Showing posts with label ethics. Show all posts
Showing posts with label ethics. Show all posts

Wednesday, November 2, 2011

Verdict A-Pox-Be


Steel charisma broken free
Congregate amongst
A gaggling of sums

If hope concludes prior to verdict,
Does eternity rest entirely?

Upon such darkened days,
 A judge, man, pretender, garbed in silk—
 Unveils judgments, predicated by mortal law,
As spoken by a chorus of peers

Crowds, the stimulus deprived, crash-watchers
Merge with the anti, all in the name of show
Beneath the guise of justice,
Saunter stands in arrival formation,
Gathering amongst their sects,

There, at such time,
Outside the courthouse—
Beneath its steps,
Chants spew forth—
And the names of the devoutly fallen,
Echo, well prior to any announcement
or final rendering, promoting the semblance
of relation, where deities easily strike a similarity of fear through
Transformation as evinced from bolts flung from clouded cover

In such episodes of regression,
Fate appears predetermined,
Perhaps a cyclicality of prophecy
Shall flood the mental indices

So easily man casts man
Under condemnable outlines
Skirts of what once Is

The color of blood stirring under flesh
Means nothing
The accuracy of ruling is secondary
To the corralling of public sentiment
For the face of the betrayed
Shall eventually watch his last hours dwindle past
Shall eventually see that last mile strolled
Until the color of blood stirring under flesh
Mingles with serum made by flesh
Thus ending any visual reminder
Of the judgments we once crawled begging for

Justice and her scales
May as well reconstruct the garden labyrinth
I’d assume the beast found there
Will lend much more just an ear




Thursday, September 22, 2011

Nearing the Guillotine

D'Verse is hosting it's weekly Poetics prompt, where Kellie Elmore is hosting tonight.  The prompt she offers is to write about something, anything of a Taboo nature.  While normally I'd whip something up fresh and new, I thought I'd post a piece I wrote about a month ago as I think it fits tonight's bill fairly well.  This piece got a bunch of reads, but only one person wrote something I could publish in the comments.  I got a ton of comments though, which is the main reason I'm posting this tonight.

I love how Kellie wrote in her write-up that the worst mistake a poet can make is by playing it safe and worrying about what others think.  I agree, and that said, if you disagree, or are offended by this piece, please leave a comment.  I will post it, that is if it's respectful.  I know the crowd at D'Verse and this really didn't need any mention, but I thought seeing the last batch with this piece there was a lot of crudeness and some downright vile responses, I'd just put it down.

Anyhow, I have no problem if you disagree, but I will not edit the responses to post it.

Those who read me regularly know that no subject is off limits, and taboo is just another word to me, so I really am looking forward to reading the other contributions.

Thanks again, and with the disclaimer and all, I'm sure many are itching to see what all the fuss is about, so without further ado:




First this piece is pretty straightforward.  I've thrown in some references, but feel I don't need to explain them.  They are historical in nature but I'm assuming they aren't strange to anyone.  If so, I apologize up front- Ask me and I'll explain them.

Anyhow, I was reading a book about the 1800's.  It's kind of a capsule of sorts, explaining the majority of major acts that took place throughout the world.  It's, I believe 8 volumes.  Anyhow, while reading this I got this idea.  Well, not entirely.  I've been disappointed with the way the world is heading, especially here in the states.  It's not just disappointment- It feels like fraud.  I don't need to go on any further, you'll get the drift in the piece, I'm sure of that.  It will at times feel like a rant, well I'm hoping only one section does, as that was planned- for the rest- I hope not, but one can never tell.

One more sidebar before the Next to final act- Little bit of Vaudeville reference there- I used to be a staunch Republican.  Almost all of my life.  My family members are all Republicans, outside of my sister anyhow.  Almost all of my friends are Republicans.  Well I used to be one too.  While I still believe in much of what the party stands for, I WILL NO LONGER categorize myself as belonging to any single affiliation.  Lines have been crossed by both sides and I've found, as my personal situation has changed, both in Health and in Economy that I've been let down, and I'm not the only one- again another topic, but it ties in here. My eyes have grown wide, and boy are they seeing things from different angles these days.  And what I'm seeing is scaring the hell out of me.  If trends continue I'm scared of what just may come.

