children
Swimming through the rivers
Of blood and poppy mists
Strung out tied up fucked off
Blueprinted into disaster
Burning and broken
Bones cracking mutilaton
horror illuminated
Gasping for air
A heart beating out of control
Little legs aching to run
Fingers desperate and undefined
Comfort just out of reach
Always hungry for more
This is no life for them
Mourn them before breath
A sweet death
Is humane
tears of the damned
numbers and numbers and numbers
representing individuals
representing
a man with a plan
a woman wanting to make bread
a child who loves rain
we watch numbers without names
names have too much value
when we hear names
the strings of attachment to humanity
pull too hard, decisions begin forming
actions feel necessary
200,000 people
one man who wanted to build a house
one young man in love with one young woman
one 70 year old man who just wanted to sleep without bombs
one 3 year old girl who never read
one 8 year old girl who loved the stars
one human being essential to the future
tragic
200,000 human beings with names and dreams and goals essential to the future
i wail for the loss of humanity
i weep for the transference of names to numbers
i cry for the percentages
i yearn desperate for what we have lost
i burn inside for the time
humanity overthrows the prejudice, power, division
i will keep the names of those who lived
those who have to face it again and again
etched in my soul
for the dead no longer pray
they no longer cry tears of the damned
*wodin: the saxon name for the more commonly known norse god odin. both are germanic languages, and related just different areas and different spellings.
*rübezahl: from old german folklore (but the geographical location is different than modern european germany) a mountain spirit. he was a trouble-maker and kinda overall weirdo trickster. he liked playing practical jokes, especially using the weather. growing up and hearing some of the old tales, i thought of my dad’s uncle ted who was one of the funniest weirdest guys i ever met. i didn’t have a grandpa, and uncle ted played that role-the pull my finger guy. he had a dog named “little britches” and we would go out to his farm where there was no electricity and he would have peppermint candies, he would ask if we wanted one while he was feeding one to little britches. of course it was sugar so we would all scream “yes yes we want one!!!” to which he would reply “you are such nasty children who eat dog food!!!! you eat dog food!!!” he would run around throwing peppermint hard candy at us while we squealed and he would just be laughing bc we ate dog food. my dad was exactly like that too. it was hard for people to meet him and not like him, and he was just silly.
thunder, searing flesh, bells, whispers
laughter, harsh demands, echoing
sending 3 billion galaxies
universally, unilaterally, uniformly
writhing, rhythmic gyrations
waves crashing inside of life
moving in, out, through
no permission needed
carrying with it all secrets
osmosis, baby!
repression/rejuvenation/regurgitation
it’s not about fair
it’s about seconds, months, decades
it’s about the verbs, nouns, descriptives
thinking, loving, gripping, screaming
diamond tears and sapphire giggles
immerse into the pool, marinate in divinity
footsteps can start earthquakes
euphoria and agony have always been bedmates
i am firmly
singular owner of my body
there is only one entity
that may decide
what i will and won’t do
not a system
not a government
not a body of radical weirdos
the only thing in this world
that will and can keep
me
from life is
me
i was born into a certain social caste
indoctrinated into beliefs
sometimes i doubt
do i believe my beliefs
do i believe my consciousness
are my emotions reactions
mine or familial baggage
bestowed on me
was i taught
directly or indirectly
it doesn’t matter
that all people are equal
this was not a running philosophy my family
slurs and exceptions
my
reactions and self discipline
not to fall into that pit is still chained to them
ways and comprehensions
confuse and leave me
in constant semi-terrified states
a bitterness sits in the back of the throat
the cold, trail-less landscape of self discovery
a mixture of toxic and tincture
facing the demons
fighting the mist and ghosts
old enemies come back
prepared for a battle
over the sanity of my life
doubt
abandonment
allowing them to act as my mirror
mountains to hurdle
my mind is as free
as a mind can be
i do not bow
break for anyone
i am simply personified
a holistic woman undefined
there have been video game-like barriers obscuring my travels
my direction
but the trail
hope
light
peace
whispers in the wind
the song of birds
i hold my head high
for no reason besides humanity
i am a part of the web of life
i will not get out alive
what happens after that
questionable and debatable
while i am here
i can leave a footprint
i will be better on the way out
the eeriness collected, it’s much too quiet
it’s the quietness of absence, loss, fear
it’s silence left by the dead’s last thought
the sound of tears hitting the hardwood floor
generations of laughter locked in plaster
muted anger and passion in corners
echoed sound of mourners sitting shiva
the happy home now a sarcophagus
pretend and play the role of normal
smile despite the pain and horrors
ghosts wait in whispers and shadows
as boxes fill with symbols of what was life
the relics of the mundane, uninteresting
now holding value beyond comprehension
snatching the last memory of laughter
the last dance of the yellow rose
words:
a collection of symbols and sounds,
seemingly benign
noninvasive
nonviolent
communication
there are times these neutral beings
creep up tap me on the shoulder
flying fist of fury in the face
surprise
mortality
fear
elation
sunsets and flowers
a bumbling mess
the laundry pile of thoughts midair
leaving me a cackling crone sprawled on  concrete
