Archive for January, 2018

ash


26 Jan

=9-

=9-

sneezing produces snot, just ask god

 

they burn the details of their history
that contradict their perception of the moment
to keep warm their indignation
and around this fire
they dance and revel
and wail arrhythmically
obfuscating any meaning from their words
like winds that carry smoke
until all that can be heard is
give us barabbas
give us Barabbas
GIVE US BARABBAS!

 

=9-

ash


23 Jan

-9-

-9-

the pyramids have eyes

 
i had a dream
in it
the anger rose as mountains
the inept climbed
the mindless rose one atop another
and at the peak
the cretin dyed himself
put his best hair on
and took the oath

 

i had a dream
we lived
huddled, defensive, an anger rising
extremities pinioned by time so magnified it wears
through corporeal weight self-manifested
nails dirty, climbing back
we choose for leaders those of merit
by way of piousness to new religions
they used to call them repulsion and schadenfreude

 

i had a dream

we lived

in it

and i simply couldn’t wake  

 

-9-

 

authenticity just screwed ya: underground reality


18 Jan

–8–

–8–

riff 11

 
when they say the bronx is burning
they’re talking about the yankees
but the bronx is always burning
and sometimes a baby dies
sometimes a secret becomes further hidden
he liked fiddling with the knobs
she was tired she was sleeping
into the cold night
a dozen    
–8–

authenticity just screwed ya: a return of sorts


17 Jan

-8-

-8-

“Here’s the thing about inauthentic people,” he says on the train, speaking in the abstract. “Inauthentic people are obsessed with authenticity.”

                                             – Jonathan Franzen, in conversation with Chuck Klosterman, 2010

-8-

the jury ponders

 
age is control
a limitation on outside conditioning
the gift of finity
age is that which we overcome
we must –
particularly upon the most fragile
markers:
youth submits to adolescence
an elder face becomes opaque then
unbecomes, submits
to coffin sheen
i write again
to reconcile this overcoming
and as i age
i matter less and less
just ask the muse

-8-

Jack Tsoy Tumult

Morose Pontifications and Other Poetic Ramblings


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