We the People

are like flies buzzing

around the zombie corpse

of the Corporate Reich

that feasts on the flesh

of every sacred right

and swats without effort

the flies that might

demand a fair share.

* * * * * 

Black Friday reveals the real 99%

who are servants to the beast that devours them.

The Real World

The perfect end

for the rallying kind.

Leather boots

and stars that shine

on frightened faces

in the dead of night.

Batons in motion,

canisters that might

bring into focus

who’s wrong and right.

Sponsored in full

by the Corporate Reich.

Winter Skies

Red, white and blue

and a thousand lies

hang limp against

the winter skies.

Defeat redefined

as a compromise.

The children rally.

An old man sighs.

The dead turn over.

A mother cries.

Disappointments fill

the winter skies.


I wrote this last winter and it seems more relevant this winter.


Leading Indicators 

Brokers and bookies,
together they are bound.
Fortunes are being made
in the great up and down.


Humanity Lost

I wonder what was replaced
when commercialism filled
every aspect of our life’s
with it’s diversity and insistence
we become
what it say’s we are.

The Horror 

Who knows what horrors

slither and slice

through the mental realms 

in anyone’s life.

Haunting recollections

of bleedings galore

and painful regressions

into images of gore.

Compelling obsessions

in projects and text.

Wide eyed in the dark

fearing what’s next.

Heart pounding loud.

A line chopped fine.

A chance to transform

into the sublime

and overcome at last

the fear and horror within

and welcome the new

with a demented grin.

Neola fire, Utah 2007

The Evergreen 

You have seen

with no eyes

the turn of tides

a century long

and you have felt

with no skin

the soft caress

of a gentle wind

and you’ve heard

with no ears

your brothers fall

beyond trail’s end

and you have smelt

without a nose

the smoky clouds

of your own demise.

I wrote this a few weeks after surviving 

that horrendous beast.

Senior Lament

The greatest thing I’ll ever do

I probably did but forgot.

The best woman I’ll ever get

I probably already got.

The most money I’ll ever make

I probably made and spent

and the god I seek I already found,

long ago was sent.

All that remains is repetition.

The Machine

It seems progressive.

It’s like a giant machine

everybody helped start

and drove out of control

by worshipping the elite

like the gods they now are.

Politicians, billionaires

and the movie star.

Stock brokers, judges

and ball players galore.

Patriotic hero’s 

to justify every war.

Big TV’s and keyboards

we think we all need

on a great spinning gear

in sync with the greed

turning to become

what we say we are not

but the cables still tighten

on the dreams we sought

and the machine rolls on

with no end in sight.

The brakemen disappeared

like thieves in the night.