Bound, Bred, and Butchered

Bound, Bred, and Butchered

Inspiration spirals into form and creation.
Creation gives birth to energy.
Energy becomes spirit.

Dancing on the tongues of bluesmen in the Delta,
Or across the lips of Hopi shaman on the Mesas,
Ever-changing with each new generation.

Change and growth keeps life moving.
The spirit is alive.
The unbound spirit is immortal.

But if the spirit is captured
And forced into the flesh of the page
A prison of compressed pulp

The growth ends, change ceases
What was once a spirit becomes an Earthly thing,
Bound by mortal limitations.

Livestock locked in pleather binding
Used to breed new inspiration and future livestock from the minds of a reader
But over time, being slowly drained of relevance and energy.

If the mortal’s secrets are revealed,
If the author betrays the symbols,
Then the trapped livestock becomes cold and rigid.

A dead thing--slaughtered and skinned.
Worn proudly by its former master,
Its head mounted on the mantel next to the heads of other cheated and poached game.

Nothing more than a material trophy,
A symbol of the author’s intelligence, philosophy and articulation.
No more growing, no more breeding.

The penned words, which seemed to promise immortality,
Now, as though carved in marble stone,
Serve as only a permanent reminder of what once lived.

There is no meter or rhyme in this hypocritical verse.
This particular spirit was stillborn into self-explanatory body.The only thought it can breed is self-serving; it’s only inspiration a rejection

Relic Jade

Relic Jade

Cherry Blossom samurai,
Sleeping by the river side,
Petals and leaves, just as his dreams,
Join the flow as down they glide.

Out of sight, but deep in mind,
Into dusk and out of time,
Spiral-bodied dragon flys,
And silhouettes the moon sublime.

Following the celestial beast, which now awaits a mortal feast,
The poet’s journey has been resumed, just in time to be consumed.
And as breath of fire turns to smoke, without withstanding words he spoke,
The dragon’s flint throat echoes fade, throughout halls of relic jade.

From the ash of fiery breath,
Man and serpent rise again
In the tales of life and death,
Intertwining now with then.

You

You

On the day you tasted love, there was
A blanket of black
From the fire in your tracks
As you crossed all those rivers
without ever looking back

The smoke from all those burning bridges
Has spread to your gun
And it's blackened-up your lungs
And you cough and sputter
before you set out to run

From everything thats bigger than you
But theres nowhere to go
And youve got nothing in tow
But you still worry
about what all there is to show

Your eyes water and you taste the tears, but
You only cry through your teeth
You were never much of a thief
Because even a criminal's
got to understand grief

You can only understand your hands
And what they can reach
As you soak them in bleach
Ignoring the other senses and
the pearls they can teach

You've just got no time to listen
Well, that's what you said
As you got ready for bed
Closing your ears on the wounded
so you could leave them for dead

The Nature of Need

The Nature of Need

I watch him struggle along the wall,
By means of clumsy jerks and stretches,
To an awkward corner above the hall,
Where dusty silk hangs posthumously, casting shadows of abstract sketches.

He is starving for the light;
Though, he is born of the night,
And so, not blessed is his sight,
As a savior in his plight.

On the contrary, it doth betray him,
And nothing can belay him,
As he sinks into the mayhem.

A thing he needs so desperately,
Perhaps a soothing, calling beacon,
Which summons him on westerly,
A false prophet to heed inexorably, against whose shine he cannot reason.

If he finds it, what will change?
Is his station all that strange?
Or, is the creature just deranged,
Driven by some mental mange?

It is simpler: he is designed,
With a light burnt in his mind,
As all he'll ever need to find.

He has no choice but to comply,
Be it tamed bulb or wild flame,
The faux-suns call him on to fly,
Without question or equivocality, where the light can only maim.

Forced by nature into this run,
He knows no comfort in the night.
Plunged into pyre of false suns,
He'll find no comfort in the light.

She flowed...

She flowed...

A stillness slept, draped across the settled sands,
Without arousal to the senses of Sound or Sight,
Save for the breeze, which caressed like a gentle hand,
All that it knew there, nestled in the chilling night.
The desert was peaceful.
Precious fluids, reserved for yet another day,
The unborn seed unknowing of its timeless plight.
Humbled thirsts, the yucca plant and tumbling hay,
Subconsciously hoped for the nimbus flight.
The desert was patient.
The choir sung, courtships blossomed with the red dawn sun,
Coyote, Jackrabbit, and Prickly-Pear;
Circular themes, living apart but surviving as one,
Ancient spirits danced across the grains they shared.
The desert was home.

Without a cloud to give warning, or the melting of snow,
A river was born with a nurturing flow.
Like a serpentine lover to the dry burning land,
Her winding body kissed life into dormant sand.
Where once slept a seed, there then stirred a flower,
And all was turned green with her life giving power.

No longer would mouths of the thirsty stay dry.
No longer would hopes be reserved for the sky.
No longer would needle-point winds groan and scratch at the flesh like the angry lost souls of poached pumas.

