THANKS-TAKING

THANKSGIVING

TAKING

Don’t tell me when
To be grateful
While handing
Me a plate full
Of empty carbs
Mashed potato blobs
Stuff your faces
With stuffing
And then go buy
Reduced price
Stocking stuffer
Chotchkies

It’s no mystery
Revisionist history
Breaking bread?
More like
Breaking heads
Of indigenous people
First nation
Before the states
Were staked
Respect to
Mother nature
Why?
Just pass more pie
The most gluttonous
Amongst us
Held up
As celebrity
Twitter monsters
Just twits
Half wit
Conformists
No original brain
Consumer fame
Give it up to big data
See ya lata
Freedom in stitches
While we stare
At click whore
Basic bitches

So let’s
Stuff our
Gaping maws
With ma’s
Cornbread mix
Don’t try to fix
Anything
Just sing
The praises
Of freedom
From history staged
For our gilded cage
Two day shipping
For all the shitty
Stuff that makes
Us feel
All the feels
Of feeling
Whole
Filling
The hole
The gaps
In our frat
Run society
Shaking hands
And smiling
Pardoning turkeys
While the turnkey
System mashes
The last of
Our rights
In quiet
Of holiday nights

I call bull
And I’ll be thankful
When I feel like it
So sit there
And take this
While you feed
Us more lies
We’ll all take knees
Better yet
We won’t even show up
Will that shut up
Your propaganda
Propping up
The military-industrial
Complex?
We’ll say thanks
When there’s thanks
To be had
While you clutch
Your billions in
Gucci bags
Thank you very much
Sincerely
-The 99 percent
(Care Of: the
Loofa-Faced
Shit-Gibbon
President )

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SUBJECTIVE OBJECTS

Per chance
Do you take a firm stance?
Or like me
Are you able to be
Floating free?

Your solid borders
Seem to be forming
Such shapes as these
Hard borders against me

I see the gaps
All strings with enough tension snap
Temporary borders
On maps
That can be redrawn

Each new dawn
Shines light on all the same
A star, the same as which we all came
Children of light
Grow up to own the night

So easily to forget
We dressed the set
Drew the lines
First in our minds
And then agreed
On what they mean

Your objects are not fixed
Materialism has you mixed
To each their own
My subjective way can go
Any given way
Even while your objects stay

You stake your shapes
Like the one circle claim
And yet I zig zag all around
Through and in between with no bounds

Perhaps you learned to stay in the lines
Okay, that is fine
But do not object
When I sketch
Freely and use all the rest
Of the canvas

If you stay within the lines
Then stay there and do not tread on mine
You made your own confines
Only in that realm
Can you raise hell

Reality will hit you like a stick
Always does when a rigid stance you pick
But I do not have spite
I dance and draw with light

I just ask you this

If per chance
You take a firm stance
Do not tread on me
While I am floating free
Or I will skillfully flick
You with the reality stick

I will find the rights that are mine

Through the holes in your dotted lines

THE SILENT HUB

It might be nice
To understand this zeitgeist

Dissatisfaction
Leading to non-action

Need not haste
Consume with one taste

Patience it takes
To transform fate

Is there free will?
I do not know still

There is concentration
Whether or not there is participation

When in the flow
There is no separation in that zone

Nothing to oppose
Not even from those

Who lash out and control
Just moderation of childish trolls

To be truly mature
Is to be sure

Of the stillness within
This chaotic din

White noise
Does not affect your poise

Keep your focus
On the ephemeral locus

Become aware
Of the awareness there

Only then we are free
Even emptiness becomes emptied

What you are
Is not far

Always there
Take care

To remember
Silence amidst the tremors

It all centers around you
Take the cue

It is not the ego
That we go deeper into

The witness
Of the litmus

Tests all things
Before it brings

Itself back
Retracing the tracks

The breadcrumbs
Lead one to succumb

There is no zeitgeist
Just frightened mice

In a golden cage
They eat and engage

Trapped in their form
Only option is to conform

Until an anomalous
Event causes us

To vent it all
Your original name is called

Silence

Invisible warrior

Nameless wanderer

You are what you were before you were born: the quiet before the storm.

ALCHEMIST’S RAGE (a spoken word style poem of emotional regulation )

Sometimes
There is this rage
Inside
That seeks
To be freed

It would go unphazed
As all things
Before it
Are razed

A fantasy
Not in actuality
No indulging
In this reality
Bludgeoning
And pummeling

An instinct perhaps
Mild mannered overlaps
With aggressive
Tendencies
Ruthlessness
And tenderness
Are mixed
Nothing is fixed

Fight
Flight
Or
Freeze
Desperately
Scrawling for a niche
“What’s in it for me?”
Is what seems
To be at the tip
Of everyone’s lips
Social media twits

Picking fights
Not playing nice
Knee jerk reactions
Of bully jerks
In opposing factions

Mammals in zoos
Play this out too
Just because
We can think
And talk
Does not
Give cause
To say
We are
More evolved

Get involved
With each other
Spar with a partner
Simulate the fight
Positive outlet
For spite

Dogs wag their tails
As they flail
Play-fighting
Tooth and nail
Simulated

How frustrated
We are
Near and far
The same angst
Showing our fangs
But going
For the throat
All she wrote
Instead of
Holding back

Grab
The pillow
Punch it and throw
Across the room
In safe environment
Confinement
And all will
Be fine then

It would be freeing
To see human beings
Evolve beyond
War would be
Long gone

Until then however
This rage will fester
Channeled
Into outlets
Handled
And scouted
To neutralize
Before it can rise
Too high

For now
It fuels
The flames
Of drive
Through patient trials
Met with fire

We will rise
Back up
Become unstuck
Singeing
Kindling
Flames licking
Logs singing
With volition
A mission
To be carried out
Sparks shout
Energy erupts
From the crown

All the way down
At the base
A coiled up snake
Ready to strike
Most precise
Final fight

Reptilian brain
Is the bane
But finally breaks
Through
Destroys you
That’s it
Forward it shifts

Strobes
Of fright
Replaced
By frontal lobes’
Insight
Connecting
Both halves
Left
And right

Sometimes
This rage
Inside
That seeks
To be freed

Just needs
To be
Funneled
Out of the tunnel
Indulge
Just enough
Kick and punch
Thrash
Run and throw
But no
Actual violence
Blunt lances
And self defense
Training
Jousting
In place of
Real fighting

The great taming
A leash
For the wild side
Unleashed
Only at times
Of great need
Pacifistic indeed
We can be

Do not condone
Wars with drones
Too much testosterone
Thunderdome
Gladiating arenas
Squealing hyenas

Clear your head
Take it out instead
On the pads
Wrestle on mats
Jog on the path

Sometimes
This rage inside
Simply subsides
No longer seeks
To be freed
When allowed to be

And then
Just maybe
Rather than becoming
It turns back into nothing