Felt-tip fealty
Stolen obscenities
Mistake a meme for a movement
Relace the seam with dissolvable stitches
Rebuild atop a crumbling foundation
Division as salvation
Rebrand sickness as entertainment
Zero sum inversion
Decaying recursion
Garbage in, garbage out
Beat that drum
Run back to what you knew
For four long years you’ve wanted to
I’ll choke down all that might have been
And spit out what you’re accustomed to

poeties

freckles

I guess it's time to hit the creative head

To piss away hope and expectation

Seething up cerebral shunt

Ubiquitous union, sin-eating libations

Palliative pantomime

Lanolin lollipops

Liquidate irreverent state

Sedatious painted faces

In search of mighty metaphor
To smelt conceptual obscurities
Squeeze the ore now found in hand
Melt it down to liquid sand
Form focal lens to key the door
And open wide to clearly see

Liquidate irreverent state
Sedatious painted faces…

Palliative pantomime
Lanolin lollipops…

Seething up cerebral shunt
Ubiquitous union, sin-eating libations…

I guess it's time to hit the creative head
To piss away hope and expectation …

Look at you
Looking at me
What truth do you see?

Can you piece together
My fragmented coherency?

Will the weight of your words tether me?
Bind my sense of dignity?

How am I to process life real-time
Tied up by all this latency?

Guess I am officially out of decades old poetry to rediscover.

Update: almost officially

Point and shout posterity
Artificially
Hearts and minds
Algorithmic fallacies to form
The framework of our age
Righteous malaise
Obsessive indifference
A neurochemical spill
Humanitarian hazmat
Lab rat spinning within his wheel of time
Futility his pantomime
Which squeaks loudest?
The wheel?
The rat?
Look how much better
In his new digital format
No fuss
No frills
Look how the limbs move independently
They prostrate quite instinctively

Mischievously sentimental,
With whispers like wings
Fully extended
Silently, methodically
Searching for an updraft
A most technical,
Patience-imbued craft

Aft of consciousness,
Can you absolve a jingle myth?
Live and let die
Is there accuracy in this order?

Disorder
“Mortar fire,”
Yelps the border crier
Duck and cover motherfucker
Until all insurgents tire
And retire

You pierce me with patience
The obsequious stain from letted vein puckers
A brand new blame beneath a crescent sun
Fallen fantasia
Only a squatter after all
Touching strains the febrile strands that bind us

If there were no hurt, no fuss
Life’s luster would dim beneath the moral rust
Bless the un-blooded with civil unrest
Stolid frowns force finance down
To hold up high our fallen hounds
To bury deep in sanctimonious mounds

The beat of broken wings
Brings no more pain than cages
That bind to fly refrain
Nought but a name
And selfhood
And brotherhood
And sisterhood
To salt the sand through sifting hands
Bound at wrist with rubber-band

With wings bequeathed to me
By a minor,
A man made to suffer
For projecting into a fictional world
His authenticity,
I can fly now

I can lose myself
Whimsically
Within these winds
Which carry me away
From dreams of serenity

These wings are my sterility
My immunity
From that which once disabled me
A complicated pregnancy
That gave birth to piss and vinegar

I whisper
With a wheeze
A pilgrim
To a rose
A withered touch of satin heart bestows

The whistleblower's linens
I sleep within tonight
And this frames the shot
Of how my swan song goes

Like a harlot
Inside out
A pilgrim
To a rose
Just drop the bucket down without a hose

Like a child
Standing before his father's maker
He stood
Beholding his feathered cross

As an oval sunrise
His pupils grew
As if to draw more light
As if for reassurance
That this time
In this moment
He may relieve himself
Make-believe himself
Into his father's feathered cross

He entered
As a Vegas quarter
To spin the wheel
For his father's feathered cross

To cash in
On society's whim
Of coping with his loss

To make a man
Of putrid flesh
By drinking wine

To balance filth
By saving swine
And kneeling before his father's cross

He sings a song
To learn his mind
To save his race
With rape and pillage
To televise his worldly word
Like wind professing warmth

His hope is stagnant
For this feeds faith
And faith is all he needs
To grasp his father's feathered cross

His prophet learned to profit
To make-believe his past
And his descendants
Filled the ears
Of desperate souls
In need of something they can clasp

He has but what was once a whimper
Cloning In his veins
An emptiness
A loneliness
A mold for making models
Of his father's feathered cross

