Ghost Dance

Ringing in your ears
The horrors of the day come out of the non-local sound machine
Dripping with fervor you become arid in your assertions
The hoarding of the sweat is a detriment to your honor
Dignity falls apart, but I remain integral
Seeing all the dimensions of the situation, the minister restrains his dogs
The policies hit the children again as they wake up
Demonstrably not all is wasted, but the profits are strewn over the fields
Columbus was the pestilence, horsemen of the apocalypse for the Americans
The Ghost Dance will be done again and bring down revolution; it will not be too long

As all this happens
You think only of your missing keys
You are taken by surprise
And brought to prison
Your modern consumer culture orientation
Is not valued by the interim chiefs
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Re-arming, the coalition grew in force
Sleeping off the point of the elocution he went into the gas showers head held high
Night on the Danube, the demons gathered and fiddled up a storm
Second fiddle to the destruction was the ever present hope
Apocalypse. Apocalyptica. The memorabilia and trivia surrounding the apocalypse, as well as music, art, museum pieces, speeches, demons’ blood, and more.
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Dreaming of demons we gather and plaint
The angels did not come to help us, they came to destroy
Sleeping, he dreamed, and in dreaming, he gathered, and in gathering, he planted, and in planting, he razed, and in razing, he wed, and in wedding, he dreamed, and again in dreaming, he became lucid
Long and long and long ago, the doom came upon us
Ancient astronauts and aliens are no fix for this
Nuclear armed Russian submarines prowl the NATO seas
Demonoid picotent sits quietly with his go game and green tea, playing with Mount Vesuvius
You dream that the methane plumes of the arctic ocean will not come for you

ebola exponential poem

Our response to existential emergencies
As a species remains weak
We cannot fathom that the end may be imminent
Not in our bones
Leaves something to be desired
We know what it took in World War II
But when the enemy is a miniscule virus
What is to be done?
We are so distracted and media numbed
Or invested in the status quo
Something just won’t add up
But what?
Oh, Mama, could this really be the end?
I know I’m schizophrenic and delusional
But I must insist. It’s real this time.
Even if not for us
For Africa it’s real, pandemic
And if the whole of Africa is down in flames
How far behind are the rest of us?
It’s time, time for the titanic effort
We mobilized without the government for Katrina
This time I’m insisting the government come along, too
I suppose we could just let the victims rot in the open
That should stop transmission
At the cost of the masks coming off civilization
Which might be a good thing, on balance
The masks coming off thing
Not the bodies in the streets


Cat pummels the belly

House sleeps

Tiny myriad incandescents radiate

Life lived out of balance throwing me out of

My post semester groove

Hangover icks & fear of insomnia

Gifts to be spent await

& and those I gave as IOUs still to be ordered

Was not on a ball ’tis season

Back to town tomorrow

Settle the fort & remove the remaining dead spots

To basement

One semester of unbroken flow ahead , I hope

Into the darkness we see

Seeking the state of unstruggling mind

Breathe in

The ice sheet still blankets Gaia

& the parsleys live I hope

Holiday; to all a good night


A disjoint sequence.

Writting on tablets iz hard.  Brevity alters meter and screen makes lines longer.  How am I constrained by line length of college ruled?