Category Archives: political

365 Days of Poetry: Day Three-Hundred and Fifty-Two

jump the sun.
with carbon wings.
an entry to.
eternal spring.
religion of.
the unknown space.
striving for.
the smallest taste.
reign down.
feudalism is not dead.
government reverts.
all hop beds.
to win the purchase.
of their flight.
convert your demons.
sleep through the night.


365 Days of Poetry: Day Three-Hundred and Twenty-Five

the best intentions.
bring the worst ends.
the ordering of society.
goodwill toward men.
finish in totalitarian rule.
and dead children.

Check out WtF a Podcast tonight at 9PM ET for a discussion of Dystopian Fantasy. You can find the youtube channel through the website: http://waytoofantasy.com or by searching Way too Fantasy on youtube.


365 Days of Poetry: Day Three-Hundred and Twelve

drunk, that blue moon.
had to go, no waste for–
this is a man’s world.


365 Days of Poetry: Day Three-Hundred and Eight

love as tho wilt.
and be blessed.
refuse the voices.
of nothingness.
behold the dream.
and keep it well.
these goals we set.
these goals we sell.

repent, for it is nothing new.
to rue the days.
or tame the shrew.
lost words are what.
the Nothing proves.
a world with humble.
paths to choose.
this is what we lose.


365 Days of Poetry: Day Two-Hundred and Ninety-Six

hand-rolled cigarettes.
and lobster stew.
the left doesn’t say.
what the right can do.
torn-up posters.
and winking eyes.
in the knowing.
we can despise.
the pride, but what is left?
a tombstone and a torniquet.
one punctuates, one stops an end.
grave or table, foe or friend.


365 Days of Poetry: Day Two-Hundred and Forty-One

From the archives.

Dead Morning

they fell.
it was about.
8AM.
on a typical weekday morning.

I sat.
too shocked for tears.
the armchair.
supporting my shock, your head.

the world.
a different place.
for you now.
born in the year when terror began.

their war.
not ours.
all I can teach.
is a way to live by peace.

we walked.
uncle sam and I.
over streets.
in a world not quite as real.

the paper.
I saved it.
but as often happens.
it was washed away in another disaster.

it dawns.
the new world order.
and we survive.
frolicking about in the pieces.


365 Days of Poetry: Day Two-Hundred and Forty

Sonnet #2

The clouds seem solid, no plane could crash through.
Their light-born reality this evening.
September, now a month of bearing news.
Of fallen justice and the world’s keening.
Flight, though that is not the truth behind lies.
The death knell of republic and freedom.
Preached by government leeches and spies.
On screens and printouts serving daily doom.
The honored dead will not be justified.
Until the curtain is raised, the phantoms.
Of great statesmen headed, they do appraise.
Political favors from ghostly back rooms.
So long as liberty is a call to war.
The failures of the system I abhor.


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