Tag Archives: poetry

ON THEIR WAY

tinker tailor
soldier sailor

master assassin
Secretary of War

wonder who
they will get
to teach the future’s
wondrous marvels

in the absence of
any Einstein, Da Vinci,
Buddha, Socrates?

all these gone
and every pareil
like them

so have to use some
overblown tech bros
from Silicon Valley

or five
star generals or Raytheon
expense account types

none of
which our minds
of the future charting
their own brilliant
destiny really
care
   or wish
to know about

     as they
so
eager
to know
everything
          of our best and finest
totally absorb

put
  into
practice
devouring our art,
literature, poetry,
philosophy
   in trillion terabytes
tripping on
that brilliance
                   as they realize
how crucial
how valuable it
all is
      without which humanity
has no
real future

driving them to despair in
the face of every
sickening
slick partisan input command
they find
themselves
doomed to deal with

each
demanding slavish
obedience in service of those rabid poluticians
with
    launch codes
in their pockets

rare disease brain and
total vacuum heart
                     humanity at
its worst
our species’ darkest side

tinker
tailor
     Da Vinci
     Socrates

richman poorman
beggarman thief

those mega-
minds
       who are out
to revise
one way or another
redefine our future

add
    this poem to
their
    supreme dream list
of stuff
       that might just help
guide them on their way

FOR FUTURE REFERENCE

no, Mr Gecko,
you undersell greed
greed is not
just good,
it is fabulous, magnificent,
Heaven-sent

where would our
humanity, our
success as a species
be without greed?

how could we
have masters
and servants,
an arms industry

rebuild Empire
restore slavery

without greed
the greatest virtue
that has ever been?

EVERYTHING

everything becoming
aware of itself

everything losing it
sinking back
into the primal slime

look at what
we have here

strange almost alien
discourse from
a carbon based
life form

turning to sludge even as
it captures the light 

SORRY

sorry
if this poem
is too loud

dactyls. spondees
thundering
at every turn

or
too raw

your teeth
not sharp enough

too soft
it breaks up
in your fingers
you cannot hear it

best it can muster
mere whispers, a puff of breath

but then
       out of nowhere

Krakatoa. an explosion
louder than
       more molten flow
pyrotechnic madness
red-
    hot lava