Archive for February, 2014

It is not,
what it is

you/ll never change
what it is

if we did what it is we want/
bet these guys
stopped touching kids
this world makes you
feel crazy
like you’re the only
one seeing this
the homeless man
down the street
he got no insurance
he real sick
while I  walk by
just to give him
a roundhouse kick.

& it’s only getting colder
though the ice is getting thin

a life are we living?

heart atrophy
we are all in

bought the fear
hoping for change

the story/s getting older
something needs to flip

suicide apocalypse

I will be what I am
no person owns
me who we are
continue to laugh
the truth comes out
keep riding this bus
ain’t changing its route
don’t play a part

we never were no more.

Witness this human condition
Within these places we reside
Depression from their recession
Can no longer believe our eyes
The pseudo-social services
Are all like, fuck you, now pay me!
To be fair, all our hands are tied
By economic slavery
Dreams we have traded for these lies

A heavy heart we have carried
& we/re buying more suicide
In such a rush to be buried
A life to help you slowly die
Directed through televised lies
Tricked by godless politicians
They who rewrite funeral rites
Illusions to help us believe
That we even have any rights

How is it one falls so in love,

with the emptiness of silence?

All these crazy ladies chasing,

after these meaningless tyrants

& this addictive time-wasting.

Welcome to the grand delusion.

Stay in line; avoid confusion.

Where no one dares to try to flee,

the nightmare we bought as a dream.

Few wild animals left to see,

prance about believing they/re free.

We/re all trapped in an urban cage.

Idolize holy-wood housewives,

distracts any worth from real lives.

Measured by an hourly wage.

If Blake could see this:

The industrial wasteland my city has become.

Like its sisters,


across this spiritually thin country,

like prostitutes excommunicated,

their waterways contaminated,

no clean hands will touch them again.

The skeletal remains of factories

lay scattered.

Shattered fragments everywhere.

Lots littered.

Buildings riddled,

with patterns of glass less windows,

broken by a not-so-natural nature.

Unnatural towers,

towering in defiance,

offering no compliance,

to the natural laws.

 Empty & destitute,

haunted by the ghosts of the thousands,

who gave her every wish,

every dream,

every nuance of energy.

There where all hope resided.

A holocaust of hope.

What of those who survive?

Who live after losing everything?

Families fatally wounded;


dying slowly.

Those who stayed,

knowing this town would yield nothing,

but more pain.

Multitudes of children bastard-ized,

blast furnace baptized,

left disenfranchised,

with little hope left for their future.

Those abandoned by the Fathers’ of Industry.

The giants of the earth.

Standing still & looking stupid,

the defense mechanism we grew,

in order to avoid the terrible truth,

We knew it was never to get better…

We knew it was only to get worse…

That there never was to be any fixing of it…

That we were there to cash out, before it collapsed in.

That in our own special way we helped the raping along.

Musical chairs of disaster.




Better the future than us.

Better them than us…

Street Signs

Posted: February 21, 2014 in Poetry

Spreads across the streets
Skin disease of the concrete

It pollutes the air we breathe
These dark confessions we speak

It/s the messiah of poverty
Bleeding hearts that don’t bleed

Gives a new day to believe
Helps liars steal honestly

It/s an addict’s only recovery
An alcoholic’s moment of clarity

Animates the poor poetry
Sets the fire under tragedy

What the slums think when they dream
The heartbreak rhymes of hard times

Helps the blind see street signs
& we all know what they mean

Reveal ignorance realize
The lost words of a tiny city

It is a divine comedy…

Demarcation of Cain

Posted: February 18, 2014 in Poetry

We who give language
To that which they
Dare not speak
Persistent strength
Permeates stone
This can be done
For our boundaries
Are far weaker
Than they seem
We are not alone
As thick as thin
As the shadows between
The soul & the body

Training his-self
by the starving artists

mad & hungry
for the esoteric wisdom
locked away rambling
about the institutions
they were a product of
asylums – prisons – rehabs
confined in body
free in mind
hearts breaking
until the entire
glass shards dropping
spinning reflections
of the lie we all become
studying that moment
the shedding of sin
the near life experience
where for but a second
the light of GOd shone upon

examine – capture – record
do not seek darkness
the darkness is
already there
follow the weird lights
to find your own way out.

I am–yet what I am, none cares or knows:
        My friends forsake me like a memory lost:
I am the self consumer of my woes—
“I Am”  John Clare