Archive for August, 2016

The old athlete rightfully perceived it as an honor to present the medals at the Olympics.

She did all she could to respect the privilege.

But she was unsteady on her feet and appeared sad

compared to the smug Ukrainian prick at her side.

She smiled and staggered

and rued time’s ravages.

How could these little shits understand?

Perhaps she was drunk.

Perhaps she was sunk.

Perhaps you need to change your perspective and readjust your view.

Where has she been and where are you?

 

When you don’t like the name you were given,

or the role assigned by “fate”,

sometimes,

sometimes,

when the time is apt

(new wave, vanguard rides),

you can choose your own path,

within the radical system,

and be

a functionary,

anonymous to the masses

(now, allow yourself a self-satisfied smile),

part of the new ruling class,

a righteous cog,

essential pillar,

Apparatchik.

 

Lies slip from her lips

like water down a mountainside.

Slick rock face.

Summer thunder storm.

Slippery slope

to doom.

 

Life Partner,

like a dance,

you choose whatever’s vaguely suitable,

to hand,

perchance,

to piss on your foot.

 

And there we were, sitting around the camp fire,

patiently discussing the differences between Joe 3 and Joe 4,

small flames flickering,

some light cast upon us,

shapes and flashes of illumination.

Comforting darkness prevalent,

masking our facial expressions,

what may be seen as our intentions,

the occasional eye roll and sneer.

We talk.

We discuss.

We discover.

We find we talk more openly,

when obscured and allowed

some secrecy.

 

Are you receptive?

Or are you rejective,

to the redemptive

promptings of Sofia?

Wisdom.

Holy Wisdom.

Hagia Sofia.

It’s in the atmosphere.

Perhaps you’re inured by your blaring TV set,

friends, family, society,

lulled and dulled into a bogus fate,

time then for peace,

listen…

Peace.

Listen.

And learn.

 

My voice quivers when I speak

as I remember what has to be done

tomorrow.

Heartbroken

when I wake up

and realize the apparent reality

of my life.

Jumping through hoops

of someone else’s design,

compelled by a madman’s bent,

into the abyss.

I shake my head

and exhale,

shaping my lips

as if playing a flute.

Diabolical tune.

Oh, the banality,

oh, the futility,

of the system

we have made.

Tomorrow,

sigh,

another day?

Fucking Kulaks!

Tight-fisted, exploitative cunts!

Shoddy arseholes,

dynasties of shit.

They bleed us dry

and laugh behind our backs.

Knowingly, we nod and say hello,

respectfully,

as it’s expected.

But tomorrow,

perchance, we will rise,

and smile

at their demise.

 

The man-child swallowed hard.

It was strange, no one seemed to understand him these days. So many attempts to communicate did nothing but frustrate. Sigh.

He felt so alone.

To function, he normally drank three beers each night. Tonight he felt he needed another. It would help, calm. Then more preparation, action, and no more talk. Tomorrow would be stressful.

Tomorrow would be good.

 

TV commercials.

Lust and make-up,

make-believe.

Wet dreams for sale.

No expense spared, not even your soul.