Pontiac Silver Dumb, By Brian37

Hitchens, and rightfully so

Blasphemed the concept

Of humanity avoiding

The birth canal in it's myths

Taken so seriously

In modern day

The excuse "decorum"

Used to silence dissent

On the house floor

Of the state

With pretty lakes

And trees the right height

Has taken the state

Once powerful

In music

And motor cars

And reduced it

To epic tribalism

To rival the likes

Of the Taliban

If these idiots

Went to a urologist

How would their doctor

Talk to them?

Mr Phallus

Your thingy

Your noodle

Your wee wee

Mrs Taco

Your love tunnel

Your salmon

Your wee wee

It would be laughable

If it were a conversation

In a middle school

Or grade school

But it has become criminal

To ban a lawmaker

Using a real word

To silence dissent

These assholes

Wouldn't care what word

Would offend them

It is the act of dissent they oppressed

If there is any hope

For that state

And for humanity

The only cure can be ridicule and blasphemy

Those who inhabit

Lancing or Detroit

From Mackinaw Island

And surrounding lakes

Is this how you want

To be viewed by the world

To be so childish

To avoid vagina?

We know the real reason

It is not the word

The bully right wing

Is threatened by truth

It's book blames women

From day one

Treats them like property

To be mere factories

When those with vaginas

Refuse to submit

To archaic sexism

The right gets upset

Capture The Flag, By Brian37

I live here too

Does that

Mean anything

To you?

Or do you just care

About brownie points

Killing

For the "parties of god"

7 billion of us

No where to go

And you still

Insist on childish sandlot games

I live here too

And I am tired

Of your ancient superstition

Mixed with modern weapons

Do you really care

Or is it all about him

Your invisible friend

And a glorious blood bath at our expense?

I live here too

No more no more

"My daddy will beat you up"

Capture the flag

Your mental crutch

You base politics on

No matter the name

Can get us all killed

I live here too

So if you really do care

KNOCK IT OFF

No more capture the flag

The Same Cloth, By Brian37

The words

You read now

Are a response

To words from the same cloth

At the age of 6

Our mother

Gave me up

Torn from my siblings

I was alone

On my street

No one to call friend

No one liked me

And just now

After reading her prose

I always suspected

I was not alone

Nothing I did

Ever seemed right

Timid I was

To put up a fight

Not teacher or parent

Or the kids around

Ever gave credit

To anything I did

But older and wiser

I am so now

I know not alone

And never was really

It was not until

I met my family

That I understood

Who I was

My sister believes

And I do not

But I am glad to know

Two poets exist

From the same mother

With the same sensitivity

What she attributes to god

I attribute to genes

But such A smile

I now so have

To know for sure

I was never alone

So to my sister

Thank you so much

You did do right

Which is making me cry

Not out of sorrow

But out of joy

Of knowing we

Went through similar things

That you can do right

It often confirms

That we are more alike

Than different

When I read that poem

Dear sis

I thought of the pain

I myself went through

Cathartic and sweet

So kind are you

You did do right

And I thank you

I am proud

Of what you wrote

I am proud

Of calling you sis

Dont ever think

You are ever bad

Whatever differences

Others may have

Carolynn you are

And will always be

A reminder to me

The same cloth we share.

(end)

HOLY SHIT OUT OF ALL THE THINGS I have read in my life as as far as poetry one my sister wrote really hit close to home. We never grew up together, but after reading this knowing the pain of bullying and never seeming to fit in and always feeling like I don't belong, even sometimes today, I still get those horrible feelings. So when my sister wrote about her own pain I saw myself and it is literally making cry right now.

I am so proud of her. We are more alike than any differences we have. The poem I just wrote was for her and to you sis, you really may have no idea how much that poem helped me just now.

And as an aside to any theist reading this. stay posted, I have asked her permission to post hers. I am hoping she will grant me that permission.

And another aside to both atheists and theists. This should bury any bullshit about hate of theists. My sister believes and I do not. But we are both sensitive and to my joy she is a poet too. Thanks sis, you really helped me out emotionally. Therapy in poetry never gets old, but it sure is special when it is within family.

