Thursday, October 13, 2022

Parrot Disease

 

I wish there was an easy way to say this, but John was right about the jailor.

Tireless propaganda tames all but the few whose faith is whole.

 

I remember you well. I don’t remember everything, 

but what I remember from back then is the same I heard today.

 

You are hurt. Nobody responds to your stupid texts.

Nobody calls you, or checks in, or pays you a visit, or invites you over. 


Always deflecting. Always insulting. Always hearing but not listening.

Always gaslighting. Always the victim. Always the expert. Always the same.

 

Fifty-eight minutes is all it took to remember why your four distanced themselves.

In your eyes the four are Stewards. Milk does feed calves and dung does not.

 

Always reformed but never reforming, and trying to make them think.

That milk is the same sort of thing as sweat or dung.


One is always the soldier at war. One is always attacked. One is always justified.

That one is a horrible human being. Not horrible, as in wicked—

 

—horrible in the sense of pathetic, and mean, and hypocritical, 

and self-aggrandizing, and argumentative, and petty, and embarrassing.


This is why your four don’t bother with you anymore.

Tireless propaganda tames all but the strong whose hearts they break.












 

Friday, August 26, 2022

Seven letters plus I

 



I see your lines, circles, crescent moons and stars, all commenting on your new creation

Looking closely at each letter to learn what's in them for you

Of the holy one, the true one, you underline with dark blue ink as one who knew life itself

Vindicate them, you highlight, as one who appreciates the lord's faithfulness to his people

Every page is saturated with ball-pointed feelings of childlike curiosity and trust

You valued the cost of the crown of life more than the acceptance of this world

Over and over, and over again, a star marks wisdom for your own application

Unlike the one who abandoned his first love, you now shine like the son, having been faithful unto death





Saturday, August 20, 2022

Unscramble

 



Seflak is such a strange name

the odd letter functioning like a grade

upon its academic work.

 

I see the CD in the Ugandan’s hand.

And I don’t know how critical I should be.

Will that, too, produce another failure?

 

One can only hope my restructuring in pdf will be read


not just downloaded and tucked away down F’s memory hole

as another box checked to boast and know it all

Perhaps when my publication is for sale


Seflak will start paying attention 

and stop ignoring our differences

and adopt me as a Sealak











Sunday, July 17, 2022

Woahk County

 


BS.5 is spreading quickly in Woahk County. It’s a variant, so it deviates slightly from BS.4 Omega, and Daleth, which also exhibited slight differences from its deadly mutant strain, Diadem91, killing billions every year during the tyrannical and transphobic Trump administration. 


Even with prior infection, BS.15 is seemingly more transmissible. (Seemingly, as in a biosecurity-state agenda that seems to have no end in sight.) BS.5 is also seemingly more immune-invading. This new BS invades immune systems like no other immune system has ever been invaded. The good news is that the vaccine is working! Severe illness and death are both battled against around the clock by each and every hard-working vaccine. 

This is why the time is more critical now than ever, and Woahk County is issuing a face-diaper mandate. Face-diapers are an important additional tool to protect against widespread infection. Face-diapering is a critical public health tool.












Wednesday, July 13, 2022

Dots and Caps

 




The adopted one speaks like her Papa. Always innocent until proven guilty. Always the victim. Always the humble and wise apologist, asking useless questions related to imaginary foundational gaps, accompanied with poor grammar and reasoning. Always tearing down strongholds made with privatized perception within the echo-chamber of Dr. Pops. Then come the dots...

As the Papa is predictably defensive and insecure, yet overly confident inasmuch as he overcompensates with ridiculous anecdotes of self-aggrandizements, so this newly adopted daughter is blinded by her own conceits. Blinded by his, too, they remain an embarrassment to all those who truly care about them. At least for now. Maybe it will remain forever. Maybe it won't. Then come the all-caps.

I certainly hope not. Just as I hope she learns, before it's too late, that she's not his daughter or covenant child, and he's not her father. Her actual father is not evil, as her Papa claims. The only way out of this mess she impetuously plunged into is to think for herself, and question big Papa's authority. That's what his real children did. They grew tired of playing his stupid games, which only won them stupid prizes. Then comes the position paper. 










Friday, June 10, 2022

What I learned from Willy

 



We must know truth 
We do well to avoid error 
Our knowledge is a drop
Our ignorance, a sea

We need only act 
And keep acting as if
The thing were real 
And the real will become 

Old fashioned hell-fire
Preaching and teaching 
Producing fruits 
At full conversion value 

Epistemology is communal 
Yet I have liberty to disagree
Because one’s love of neighbors
May not be as of one’s self

The easy habit 
Is ignoring data
The popular ritual
Obtaining unity in one’s mind

Truth is a stream too great
For any single mind to take in
No single dip or dive is universal
Truing is what we do to pass through

Doubt is not
The lamentable loss of certainty 
But the positive possibility 
Of certainty 

On this one thing we do not agree
The absolute divides us
Therefore, let us not become parted
By such trifles

We must respect
Sacredness of individuality
Outwardly tolerate 
What is not Itself intolerant 

We, instead, embrace
These vices of adroitness
swindling and their indulgence
Also, cant, and sympathy with cant






















Friday, May 27, 2022

Make it go away

 


Jesus with long hair

Paul with crotchety everything 

Both are blind and lead the blind

Like a circus

Around and around


Fleas could do better teamwork

Because the robotics could save them 

Our maybe, just maybe 

Jesus and Paul are the robots

Programmed like toasters 


And tea kettles resting 

On shelves of good will

Until some thrifter thinks a good idea

To invest in them just to throw them away

And make room for better junk on the shelf