Through every winding ripple sprang a new blade of grass,
And pussy-willows hung over sparkled, flowing glass,
Which secreted into surrounding earth bleeding life into night-sky petunias.

Spotted moths fluttered, fanning love into the moon's hazy light.
Dragonflies hovered, buzzing luck into the morning bright.
The coyote knelt to drink from this water,
Along side the Jackrabbit, then as a son and a daughter,
Suckling peace and rapture from the river's soothing flow,
That sang back to bright-faced Tawa with a reflective glow.

Every petal, every blade, every leaf and green shade,
Saw its life in that river and the path that she made,
Through the sands, through the hills, through pillars of stone,
A Queen of highest beauty upon a rock-bed throne.

Riding a horse made of all answered prayers,
She flowed through this desert, she flowed through her cares.
A Queen, a Rider, a Mother, this river
The desert reborn from what she delivered,
But the serpentine lover could not kiss forever,
And as her lips dried, all ties had been severed.
As much without warning as the day she had come,
Evaporating into spectral mist, she ended her run.
And as flowers and willows began wilting away
The yucca grew more thirsty with each passing day.

A speckled wind, blows across a thirsty land,
Without acknowledgement to the senses of Touch or Taste,
Except for flame-like heat, that slaps the sand like an angry hand
A bitter reminder of love, loss and waste.
Rocks, Dust, and Bones, are all that remain of former plans,
All green to brown, hope falls from grace.
The desert is dry.
The sun retreats, unable to cope with the tragic scenes,
Leaving all sadness to a waxing moon.
Air like ice, reaching through flesh and torturing dreams,
Exodus of all life back deep in the dunes.
Save for a single Coyote, a tear caught solid before it careens,
Frozen on a long face that laments love-lost too soon.
The desert is cold.
This Prairie-Wolf, weeping out lyrics innate to his songs,
Staring at the ground where once a flower was growing.
White sands shift, beneath the weight of four-toed prongs,
Seeming to sigh with the notion that all life is slowing.
Raising his head, the lone Coyote inhales -- his eyes, with the moon, follow along -- And cries out to the night, "I miss your flowing."
The desert is alone.

Why I Feel Bad Voting For President

=====The American electoral process, as well as many aspects of the senatorial process, is typically divided into two opposing factions. On one side, there is the Republican Party; its members tend to believe in a more conservative approach to government, rarely wanting to make changes to preexisting governmental policies that may benefit minority groups or improve foreign relations or do not meet the standards of a Judeo-Christian ethic. One the other side, there is the Democratic Party; its members tend to adhere to a more liberal belief structure wherein the traditional governments policies are ignored and new ideas and ways of approaching government--within the confines of the preexisting mold of government--are favored. Both sides have their pros and cons, and while the Democratic Party has been in existence almost as long as the government itself and the Republican Party, having spun off of a now defunct Whig party, has been its opponent since the middle of the nineteenth century, it is my belief that they are now both obsolete.
=====Through out the years, newer, less powerful parties have come and gone, finding it almost impossible to get a stable foothold in the electoral process. One of the reasons for this is the seeming demise of the original idea for political parties to begin with. Today, the Democratic and Republican parties, while they exist in name, have given way to liberal and conservative interest groups. It is almost unheard of to have a liberal Republican or a conservative Democrat without a party change taking place. Any new parties that might be formed end up being an amalgam of the two ideologies and are quickly overlooked by the more steadfast members in either preexisting interest group.
=====Without varying opponents to keep the process fresh and evolving with an aging world, the two groups, conservatives and liberals, have come to a stalemate. As is the case with any long-lasting, dual-sided conflict of interest, both sides have begun defining themselves by everything the other side is not. If one is a liberal, one is a steadfast, fanatical liberal and takes the moniker of Democrat as their own. If one is a conservative, one is a steadfast, fanatical conservative and takes the moniker of Republican as their own. In choosing either side, a person is suggesting that they agree with either the entire liberal ideology or the entire conservative ideology, and will often bitterly oppose any and all policies, programs, and suggestions made with the opposing ideology in mind. Because the two parties are locked in such a stalemate of ideas, belief, and power, the system cannot evolve and the system does not grow.
=====The gridlock of the system is further reinforced by the way leaders are selected. In a two-party system, a single leader should never have complete control of the governmental body. It is true that there is a legislative government, but its power is still inferior to that of the elected President. The gridlock of the system is manifested in a more literal way when the President is of one party and the Senate is largely of another as they can perpetually overturn and veto each others every move; however, ultimately the President has the final word. So, even if the Senate represents the party that did not win the election, when a single leader is elected in this system, the losing side of the population--which is typically almost half--cannot have its interests taken into consideration for a period of four years. Those people are essentially voiceless since the balance of power is tilted toward the side of the opposition. Also, when that elected President has completed the four year term, if the opposing side manages to win the next election, the next President has the power--and often the desire--to rollback and overturn any and all of the policies of the previous administration. By overlooking large portions of the population and their interests, dividing the belief systems of the society they live in into two factions, and constantly undoing and redoing functions of the reigning government, the single leader, two-party electoral process has completely destroyed any and all possibility for an evolving or improving government or society.
=====By removing the evolution of government and society, the two-party, single leader system strengthens itself over time. The longer the system exists, the more powerful and irreversible it becomes. As is becoming the case now, the people will eventually only know to choose from the two preexisting ideologies, conservative or liberal, and will have no need, desire or knowledge as to how to create a new belief structure; and as both sides continue to elect single leaders into the Presidential seat and rollback each others ideal governmental bodies, animosity between the two sides will grow, further reinforcing the concept of defining oneself as the polar opposite of the enemy--and they have truly become enemies. Where once there was a nation of people with many different ideologies and proposals for governmental structure, there is now a nation of people that riot, protest, and fight in the streets over political ideology--much like they were doing during the time of the Civil War. It is the passionate opposition between factions that will eventually be too powerful to reverse, and the two-party, single leader system will be the only means of government possible.
=====Taking into consideration the complete stalemate--or perhaps even reverse--of the growth and evolution of the political and social sciences, I believe that a new model for government should be considered, and the old model discarded. Because of the dynamic that exists within the parties, the best way to approach the problem would not be to eliminate parties, but to eliminate a single leader. It is possible to create a new model of government wherein political parties can still exist without a single leader, and it is possible to create a model of government that can fairly represent all sides and citizens equally; however, as long as the two-party, single leader system is in place, the ability to consider such a concept is perpetually weakened. Eventually, it will be impossible for either side to recognize the possibility for an option; but, it may be such an option that can ultimately rescue the United States from its currently floundering state of political and social development.

