.

Monday, January 25, 2010

To: Address From: Sender

Dear Despair,

Bosom companion blossom again,
be new, renew the revenue you draw directly from my breast rubbed raw,
emotions are rapids eroding will, breaking apart self and flesh into sedentary segments,
fish swim in rivers and feed on macerated joy,
fuel destroyed by the flow,
surging, course directed by the stone though stone is honed, coursing o'er to the ocean,
errybody learns the worst feeling is absence,
souls turn, tossed in a spiral 'round the void,
and I laud
as did God
the counter-rebel Want,
winning the fight for light against cold simplicity,
let life abound
complicated and procreated for recreation.

Sometimes Yours,
Luck-Dodger

Monday, January 18, 2010

Ad Personam

Do you remember Pikablu,
the rumored pokemon?
It existed in our social imagination:
a wild grown lawn
which none can shun
but sobriety mows
and I'm like Barney at Moe's
planting seeds
between heads of grain
eating like it's Eid
from the mind's mane.
An earthquake, a roar
for stress causes tremors
in the sub-strata
(turned batter)
of popular fantasy.
Real as a cootie
is our country,
the virtue of submissiveness,
and love.

Monday, January 11, 2010

Ed the Poet

Here are the B-sides. If you think that other shit's bad here's the worst. If you love my stuff here's more! The following are selections of poems and thangs I started to write and gave up on. They're pretty bad which's why I abandoned them. Also, I forgot what I had planned, subjects, rhyme schemes, etc. for them all (and some I'd no plan and thought a line would be potent enough to set me off).



Submissive floor lets me walk all over it and sprinkle crumbs



Grass-rilled hills thrill at the thunderous touch of exploding napalm.
Dirt were there was a farm.
Smoking jelly where there was a farmer.
Their skin and fat flow thin and wax, popping crisply in the chemical mixture.
Bubbles of lymph steam on short blackened blades.
The Vietnamese have seen better days.



Wisdom is poison lived in and tested, wistfully remembered.
Pain's presence a comfort familiar as romantic essence.
We're between mortar and pestle, stirred, mixed, shrinking into tinier easier to dilute pieces.



Apple's a flavor
and strawberry too
versions of taste



In your provinces are piled high
beliefs in many insubstantial lies
the light of electricity dispels no darkness
of the sort thick as fog in minds without sense
Crushed by seven gables
was the shaggy mantis
who Abe's 8th general
shaved and skinned in public.

The exoskeletal clips
piled in chitinous heaps
were listed as raw walls
(industrial matter).



Dry circuit boards, childless mothers, present an article on water boarding, what we're learning at our boarding school, leaving pretensions of

One out the Chamber

got a crick in my neck
my own body gives me no respect

Friday, January 8, 2010

Deproduce

Shatter a pane at the point atop
the wall-clinging ivy stalk
strong enough to support my weight
for the time taken to climb
at a gait less than walking
above the west gate where
guards talk about their
family troubles and shallow caches
while I undo their ward's window latch
coming from a bar far-off to snatch
what my fence's middleman said awaited.

On tips of toes and hunched
I slowly step on carpets
costlier than my clothes
blowing darts in guard-pets
I wait for the sleeping poison
shipped from the river Poseidon
when the death-froth bubbles
on puppy's large lips
I know the way's cleared.

Humans surpassed and animals slain
I steal on with open tread
still I'm quite quiet so she
stays asleep unaware of me.
Too heavy to carry: the many baubles
which make her wealthy,
yet I look for one trinket only
and spy it glowing o'er yonder
and have to avert my eyes
lest the staring spell compel me.

In a sack which breathes
made for the task
seething with hatred at the light
eager to smother the sight
I stuff the unwatched tingle-in-hand
turning to cheerily be on my way.

Behind me upright sits the daughter
aware her tower's invaded
though I'm experienced in my craft
and would kill for a laugh
I hesitated and heard her say,
"stranger if you are a man
then I can not understand
yet now wonder...
yes surely your employer
lied to you of the item
by robbery in your possession"
straight standing I strode
and pressed 'gainst her robe
a knife and knicked her left lobe.
With composure unseen in some men
she let out not a whimper but grinned,
"up close I know you are a man
and so will return Eskrigan,
so long as it shines
the Dutla are confined
to beyond my father's borders"
inside I said to myself,
"kill her and follow your orders!"
but she'd cried for no help
and if I had dealt
the Dutla an aid
my debt'd need repaid.
She pointed at the window,
above a carpet cast with glass,
I dragged her along
warned she'd sing her swan-song
if this were a trick of her class.

Boldly she opened the frames
holding intact window panes
and pointed to the horizon
where we could see Bayon's Canyon.
At first I stared in darkness
and sensed something but saw naught
but slowly I noticed
winged shapes in the blackness
spreading from the canyon
like a pulsing cloud.
Horror hurt my heart
so even a frail's voice gave me start,
"before they kill my people
please release the symbol"
and feeling it right
by every gut I've survived by trusting
I tore at the bag.

It would not open
again I tried
to ply the threads
they sucked in
like turtle heads
and the mouth puckered
a kiss for a sucker
then in anger I stabbed
grabbing tight the bag
slashing and cutting
'til it bled and died
with a haunting outcry
then shriveled to a husk
ripped open untrussed
and flying out thrust
Eskrigan.

It flew above the tower
and made the land look as day
flash!
flash!
light dark light/dark lightdark
and with screeches miles distant
the Dutla became scant
and I saw she
was a beauty
past the pretties
I'd collected.

Next time it went dark
she ran from her room
I chased in the gloom
but from the stark variance
in luminance
was blinded
I couldn't find her
and she familiar
with her home
ran on ahead
then I was struck dead.

Saturday, January 2, 2010

Mazed Man's Dilemma

He sees lightless black. He walks forward. It is possible he may freely move in any direction. Any way which is blocked is perennially blocked. He is weary of only going straight ahead. He suspects to his left is a wall. He hasn't reached out left to confirm the presence or absence of a wall. If he reaches to the left and finds a wall he will always know he can't go left. If he doesn't check he may always think he could go left.

What should the Mazed Man do?

1) Should he be content going straight?
2) Should he reach in every direction to define his options?
3) Should he stop checking for alternate routes lest he be aware he has no choice?
4) Should he want to go a different way?
5) Should blockages spur him to search for openings?
6) Should he take a turn if one's available?
7) Should he change his policy after a certain outcome?
8) What would you do as the mazed man?