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I thought I would begin a thread to post poems that speak to our experience of a transformative time.
I wrote this today.
Dead Men Walking
CRACK went the whip of corporate expectation.
FLAIL went the arms and legs of the severed servants.
PSSEW went the balloon of numbers and cents when the air was sucked out.
EXHALE was the non-granted wish of the multitude riveted by the non-stop rigamortis of the quo that once was.
PRAYER could be heard in the silent whispers of those who were betrayed by the better angels of their natures.
ANGST in the seams of gratitude for a life once lived though skated and hung by a thread.
GRUNTS of steel doubling over the skill hoarder who thought he was immune to irrelevancy.
TEARS backed up into wells of the soul that can only be expressed one drop at a time.
I wrote this today.
Dead Men Walking
CRACK went the whip of corporate expectation.
FLAIL went the arms and legs of the severed servants.
PSSEW went the balloon of numbers and cents when the air was sucked out.
EXHALE was the non-granted wish of the multitude riveted by the non-stop rigamortis of the quo that once was.
PRAYER could be heard in the silent whispers of those who were betrayed by the better angels of their natures.
ANGST in the seams of gratitude for a life once lived though skated and hung by a thread.
GRUNTS of steel doubling over the skill hoarder who thought he was immune to irrelevancy.
TEARS backed up into wells of the soul that can only be expressed one drop at a time.
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Re: Poetry of the Shift
Thu, October 29, 2009 - 5:52 PMThe ivy strangles the healthy tree
a parasitical embrace
The world as well has always seen
a similar disgrace
Many leaves fall much too soon
with Fall nowhere in sight
many humans sadly do too
their loved ones left behind
The mighty tree can't shed these chains
No symbiosis here
Will freedom ever reign again?
The future's not quite clear
But at last one blessed day
the tree falls down as well
Providing food and making way
for the sun to shine where parasites fell
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Re: Poetry of the Shift
Thu, October 29, 2009 - 7:23 PMShift of the Ages
The evidence is clear for a mind conditioned to Sub-stance.
Youth is wasted on the young unless goods are bought and sold.
The rising stars climb on the backs of the forgotten.
While smiles try out unwired bracing struck from the newly minted.
Carry-on, stiff upper lip, hair crispy, skin glittering, eyes sparkling like a killer eying its prey.
Wait till it’s you who are in the sights of the next wave,
Feeling protected, immortal, golden and entitled.
While the cringe sneaks up on you without regard,
To property rights, licenses to injure or dues paid.
All is fair when ages conspire to the mutual reception.
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Re: Poetry of the Shift
Thu, October 29, 2009 - 9:49 PMBull Market
Maniacs of Klepto working the Street like they always have
Guns to the Captains’ heads to keep profits alive – ignoring costs
Charming their anorexics into summer home distraction
Sucking up the latest gossip designed to one-up and knock down
Fortunes schemed with shorts and sails
Living for the day when the paper tigers roar again
Diamond Dogs howl as predicted from the top of Chase Manhattan
While the feeding trough is stuffed with oats and corn.
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Re: Poetry of the Shift
Fri, October 30, 2009 - 12:53 PMSwing
Poe’s cleaver swings into the night twisting the swirling masochists as they self-absorb the AcollapsO
Sizzling brain-dead monkeys of industry churn churn churn through their revolving musical chairs existence
Summing up greatness within the burnout
Of hopefulness and optimism that the worst is behind and a simple throne awaits
Only to be reminded that loss is the new normal, letting go, the new aspiration
Surrender. Enlighten. Commune. Awaken. Unite. Shine. Heal. Breathe
Villainize. Compromise. Sermonize. Premonize. Paralyze
Doing the new hokey pokey. -
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Re: Poetry of the Shift
Fri, October 30, 2009 - 10:22 PM“The business world is difficult.”
Could you deal with over a hundred phone calls a day, sit n listen to garage on a conference call, type out orders with cruddy softwar and fight two systems that couldn’t tale to each other and orders disappearing bearing of a phantom thing.”
Les is less than Garry Moore any day
lack of a question mark suggests more rhetoric
my lack of idiocy probably prevents me from dealing anything.
“No, I bet not.”
I bet nothing at all that you love eating shit and dishing shit and rolling in shit and making shit.
Shit.
So I guess that means that you owe me nothing at all or you nothing from me at all.
No shit, no mind control from or to.
Works, for me.
“The business world is difficult.”
Hard to swallow I say, even more difficult to endure the stench of the shit that flies around those environs.