Flash Fiction for Fiction Writing entitled "Class"

====="Jesus Christ, would you look at that dog?" says Grey, brashly bisecting the current conversation while waving a cast-entombed hand about in disgust.
Steve and Ray briefly glance at him and then at a girl with a seeing eye dog finding a place to sit near the front of the room before returning to their discussion.
====="Look, Stevie, none of that matters. You really don't have anything to lose in this situation. It’s not like you’re even really friends, you’re classroom-buddies; I dare to predict that few classroom-buddy relationships have ever blossomed into anything profound," says Ray.
====="I don't know, dude. What if it gets all awkward? I wouldn't know what to do. I would become a story," Steve retorts.
====="A story?" asks Ray.
====="Yeah, you know. One of the stories people tell during lunch or at parties about how some goofy fuck tried to ask them out or get a number only to flounder pathetically all over in the process. I don't want to be one of those stories," Steve says, looking over at an attractive young woman sitting a few rows ahead of him.
====="Jesus, Stevie, why don't you be more neurotic? Maybe we can adopt you a nice little Asian girl, then we won't have to worry about any of this," says Ray. Steve just shrugs it off--almost as if it had never been said.
====="It's got to be fifty-five pounds! It’s a Labrador-fucking-retriever!" Grey interjects again. He finishes the statement halfway screaming, having been gradually increasing the volume of his voice with every word. A few people in the surrounding seats momentarily turn around.
====="Would you shut the fuck up?" says Steve, nervously using one arm to sit Grey back in his seat.
====="What?" asks Grey, innocently.
=====“She's going to fucking hear you," says Steve.
====="Good," Grey says. Allowing his voice to gradually get louder, he adds, "then maybe she'll fucking feed it!"
====="She is pretty cute. You should at least try to find out if she has a boyfriend. That cutesy little wave she gave you when she walked by seemed like more than the usual 'hey random guy' wave to me," says Ray, who is looking at the young woman while he liesurely skims a newspaper.
====="If I try to find out something like that she'll know exactly where I’m going with it. It would be exactly like asking her out to eat, or something," says Steve, returning his full attention to Ray.
====="Except, if you did that, you'd be a normal person and you’d probably get immediate results," says Ray.
====="She's got to be three-hundred pounds. Three-fifty at least," says Grey, shaking his head.
====="What are you talking about?" asks Steve. "She's like a hundred and twenty if she's an ounce."
====="No, not your wet-dream," Grey retorts, seemingly disgusted, "The girl with the dog. Look at her."
====="Dude, she's fucking blind!" Steve says.
====="What, like being handicapped automatically exempts her from taking responsibility for her actions?" asks Grey.
====="No, that's not what I'm saying," responds Steve.
====="Because if that's the case, then this cast gives me the right to do whatever the fuck I want; and right now, I want to tell that heartless mass of disabled humanity to feed her fucking dog!" says Grey, again raising his voice in the direction of the subject at hand.
====="How'd you do that, anyway?" ask Steve, nodding to the cast around Grey’s hand and wrist.
====="He built a pair of twenty foot stilts in his wood sculpture class," Ray answers, not looking up from his paper. "He used them to look into the upstairs bathroom window of the Phi Sigma house. His efforts weren't well received."
====="Isn’t that the feminist sorority?" asks Steve.
====="I was trying to open my mind to new ideas," says Grey.
====="You were trying to catch assumed lesbians have an orgy in the shower," says Ray, still not looking.
====="Yeah," confirms Grey.
=====Steve just shakes his head at pretty much everything Grey has said during the last five minutes.