News Poems

For 19 years, I have prepared for this moment. First contact is here. I ready the binder, filled with all the clippings. Some were hard to find. You have to know where and how to look. Carefully. Our last hope in mind, The binder's laminated pages wait and rasp. DNA kept near. Toenails and fingernails. Humanity. Easy to restore. Should our visitors from beyond see fit to clone us from our fragments. The blue light shines above the cityscape. It's time. First contact and more. Meeting them may mean annihilation. At first. Might be accidents, germs, misunderstandings when two planets collide. Who knows? Just in case I will give their leaders all the nail clippings For them to decide How they will bring us back should accidents occur. What a wild ride. I knew I was right. In my heart, I knew I would Save the human race.

My barrel floats across the Atlantic and I am inside. Je suis le cargo. Je m'appelle Jean. Je ne suis pas Cousteau. But I know the flow. Calm and gigantic.

Choose marriage or mission. Two ways to submission. All life is perdition. Fine, she chose mission. Visit the beautician. Gratify our vision. Here is the condition. Your bomb brings fruition. Heaven needs ignition. Gone without permission? Bring the next addition. Choose. Marriage or mission.

Blue or pink? Makes you think: What will they come up with next? Over two decades ago On a tropical Christmas My two brothers and I Got a big box Sent all the way to Hawaii By a family friend. A strange man in retrospect. Inside the box There was nothing to inspect But mountains and mountains Of bubble wrap. It was colorless but great popping fun and much better than blue or pink plastic crap.

Kindness Compassion Understanding Made in Taiwan

Art in space? Super neat. Art in orbit? Kessler effect.

How do we find value in lifeless rocks? Well, depends how those rocks were made and found. Intense heat and pressure, deep underground, brought us diamonds, our love-death paradox. Diamonds are forever. Love eternal! Millions of years behind one stone, my rose, and delivered by deep-source volcanoes. Everlasting love from the infernal. But a diamond can be made another way. No, I'm not talking about man-made junk, but an asteroid, a big incoming chunk from space that will strike the Earth one day. Imagine the wondrous rocks that would form upon impact. Diamonds from the gods above. Cold. Pure. Diamonds are not just about love, my dear. Their shine foretells another storm. Diamonds are also a reminder of death, or at least of forces beyond control. So beautiful, unburdened by a soul, a diamond shines long beyond our final breath.

There was a country, Yugoslavia, a powerful place that played East and West: Serbia beside Croatia beside Bosnia beside three others/compressed. Six nations as one, but it did not last. Small differences always caused unrest. Too much history: Neighbors killing their neighbors killing their neighbors right and left. Now all that simmers, among the people, from mosque to steeple, frozen, dispossessed. Travel to Belgrade. See Mostar and more. You will surely find people at their best. I both can and can't understand the theft that Serbia sees of what they possessed. Too much history: Neighbors beside their neighbors beside their- Let them be blessed.

On Dasher, on Dancer, on Prancer and Vixen... Gone Comet, gone Cupid, gone Donner and Blitzen! Gone? What do you mean gone? Okay, what needs fixing? Climate change? Wasn't that handled under Nixon? Are we sure that it's real? I mean for a fact? Look at the presents. You know who pays for all that? You know they pay for the workshop and keep us stacked. You know why I carry coal. It's in my contract. Bye Comet, bye Cupid, bye Donner and Blitzen. Damn, how could they die... I can't keep up this fiction. Bury my reindeer. Send this year's coal back. I'll bring them all fear. Send elves to attack. This year. This year. This- All will know despair. Apocalypse is coming. Only fair.

Imagine a nation of non-readers. Leaders all judge a book by its cover but never discover the stories within. Imagine a burning mountain of books, words lost in smoke, never to be spoken, ashes a token of worlds gone again. Imagine your world. Imperfectly in mind, until the lines break all confines, and you find a book is the place to begin.

Call it an indulgence... oh, poor choice of word. Call it a habit - no, not so good either. Call it a mystery, known just to the Lord. God, give us a miracle unto Caesar. We would've won it back. Time plus interest. Gambling is the ultimate test of firm faith. We would've put it back. God as our witness. Loss is no deterrent. Winning, we embrace. To Vegas we go. Last trip, our whole convent. Let she who is without sin cast the first dice. We want a win for the Church. Haters repent! Lost again? Perhaps remorse then shall suffice.

Slaughtered my fathers. Became my father. What was I to you? A simple mascot? Reminder of guilt? Burning afterthought? Hint to how you felt? A Mayan live-in? Proof that you'd won? Original sin? Your actual son? Bye Dad. Think on our recent ancient fears for thousands of years.

You shot two students, yet still passed the course. First line of defense. Our only recourse. There's nothing that is one hundred percent.

This just in: Lance Armstrong admits he was wrong. About what? You ask. Not that doping thing. Everyone did it. Everyone lied some. “The way I acted was my undoing.” ...but not what you did? Be a gentleman and they'll side with you. They'll give you your due. I don't have heroes. But your bright story? Too good to be true. Defeated cancer. Seven in a row. Charity for all. I had cancer too same type pretty much. Whatever that means. The way I acted? Shining example of self-hate and fear. I took a journey across the country. Not a Tour de France. As a sort of joke, I went to Texas. Slept under a bridge. Decided to live in the capital that was your hometown. A couple thousand I raised and ran the Livestrong Marathon For your charity. A healing moment. Too good to be true. The way I acted? Some importance. But I did what I did. You did what you did. A winner. ...

