Archive for August, 2012



This aberrant strength of defiance as against my peers
A strength against the most prevalent of fears
The strength to voice a dissenting opinion toward the status-quo
An opinion most avoid or are heeded, not to know

Contemporary culture has been maneuvered into complacency
Consumed by consumerism since their time of infancy
Built upon premise of promise of life virtually fulfilled
That has rendered a virtual life increasingly, electronically built

But now, increasingly, are dents appearing in the Establishments’ armor
With a growing pervasiveness of discontent and clamor
A united, proletariat voice is awakening to the social charade,
Become increasingly willing to put life on the line, to rebelliously parade

What outcome this maturing, revolutionary movement will in the end, manifest
With strength of well funded bullets and armor pointed to their exposed breast
Will be left for future history books to detail what will come to unfold
But yet again, that will be dependent on whose version of the `truth’, is ultimately told.


Psycho-Sadistic Pleasure

When vile and malicious rumors to the untrue are left to abound
It is oft the accused innocent whose life becomes mercilessly unwound
Profane and repugnant though the protagonist’s motives may be
It is to those who promulgate the non–corroborated lie, the blame must lead

This less than aberrant practice does in many cultures prevail
The mystery: the inspiration for want to instigate falsehood tales
The energy to fabricate such evil malcontent, to conspire
Would undoubtedly be better served, if spent to inspire

Yet it would appear from eon of historical record to the contrary
Humanity in all its realms of expression utilize this diversionary
To gain selfishly position of power and or treasure
Or more simply for some, joy of psycho-sadistic pleasure.



Laying naked, spell-bound, following a torrid evening of drug-infused, sexo-erotic debauchery; legs splayed seductively wide, nursing an abused, semi-erect, though mercilessly cum-drained phallus that, forsaking its true, pre-ordained creationist purpose; rejoicing for having participated in this  living human experience that surpassed any expectation in heights of carnal, orgasmic pleasure otherwise deemed improbable though, obviously, quite physically capable of its realization.



The art of poetry is to conjure thoughts profound
At times achieved by the mere use – of just one word
But in the end it’s to its readers to astound
Or to render it all – utterly absurd

Poetry may be reflective or devil-may-care
But for certain, it comes from being aware
The tool of its conveyance need not be exact
For it is the essence of its message – sought to extract

Hence, should one encounter a poem or two
Be certain to this to do:

  Enter with an open mind
    Read with nay a pre-intent

    Look within its words to find
    Its essence – its nectar potent


Word’s Offering

I, author, write to express my inner thoughts
The thoughts that conjure emotion’s image
Be they emotions dark and foreboding
Or joyful treasures of happiness and love
Regardless, these verbal image reflections of my soul
I offer up freely to those whom fate guides
To find within, an insight of common reflection
That by its course, a transient moment of happiness and tranquility
Is there-in, to be found.


Futile Wish

Each cycle of earthly creation is born to eventually die
Save for the raw elements of earth and sky
Though power of human intellect and wealth strive to try
Immortality of body is a miracle that nature does deny

Ages of humanity stream from origin unknown
Countless seeds of life-creation sown
Artifact to their presence cluttering strata has shown
Fruitless attempts for eternal-life left only for a future to bemoan

Each epoch of humanity through millennial time does persists
To dream of an immortal presence with body to enlist
But with frailty of flesh and bone that decay cannot resist
Should humanity not finally discard the wish: forever to exist?



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