I love you Carolynn. ALWAYS.

Marx and Rand Sitting In a Tree, By Brian37

The bastard love child

Of utopia sex

One word solutions

Projected on a complex society

Is as dogmatic

As any religion

And as destructive

As "In group vs out group"

If we are individuals

And diversity is obvious

Then why the limit

To economic either/or

Ultimately it takes all of us

And as the saying goes

No society is stronger

Than the weakest chain link

Time shifts power

And this is is the time

From religion to class

All should ponder

What would we want

As individuals

If, and eventually do

Lose power?

Witless Men, By Brian37

They are the sure

The oracles and kings

The risk takers

Who make their bounty

Only in later years

If lucky to grow wise

Understand the hubris

And downfall of Oedipus

The ones who take power

Assuming it will remain static

And the comfort of social norms

Will keep them in place

The ultimate hubris

That to be on top

Falsely means

You always will

The only moral rule

Is when a power

Knows and accepts

That times do change

Humility in power

Is understanding

How to treat others

When we are not the power

Prose Tempest, By Brian37

Condemned by society

Long before

The assassination

Of Harvey Milk

The bohemian

Traveled uncaring rivers

Taking note

Of Parisian Orgies

Unknown unfortunately

To those outside prose community

Was one to suffer

Human indignity

The imprisoned artist

For his sexuality

The the pioneer

I could never be

The tempest is

The one who dares

The Tsunami of thought

Capsizing boats

It crushes the ignorant

Who childishly resist

That of change

He did outlast

Rimbaud's ulcer

Not of his own hand

The victim of society

The true tempest

The truly brave

Not in need of brawn

Need only paper

And that of pen

The gasslight's frenzy

I borrow his words

The poet a pauper

Enduring through time

This is the kindred

Of the tempest

The ones who shout

And bleed their lungs

The brush on the canvas

Writes of the range

From Emily's skepticism

To the depression of Plath

Spare not their canvas

Of any ink

Images of darkness

Or that of doubt

Turmoil their currency

Reviling complacency

Exposing their depths

They must be tempests

They look in corners

Others dare not

Their fearless mirror

Of translating passions

Conversations

Of the mundane

Frighten the tempest

It is too safe for them

Ordinary lives

Painfully abundant

Few among us

Do rise above

Stir tempest stir

Until the scab peals off

Revealing our

Our crippling stagnation

Sow us your photographs

Of sonnets love

Sow us your photographs

Of your darkest thoughts

Breach me with abandon

Pull out my pain

So I can feel

The full range

So that I know

I love my mother

Upon occasion ill

I shout even louder

NO NO NO

YOU BASTARD REALITY

DON'T THINK OF TAKING HER

YOU CANNOT HAVE HER!

Not from stroke

Or old age

My ultimate nightmare

Of losing her

Let me feel

Also the joy

Of my daily phone call

That mother's ok

Shallow are most

Who mutter and stumble

Accepting norms

Without thinking

Paintings are blood

The tempest creates

Knowing that life

Is hardly mundane

I could not live

In such self pity

Of a majority path

Of merely two dimensions

When the teens

Talk of makeup

Our when adults

Pine over reality shows

I weep for them

For they wade

In the polluted waters

Of the ordinary

SHOUT TEMPEST SHOUT

Slit your emotions

Like those mentioned

Above

Look at the shadows

And sunsets made

When the tempest

Puts words to page

It is to me

The only true way

To value the one life

All should treasure

(end)

A couple of things inspired this one for me. One was last night talking to Bob about a college professor I had long ago that hated mundane conversations like "that was a great movie" or "l like chicken but not string beans". And both Bob and I agreed that we would rather face life as it is, will all it's suffering, than to live a shallow life in some hopes of utopia.

The other thing I hate about poets, much like the fear mongering "Fox Magic Secrets Revealed" is that honest illusionists don't give a fuck if you know their secrets, and the honest fans don't have less of an appreciation for it if they know the trick.

So that is why when people read my stuff I don't mind putting it bluntly what I mean, even if they see something else in it.