The wherewithal
To spawn a flicker
Of life
With words of lead
Or vocal tones
Is scarcely strewn
Into our air
To breath deep through our bones

Thus, pine and pout
A lover's plea
Bring bread to table weeping
Drag battered hearts
And watered eyes
Through the streets of Dis

Pass joyous dreams
To naive beings
Too young
To wear their wits

But know
As plighted masochist
You deny
The sting of tenderness
Speaking
With a lisp
Swimming
Through the wading pool

With a whisper beaten soliloquy
I drink the blood and roses

Between the black breath of Solomon
And Timothy Rice
I grasp what Jesus presupposes

It's the wilting of Rochester
Screaming for streams
That creates the idols

Only when winter relaxes
And fasts
Can love beat between the bibles

Ask for some cinnamon
Loaves of adrenaline
To vacate the vice of a breast

Hearts disconcert
As Othello once learned
When pipes lead constraint and unrest

Paranoia patches peasants
To swim in a stream of their own

Disillusion spawns an abrasion
That drinks down the marrow
A succulent sparrow
To please the king and his wife

Crawling
From flesh to face
It becomes clearer to me
Just what I am

I see in four dimensions not three

My brain feels swollen
And I do not believe
It functions properly

It flutters
Like butterfly wings
And I see a whole other world
Of twisted vision

There is this sound
In my head
Repeating itself

It sounds like glass
Breaking underwater
I would imagine

I don't know what this means
But I am getting used to it

Everyone keeps asking me questions
But they collide together
And merge
And I cannot answer
Any of them

I cannot even answer myself
That's the worst thing

Ever aggressive
And fluorescent
The moon takes it's light from me

I am it's source
For such static excitement

To crawl into the light
Is to crawl into me

To fall from your faith
Is to fall from me

To give breath to a child
Is to give breath to me

And to feast upon a carcass
Is to feast upon me

I am everything
And yet I am nothing

And to be nothing
Is to be me

There is a beat now vibrating
Heard through a mass of minds
Irrefutably attempting
To block out it's persuasiveness.

It is an incestuous beat
With a common theme
Seemingly ill-fated to repeat itself
Mating upon itself
To produce it's very replica
With but a slight chronological shift

It is a limited voice
Produced by limited creators
Ignorant of their own demise
The fate of this concierge
Amounts to an infinite fast
From original tone

As more gather to participate
More relieve themselves
Of the anguish of faked appreciation
Allowing the incompetent
To outnumber
Those conscious of reality

I can see her cold eyes drift
I can feel her head lift
From a place so low.

A string illusion
For the love she's in has frozen

A night-stick comedy show
Where the stage hands look warm to the touch

A smooth abrasion
From the pin
That held my picture dream in

Alas,
The nightingale switch has been thrown
And I'm awake now

Don't call me Jupiter,
I've been with her before

With a lily pad complexion
And a Robespierre infection
I roam these teepee halls

To leisure with a grounded flake
Unconscious from the turpentine.
I've held my head like this before
By way of three cases of wine.

A night with breeze as cold as I
And noises echo through the plain.
A cry for faith in candy canes
Religion with a slight refrain.

A cross oppressed
By symbolic imprisonment
Flirts with a symbol twice it's size.
Crooked on all counts
These fish swim together
Gills laced with arson and concubines.

To bare a scar as opposition
Leaves my skin a rigid tool.
To extract my anger from my action
Would leave me sterile as a farming mule.

Corrosive lungs
Flippantly feeding abusive tongues
Inflate openly
And commiserate forwardly
Yet each repugnant breath
Breeds guarded inefficiency

Torpid and obese
The mind consents reluctantly
Further weakening a stolid soul’s
Infirm hold on peace

Vagaries, like Lyme disease
Lay waste to thought control
Scribing vulgar, anecdotal pundits
To corrupt a seedless soil

None, save one, can fund
A pilgrim’s flight
To peaceful shores of coal

And a closed mind
Weaves the twine
For a noose
To constrict the soul

Propaganda states
Propaganda state
Propaganda bifurcates

Propaganda praise
Propaganda prays
Propaganda preys

Propaganda hijinx
Propaganda hijacks

Propaganda obfuscates
Propaganda concentrates
Propaganda replicates
Propaganda elates
Propaganda relates
Propaganda correlates
Propaganda denigrates
Propaganda inflates
Propaganda all-kinds-of-ates

Propaganda lays
Propaganda lies

Propaganda protects
Propaganda deflects
Propaganda infects
Propaganda elects