Corroded Actuality or; Dismissed Reality for so long that it became moot

It’d be considered a plague
if human petulant memory lasted more than three years,
a building of horrid proclamation
a diseased platform
a one-way elevator-
we are not to be considered nature
above sunshine are we,
vie to withstand next week’s violent onslaught
take it with a backhand gesture
dig your vehicle out
offer to do the same for the neighbor,
lost in the flak as flakes stack
time isn’t truly a factor
it’s of assistance
one of knowance,
one of choice,
how to needle the thread
when offering such in a national stance,
few ways for an individual to attain such
except voting and taxes-
to have a heart of gold does not require
a wallet to be lined same,
yet, just as no rich man would willingly feed a starving child
those dollars preened rarely go to feed that mouth
certainly, not as much as required-
a vainglorious amount shed for defense
t’which is a job creator
yet, hollow, in a deeper exp(e)(a)nse-
as schools, libraries, infrastructure cry out for sustenance,
argues of impossibility without former
such, isn’t an absolute game
recognition that temperance is but a notch on the key
arguing about what is being taught helps naught
for (young) humans do not learn rote,
we learn more from what is seen and interacted with
so, next time you degrade teaching style
think more,
about what you have offered-
next time you drive over that crumbling bridge
complaining in your head about government over-reach
do not be detracted, if in the middle
you fall down-
next time you complain that people do not read enough
remember the last time you checked out a book from
the local library-
if there were not
any way
for you to think of either three
except with remembrance.
and then
you are a citizen of
their n(o)(a)tion

can never bless the same soul twice

shuttered astound-
there was never a time before
that i have been
Whom I Am Able to Be,
construed as All Is
within the limits of approach,
swooped, betwixt whirlwind
We all have (been) willed-
when a pseudo-median solution
equates status quo to
such results
end in
recall your own(ed) thoughts
about self,
the over(re)action
t’which you have (sub)sided (in),
t’which you surf upon
be above All-
it only is, an affront uttered from
lack of self-
is what All Is,
through every tribulation-
the insults
dragging All, through self-created mire,
a dereliction from ‘stately constitutional’ onset
a degrading self-affront,
n’ver a trial proceeding
to learn from,
only another political conflagration-
speak of poverty, not once mentioning its volition
speak of richness, not once mentioning its virtueless-
hold steady,
there is no rein
each state is
a well-tread shore which to leech

Holding Gold, Keeping Grave

subtracted faces belittling true feeling
it’s a pedestal
to speak of
being on,
a levied way-
for sustenance,
an unreal track
of support
a forthright stance
a bleak degradation
t’which has no place for meaning-
witness your mirrored shadow
try to imagine
some would hope
to find their self there-
with salvation
offering only
more of t’which was given,
mindscape profferings
one way
count self lucky
being untortured
as less than
t’which’s lent-
stations that have always spewed
The Hold
that has singed
is what has been,
taken as holy-
discover self
deeming land,
grasp consequence whilst holding future

crouched before time

taken as
ideals mucked from sediment
no way to build a house
when mire is sole source-
cry to mother
when taking offense
sling insults
those in pews refuse to sullen self with,
allowing political correctness
to have you in a stranglehold-
your face swollen,
reddened by done deeds
fuming about Others’ wrong
relegating Owned to All Experience-
tedious is the Chestnut,
flippant is your approach
an award on a shelf
not an office to behold-
self forget
condemn those remembering,
missteps as but your stepping stones
reasons for Others’ lifetime sentencings-
if only it could be called neglect
reality is as
party platform,
how you are different
treading carefully down the same line
simply with
out-sized shoeprints,
the only way you tread deeper
is when the ground is more granular

rice over an open flame

Waded through more than dismalness,
waited for better occurrences
was struck, never stymied
when they were not-
we think a lot more to be had than what is,
was there a time to fully recollect the moment-to-moment wherewithall?
wagering-adding up, diminishing value prophesied-
wings, flightless
wallowing in molted sunshine,
walloped spirit
withering, being unacknowledged
will still, inevitably swallow
whatever soul there is for nourishment-
whether we (dis)believe
which we do(n’t), victims are created-
with staunch thought
without negating belief
within, humanity is more than fear-
watering down others,
where they are but pawns in a created game
whence, for chance at disallow or success
wholes left to minuscule regard-
withered becomes humanity
wasting t’which could be learned
whilst hollowing own head,
wilting the world from growing, experiencing another instance-

crashed happenstance

you told me the other day
about how the wrong you took
was right,
you took offense from a nonconvenienced state
you spoke of feeling belittled
you experienced no detriment
t’wilst you had no ‘skin in the game’
you only wanted to express
a perceived discomfort
a fairy tale malcontent,
you wanted your drunk bucket
and to piss in it too-
dismissing what would change dismal position
only drinking what feeds misconception
from fetid sources
from higher-up foretold stances,
it would be a joke
it’d be a dire promise misgiving novel,
if it were not politic sucking truth-
as they eat it up
from maw
to hand,
self-blinded to what is naught
to what should be discouraged
only listening t’which reinforces
only taking in t’which invigorates
what actuality provides
a dismal, bright mirrored corner created
reverberating self-reassuring deflections
dark lit cosmetic look
shadows leeching stance
bone truth emanating
furrowed brow speaking more than what is stated,
hollowed back stance taken for desired politick-
create an audience,
collate their participation
database their enthusiasm
you are a metric
you are not a sole soul
just ask ed gein,
just asked steve king
if there is new life to be taken
with similar blank eyes
both responded
“Only, if it is Right.”

1066 days, 1052 mass killings

Taking a stand
from the profligate stances spoken
no matter
the shot-through fluidity
the true aim fallacy,
the strife caused
tens of thousands rounds in your name
thousands of body-riddled holes
don’t turn your cheek
don’t pray to an unaswering
use the power had,
legislate restriction-
rabbit holes aren’t only for easy reward,
they are your logical reality
your unplugged financing
your hollowed heart
sallow stances for campaign equity,
whilst they fall unto ground equality
only some of us have a chance to change wrong
upon a massive scale-
there you sit hollow, your finger on the trigger
sniper of self-had misgivings rather than societal ills
cry that it’s government that is in the way
as you stand steadfastly with a hindering politick barring-
decry only when you can blame it on an already placed boogeyman
make excuses when it’s one of ‘your own’
place the blame all you want
see those percentages rise
it’s a long-away-off election
with more of the same violence t’which you defend to happen
you want to control
what a woman can do with her body
yet vie for free reign to those
that would slaughter her at gunpoint,
there’s a way to cut a phrase
there’s a way to parse a quote,
but your stance has been set
you believe in bloodshed
and excuses for it
when you deem such right-