Business is easy for those bastards that are so good at lying, cheating, giving shit, taking shit, and lame ass attempts at control. To, from and around ...deadmeat hung out to dry, wasted space that lives to die so that nothing is real but that game of hunger and carp crap carp pap crcrcr...crappy.
“You would not belive that mind control that happens in it”.
I don't believe the line of shit you’re rolling down the toilet seat of your mistaken identity of a crap artist. see PK Dick
"confessions of a crap artist"
books.google.com/books
if I had any sympathy for the assholes that willingly accept the control of their minds to the pathetic degradation of busy-mess
it ran out a long time ago, right after I sold cookies door to door.
If you must then you must if you can't then you can't
yet whatever you do we hope for your sake you have done it well
any job worth doing is worth doing well
in that sense my hats off to you
well done
but really if one must resort to mind control gibberish one is doomed a thousand deaths by annihilation, scorn and a severe case of I'm so lonely I could die no one will talk to me for the fear one of us must be forced to control the other due to lack of impulse control what else could persuade one to do so, oh that is how it is taught to you.
fucking teachers
can't do for themselves so they must have slaves to their master
asswipes.
rant done
thanks for your support send cash/cod.
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Re: Poetry of the Shift
Sat, October 31, 2009 - 8:26 AMRevolution
What’s worse than not being let into the temples of Fortune’s privileged?
Given entry – for a time so the taste becomes accustomed till it’s snagged away
When your enemy crosses you off the org chart
Like an algebraic equation designed to reduce egos to eggshells and all its humpty dumpty
Haunting dreams with 15 minutes given for redemption but the appointment time unknown
Déjà vuing the be-longing of what once was in the pristine lobbies on the wrong day, locked behind the revolving door
Halloween is everyday with badges donned like masks until tricks push out the treats.
Such are the comings and goings of the Babylon tourists.
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Re: Poetry of the Shift
Sat, October 31, 2009 - 9:12 AM<<Such are the comings and goings of the Babylon tourists. >>
we all are tourist in Babylon
at some time or another
but blessed are them that can see
the illusions that vanity and gold offers
as mere childhood toys that time will erode
and have started to put their gaze
towards the inner treasure
the one that can not be stolen
the one that will not rotten with time
the overstanding of what we truly are
in this cosmic game of fortune and pains
love and amazing wonders
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Re: Poetry of the Shift
Sun, November 1, 2009 - 6:45 AMwritten in these pages by Kerri and glen
Memory not lost has a special place,
that even a picture can not replace,
or last as long.
Love that memory embedded
with love we find in these margins
that cancels all despair.
To give us a way out.
To know not all is hopeless,
when footsteps follow
that necklace we wear
to show they are still with us.
I love that little tag as short as this
that we share to remember names.
To know them, they are with us still.
Made me think of life so short
as short as this........w/u
with you at the end.
and then we die...but oh the joy. -
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Re: Poetry of the Shift
Sun, November 1, 2009 - 7:02 AMimages.tribe.net/tribe/upl...fd0b2c504c
One Line Poem: I'll call it a So
or how some poems get written...
When I hear a funny, it's not like I picked the laugh out of the air and threw it back. ~ glen
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When I witness tears it is not like I collected raindrops then poured them out again.~ Maryse
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I love to laugh but have no idea why I laugh at the things I do:) ~ Jean
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laughter comes faster than thought, tears as sudden as a cloudburst. ~ glen
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When I see a rock I wonder how long ago it was a mountain. ~ Bongler
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When you make me laugh, I am so lucky to have caught some. ~ Dee
replies all together now:
........I Call It So
When I hear a funny, it's not like I picked the laugh out of the air and threw it back.
When I witness tears it is not like I collected raindrops then poured them out again.
When I see a rock I wonder how long ago it was a mountain.
When you make me laugh I feel so lucky to have caught some.
I love to laugh but have no idea why I laugh at the things I do:)
Laughter comes faster than thought, tears as sudden as a cloudburst.
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Re: Poetry of the Shift
Fri, November 6, 2009 - 1:30 PMThe prep complies with hidden agendas
Prompting fortunes to be redefined
Continuous exportation of platitudes
From the discarnated beings littered in the astral
Planes are what happens when making other lives
Withering voices speaking hopefulness
Drowned out by the haunting of future desperation
Not in the now, not in the present, not in the realm of probability
But embedded in the mind seeking to forget what it has not yet experienced
Even though it seems all too real.
