Poetry and Words that may not make Sense

poetry and words form a Wattpad creation

Cold Tea

All of the poems (if they can be called that) that will be posted to this blog are from a Wattpad book in progress with roughly the same title as this blog:

My tea getting cold. I cast a glance upon my watch, while time was passing, from whence we came to where we are going. The clown prince trumped the queen of chaos recently. So where we are going is certainly not the place we have been. Although, some question whether change has occurred this season. In Ivory Towers they blame the Rus’ but Persia has questions too.

Meanwhile, I promised myself to take a break from this cyber life, and do other things…

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The information is under attack

As the Clash sing, “I’m so bored with the USA,” I’m certainly feeling the vibe. Media rant on all things Rus, as they bemoan the lost coronation of the Queen. The information is under attack. The fakest of news is all we will be allowed. Their meritocracy is mediocrity.  We should fear our overlords as too many strange coincidences have had tragic outcomes. The information is under attack. 

Waiting in the garden

Waiting in the Garden inspiration does not come and my emotions destroy me. Am I coming through clear? I just need some help. Hamlet says, “Danemark is a prison.”

To not worship Bob Dylan. To want, and want, and never have. To hope that fate will be kind for once in this life.

I can not destroy demons.

I can not spit fire.

Clever apes drive motor cars.

They look for God.

I can only age.

Ode to a city in northern climes (text version)

Built on a foundation of salt, my northern city was one speck of freedom to those travelling underground railroads. In early years, salt workers sweated and toiled to survive. Harriet Tubman, Moses to her people, lived nearby. Even before this, the mighty Iroquois subdued the land. By car, I travel interstate highways connecting the parkway that sits beside the dirty lake – a reminder not to trust our corporate rulers. The turmoil of the inner-city slips into the ignorance of suburban life, and falls back into rural poverty.

In these northern latitudes, summer days are long while winter days are short. The benefit outweighs the loss, and I wouldn’t give up my city for any tropical paradise.

ode to a city in northern climes

This one is in audio/visual form, as I found sort of a preamble to one of my songs I was working on from long ago, a preamble that I believe was never used for anything in the end.

The Orange Prince now meets the Desert Princes. 180 degrees from his previous 140 character edicts, he welcomes them at the dance. Meanwhile, the country next door suffers because of the “Art of the Deal.” What will become of Ancient Sumer? The State certainly is Deep, and has been since the time of Camelot. Buyer beware, and to be cautious is virtuous now.

Flip, Flop, Fit In

The Orange Prince flips the script now that he is with the in crowd. Making aggression seem like neo-conservatives in dreamland. We are not for flipping. We are not for flopping. (Yet, they do both.) “May I point to the inversion of promises once tweeted, your majesty?” “No,” is the short reply.

Meanwhile, media make nonsense, as the dawn comes in Asia. The Rus are not amused.

Ode to Generation Z

So Few have so much, and so many have so little. Through the generations, it continues thusly. Into the wee hours, they gaze at screens small. Has anything been learned? One hopes it has, and the cycle can be broken.

Meanwhile, Generation Z is coming up from behind, not believing what the others have believed, at least not entirely. We see the danger caused by three letter agencies and unfettered capital run amuck. What are they learning in 8 second intervals that we are not?

Palace Coup

The Palace Coup has begun. The General is removed from battle, as the Orange Prince is in disarray. The liberals have inverted themselves, longing for the good old days of Joe McCarthy. This was the first big mistake of the Prince. This was a battle lost.


“There is no cloud, just somebody else’s computer,” the meme went. And this is why the wizard is watching our every move. Because, it is obvious, we offer and consent – in fact we feed the wizard what he wants. In between, we get an education often discomforting, and certainly overwhelming. Information overload and not enough time in our lives for it.

So, for a day, I bought the snake oil of inter planetary files –  a dangerous action to take. We’ll see how I do. Or, will the wizard send his gendarme to the door? We’ll see how I do now.

Yet cyberspace has let me down, and the great Linus has not entirely come through, as networks go unmanaged, and I sometimes must spin the router to get through. Some codes and wicd answer the problem, but will it persist.

No matter, I fear the gendarme of the wizard now.

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