So today, well for a bit of time now actually, I've found myself agreeing to ideas that at one time I would have scoffed at.  I find myself leaning in various directions, ISSUE dependent, not trusting the elected, and I think that's important, and much too simple to not be widespread.  The days of blind trust in elected officials are gone.  Believing in what's right, again depending on each issue independently.  The days of Conservative Vs. Liberal are over with for me.  I don't care about the pissing contests or the Boys Clubs. I just want resolutions.  And not those that have been built in appeasing manners.  The RIGHT ones are what matter.  Anyhow, just had to get some of this off my chest.

Ok, enough of that.  I may throw something political out from time to time, but nothing to this magnitude.  Anyway, enough gibber-jabber:


I pity the fledglings
         For the flagon’s dry
I pity the flesh
         For irritants abound

Alieni Juris, we to you
Yet you take all from us

When lethargy comprises form.  When Darkness boils from.  Underground, back-lot shakes of sweat.  Sui Juris, you rightfully decree.  Yet in the process our keepers become our enemy.

Slingshot luck riddles corridors and passageways.  Skin clings to bone, eyes widening not from surprise.  Castes cut from tiers to two, the majority beneath the heels of the minor few.  Direct correlation can be drawn, for inactivity, progression lacks; as desperation’s levee breaks, there’s but one direction for man to take.

At such a pace, the likelihood rises, of a return to 1848-

Indignation’s ogling gaze and flatteries of spite,
 Moths, they do believe, hold steadier streams of light.  Condescension builds acute ells, to which only ignorance cannot foresee the breaking dam to come.  As each spill touches pavement hot, transformed are the meekest into Jacobin.  A new reign I do fear, a terror through- led by, what some will deem Incorruptible while others will chip lips in their reference of, Dictateur Sanguinaire.  Oh, how devolution collates scourge, when barrels bottoms satiate the tongue.  And destitution lives, as the only savored cut of meat.

The days of errant Knights are gone to grave. The Ire of our ancestry- like shrapnel, surfaces the skin.  Martyrs and sacrificial lambs, break first the line of finest thread.  If such a straw even wrinkles atop the Camel’s back, I fear it’ll be Austria all over again.

Paupers, soiled spots of dark, hurriedly scamper through, crowds of disillusioned bodies bare, all to return, stale loaves to stave, the starvation of familial fare.  But Détente will soothe some alms surface clean, while wheels of motion troll beneath.  For the good of the people, a military state I fear repeats.  Where bread thieves and rapists both, shot on sight.  Some deserving, the others, mainly kids.

Bide time the rules will try.  Ebbs in aggression will surely show.  But in the time it takes for recognition, policing poached policy will be fibrously in stew.  A quarantined society, looked down upon in view- composed of feeble flesh, pawn tickets still searing the broken hand, singed by lex loci delicti and Lettres De Cachet- a pigmentation of scurvy spawns distrust and lye.
A world where Habeas Corpus is written away, there’ll be no absolution for the poor or lost, in a world where only the rich and corruptible can stare out from their parapets, and let the wash dry off.

I pity the Henchmen
         For their piece of the crown
I pity the Everyman,
         For the salvation not found

Moats might fill the foxholes formed, to shelter the elected from their citizens.  Metropolitans sophisticate and debonair, while their constituencies skitter beneath the grates with paranoid care.  Tempers boil at what respect is not earned.  Pin the peon by the tale, Cake-eaters regal in their generosity, press conferences held in New Times Square, where monuments hail the offering of lint.  Yet they believe the lint shall offer sustenance, ignoring the screams, as death camps are built upon the tombs of our forefathers, rolling over now.  Rations severed when ages seek.  Running men will seek their stakes. And into the coliseum the Christians are sent.

Straps of leather draping chest
Shields of tin to protect
Blades of dignity shred
While the dignitaries cheer with approving bobs of head

Battle-bound are the children
The loser at the hands of brother or friend
The Winner separates forever from all of them

Tears stream the face of the victor, pausing in prayer
Yet the executioners, statesmen and leaders of men
Cheer the act, screaming while thumbs point below

I pity the hoodwinked
         For scars birthed unseen
I pity the Well-wishers
         For the Chrysalis has drowned

Politicians must unite, for it was we, the commoners that offered our faith, believing in each of you. 


Your role is simple: To protect your people, to fight for what is in the best interest of the entirety.  It makes little sense to favor any one part, when it’s the whole you should be taking account.  Petty squabbles lead to hostaged hearts and threat-laced demands only breed disinterest and contempt.

