The Sophist
2016-11-17 12:00 am
It's you I want I just mean Do it Want me I'll scream Drown them More feelings Of wanting Longing For something Aloof Trot of the hoof Fall from the floor Land on the proof Smile at the whore Missing her tooth Trying to score Good times with the roof Ease to cool her Down and pass out Songs of abusers Speaking of peace Echo through darkness Then she falls asleep For something Standoffish I just mean It you whose the problem Not me I just solve 'em I can't be wrong 'Cuz I'm peaceful And honest And a really chill guy If you don't mind me talking At lengths just to show I'm not racist I'm mocking Their race 'Cuz it's funny Not Angry Just Loving That Pain From Above Automatic Dark static Creatures of habit Throwing outrage around Myself I won't have it Outraged at myself Myself never planning To be holed in a cell Living under you bandits You won't have it yourselves Yourselves being outraged At all of yourselves For all of your work Education and health Yell at your brothers Strangers Mothers Escaping from hell By throwing dirt At the world Insurmountable selves By the billions All with a version of self I'm doing it now Laying a seed To expand And develop I mean I just want to scream These guys I girl dog about I'm mad 'Cuz I'm me
0 Justan Mitchell
2016-04-13 12:00 am
Mother Mother of Style and Grace the load carrier of the race Mother, our comforter of shade in mid summer. Mother, our near perfector, the rare refresher of constant blessings from the fair blesser, from He who blessed Her. Mother, desiring to bring up the multitudes, after a long nine months of serving two Mother, responsible being for all of humanity, and all the other creatures we see. Motherhood, to the single fathers doing what you are supposed to do, raising the levels of consious understanding, this one's for you, mothers too. My Mother, One with a Queen's eye and high esteemed Pride, blessed with a natural high, off life she flies. I Love, Honor and Adore this Mother of mine. Mother of Style and Grace, she can light up a room with her smiling face! But be careful, don't let a woman scorned takeover a loving Mother's place! Mother will discipline when pushed the wrong way, now it's the grands who better fast and pray! Teacher of many lessons, Mother of Style and Grace. For my Mother. C.L.M
Justan Mitchell
2016-04-09 12:00 am
Home Sweet Home I want to go to a place where wrongs become rights, spontaneously systematic like tax hikes. A place where fights are the last resort when handling plights. I want to go! I want to go to natural zone of flight where mental spikes reach spiritual heights. A place where the featured attraction are children as they play, where play is an unexpected lesson to be perfected. I want to go! I want to go to a place where action and reaction have a common turn toward our collective burn. A place where death and dying don't exist, where notions of creation are an ocean of manifestations that embraces the vastness of what is. I want to go! I want to go to a place where joy swells over anger, where the smell of hell is a distant stranger. A place to look deeply into hard aches and grief, a meditative island designated for relief....... I want to go!
Gord
2015-02-04 12:00 am
Voice 6: No man plays sport with a god, Sans future sporting warts of frog. So can it be, in the course of wrong, Lies retort the support of a cause? Change lies about, but why bother? Energy costs in dollars, So am I to be in this world? Where there is no king under god, Nor a czar for the godless, Only flattened, artificial sod, Tragedy and rape for the goddess, Upon which we clap in full form. How am I to remorse, or reverse decision? Upon a world which would deny procession. In my opinion the wheels still turn. Minor character: I see. Minor character leaves.
The Sophist
2014-08-06 12:00 am
See World will fall when we all, See a rope in a reptile, Idealize walls in a jail cell, Bear witness to false accusation of fraud, See prophets as wrong, See essences in every object apart, Bear witness to art manifesting itself, Square of a ball, See ourselves as a witness, Never abroad, Forever in transit through cosmos with thoughts that material objects transcend even God. "But what if I'm God?" God transcends all, You're an ignorant clod, Appendage at best, Syllogistically flawed, Essentially fraught, Logistically faulty. God can be everyone without everyone God, Frogs are all animals (not all animals frogs).
