Tagged: environment

Sedimentary Chest Cavity

twig-18078_960_720.jpg

weeds, onion shoots
growing from the side
of abandoned dirt roads
careless carbon, without consciousness

not content nor contempt,
just being
energy in the atmosphere

always we press on
with the force, their breath
moving us through
eternity

the yoke splattered on my shirt
subtle reminders
that the soil and my soul
aren’t so damned different

and acidic pieces of death
in the air
passing through
keeps me moving
keeps me alive

the potholes 
keep me awake
on my long drive through Hell.

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The Trial and Conviction

stock-photo-justice-greek-themis-latin-justitia-blindfolded-with-scales-sword-and-money-on-one-scale-90092962

Limbs crack and break

Under grey

Cottage cheese snow

And the woods transformed

Into a barren battlefield

Fallen foe and friend

Frozen and forgotten on

The forest floor

In the end

the littered cigarette buds,

 plastic coated coffee cups,

the subconscious transaction

of future for convenience

Will be tried

as murder.

We all take a sip,

When we choke on air,

swallow toxic cake

whole.

Water thicker than ash

Slowly waiting

For lead poisoning

To take us all

More Than Flesh

stock-photo-light-mediation-on-water-299497922Tripping over protruding root

Mother’s passive aggressive revenge

Broken branches like compound fractures

The hurricanes scream with

Cracking evergreens, aspens

Creasing trees and cannon balling ship masts

Falling soldiers, stiff with rigor mortis

Sabers of lightning

And sparking gunfire

Kamikaze forestry

Dry cracking birches

Like snapping muzzle fire

Squatting in the green

Burning down to the filter

Deep in meditation

What does it mean

To penetrate deeper than flesh;

To be further connected with the soul

Ram Dass,

You hit the flint

But they’re the ones

To burn down the town

Scorned Earth and my Feet in the Mud

When things are rough, [creativity/ingenuity/resourcefulness] will keep you afloat. In times of calm, it will allow you to fly.

via Musings — Dirty Sci-Fi Buddha

 

Love the image, love the message, and love the way it’s composed. We need more of this on the internet my friend.

 

And I’m reminded of the words of our forefathers

The great Emerson, Thoreau, London

The sermon of resourcefulness

And we could all be Robinson Crusoes

Drifting away on tropical clouds

High above the scorned earth

The hurricanes

I usually describe my process as working on new material, hitting a wall, then working through a self-critical phase, and then the break through. The moment when I remember why writing was the choice I made.

It makes considering the process of change. One identifies a problem, as one thinks through the process to change that problem, as one receives more feedback (more practice in their craft) they begin to understand how to work the feedback into their work, and they change.

On paper it’s simple, but I surprise myself each day over how easy it is to lose perspective.

 

Perspectives of the Beast

 

I love the closing lines on this one, “Strong beating heart found to give chase Incisors laid, jugular vein, razor sharp.”

I loved the idea. The iconic image of London’s dogs of the wild. Maybe the real wolves run wall street.

Response Poetry:

And the rolling topography

With its subtle curves

Has become oppressive

Under the gaze of big brother.

The cold metallic wolves

Eating bit after bite

Of the earthen crust

Species of predators

Filed under Carhart, corporate affairs

To crucify the totems

We once worshiped

 

Watchful eyes roam landscapes dark Attentive ears tune into its mark A serious game played, hunting prey As hunger pains echo from the day The warning growl silences singing lark Strong beating heart found to give chase Incisors laid, jugular vein, razor sharp

via The Hunt — Exclusive Inflictions

Give it up Griffin.

Sitting at the peak of the world
Loose paper flapping in hand
More than the leaves from the trees flowing before me
The tree tops earnestly staring at me
Mocking them
Mutilating the corpse of one of their own
With a needle point quill
But I care
But I’m sorry
And that makes it okay

As long as the trigger of the Lugar is pulled
The bullet meant for the commanding officer
Barking orders
Making masculinity miniscule
Then all of the squandered lives of
children
Women
Perfectly good men
Are justified

Mother’s Hospital Bills: The world is burning

The sepals to the petals
Like linen loin cloth on man
The start of an empire
The roots of mankind

To return the favor
we watch the pine needles
fall to the floor

we burn the forest
dismissing
the life
so like the one
within.

ignored
Until we’re calcified shell
And the carbon flowering

Feet under
We are the planter
The transformation of energy

we’re the greenery
Here for man to pillage
To conquer nature
Would be to conquer

Humanity and all
An implosion
Until everything
Gone.

The homes, the foundation
The family
Built from the
Collective life
something to nurture

For without
nutrients for sustenance,
paper for poetry,
There
Would
Be