Want to be a bully? Think twice lowlife. Welcome to the zero tolerance zone. Too many enter; one man leaves. That's right. Welcome to your new home. Always alone. Your first offense: Write down one thousand times: I am worthless. The world doesn't need my kind. Write it! No sound crybaby. Your only purpose is to stay silent. Don't you dare fight it. Second offense: Stranded on the roadside. Your walk of shame will extend for miles and miles. Eyes will slide along your back. Never the same. All will know. Comments cut you down to size. Your third offense: Scarlet B branded into your forehead. Sit alone at lunch. An untouchable. Never forget. What you did. What you said. A one-two punch. Always unlovable. I swear. It's become an epidemic. Have a bully? Don't worry, we'll sure come and put them down low. Won't be no gimmick. Kids these days. Who knows where they get it from?

Hail Satan. What? Don't you mean Santa? Nope. Hail Satan. All benevolence. Separation of church and state. Justice for all the nation. Simple common sense. No, you can't say that! Baby Jesus will smash Satan's foul head. Send his followers... To H-E-double hockey-sticks. And he'll torture the damned dead Souls. He'll swallow yours. Hail Satan. Where is thy forgiveness? Your reaction brings those who bear witness.

Another dinosaur? Thousand and four. Action figure? Great. A million eight- year-olds celebrating all that I have. Play again, again, and again and laugh. And the camera never stops staring. I am told that life is about sharing. So take the toys. You can have them for free. But can't I have, can't I just keep, well, me? I had a friend. We'd solve all troubles. His special name was Maximus Bubbles. No longer new, didn't have the features, had to make way for the shiny creatures. I wish those toys would come to life and leave me alone on my own to make believe. I miss Bubbles and our wide empty space. Please don't believe the smile on my face.

Things fall apart, that art of the deal. Not creation. Not original thought. I pity the fool who try to steal that sick beat, that trademarked feat: “That's hot.” Hakuna Matata. Raise the alarm. You cannot be serious. Many seek. We all speak words that heal or harm, but the small words don't belong to you. How bleak. You party like it's 1989? Can't you create beyond a dollar sign? Tell you what. I'll travel back in time. Copyright that crap before you. Make it mine. Bula bula bula – I'm everywhere. Let's get ready to rumble. Aspired to greatness, but instead became a millionaire. Never yours, your ideas expired. You're fired.

   Two spaceships diverged in a dark void,    And Superpowers made many lines    And cosmic boundaries to avoid    And stared down across the asteroid    To where it bent their curious minds,    Then took their sides, as sure as strife,    One having perhaps the better claim,    Because it was lasting and boasted life;    Though as how long it would suffice,    Both sides treated that about the same.    And both sides waiting equally lay    In fears the other would attack.    Oh, they kept the worst for another day!    Yet knowing how fray leads on to fray,    They doubted if they would make it back.    We shall be spreading across the sky    Somewhere eons and eons hence:    Spaceships diverged in a void, and why-   ...

No coffee for me. Gimme extra cream. Ready for my free early morning dream. Tell me it's ready. Look me in my eye. Say my name steady. Again. Almost. I- Enough is enough. No more of that here. Starbucks will get tough. Smut-peddlers stay clear. Butt. But your logo has so many curves. Oh, where will I go to release my nerves? Your public wi-fi just does it for me. You never ask why my life is lonely... Look. Sorry buddy. Just coffee. No butts. Go fuddy puddy at Dunkin' Donuts.

   Ugh! My iPhone 69 has a crack.    Send it away. Go ahead, send it back    to Africa. Our trash is their treasure.    All out of mind, a face-saving measure.    Dim recollections of Western leisure,    electronic waste, a goldmine left to rot.    Innovators, explorers, know pleasure    by bringing to life all dreams that were not.    Trash it, but you better wipe your hard drive.    Third-world robots take all secrets live.    3D printers, steel spiders skitter,    catching toxic flies when not on Twitter.    Netflix. Amazon. Oh baby, what's on?    When it doesn't work, it's all gone. It's shit.    Crack it up. Pack it up. Stack it up. Get!     Our no-have nations can deal with it.

1:1 Hey. 1:2 Hey, 2: Jesus! 3: Civilize 5: all the savages. 8: Make disciples of all nations. 13: We love you. But your culture... it could, Should, be better. 21: We're here to harvest your souls. Don't misunderstand. All part of God's plan. Praise to the Man. 34: We offer certain divine eternal salvation. No colonialism. Espiritu Santo. Serendipity. Miracles. 21: We come in faith, hope, and love. The greatest of these is love. But never forget our faith. 13: No man is an island. More will come. You will be saved. 8: Ways change. Diseases come and go. 5: Kill us. Take our place. 3: Sacrifice. 2: We will 1:16 save 1:17 you.

The death of disinformation draws near. He she me we did done reading read that happen happening must be for a fact people agree with me. They say it's here. Out of control fire, ever higher: immigration, Islam, dirty, danger, no health care, Red Scare, corrupt campaigner, carried in the water, from your father, crossing borders, old new world orders, many guns and too few in the same line, left-wing, right-wing, all wings beating in time to get you me we she him them us ours- Enough! I'm here to tell you what must be the truth. It's the whole truth and nothing but the truth. I made that shit up to prove I was right, and you swallowed it blindly, out of sight. You are fake news. I know, I made, I saw. You were all wrong. Time to forget it all. Let's go, line by line, follow my finger Up in smoke, a joke, a real zinger Words plagiarized from the mind of... good God You all believe it again and again....