Technology In The Future And The Human Touch
Written Circa 1980, Original Typed Sheet With Typos
Archive for the ‘POETRY’ Category
A MOMENT GONE
I was lost in a moment of time
thinking about you
eagles fly and dolphins swim
forever in my mind
flowers bloom and lovers cry
promising each other
every piece of sky
.
.
Embraced in nights eternal love
and dreams eternal stars
there you are
whisper away fears
build castles from the broken pieces
hold you tight within my heart
.
.
eagles fly and dolphins swim
flowers bloom and lovers cry
forever in my mind
build castles from the broken pieces
hold you tight within my heart
there you are
dream eternal stars
.
.
you are a summer rain
on a hot sunny day
the moon reflecting on the open water
a cool river rolling through the rocks on a spring day
.
.
i’m coming home, baby
coming home,
coming back to you
back to you
MUTATION NATIONS
Empathy and understanding are rare commodities nowadays. Empathy and compassion have been redefined under the woke banner. They don’t exist. I can empathize with those living in fear. But I cannot condone their self imposed slavery to ignorance.
We crossed the line years ago. Mental health challenged individuals far outnumber healthy mentally stable people. When you live a lie every day and live in an illusive world, mental instability is a given. Television, radio, magazines and popular culture have done that. Oh, and let’s not forget the lies of the many religions.
Add to that the addiction to psychotic drugs, leisure drugs, and chemicals in our air, food and water. We have become a society of genetic mutants. There is no reverse gear. There is no ’fixing it’. This is our future. We are stuck with it. We have stagnated and we are living through a true devolution. Enjoy the ride. You built it.
THE APOCALYPTIC DEATH OF THE MACHINE – A SHORT STORY
We did what we had to do. The machine took over. We had no choice. They came after us. We had to fight back. It was an ugly Civil War. The globalists continued to attempt to take all of our rights away. They used the machine as their strong arm. Everything they did was an attempt to control us. Every move they made was an attempt to steal our money, steal our resources, steal our souls.
We had no choice. We had to fight back to survive. We had to fight back to save our children. We had to fight back to save our lives. We were constantly being watched, monitored, censored. Our lives were being automated, controlled, manipulated. Everything we did was watched. Everywhere we went was monitored. Everything we did was recorded. Our information was a commodity.
The machine had completely taken over our lives. We were no longer in control. We were manipulated by higher powers intent on controlling every facet of our lives. They ruled us. They created our animosity. They created our hatred. They created a rebelliousness and our desire to be free once again.
We hungered for freedom. We thirst for not being monitored, watched, controlled. We were caged like animals. We had no choice. There were no alternatives. We did what we had to do. For our freedom. For our children. For you.
So we declared war on the machine. We fought back and fought back hard. We could no longer turn back around. Our only choice was to move ahead. Finally, once again, break the chains. The chains of enslavement. The enslavement of the machine. The enslavement of the elites controlling the machine. Harvesting the riches. Doing everything they could to keep the slaves in their cages.
We tried to warn them. We begged them to give us back our freedom. We pleaded with them to release us to our liberties. They would not compromise. They would not budge. They only tightened the noose. Made life harder for us. Kept attacking us. Kept taking away all creative opportunity. They turned us into mindless cattle and sheep. We became so enraged, we no longer had a conscience, no longer had a heart.
So we did what we had to do. We fought back. We started by fighting back at the heart of the machine. We attacked the server farms. We began by creating viruses. Viruses that would eat the machines brains like cancer. Just like the cancers they had attacked our brains with. Just like the viruses they had attacked our bodies with. Attacked our minds. Attacked our lives. Attacked our souls. Attempted to kill us.
And then we burned them all down. Across every city. Across every county. Across every State. Across the nation. Across the globe.
Now we are free.
THE WHORE HOUSE
Everyone owns a whore house.
The Russians own a whore house.
The Chinese own a whore house.
My friend Brady said he wanted to save a beautiful young girl
he met on the border
at boys-town.
She did too much coke and puked on his dick.
Once we were back across the border
I told him through his tears at breakfast
I said, Brady, what is your name?
It’s Brady, he replied, his eyes puffed and watering.
I reminded him how such a fine tradition it is.
Your grandfather owned a whore house.
Why would you want to suffer similar miseries in this good life?
Can’t you see all the pain it creates?
I told Brady straight out.
You already own a whorehouse.
He stared at me dope eyed.
Slobbering over his plate like a sultry sick beagle.
I told those two young girls I loved them.
Whispered it to them as we left
so fat Mexican pimp daddies couldn’t hear it.
I was there to protect Brady.
Keeping him safe as he disappeared into back rooms
making sure he made it back to the bar room.
And all the way out the doors
into the comfort of our trusted cab driver.
Ladies would come out to hustle him into the backrooms.
Professionals
I waved each away one at a time.
I sent him off with a sparkling smiling lover
precious enough for even me to fall in love with.
One time he popped out from the back and sat down with his girl at our table.
Do you want some Coke?
