Archive for Opinion

warped fields & gravitational theory…

Posted in Opinion, Philosophy, Poetry, thoughtful trips, TWTC with tags , , , , , on September 17, 2011 by Caribbean Fool

& why & why

twisted out straightened lines
tying the asphalt to the dirt,
holding it all back from strangulation.
all kinds of extractions stick
to evening hours already stretched
past endurance final strand. at an
unknown time it’ll break free from
formulaics presupposed by theory
when honest-to-life experience
disembowels already parsed possibilities
spit into discussions held at all the
finest institutions & asylum.

success in the aftermath of birth or
death played as desire for the non-
possessed. it won’t make sense
in time or space. we’ll do it
anyway mostly because of declining
potentialities.

holy shit that’s an ugly hooker…

Posted in Friendship, Ha Ha Funny, Hysterical Romance, JL Stories, Laughter, Opinion, Poetry, TWTC with tags , , , , , , , , on August 29, 2011 by Caribbean Fool

i was gonna ask but didn’t

didn’t take much day-dreaming
to arrive at a suitable explanation
of such sudden desire;
those types are bad credit risks
& walk around with bruised knuckles
without ever knowing why.

still playing a game learned
at the foot of the mountain
under watchful gaze & rotten luck.
i’d say it was sad, but it almost
never is. regardless of the correlations
staring back from a coincidental lion
racing to cash in his meal ticket
by ripping out the throat of
weaker prey, everyone needs a
hobby & we all gotta eat.

back on earth relaxed movements of
momentary possibility surround
copernican predictions about
situational reality. patterns like
this would make mandelbrot blush.
i guess after you see the pin
pulled enough times, you stop asking
why & just get to running.

unfair to blame soft shell turtles
for failing to invent mirrors. at least
naked mole rats have sense enough
to stay blind. then again,
there’s always more under
than over.

——————————————-

Ever seen something & laughed? If not, you should try it. Really soothes the ego & builds confidence.

adherent sensorialists…

Posted in bumper sticker stories, Cigarette, Descartes, Ha Ha Funny, Laughter, One Shot Wednesday, Opinion, Philosophy, Poetry with tags , , , , , , on April 6, 2011 by Caribbean Fool

adherent sensorialists

cigarette smoke with my
benzinated morning coffee over
linoleum lined floors good for
pacing feet. deep thought in
the kitchen while around me only
asinine reality; isaak’s balloons
carried on the wind across the
window over the parking lot
while barking dogs sing the
breeze to sleep.

i’ve got it on the good authority
of a fanciful ground based sky-pilot
there’s a reason for everything
but my faith wanes. an apolitical
sensorialist leads morning congre-
gents in something resembling
prayer without any appeal to
divinity. they’re all dancing similar
steps, echoing the sensorialist
pleading for help from anyone that
might be listening to the gathered
folk.

nothing happens. always maybe
later but my faith wanes. after
my cigarette is crushed into the
ashtray & the last dregs of coffee
mix with in an acidified stomach,
skunk plant imprints impose their
own additional demands. thought
drifts from familiar sensorialist
congregations to the sensorialist
himself & the magic he weaves.

temerity in absentia…

Posted in Late Night Silence, Laughter, Opinion, Philosophy, Poetry, TWTC with tags , , , , on March 19, 2011 by Caribbean Fool

temerity in absentia

deep into a sleepless night.
too hot in here.
immediate brow-sweat
response, halfhearted
impression of melting
ice. breathe in, breathe out.
hide from imitation wanna-
be turkey bacon; with
nothing better to do,
that’s all i’ve got.

all the while a
true-believer whispers
high pressure steam.
speaking through cracked
odometers & stalled watches,
dangerously magisterial
tones stroke rambunctious
laughter. dirty jokes
end the day over protest
of the true-believer.

nothing more dangerous
than a true-believer
in heat. say anything,
even as temperatures
rise up until eyes
run red. after the last
tired muscle spasm, the
voice gives up. a battle
in the wider war;
true-believers always
return.

morning sun works through
the window & kicks a
hole in closed eyes.
waking to vague memories
of something someone said
in a well lit dream. too
hot to think; continue
in the same direction
as before. takes almost
no effort to sit here & bake,
easy to think about
teachers & dancers & to
wonder where they
went.