spitting teeth and blood
expelling bile bitter and yellow
between the hacking laughter of the demented
the old woman in the young body
21st century trojan horse
confusion and maze-like obstacles to conquer
before words, thoughts, names become intangible
karmic retribution for crimes unknown
undisclosed
a dark comedy written for the omnipotent forces
walking and talking in malls and dance clubs
Deities in raves and eating mdma by the handfuls
the highest quality fear molded into reality
mental monstrosity is a dirty martini of the gods
attempts at neutrality, the scientific method
lovers chanting hope
“they are not sure”
faith is the dead stink of decay engulfing the corpse
somehow comforting the most beloved and foolish
a sucker’s religion in opium dens
blind and loving it
optimism-a comfort, a nice sunshine breaking the night
the ability to see shit and call it shineolia their saving grace
it is a gift to the few lost in prayer and humanity
those dripping conviction
not accessible to the masses
to the hungry and the drowning
the sickness of my mind stole the pretty package of disillusionment
leaving stones and rotten potatoes
the coal from santa
the confusion grows daily
the memory fades and twists
lost in ever-changing loops and turns of life’s labyrinth
now a prison of trees and beautiful creatures of death
“they aren’t sure…”
“noone is certain…”
“hold onto hope…”
the new lines of empty pomposity on the inside of hallmark cards
given freely by loved ones and the compassionate stranger
those in my boat
the other passengers prepared and scared
sweaty hands choking tickets
marked for the summerland
there is a common look
the smile giving comfort and calm
but the eyes hold the ideas of pain and demonic horrors
as far as we know it’s a one way trip
a nonstop to nowhere
lucifer-cruel bringer of light- tells us to pack a toothbrush
the built in human mechanism of self preservation
the carbon-based refusal to surrender in spite of defeat
i am no different
i am no better than the beggar at the door
i will scavenge for alternatives
drinking elixirs and popping pills
new this and that and medical studies of possibilities
i will sign papers until deemed unable to do so
then they will sign the papers for me
anything to hold on just one more day
to laugh one more time
today almost sane
rational
in my pjs of pretense
i hold the hammer of bravery and strength unwavering
climbing into the herculean ego and recklessness
facing the world like a madman on meth
but i have yet to forget to wear clothes
i still have time
access
a respite from madness
one day that will be a dream
a balloon released
all of the hopes and the prayers, bargains and promises
soon there will not be enough
silk flowers and rabbits
to pull off the party trick buying time
everything looks different when you live life reversed
playing back blocks memories in sensory overload
when the past will be gone and life will be forgotten
a madness of lonely lunacy
brain shrinking and shaking
all that is left is a shell
the creature inside long gone
light and shadows etched on kodak paper
the dancing eyes and smiles of what once was
arrogance pomp and circumstance
holding the holy wars in your hands
the capture of humanity wrapped
in a shroud of stars and stripes
because you bleed red white and blue
the domination of other nations
cultures, lives, dogma, knowledge
thrown like dice in a back alley shadow
the hustler knowing the tricks and the traps
but the lines of pitiful fools keeps growing
never stopping long enough to know
those who can’t don’t, won’t hope
it’s different for those who sing
open unafraid unhindered
belting out bottomless lyrics
when the saints come marching in
and all the trivia of amazing grace
reading words without comprehension
symbols written in sand at low tide
kill those at the wrong end of the rainbow
never seeing glitter and gold and hope
watching your child starve, shake, sick
too many flies to wipe from their faces
they can’t eat words or drink sentiment
peddling your freedom door to door
in the neighborhoods of popup houses
with no guts, no trademark, no idea
a beige population with picket fences
screaming words in combinations
stirring the emotions of bred nationalists
the children raised on lies and apple pies
baseball, hot dogs and jesus christ
stomping in unison, automatons chanting
“let freedom ring, democracy for all”
tired phrases, definition lost in translation
uncle sam sending birthday cards and love
draft numbers concocted, dropped in the hat
like bingo numbers in the old folks home
the very judicial sentiment in small print
a contract for open hunting season
on those born in the wrong place wrong time
it’s all about survival of the fittest, eugenics
romantic revolutions carried out by children
seven steps removed from humanity
the ritual beginning with the broken ego
the self shaved away with locks of hair
the initiation, indoctrination and validation
the ever present buzzing of the hive mind
one unit, one body, one hand murdering
setting thousands of babies on fire
the laundry list of philosophy and excuses
cannot neutralize the image of the three year old
girl wrapped around her mother’s knee
eyes watching as bullets hit heads
spraying brains on concrete and bricks
terrified, existing long enough to know
to feel the warmth of the mother’s blood
the hand once steady, now limp and loose
there is no justification, no moral rationale
when the mother screams in labor
the birth of a still born innocent monster
a wad of skinless organs, bones and pain
the baby who lives with no skull and 4 legs
the result of uranium plated death
radioactive, nuclear devices of submission
recycled and used as a fine china set
enemies bought and paid for with taxes
billions of dollars invested in a war
to kill an enemy who carries a gun
stamped made in the usa
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