Next secret

The next 


is as dangerous as 

The first


for those who drank 

the kool-aid

the pressures won’t be felt in halls of justice 

But blood rushing in the streets 

Indians scattered on dawn’s highway bleeding

Ghosts crowd the young child’s fragile egg-shell mind
Blood in the streets

In the town of New Haven

Blood stains the roofs

And the palm trees of Venice

Blood in my love

In the terrible summer

Bloody red sun of

Phantastic L.A
Blood screams her brain

As they chop off her fingers

Blood will be born

In the birth of a nation

Blood is the rose of

Mysterious union

Blood on the rise

It’s following me
Indian, Indian

What did you die for?

Indian says nothing at all
Gently they stir

Gently rise

The dead are new-born awakening

With ravaged limbs

And wet souls

Gently they sigh

In rapt funeral amazement
Who called these dead to dance?

Was it the young woman

Learning to play the “Ghost Song”

In her baby grand

Was it the wilderness children?

Was it the Ghost-God himself

Stuttering, cheering

Chatting blindly?
I called you up to

Annoint the earth

I called you to announce

Sadness falling like

Burned skin

I called you to wish you well

To glory in self like a new monster

And now I call on you to pray

A year from now,

we’ll find out 

what  the biggest currency is for those who rule us

The ones we give our country  to

Old men with arbitrary absolute vendettas 

Rudy #Giuliani in contention to become #Trump’s Attorney General, now that he’s finished his job as Melting Guy in… — @dumbassgenius 

Whilst away the hours 

As we wallow 

in the shadows 


Our leaders  trade with the invaders 

Is it us they want 


Water? Nitrogen, uranium, gold?

Is it DNA, the Amazon, some sacred tome or earth bound miracle? 
The planet is such a miracle, how can you not announce her splendor each morning you are blessed to awake.
Ah yes, I remember why – 

the sirens outside

A hovering chopper 

Of suicide 


My fellow mankind 

not worth relegating 

substandard procedures 

Of fact accumulation 





Disregarded for better-ratings

on the

Delusional Network 

You will get no

 reliable sources


Anyone likely to survive 

Won’t be the best of us 
for those 

will be deemed weak 

the children 

and downtrodden,

passed over 

As “the meek.”

A mistake 

Of course

And the universe

Will divide 

Into sparks

Of diatribe 

Yet beauty 


As defined by no





of the beholden 

Beholder is

one who sees


the very first time 

My END is your beginning 


Tete a tete


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s