————————————-

I’m told admitting you have a problem is the first step in getting cured. Here I must strenuously disagree. I’ve got almost zero problems & nothing to admit. Still, I do wonder, even after a shocking accusation that pisses me off even though it was six months past already. Probably a poem in there to write tomorrow, or perhaps later today. Well, matches & lighters aside, it’s all true. There are a million ways to skin a cat.

fawktard… (part 2)

Posted in Fawktard, Fear, Ha Ha Funny, History, Opinion, Philosophy, Poetry, Politics, Series with tags , , , , , , on March 11, 2011 by Caribbean Fool

what can you do?

i went to monticello,
hearing somebody
say i should speak to
jeff. he’s long dead,
or maybe i was just late to
the party. took the tour
anyway so i could stare
at his dumbwaiter &
think back to the time
we weren’t quite as
fucked as we are now.

i wonder how much
longer until one of those
Historic Moments In
Human History comes
along & sweeps
everything away.

denninger has
the math down to a
science; with jeff dead,
bruce stealing mr. joad &
a lack of jacksons
(wait a while, my guess is
there’ll be plenty.)
who knows what comes
after the bankster
holdup?

no worries though;
we’re all fine.
just repeat after me.
heavy sour is the same
as light sweet,
politicians care about
the citizenry,
Jefferson County Alabama
loves JP Morgan,
& all’s going according
to plan & under
control.

let’s stare into a mirror,
think back to a time
we weren’t quite so…

fucked.

———————–

Dedicated to Phil Ochs. Was it ‘Ringing of the Revolution’ or ‘Rehearsals for Retirement’? All I know is ‘I Ain’t Marchin’ Anymore.’ When the wave hits here, what then? Obvious answers are always the bloodiest.

gasoline alley…

Posted in Fear, Learning About Life, Opinion, Poetry, Politics, thoughtful trips, travel with tags , , , , , , , on March 9, 2011 by Caribbean Fool

paint thinner revolution on gasoline alley

nobody is coming to
help. complaints don’t reach
government sanctioned office ears;
if he didn’t burn he damn sure
would’ve starved. dead is
dead atf.

Faida stalks
her beat knowing damn well
there’ll be no succor for those
unorganized demons of hunger
& thirst. petty tyrants are
everywhere lately; she wields
a truncheon like a champ.
(imagine for a minute she
was pms’ing on 12/17. let it never
be said real revolution
doesn’t begin in the womb.)

all the same, nobody knows
if it really matters.
billyclubs get swung. be a
waste to forever argue
good from less good.

in a few weeks most of the
planet was screaming for mercy,
a few kilo-calories & a future
for the blastocysts waiting on
their turn to burn down or up
or to one side or the other.
repetitious cellular division bears
the mark of soon-to-arrive children;
what can you hope for
if the food all tastes like burnt skin
& fat & blood while the water is
paint thinner?

i was driving toward the beach on
my own trip
when the man finally left here
somewhere else. i’m told
scorch marks still adorn local court-
house steps though different faces
occupy government offices. another
martyr paid in full & again got
nothing he wanted. written off;
i think it’s in the job description.

i didn’t know the man & now i
never will. i know he took more
shit than he could live with but
how lucky was the man that he
didn’t? dead is dead.
now he’s known from Sidi Bouzid
all the way down gasoline alley
to Washington, DC where
the IMF boys & WTO girls make
mama so proud burning
incense to cover the smell.

————————————————-

Inspired by M. Bouazizi. You got the shit end of the stick in life. All things considered, I suppose it was an odd meeting; maybe that’s what happens when we cross paths in the one dimension that doesn’t rely on geography for proximity. (Though in fairness there are nine others of the M-Theory folk are to be believed. Fuck it; this isn’t about physics, it’s about biology. And physics.)

globalization easily explained…

Posted in Late Night Silence, Learning About Life, Opinion, Philosophy, Poetry, Politics with tags , , , , , , on February 27, 2011 by Caribbean Fool

reversion to the mean

in the clouds masculine
explosions rattle
once dusted mountains
amidst the groan of a green
town splayed onto the
outskirts of the middle
of nowhere. land eroded by
winds of the colonial breath
wait on lightning from a
creation dream to start
the story over. nothing will
change but we’re thinkin’
more of the same will
be much better next time.

we like our delusions to
be the size of our cocks,
which are obviously bigger
& spit more goo than
those other guys. after
rebuilding everything already
waiting to be destroyed
my cock says we can
knock it right back down
again. could it really
be that simple? i
don’t see why not.

———————————————

Inspired by Michael Ruppert & the documentary ‘Collapse.’ If you haven’t seen it, check it out. Well worth the time.