The "tempest" is the artist, the poet, the one who stirs the pot and does not stagnate in ignorance and looks at the dark side of the world around them, and their own fears. My own in this poem, is my biggest fear of losing my mother. I have not said anything new in human history, no one really can. But when we accept both the good and the bad without fear, we can value more what we have in the one finite life we know we have. The tempest it the person who merely throughout history, the one who reminds us as the saying goes "The unexamined life is not worth living".

I simply feel sorry for most who are limited to cable and TV and rarely find joy or recognize pain outside their own local lives. The artist is the breath of the world, it reminds us that in everything we go through as a species ultimately is all the same, no matter if a painting, or photograph, or a poem. The tempest is the mirror we look in, and most of the time and far too often, don't care to know we have all these wonderful mirrors around us.

Drunken Zen Banter, By Iwbiek, edited By Brian37,

Ha Ha!, Oh you poor devil

How can nothing

Burn in a fire

Made of nothing?

What will die

To send what

To the fire

You describe?

The only fire

Is you our own ego!

Feeding itself the fuel

That consumes itself

It could burn

The heavens

Of it's own

Makings

If you are lucky

All the devas

Of Trayastrimsha

Will piss on it to put it out!

Then the path

To yourself will be

Just through a bit of sump

"Respectful" sump

You're caught

You god's-damned baboon!

CAUGHT!

But you can

Leave

When you like

Look out your window.

(end}

Thanks to Iwbiek's following post, I had the inspiration to take his post and turn it into HIS POEM in response to our resident zoo animal Jean Chalvin. Here is Iwbiek's post I turned into his poem.

Thursday Night Cards, By Brian37

Since 2005

And before

I moved here

After my mothers stroke

That time of life

To keep entertained

Keeps the old ladies

Sharp of mind

So every Thursday

At 6:30 pm

At the clubhouse

Of the retirement village

My mom and her friends

Play card games I don't know

Or if short on a player

Dominos

But mortality

This the second year

Has taken  another friend

We both hold deer

Damned old age

Took her friend Joan

Then her best friend

Judy, from when I was young

Then Pauline

After Joan

And I always wonder

The affect on my mother

This certain player

Would lend me her home

So the clubhouse TV

Wouldn't compete with the game

She'd always leave me

Something to eat

From potato chips

Or something sweet

And my jokes

As bad as they are

Would put smile

On her face

It never gets easy

To see death happen

But the more it does

Numbness a distraction

I found out

An hour ago

But could not cry

Though I wanted to

It seems that such

The more it happens

Emotions are spent

And may not happen

My mother was stoic

Giving me the news

I asked

How she was doing

And I could tell

In her face

After all her friends

In the past

I knew what

I don't want to face

Not a damned thing you can do

To avoid it

As strong as mom is

She smiled and comforted me

Knowing I was worried

About how this would affect her

But she is right

About that time of life

And that it happens

To all of us.

I will miss her friend

And hugging her

And that stupid garage door

That never worked right

But my moms friend

I could tell

From the family pictures

In her house

That she was loved

And she did well

And my mom is lucky

To have known her

So a gap

Has been created

Thursdays from now on

Wont be the same.

(end)

This poem is about one of my moms card buddies who died yesterday. It is the second in two years out of that group who has died. The names you read are not part of that club, but about all the people my mom knows her age who haved died over the past 7 years.

I always wonder how the death of her friends will affect her. But both she and I have been through it so much, as much as you don't want to turn your emotions off, it seems you have to or go crazy. My mom today when she told me, did so with a smile on her face talking about the good of her friend and that she had a long life, and she was doing it to comfort me.

My mom moved out of that retirement village because of mobility problems, but every Thursday I drive her back there. Her friend would let me watch TV in her house rather than have the clubhouse tv compete with the card game.