Dusti Rodes
2014-03-04 12:00 am
From ‘Blowin’ the Blues' #When a woman gets the blues, she hangs her head and cries, when a man gets the blues, he boards a train and rides ... # (traditional blues song, author unknown) Down in the Deep South, it can take three days to even SEE a train going through a station. Let alone have one stop there. I guess his story started on that fateful night back in sixty-three. Someone had just killed Kennedy. John F, that is. He was shot while driving in a motor cavalcade down in Dallas. It sparked off a whole lot of conspiracy theories for decades to come. Even after the death of J.Edgar. Maybe he took the truth to the grave with him! Who knows? I never really knew him then; I was but a little picca ninny on my momma’s knee, down on the plantation. Barely finished suckling on her teaties. Papa said he was ‘nothing but a no-good nigre,’ and wouldn’t mount to a pile of beans. Just goes to show how wrong some people can be. Sometimes Life can deal people a low card. With him it had thrown away the rest of the pack and was only using a deck of deuces and threes with an occasional four. And it wasn't shuffling them, too well or too often. He was what the white folk call 'coloured' not 'Black'. A mulatto and an albino one to boot. It was probably down to the unfortunate circumstances of his conception. His mother was 'Red' from Rhode Island. An 'easy lay' or so they say. But that was no good reason for her being gang-raped on the streets of Harlem now, was it? His startling appearance often provoked a strange reaction in most people. Raised eyebrows, spinal shudder and shoulder shrug of revulsion, or a sharp intake of breath on initial sighting were common. Standing a shade under seven feet, even with the stooping shoulders and strange way of holding his head slightly forward and lent to the left. Developed from years of attempting to listen with his good ear to what lesser sized folk were trying to tell him. His two hundred and sixty pound plus of bone and sinew barely covered by his leathery weather-wizened skin that had been exposed to the extremes of the elements for far too long. Long days of toiling at whatever work he could get. Bitterly cold nights spent in any shelter he could find. There wasn't any fat on that frame. Thirty-seven years of constant shortage of food had seen to that. Cody Jarrel, cut a vision once seen, that few would forget easily. If ever.... Cody sat slowly drinking the dregs from the bottom of the empty bottles left by paying patrons of the bar. He shuddered so violently, it wracked his frame to it's very core. Sheltering on the back-stoop of the Shanty Shack, from the rain that had been incessant in its task of soaking him while he tried to seek some sleep to rest his weary body throughout last night. It had succeeded, so he let out another shiver that clinked his spine. Down in the doldrums, yet again, the future was looking real bad for him. And little did he realise it then, but it was going to get even worse before it could get better. Much worse. Dusti Rodes (2007)
Dusti Rodes
2014-03-04 12:00 am
From 'Fixin' Fences & Paintin Pickets It’s all very well having a south-facing postage stamp sized front yard. Picturesquely encompassed by a white picket fence. But that makes the prairie outback a north facing wilderness that requires a multitude of feather-board panels six feet high by eight feet wide to prevent range wars with my neighbours. And after nigh on nine years now, they need painting. There's only one thing really wrong with this place in my opinion. The layout of the land. It's They say that there is something therapeutic about hand-painting fence panelling with a four inch brush. Long stroke up, long stroke down. Never side to side. Time spent alone with your thoughts. Having the opportunity to be able to meditate and commune with Nature. Well, after nearly three days of trying I for one haven't found what it is yet! Having spent most of the day sorting out the two compost bins, causing friends and family to hastily stand upwind of me whilst in conversation, I finally started my self-appointed task late Saturday afternoon. At the time the warmth of the Spring sun made the job a pleasant one, and even aided the drying process! But Sunday ... well, that was a whole different ball game! As I have said, the back area is North-facing. At this time of the year the sun doesn't get to most of it till much later in the day. so while to all intent and purposes Sunday's weather was beautiful, I spent most of my time shivering in the shade. And as for yesterday, Monday to you mere mortals, it was that cold all day that the brass monkey that had kindly offered to give me a hand had to have two emergency welding repair jobs! Come about three o'clock when I finally finished painting the interior of the fencing, all I was fit for was getting to a HOT shower in order to stave off hypothermia which I am sure had started to set in previously! When I was telling a friend about how bitter the weather here had become, she aptly described me as a 'human icicle'. All I've got to do now is start on doing the outside of the fence! Oh, Happy days! Dusti Rodes (2007)
Dusti Rodes
2014-03-04 12:00 am
Twelve Bar Blues (An' gittin' drunker in every one of 'em!) I woke up this morning, Dum dum dum dum. I was feelin' real bad, Dum dum dum dum. 'Cos the way that's you treats me, Dum dum dum dum. Makes me feel real mad. Dum dum dum dum. You says that you loves me, Dum dum dum dum. You tells me you cares, Dum dum dum dum. but when I calls you, woman, Dum dum dum dum. You is never theres. Dum dum dum dum. I don't knows what it is that makes you, Dum dum dum dum. Thinks that you can treats me this way, Dum dum dum dum. But you gots it all wrong, woman, Dum dum dum dum. If you thinks I's gonna beg you to stay. Dum dum dum dum. I is jist a man, Dum dum dum dum. Mades outta flesh, blood and bone, Dum dum dum dum. But with all the misery you is causing me, woman, Dum dum dum dum. I'd be better offs alone. Dum dum dum dum. Dusti Rodes (2007)
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