mix phor meta
double, double toil and trouble
mix in moonbeams dripped from Hubble
with a pinch of housing bubble
dump in tons of scraped off stubble
just a taste of wry
with a twist of lime
seconds cloned from time
and, Voila! a rhyme to rollick
swing your partner, tase your Dalek
what a party tea for frolic!
double down, but “Don’t Panic!”
brewed up for fun – enjoy the manic
d a n c e
When the national project was stolen before our horrified stares
When it became our duty to kill and destroy for the convenience of profit
When humane policy became anathema, unworthy economic drag
When the will of the gambling elite gamed the rule of law to their pocket
Did you scream so loud that bitter blood poured from your lungs?
Did you set up mourning camps to gather forces,
to train grief and rage into worthy opponents against true freedom's foes?
Did you gaze into the cold eyes of propagandists and say "No!"?
Or did you march along in the parade, assured: "First they get theirs; then we get yours."?
Century @ 21
Change, hard change, swift change, too much air to breathe change
is happening
now, and surrounding now, growing beyond our
frenzied adaptations.
The old stable traditions, The way it’s always been,
Myths to depend on
crumble in quakes, the shiftings.
Naturally, we rabidly react,
dripping fear, convulsed in rage, scattered
rants and orgasmic desperation.
Yes, in the burning off fog of tomorrow
we may be the better world to come.
I can feel it humming,
dancing into anticipation’s view,
feel the drumbeat, the hurrahs of the tribe.
Change, a jubilation, gift of laughing deities
wisdom of ages inexorably gaining speed
once we learn to jump on board,
play greater possibilities,
fueled in illumination
of expanding
space.
There is a world here that knows itself in the way we all do.
That is to say it has a surface personality, a proper social mask
for formal wear. Underneath, plots are hatching like fish,
bubbles displaying quick new life -- snatched into oblivion
barely formed or growing fiercely strong beneath the surface waves.
Is it a warm, wet winter?
Is the Sun supplying energy without heed to the people's stated needs?
Are ocean waters cursed with pollution born disease?
Do ill winds suffocate a nation's glory?
We could weave this world a better story, play more mindfully
constructed games. We could take back our focus from blame,
realign.
There is a saying that what one knows is merely that
which has not been denied.
mix in moonbeams dripped from Hubble
with a pinch of housing bubble
dump in tons of scraped off stubble
just a taste of wry
with a twist of lime
seconds cloned from time
and, Voila! a rhyme to rollick
swing your partner, tase your Dalek
what a party tea for frolic!
double down, but “Don’t Panic!”
brewed up for fun – enjoy the manic
d a n c e
When the national project was stolen before our horrified stares
When it became our duty to kill and destroy for the convenience of profit
When humane policy became anathema, unworthy economic drag
When the will of the gambling elite gamed the rule of law to their pocket
Did you scream so loud that bitter blood poured from your lungs?
Did you set up mourning camps to gather forces,
to train grief and rage into worthy opponents against true freedom's foes?
Did you gaze into the cold eyes of propagandists and say "No!"?
Or did you march along in the parade, assured: "First they get theirs; then we get yours."?
Century @ 21
Change, hard change, swift change, too much air to breathe change
is happening
now, and surrounding now, growing beyond our
frenzied adaptations.
The old stable traditions, The way it’s always been,
Myths to depend on
crumble in quakes, the shiftings.
Naturally, we rabidly react,
dripping fear, convulsed in rage, scattered
rants and orgasmic desperation.
Yes, in the burning off fog of tomorrow
we may be the better world to come.
I can feel it humming,
dancing into anticipation’s view,
feel the drumbeat, the hurrahs of the tribe.
Change, a jubilation, gift of laughing deities
wisdom of ages inexorably gaining speed
once we learn to jump on board,
play greater possibilities,
fueled in illumination
of expanding
space.
There is a world here that knows itself in the way we all do.
That is to say it has a surface personality, a proper social mask
for formal wear. Underneath, plots are hatching like fish,
bubbles displaying quick new life -- snatched into oblivion
barely formed or growing fiercely strong beneath the surface waves.
Is it a warm, wet winter?
Is the Sun supplying energy without heed to the people's stated needs?
Are ocean waters cursed with pollution born disease?
Do ill winds suffocate a nation's glory?
We could weave this world a better story, play more mindfully
constructed games. We could take back our focus from blame,
realign.
There is a saying that what one knows is merely that
which has not been denied.