Silent Moon, By Brian37

It smiles at us

In pock marked face

Raccoon mask

On bone white

Countless rotations

Prior to our frustrations

Or even

Our existence

Spawn of a collision

It was born

And in quarter

And half and full

Looks down on us

So powerful

Tugging at the seas

And bending our planet

We think of our struggles

As so important

Yet the silent moon

Was before us

If it could say

It could only laugh

At what we think

Is so important

  Words fail .. mind blown

I don't consider this my best. It really only reflects our random dream state that can produce really weird shit. How do you light a marble floor on fire? It was a dream produced by my relationship with her combined with my fear of a future relationship being as abusive as she was, it produced a nightmare.

But I really am interested if you think it was good, or if when you say "words fail, mind blown" you are being sarcastic?

You came back here and started a slew of posts right after I exposed you on the other website. Sour grapes?

The Appeal Of The Subordinate Trope, By Brian37

The upstart defeats

The alpha male

It's supporters

All do hail

Long before

That Jewish Carpenter

Plato sold

The same motif

Socrates

Was the questioner

Daring to defy

The authority of teachers, oracles and senators

We also value this trope

In sports

When the underdog

Beats the top seed

That is the appeal

To this myth

Of a carpenter

Changing the world

Oh yes,

The world was changed

It simply replaced

One myth with another

Only successful

Not because of any truth

But appeal to emotion

The appeal of the upstart

But this fight

Is evolutionary

Not one of magic

Or deities

It is why

The young hippo

Or young buck

Challenges the top male

Because life

Seeks resources

And the higher up the chain

The more opportunity

Plus the sense of compassion

Those same animals

Bullied by the alpha male

Can and do get tired of it

But that is all there is

This is the real reality

This is the real reason

We love our tropes

And what came after

That successful trope

Of the Jewish carpenter

It became the alpha male

And spent 2,000 years

Since

Becoming the bully

Becoming the hypocrite

This trope must die

And we as a species

Must understand

And accept mundane reality

If we want

The cycle of abuse

To stop

If we want more peace in an imperfect world.

The chain will exist

It will always be

But it must be

Viewed without the goggles of myth

In that way

We can understand

How to rule

When we have power

To rule with compassion

Without superstition

To know that power

Always shifts

There will be

Another "upstart"

Who changes views

On social norms

So to all in power

No matter the label

No matter the boarder

Always remember

Your life is finite

And power is fleeting

The trope of an upstart

Will have no morals

If what it does

When it gains power

Is to the least

Does the same thing

Aurora High Tec, By Brian37

A clock tower

In Texas

A McDonald's

In San Ysidro

A Cafeteria

In Wako

A public school

In Jonesboro

Death in Blacksburg

And this watchman deserves praise

Not to mention

War and disease?

The earthquakes

Tsunamis

And gang violence

Adulation this vile claim still garners?

A mile high

Is this lie

That we are protected

From reality

That if only we

Pray to the Sun

Or to Allah

Thy will be done

Yet death

In all it's forms

In glorious battle

To getting hit by a car

To slipping in a tub

Or falling out of a tree

A cop making a traffic stop

Or blood clot in the brain

Still happen every day

And our imaginations

Still ignore

Macbeth's activity

(end)

The title is a combo of mass shootings. Aurora Co, and Colombine High School and Virgina Tec

  TWD39 .. This is bull crap!

Thanks daddy, if it were not for you, I would continue thinking everyone cares. Thanks for setting me straight. You have crushed my dreams, now I am going to go pop myself. BOO HOO, woe is me.

Do you really think you are the first to criticize me? And do you also think that I fancy myself as some sort of Poe? I think if anyone needs a grip you do.

I have been writing for 22 years, and belonged to a poetry group and read my stuff live in front of them. And as with all art, it doesn't have to work for everyone, but all it has to do is work. Now, you don't like my stuff, fine, don't care, that is to be expected.

But if you think I am going to stop writing because you think my stuff is crap, you are giving me a good laugh. Some of it is damned  good, which I will not back off of, and  some of it well, I simply post it because it is part of my history. I never claimed to be Shakespeare. I am me, if you don't like it, you are entitled to your opinion. But you are fool if you think this post will stop me from writing more.