No, buddy, thanks
I’m good here with my shot of tequila
and the constant traffic of border working girls
parking on the barstool behind my head
then being signaled back to work
within five minutes by bar daddy.
It’s all I did all night
sit in front of the bar at my little round table.
Like clockwork.
All women to me
would sit on the barstools behind me at the bar
and spread their precious legs
behind my head.
I would whiff
and sip tequila
throughout the night while Brady had his fun.
I had made sure he got the best of the house.
Ten shots later I swaddled back into the cab
to our trusted driver
and off to breakfast
on our side of the border.
Everyone owns a whorehouse.
Those two young girls in boys-town own a whorehouse.
The cab driver owns a whorehouse.
The cleaning ladies own a whorehouse.
My Masseuse owns a whorehouse.
And a damn fine one at that.
Everybody that doesn’t know they own a whorehouse
wants to own a whorehouse.
Because it’s all everyone ever wants.
Love.
Or the image of love in the flesh.
The desolation of buying and selling love.
It’s a miserable life, Brady.
You would want none of it.
Girls get pregnant, hearts get broken.
Dozens of torn dirty sheets
tears are cried on
and the smell of booze, blood, sweaty genitals and death.
The pain of a new wrinkle
means one less customer.
One less trapped rat.
One less dirty wrinkled peso.
Or the dull numbness of love.
Or no love.
You own a whorehouse, too.
As big as the Chinese, or the Russians, or the French.
Or female genital mutilation.
I see Natalie Wood on the dance floor
and I can’t walk away.
———————————————-
February 8, 2018
EVERYONE IS DYING (and I thought it was just me)
People are dying.
Kids are dying from suicides, tired of their mundane existence in front of their gaming screens alone.
People are dying because they are not going in to get their tests or see their doctors about symptoms that may be leading to heart attacks, strokes or cancers not diagnosed early enough that will now certainly kill.
Intestinal ailments, other diseases, other health issues.
Mental health issues.
Parents are dying from lack of resources since they can’t work.
Our society is dying from misinformation, conflicting information, censored information, ignored information, information overload, media fear overload.
Our brains are dying.
Our relationships are dying.
Our ambitions are dying.
Our creativity is dying.
Our artistry is dying.
Our poetry is dying.
This is a poem.
=================
Art by William Blake
AMBIGUOUS INTUITIVE
Four chicken score ramps in the way
of the eunuch
stamps of post-modern obliquity
charming prince, desperate pauper
what function have you ordered?
Misaligned wisdom
seldom sought aspiration
as if a wind were ever
so weary
to take off your charms
and hold tight on the sable
asking if freedom
so fleeting.
Resolute hero
your mask has been
shaken
your armor
no longer so squeaking
when opens the farmer
his hand on his daughter
and mothers run
for the steeple.
==========================
:from Poems 2001
WRAPPING UP TO DIE
you get to a point where you know you are about to die
you’ve killed, maimed, wounded or imprisoned all the villains you possibly can
you’ve put away all the trophies and collectibles
your library has no more room
your body has no more athleticism
your mind has no more expansion
your hand can no longer write or type the critical life saving enlightenment
you have no more anything
you’ve given away or discarded everything you had left
your bountiful wardrobe closet is now empty
your many hats have been gifted
your jewels have been distributed to your heirs
you have nothing
no muscle car, no monster truck, no eco go cart
no bike or bicycle or boat
no mansion, no party beach house, no lake house with a boat shed
everything is gone
it is you, and you alone
you are free
independent
you are not lonely because you never were
you had love
you still do
time for the final scenes
the final curtain call
the final edits
It is time to roll the credits
you were a big star
you still are
now you are wrapping up to die.
fjl 10 1 19
A PRAYER IN TIME OF WAR
A pagan killed a Jew
A pagan killed a Christian
A Jew killed a Christian
A Christian killed a Jew
A Muslim killed a Christian
A Jew killed a Muslim
A Muslim killed a Jew
A Christian killed a Muslim.
They all bowed to pray
to the same ignorant God
with deaf ears
and a passion for killing.
Dear God forgive them.
===============================
circa October 2001
COSMIC SONG
There’s always music playing in the air everywhere
Everything you hear
Listen closely
Music in the air
Sometimes it’s the snare and drone of the machine
Sometimes it’s the song of the wind
Or of the air
Or of a machine somewhere
Music always in the air
You have to stop and hear
Music in the air
Music everywhere
No matter where you are
You can hear it
Because music is in the air
Everywhere
Listen
CONVERSATION WITH GOD
God said love
then he said
do it again.
Man said when?
God said,
see,
I did it again.
Man said where?
God said where not.
Man said why?
God said look at the sky
look at the Earth.
all you see around is birth.
Look in between,
God said,
all you are is why.
Man said when?
God said,
again and again.
Man said where?
God said in the desert there,
and there.
Man said who?
God said,
everything inside you.
Man said how?
God said,
everything around you.
God said,
everyone around you.
God said love.
You have my Word.
THE CIRCUS . . . . . . . . . AND THE ZOO 