The Masters of War had Ventriloquists

It wasn’t even winter yet, as autumn held her ground. Weaker men were torn asunder as angels prevailed where blind men feared to speak. You could not fess up nor deny, those wild werewolf times 

Where wolvens roamed the crest like crazy heathcliff

Heather of Moorland Farms befriended the mysterious Maxine. Who wore clogs. A cord skirt. Long straight hair like Marcia Brady but a sway like West Side Story.
The colors of the continent were committed to a shell of their former shelves – the Russian tea cozy. Sore spot of etiquette.

I wasn’t proud when I said my family was like Prince of tides just alarmed 

“Those who hammer their guns into plowshares will plow for those who do not.” Thomas Jefferson, President of the United States, Founder of the University of Virginia, the one slave owner of the group who was unanimously asked to write the preamble for the Constitution, known as the Declaration of Independence.
Now You may ask how could a slave owner write such beautiful words as we the people

In order to form a more perfect union 

ESTABLISH JUSTICE

INSURE DOMESTIC TRANQUILITY

PROVIDE FOR THE COMMON DEFENCE 

PROMOTE GENERAL WELFARE 

AND 

SECURE 

THE BLESSINGS OF

LIBERTY TO OURSELVES

and our Posterity…


Our children

The seventh generation

The future

Certainly no one wants to witness nuclear fallout. Not from a bunker not from an underground silo, middleman earth safe house for world leaders and cryogenic windbags. I’d rather we be taken out by that thing on the other side of the sun than the flash we’ve all dreaded since watching the day after  on a school night in 1983.

Wildfires 

I looked up to see the fires burning coming down the hill facing my father seated at his bay window looking out over the life he built, a life he gave his children, the future of our children, an American Dream bought of Italian immigrants to carrying the great Italian grapes to the fertile fecund Northern California. 
Ironic iconic RUSSIAN River valley, expanding into Napa with his French brother in arms Jean-luc purveyor of the finest Boudreaux and Michelangelo the Pinot Grigio man – all  had fought alongside hemingways kind against Franco’s fascist rollover planned  as comeuppance for the empires and their colonies. 

 

 Once they’d killed ghandi in prison, beat Biko to death, sequestered the master and the margarita, they turned to the inominable agenda of squelched free speech and disarming the right of patriots like Nathan hale or Paul revere so that no one can defend that right to free speech when the military declares martial law, fema initiates operation mass grave keeps only soldiers and those with bank accounts as need be only should the entity called government and its partner in crime corporate greed, Rothschild illuminati infiltrating your DNA to sell off to the bad aliens aka fallen angels they now say wiped out the Neanderthals who told,us in those rock walls underground k. France 

Look up the French resistance 


Don’t forget to read the lover and there’s Racine 

Watch Truffaut Jules and Jim and Godard weekend 

Read now Thomas Jefferson and Lafayette were friends 


Read a tale of two cities by dickens 

Take up knitting 

Listen to kind of blue, in a silent way and miles-Coltrane collaboration s 
See you next week 

Ps hunter s Thompson essays due Tuesday morning 8 am PST

FEAR AND LOATHING UPDATED 

YOUR PROFESSOR 

GURU OF UNSCRIPTED ZEITGEIST 

HEroic Poetry 

Acetaminophen screaming for attention

Off the shelf
   She was
straight out of biologically 

Contemptible 

with self-styrofoaming

 Eco-friendly 

packaging 

Eva, The blow up woman 

      by There’s Something about Earnest 
She was always a delight 

My good man,

Said Arthur of 

delta (phi) dawn 

    the blow up 

     Girlfriend 

who inadvertently got passed around 

like nobody’s business  
 

From the shores of kitschy koombaya 

to the morning after pill from Ralph’s 


          EVA bore. The emblem.

(lettered monogram to look like E-R-A )

“equal rights ass!” emblazoned across

the  made in China Badonkedonk 

 of a  plastic fantastic 

 mustang Sally 

 
In with the in-Crowd

   From Sigma Wink and a Nod

   to the Delta Phi Episolon Explosion

 

A regular 

Nobody 

at  St. Nate’s  palettes

    Covering for chaotic order 

    of secret societies 

    From the raging hormone set             


              Disturbed initiations leave indelible marks

                        No traces 

               


get a load of that broad 

She heard 

  • Don’t drink 
  • don’t smoke 
  • what do you do 

She’d been the goody-two-shoes, role played her brain transmogrified, pretended to be anyone she was NOT, behind darkness, just to survive, 

Everyone must accept one or face prison time. She had a “choice,” and after that anthrax shelter stint, she decided the Rutger Hauer lookalike would be best for her “needs” as an aging, not quite ailing, sometimes failing but rarely falling, just hurtling headlong trying to escape this dimension of nonsensical pain, needless suffering – as if there is an acceptable form, the need full suffering – oh fuck off maker, the great ether, send me your meteors!

I am but a woman 

entreating the sky 

to break open 

some mercy 

once in a while 



Abraham was a hologram. The woman’s perfect companion. 

We live in such Cyborg times what will become of love 

asked no one after awhile 

Once the last stranger had left 

the last  dreamer, dead.


But still

Beneath the skin

Resistance lives 

Beyond the caves of men 

The Bermuda triangle 

where Venus of Willendorf 

was found swirling 

in multidimensional flux 

I am the alpha 

Athe the omega 

I walk through 

The ballet 

Not dance but walk

So I can swim 

Swim 

away 

Rings a bell

that rings a bell

But then the bell never went off

Shed forget 

Back TO being a

stranger 

Recluse 

Agorophobic station wagon collapse 

off the ever-resolate I-05

We all gotta go sometime.

That hardly provided any comfort, like an expiration date, what exactly is it preventing? Equally maleficent, the warning label, the disclaimer, the we might kill ya waiver. Despicable. 

Deplorable had just been ruined, overexposed- had its day.
She popped a benzo to unjangle those Upper East Side jitters, lower westside bitters.

Oh, well, I love ya 

pretty baby

You’re the only love

 I’ve ever known
Just as long as 

you stay 

with me

The whole 

world is 

my throne

I think I can do better with that refrain 


[Refrain]

Beyond here lies nothin

Nothin we can call our own
 

Beyond here lies

Nothing 

Not a thing to show 

For 

How the time 

Flies

Ode to the 21 year old always bumming smokes 

You can’t wait Til you’re the only one talking
Yet you’ve got nothing to say

Because you have yet to really live 

Go In silence 

And listen to the world

Seek your own truth

You will need to know it 

in the times ahead 

There is nothing like failure 

to keep reminding you of

the lateral disappointment 

of the many in-between

Entanglements  

Just in case 

Oh why not


How could you?

Who am I?

Who do I act like I am, who do I think I am? Who knows. I don’t generally think about that. I think about all the things I could have done had things not gone so horribly awry, repeatedly, on a regular basis, so that the one truth I hold to be self-evident is it can always get worse…


contribution
beauty

2:

  • There are no rules to suffering.
  • Then, by default, there is no God to ameliorate that pain.

Don’t read this 

I used to give 5 bucks to the police fund coz I thought maybe 25% were good. Now I can honestly say maybe 14 cops in the entire country aren’t evil sadisric liars.