Deep Meaning, By Brian37

Can there be

With lofty words

And Oxford syllables

"Deep meaning"

Are those born

With advantage

Capable of avoiding

The birth canal?

A twilight

The final dusk

Is so deep

We cannot understand it?

Pain is only deep

If of privilege

And lexicon

Thus have obtained?

"Deep" is an illusion

In a universe

And evolution

In which we pale

Nothing is "deep"

It is life

The same biology

All are subject to

HMS, Bellipotent, By Brian37

Billy

No one had the right

Not the Captain

Or Claggart

To railroad you

The law is the law

Veritas be damned

Your crew knew it

They knew your kindness

And the jealous powers

Above

 That abused you

And in the quarters

You could take no more

Of the Captain

Chastising your speech impediment

So you responded

Like most would

ENOUGH ENOUGH

And you struck him

And put to death

As per law

The crew mourned you

Upon your last breath

(end)

This poem is about a book I read in college by Herman Mellville "Billy Bud".

Little White Boxes, By Brian37

I walked through the door

And was hit immediately

By the smell

Of pungent spices

The wafting aroma

Pierced my nose

While I pondered

The dish to purchase

Normally I'd select

The pork combo

And a side

Of steamed dumplings

But the man

Behind the counter

Called himself Mike

Poisons our Pluribus

Little white boxes

Small minded white boxes

With the red letters

Soured the atmosphere

These little white boxes

Conservative white boxes

Hold no egg rolls

Nor come with chop sticks

Chicken their specialty

Bland in flavor

Selling the stench

Of bigotry

These little white boxes

Small minded white boxes

Do not serve

This country's diversity

It clings to the past

With an icon

A word aptly describing

The coward bully

We've seen 

This franchise before

From this

Biblical based business model

When the tiny white box

Small minded white box

Did the same

To blacks and women

No little white box

No small minded white box

Can change the tides

Of history

I will shop

At JC Penny

I will support

Those like Ellen

There will be one day

For the likes of you

A sign on the door

"Out of business"

So if you wish to survive

Get with the times

And don't be cowards

Hiding behind your god

Little white boxes

Small minded white boxes

Is all

You will ever be

(end)

"Little White Boxes" OF course refers to Chick Fil A buildings. But the opening stanza is my realization of living in a pluralistic society while still having that wonderful diversity cut by the "stench of bigotry". Just like we as individuals can eat Cheese food one day, and then pizza the next or a burger, we value pluralism, or at least more and more people do.

It sickens me today that this kind of crap still exists. I know it will never completely go away because our species will always look for an enemy that really isn't there.

But I see absolutely no long term win for Chick Fil A and all the other right wing bigoted bullshit pulled in this country. When you look at the movements of others, it was always the Christian right holding back progress, and it is always the secular believer and atheist that has to constantly pull these jackasses into the future.

The good thing about the west, is that while it still has it's phobic baggage of other minorities, our openness allows those being discriminated against to fight back, and long term, that has lead to progress. I see this current right wing movement being nothing but a losing battle for them long term.

Having grown up homophobic myself, only because that was what I was indoctrinated with, I know that despite what my parents sold me, and what my society sold me at the time, I got over it. And their will be a day when Chick Fil A will have to change their attitude, or die out like other bigoted organizations have. Either way they will not win, and I would advise the owners of Chic Fil A that chasing a buck and selling corporate bigotry will not win long term.

There are more powerful people than you, such as Oprah and Ellen and far more Christians and non Christians who will fight back and you will lose.

 Re :: Conscientious Objector maybe, 'hate' an excuse . . .

   Nitney Diddling has some allusions not lost on some of us of late, I think this word 'hate' is thrown about as an ultimate excuse in some quarters, words take on new meanings.  'Conscientious Objector' in this context sort of, but as a theme would be more fitting won't you consider; find it slogan worthy, I dont know ? Getting away from the 'hate' allegations suffered at the very least.    

