bric-a-brac

The range of contradictions that encompass who I am
is wider than the world in which I wallow
preventing me from going incognito on the lam
for everywhere I go exceptions follow
but whether in a palace or a ditch
eventually we all find our niche.

Dream On

Take this unpretentious verse!
and as my essences disperse
I’ll mutter an impromptu curse.
Will needed ripples ever bless
this tepid pool of consciousness
to agitate the brackish bog
through which the throngs routinely slog,
can’t some new voice surmount the din
with words that thunder deep within?
Is all that has been said before
a distant echo, nothing more?

I fade amid the drone
of the static we condone
and hear inside my head
the anthem of the dead.
How fake! But we’re so lax
who’ll search between the cracks
while I wax — while I wax!
Oh Lord – can I not sing
a scintillating ring?
Oh Lord – can I not voice
a mantra to rejoice?
Is all that has been said before
a distant echo, nothing more?

Glowing

A pallid moon is swimming through the murky depths of night
struggling for buoyancy, it sheds some borrowed light
to rise above the misty sea that twilight left behind
illuminating new horizons deep within my mind.

Familiar

Once more the hoop is set aflame
the whip is smartly crackin’
although my body’s almost lame
the ramrod thinks I’m slackin’
I jump when cued despite my shame
and penchant for attackin’
those that feel I should be tame
but never send me packin’.

Tada!

First Lady?

Counting on the sisterhood
to bear her to that vaunted throne
her cracked façade has somehow stood
though worry lines have surely grown,
increasing from the constant strain
of feigning deep emotional pain.

Such artifice is quite obscene
employing shameless machinations,
spewing lies from every screen
pursuing selfish aspirations.
Talk show fools can barely wait
to get her on and validate.

A future bid is all but assured
the lust for power undeniable,
hopefully people won’t be lured
and search for someone more reliable—
we need a leader, not a wannabe
obsessed with making history.

Outlook

When I was younger
and clouds buzzed my head
I thought I was watching the world revolve
now that I’m older
I focus instead
on misty reminders of dreams dissolved.

Then I wonder which is bluer
the sky or I?
No failure could be truer
so why deny.

Each moment
is a fleeting chance
to garner some salvation
as latent
as the orbs that dance
beyond precipitation.

PHD

Please don’t think me rude
or your meaning misconstrued
I understand quite clearly what was said
you just seem so confused
I can’t help but be amused
at how some forms of ignorance are bred:
so yes, I’m being brash
but I heard the distant crash
when your stunted tree of knowledge wound up felled
take the time before you speak
to make sure it doesn’t reek
like that last steaming pile you expelled.

Earth:Terminal 1

We snicker, we bicker
entranced by a flicker
while seeking the software
that makes it run slicker
so we can get sicker
and make the affair
implode that much quicker.

Alienation

Welcome! You’ve touched down upon
the planet of Automaton
where only those with rigid views
decide what constitutes your dues.
Right there is a Republican
take note of its malicious grin
and to the left a Democrat
obsessed with doling out the fat,
religious types are all about
contributing their share of doubt
so every fragile mannequin
can wonder if free will is sin.
You look confused, well join the lot
we haven’t much but what we’ve got
is there to waste so grab your fill
before our machinations kill
the world in one big firestorm
but first – you must complete this form.

Zero

Nothing divided by nothing is free
and easily outshined;
the quotient of no consequence is, just me
forever undefined.

Suckitude

There is no up
there is no down
there’s only in betweens
fill your cup
or wear a frown
you can’t avoid the means,
performing hard
to win a clap
will only get you tired
there’s not a bard
whose wistful crap
could be more uninspired.

Work Zone

Lethargic, for nothing is left to be proved
a coma might make me a bit less removed
I’m not sure what’s blanker, the page or my gaze
a negative factor of cubic malaise.

Fantasy Land

For John — You should have listened to the Magic Mirror.

The giant was hungry (as their kind will be)
to manage its growth with a larger degree
it soon found the answer (as their kind presume)
by cleaning the floor with a newfangled broom
but once the motes settled (as they tend to do)
this glutton found out it was too much to chew
and now it has withered (as most deadwood will)
a victim of those who thought smug would fulfill.

Going Nowhere

We drumble through the day conducting various affairs
and scumble as we may to help eliminate repairs
but humble doesn’t pay the never ending corporate fares
that rumble like a dray whose heavy burden oft impairs.

This Little Light

To capture this transcendence in a line
is something I have often tried to do:
the tingle of a breeze along my spine
respiring beneath a sky of blue
enveloped in the prepossessing shine
which helps ignite the night we hurtle through
and knowing deep inside there’s still a spark
that won’t be overshadowed by the dark.