June 2, 2016

when passing out watching conspiracy tv .................................................... I leave my dream lamp burning

art by David Ho ©


the anti-crime lights at night 
are emblematic : a systematic breakdown of society ... 
a little by little, decorum and civil structure wane ... 

no respite no retreat no reversing the damages caused 
disbelief in the face of death and a mighty death at that 
on hand to wring in the new dawn every day 
a new year begins somewhere ... 

the streetlights are cameras 
and the speakers are echo cardiology agents 
pause pulse rhythm un-trackers ... 
there are no places 
that seem out of place 
when it comes to 
streamlining information 
into a bullet fast 
two places at once 
telekinetic beast ... 

arch angels and demons rest 
shoulder giants 
wing feather 
or leather 
depends on 
which side  
of the west side's story 
do you need to see yourself on ... 

there are those among us 
that still look to hook up with Tesla's ghost 
despite the onslaught of indecency 
and insolence masquerading 
as a promising future 
of free energy endless 
zero carbon 
radio communication 
and file storage 
zero population growth 
abundant clean water 
and sustainable food ...

but the humanist revolution 
must start with the origin peoples 
and it would seem in-congruent 
to keep our entire species 
on these bridges 
of what the past 
wrought in salt 
and iron colonial 
back ass-ward-ness 
the infinite glory 
of another side 
kept just of reach 
while alive 
being dead 
the key 
to receiving 
the golden ticket

civilized greed though 
was the same then 
as it is today 
all promissory noted 
baited and switched 
dogmatic machinery 
sacredness pieced 
as journey politics  
disguised philosophies 
of the rising above 
our petty selves 

once we humans agreed upon 
barter exchange rates 
of equanimity 
of material 
and services rendered 
thieves just funneled 
money somewhere else 
banks set up 
a robber baron-clinicity 
a mythology woven modernity 
in storms 
of graphical presentation 
all to show you how 
tall the pyramids 
have become 

hub nexus 
Sumer kings
middle eastern ringed 
caravan routes guarded 
by a lucky grand master 
a simple farmer probably 
tending, herding whereabouts
of desert stored things 
that supersedes 
information mostly 
hidden assassins 
in the dunes 
at night making glass 
and bread when night cools 
the spoke sparse rocky earth 
baked in daytime's hot dry air 

there are places 
rain knows about
but will rarely 
shows us all
the ways to 

is listening lost 
but willing to find 
one's self the way 
of planetary re-birth 

is the wide girth view 
of shared plenty pantry 
have us turning towards 
what gives us light 
in the market 
at high noon 

can we test a man's honesty 
still with a lamp lit 
when none 
seem needed 
to see or be seen ...

there are pockets                rocket red glare sear the sworn 
torn parted rams and ewes   
glitter speck caught 
   corner eyes 

for a second the streets sting themselves 
kettle bells and spells 
the denizen sway patterns grow 
everything in the sky 
mimics what happens 
under seas ...

to get at your womb perspectives 
peer tunnel visions of you 
storied forced on you looks 
the how(s) you are 
made to believe 
in a future or knot 

 I chose the aluminum foil tailor 
and started abdicating reality 
a few whistle stops back there 
I dare you to find only what you need 
and burn the rest in your bonfire of vanity 

my dream 
was stitched 
in time bends 
nine tine nests
nitrogen enriched vessels 
you never want to be born  
by surfacing too fast 
get shot past 
your destination 
most times 
doing that 
have to live 
old man 
of the mountains again 
when a mayfly 
born to die 
on a hot June night 
would have done fine 


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