  ¬ Dana

Grid Iron, By Brian 37

From flying V

To first round picks

Heisman trophy

And Lombardy

Never prouder

Than today

Of two brave men

Who made a play

Not a tackle

Or a sack

Not a touchdown

Or playoff game

With a blitz

They rushed the biggots

With the truth

Of equality

Thank you Brandon

And Kluwe

For standing tall

Off the feild

You represent

The best in humanity

Something all

Should aspire to be

We are all Ravens

And Vikings too

A better world

Because of you

(end)

I know it sound sappy and cliche, but I could not be more proud of them and my country right now. In the history of our nation it always takes too long for equality to grow, and the bravery these two showed is far greater than any play they could make on the field.

I think all of us here should find their facebook or twitter pages and thank them, although I am sure they have been flooded.

AS AN ASIDE, Former Giant Tiki Barber was on

Patent Office, By Brian37

The endless claims

Of invisible memes

Throughout

Our history

From polytheism

To monotheism

To new age

Conspiracy

To all of these

My challenge the same

Take it to

The patent office

Take it to

The patent office

Or win

A nobel prize

Most certainly

And uniquivically

If you do

There would be no doubt

To hold my breath

I'd speculate

To wait for such

Would be futile

Make your attempt

By all means

I do enjoy

Watching hamsters on wheels

Take it to 

The patent office

Then, and only then

Would you have room to talk

I'll  make an appointment

When you do

A week from never

I'll mark on my calender

Oh my arrogance

You so shout

But what have you invented

Other than myth?

Trains and planes

And automobiles

Medicine and computers

All can use

They need no gods

Nor to them we pray

They are real tools

Science has made

Take it to

The patent office

You're sure to have

The same luck as those prior 

http://reviews.cnet.com/8301-18438_7-20010547-82/how-to-self-publish-an-ebook/

Ridiculous amount of info there, though it isn't overbearing.

Dumbwaiter, By Brian37

A top a hill

In Charlottesville

Sits a mansion

Equipt with dumbwaiter

Virginia's Olympus

Hid dirty secrets

Tunnels built under

Hid horrors of history

How could

Such vibrant a mind

Make property

Of fellow humans

Appearances

Were to be kept

Though he did so

Finding them utterly vile

"all men"

Meant "all men"

Ahead of

The climate of the time

Unfortunate for those

Shackled under him

His compassionate prose

Did not extend

Yet of forthought

He opened the door

He knew

It could not last

He did not live

By his own edicts

Conflicted by

His own hypocrisy

Yet "all men"

Put in print

Eventually did

What he could not.

(end)

I was reading a Smithsonian magizine(paper copy, not mine) artical about Jefferson's slave ownership. My understanding of it is that he was more of a public coward when it came to that iissue and paid lip service to the socal norms and owned slaves to keep up appearances According to the article Jefferson doubted in a dissagreement with Washington, that slavery would ever end. But there was notable self introspection in his life and he knew it was wrong.

Abolition of slavery was a topic of the time but unfortunately there was not enough of majority of citizenry for the founders to make it happen politically. But "all men" and the Constitution itself was a door I have no doubt, even the conflicted and hypocrits like Jefferson, had to know that it was a door, if used could eventually end it.

I have also no doubt that if alive today he would be thrilled that slavery had ended and would have felt ashamed to even have partaken in it.

I can see him as a hypocrite, because as Hitchens tells of his youth, Jefferson hated the claims that class and status ment something. Jefferson felt the individual and not class was important. But yet he ended up himself in a mansion and owned slaves even though he knew it was wrong, but seemed to only do it for expediancy and immage.

It says to me that humans are never all good or all bad. For his time the mere internal conflict was ahead of his time, even if he could not go all the way on the issue and do what Washington did in freeing his slaves.

If I remember correctly Jefferson only freed Sally Hemmings and his kids.

Monumental Ignorance, By Brian37

I painted animals

On cave walls

Thinking falsely

They were like me

I made sacrifices

To angry moutians

Thinking

They were alive

I made statues

Of Baal

Thinking

He was real

I made monuments

To Isis and Osirus

Who magically

Gave birth to Horus

I made monuments

To Apollo and Venus

All in vein

To be discarded

Yet still today

I build monuments

To my fantasies

When all others have failed