Disband your addiction to greed.  If millions of coin, still flow through your accounts, what does it matter if forgotten sums will shelter and feed your fellow man.  So, it’s because you don’t like to be told what you can or cannot do. So, you claim you’ve earned the right to spit upon those who have helped build you become you. 

Yet, what honor is there in casting blame, to previous holders of your seat and shame?  What about dealing with the hands you’ve been dealt?  What happened to our belief in you, this time, not dangling potential as a bargaining chip for another term?  The days of sleight of hand have devoured enough.  The camera tricks have blinded us.  IT DOES NOT MATTER how spectacular your Oratory skills impress.

You both, each and all, have let us down. 
You’ve quarreled on the largest stage.
Your stubbornness has debased a people. 
Our disappointment runs much farther than any one woman or man or any particularity of view. 
Our disappointment is bi-partisan.  Grow up.  Lead. Listen intently. Instead of aiming for compromise, act creatively. Act productively.  Cast aside the barterers tongue.  Cast aside how a decision may help or harm future campaign funds. 
Remember the Oath’s you all took and live up to each of them. 
If you fail you fail, but for crying out loud TRY. 
And remember, there is much more at stake here than the egos of you and your crones. 
So you stood your ground, yeah you’ve shown them.
WHO?  WHO exactly have you shown and WHAT? 
It’s all pathetic, childish and reprehensible, especially when the ground is swelling with the freshly dead.

Sacrifice should be apportioned
Sacrifice should not be equal
Those with the most to spare
Should be the ones to loosen the noose
Around those who’ve not enough as is.

If this trend continues
Drifting at the present current
If this incompetence speeds forth
Don’t assume the next in line will save the day
As they may simply fill the vacancy and choose to
Act in entitlement- Snubbing their noses at the suffocate

Solve ills now
Work together, as a whole- you don’t need to have a beer at the pub.  You don’t need to attend each other’s children’s recitals; you don’t have to like each other, Hatred is fine.  Just resolve this discombobulated mess.
There are no parties where I’m concerned
There is but the ethical, the moral, and the just
But, I fear that if this trend continues
History may repeat itself
I have no hope.  I have no trust
Prove your worth.  Prove yourselves
All of you, and start now and own your role
Piss off a few lobbyists.  Renege on the “internal politics”, those promises and assurances, that you granted your funders, your benefactors.  Simply tell them times are much different now, things are bigger than what you want, deserve. 
Show us, that even an unknown voice
Show us, that even the mute
Have as strong a say as each of you.
Offer possibility.

Knees on floor

Here is your church
Here is your steeple
Open the doors-
And SEE your people
They are looking upstairs
We are saying our prayers

Yet-

I FEAR

Hope is but the Coat of Arms
         For the Damned
It’s easier to feel terrified
         When threats are constant
It’s easier to be scared
         When feet won’t allow the throats air

If the present becomes the future
I fear Caron will appear
And tokens will be everywhere

  


 

  

Tuesday, September 20, 2011

Genesis

I.       NECROTIC AFTERBIRTH
Wounds first appear dry
Eventually they split and tear
Until it becomes who you are

In cogent clemency
Salt mines bitter wit
Derisive to the sum of wholes

Salutations stir in winding sheets
Upon the scapulars of whispered words
Tendrils dance in shadow, amongst vetch’s climb

II.     KERNICTERUS
         Misanthropic stew in rot
         Clothes the inner seal
         With an evince of reproach

         Coated generic stem to vine
         Epoxied days number near
         Reddish mount, clotting strain

         Calendar grimaces percent of claim
         Solidifying pessimistic droves of sludge
         Inevitability serrates the breeder’s guilt

III.    BELL’S PHENOMENON
         Dew thistles valley
         As moistened arrows split the spares
         Isolating tightly exposed clench

         Circumvolved oculus axis’ spin
         Gyration’s hypothetic pose
         Enabling fluid’s covetous sheath

IV.    HYPERMOBILITY SYNDROME
         Minor threat, severest to limb and bone
         Disjointed treachery sprains; birthed in lax
         Excruciating is the burning; mushrooming inside

V.      SHOW AND TELL OF TISSUES SCARRED
         Displeasure and violent throngs
         Push the impetus to nozzle high
         Urging reluctance ghost on promenade
         Piquant cells Identify anew
         Scored in searing plausible
         Violation of the indices

         Saline purge sweeps the sore
         Brackish scents begin to swirl
Igniting suppuration’s vulgar kiss

