If you bow down to fear and fear gains total control, backed by all-powerful technology, you create Hell itself.
https://owlwholaughs.blogspot.com/2025/10/one-of-worst-days-in-human-history.html
===========================
Poetry. Philosophy. Politics.
If you bow down to fear and fear gains total control, backed by all-powerful technology, you create Hell itself.
https://owlwholaughs.blogspot.com/2025/10/one-of-worst-days-in-human-history.html
===========================
Mimes
trees mime
the pain of what was lost.
they could have been left alone
to live and combine.
birds could have
supplied a robust pulse.
the wind might have strummed,
lush of balalaika.
not splintered guitars.
not cracked cellos.
but screechy saws keep moving the trees
to build pricey cubes.
humans and humans and humans
grow to consume thrice as much.
can they feel the distant hum?
trembles from topples of distant tremors
in their bones?
===================
12/10/25 mods
My brother liked the book, Invisible Man, but this poem, in his honor, wasn't quite on topic. Similar, though, in the invisibility.
Ads
flickering soothsayers,
conga lines of clowns on sprees,
half images,
sleights,
lewd phantasmagoria
whirlpooling to tapdance
and drag human eyes
through a sordid gyre—
as if we ‘consumers’
were victims of dangerous urges.
but really
we baptized ourselves
in this syrup,
this vomit of jingles
which twists unctuous as eels
through our infiltrated
minds.
====================================
12/5/25 ... "unctuous" replaces "slippery"
Fall Shadow
a cobweb of leaves
kept breaking around,
smaller and smaller.
no cure for such wine-
hued deteriorations, no glue.
they faltered to snap as feathers
fallen to pull me down into
their sticky lack of reason, wrapping me
in their unruly cloak.
who i was was the leaves:
the wrinkled assemblage of such faces,
of scrunched chins and
waterlogged jowls and torn eyes.
a slither of the history of my shifting years.
they had become as huge
as a sea anemone which was as big as everywhere
my footsteps had ever tread.
they knew my smooth moves,
my flashy darts, the empty fear
behind my fish stare; and they knew
how to collect me, to reveal the
mystery, and why.
===========================
11/30/25 mods
Healthcare beware
I don't want to go there
CEOs reaching out
Whats that all about
Grabbing for cash
filling their stash
while I'm over here
picking from the trash
Living in a canvas tent
can't even pay the rent
The cost of selling my soul
To the corporate Black hole
Living in a tiny house
Like I am a fucking Mouse
But I am a queen
Escaping The Machine
Daring to dream
by: JL
=========================
This poem is by an up and coming local poet with a
trenchant, evocative voice. We in the
USA do not have a right to healthcare.
We have to earn a visit to the doctor by paying cash. The price has
gone up and up, all my life, as the country has become more and more corrupt,
the wealthy hogging more and more of the pie.
The wealth distribution curve in America is that of a 'third world'
dictatorship. If you get cancer in this
country, it is not uncommon to lose your house, your home, everything, to pay
for treatments. The whole system is
rotten with greed. And the fish rots
from the head.
============================
The Gods
sampling hors d’oeuvres
from celestial platters,
what do they know?
weaker than a mother’s tears,
or the battlefield that ate her son.
their bloated goblets, their timeless
obese coffers, their indolence
punctuated with our pitiable prayers,
what if we meager entertainers
sat down and glared at up
at the blue, one-way window,
and mocked the gods
with a collective, resounding shout:
“who will idolize us, offer us flesh!”
and yet, we believe.
when some foolish thinker
proves that the gods are nothing,
mere mutual illusions,
heavy analgesic chains,
we say nothing, know nothing,
do knowing other than bury another day
in the cemetery of our ignorance.
============================
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The object of life is not to be on the side of the majority, but to escape finding oneself in the ranks of the insane--Marcus Aurelius
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Compare to the MLK quote, "the morass of propaganda" :
https://owlwholaughs.blogspot.com/2025/02/the-morass-of-propaganda-quote.html
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Evil asks little of the dominant caste other than to sit back and do nothing.
--Isabelle Wilkerson, Caste: The Origins of Our Discontents
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Sensitive
if you find that peace
in the miracle of a common bird
amid this purgatory of smiles,
then you can no longer ride
the merry-go-round of cruel jokes.
you stand amazed and confused:
how this clown and that toadeater
and this pettifogger and that doppelganger
throw their zest away, how
they let love sink in the arms
of withering, unseen fiddleheads.
if you find that peace, the sort
far beyond the spiders who decree
they construct Jacob’s Ladder,
you abhor
the chopping down of dreams
to construct proper family trees.
you abhor the pluck and burn
of flowers at the stake
in the name of dollars and war.
you … you wander
among fake gifts and kind evils,
vigilant to nurture that little flicker
of truth in your heart.
=============================
11/21/25 "money" replaces "crusades"
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Q: What's going on here!
A: What's going on is much greater than what's going on here.
===