         A monitored fault line
         Corrodes receptivity
         And thus, a birth begins

         Numbness apothecary
         Slits a-stir in a briny blur
         Yet nothing is comparable to a drug inert

VI.    METAPLASIA IN JACITATION
         Phoenix imprints its trail with blood-burned flame
         Wounds shed marooned tide; cluster, frozen drips divide
         Lips yet pinched, its aim to cloud, falsetto under guise of pearl

         Altered patterns replace tendency
         Inflecting skewed canvas (prospecting of cavity)
         Deadened by, yet alive through

         A rearranged point of view; dangling; shredding skins that shed
         Delirium and Restlessness’ commingled commonalities
         Abnormally restructuring constituency

VII.   DIDACTICS OF CODA SECT
         Inception guarantees nothing
         Belly’s bloat cannot claim psychic craft
         It’s the emblem and insignia, X & Y elated in creative act
         It is what a parent needs to believe
         That said seed blooms to birth, is deemed hale  
         While pronunciation guides each word it learns to speak
        
         But, it is only through misfortune
         That the fallacy of blueprint skirts the mind
Expedited random twitch, in skull, to tips
Chirping signals loud and dry
But only one correct answer looms
Yet many choose the fault-line
As the easiest of immoral flagrancies
Walked away,
From the nesting sweet,
Abandoning,
Each and every dream,
Ignoring your role in all
Washed hands with tears still numb
Crumpled blueprint skims the can

Salt burns until endings deaden
To void with closed eye alone
Does not change the text
You are still the creator
And love is what your monster craves
For a father, the son still needs

Defective. Nil.
Abnormal. Nil
Alive. Still
Beautiful. Yes
Desires. Same
Pains. Too.
Blood still red. Like your own, is your own.

 I look forward to every Tuesday, as that's the day Open Link Night takes place over at D'verse.  This week Brian Miller is hosting the party this week, no doubt eager to get ready for a long, but inspiring night of poetry, pints and shots lining the bar.  


As for me, I like to offer something a bit different each week.  I guess you could say that, for the most part, I put down experimental pieces each week-all in the name of diversity of course.  This weeks no different.  As I spent some time the past few days trying to come up with a theme, neat game or some nifty wordplay I just wasn't feeling it. I was having a little bit of trouble finding an inspiration.  But, as seems to be the norm, when I wasn't expecting anything, an idea formed.                 


I was scanning through a Medical Dictionary, looking for inspiration and a few terms found did the trick.  This piece is intentionally choppy, disjointed and left broken.  My intent is to bring about several responses at once, discomfort, confusion, sadness, disgust and reflection.  

Friday, July 15, 2011

The Henchmen of a Midnight Bible


Hordes of henchmen huddle forth
Amassed en route to the north
Foragers aware of the soil moist
Breaking bread but not by choice
Indignant to the acts be done
By hammer falls the glassed rung
Turning eyes from damage sung
Clearing conscience of violence by hand
As hands be tied, they are but pawns

By slippered slopes the grave doth turn
Unfettered folds of serpents churn
Wriggling round the brackish beguiled
Strapped to wood amidst the minds denial
Prayers in voice unknown to most
Repeat of straps berate for cost
A penalty for their part in a war not yet lost
Blackening the skin
Drowning in sin
Catching breath as throats plagued by fire
To weathered ends, moral men bend in ire

Darkened dungeon ways ransack
With blossomed greys pinned down black
The beasts & dragons obey; attack
Solidified by stones of clay
To rest upon worms of prey

To remain unconscious of the damage spurred
Peons dream what might be should damage be incurred
For freedom liberties repeal
To bind your dears a Shangri-La that’s real
In times of piracy the wills undone
Corrupted by the forces of a blackened sun

Near a midnight bible stays
A sphere of influential waves
With uncanny knack arranging sound
Into patterns you knead to hear
No matter time, no matter fear
The weakened captive eventually releases ground
An exonerating shield
For the true nature you’ve revealed

Water-board
Crested spore
Ennui can’t wait no more

Water-board
Crested spore
Never shall the actions be report
In this game of tactical sport

To whom the answers go
Is not for you or I to know
Perhaps secrecies, as mere mortals,
Hold details we aren’t meant to learn
Perhaps privacy is an element of concern
Perhaps some things we should choose to ignore
Like the Hordes of henchmen
Huddled forth
Breaking bread
With a devil
That’s different than before