Radiation Will Be The Judge To Which You Will Testify

Chemical Poetry

Comical Realization

Walking down our stairs alone again
was preparing my medicine in the dark
when the comedic realization struck

I was marinating in a soup of salt and hatred,
before I set out to prepare my salve

And then, walking down our stairs alone,
I almost tripped on an errant item,
littering the floor

The item was strong, with soft, rounded edges,
yet, mixed in equal distribution with complicated angles
and sharpness

Walking down those stairs, I saw the back of your head,
staring vacantly into your dumb cellular communication device,
probably browsing the vain mind pollution strangers spew

The comedic realization washed over my body like a hundred year high tide that,
even giants could surf

The laughable cognizance, an unknowable spark, pouring from the fabric of the universe

I learned in that singular moment, walking down our stairs alone, in an arena of silence we both helped build,
that I have what you have not

While you sit alone, clinging to fantasy,
I reside in MY zone, firmly grasping strands of a rope,
I spent a decade weaving

While you sit alone, I too sit, but not alone
I am surrounded by my creations,
I am enveloped by the realization of my many abilities
I am showered in the light of what my small hands have created

While I walked down our stairs, I was never truly alone
I enjoy the limitless expanse within the depths of my synapses
I feed on my energy and expel wonderment
I consume star dust and explode, ripping the fragile fabric of space
and repairing it with ease

With nothing but my years of experience, and the genetics my ancestors lent,
I have built a multitude of profitable industries, endlessly manufacturing that which could never be, created by another

My creativity is my refuge, my art is my soul
Breathing new meaning into dreary proceeding

While you sit, alone
without your mind to keep you company,
and soon,
drinking my evaporation


Insanity Looped Infinite

Insanity, looped infinitely,
by a machine too weak to mar its maker

Careful crafting,
bashful dashing,
harassment surpassing,

Her math was a complex calculation of graphs,
logrithms, variables and even pi,
laid upon the table for deliberation

Her method of attack was decidedly weak,
against an opponent who knew her plans

And her war goals are confused and confounded
by my acumen

My troops stroll across the battlefield draped in metal and acrid zeal

My troops roll the dice, rattling the cages of fragile rage
You are too weak to face the agile mage

Your skeleton is frangible, your consistency flawed,
your inner-human is ill-developed for

Your jaw was not built to withstand, assault from reason
A weakness runs throughout the thousand yards of your genetic material,
Failure was not assured, but you tried so hard to accomplish it

The lost lessons of frost
Accosted by daily attacks,
Harassed, on the fringes and in the epicenter of existence

This loss, you fought so ardently for
your excellently manicured keratin, scraped and stammered,
thrust deeply into the cutaneous surface of my chest
Expecting, victory

You wanted this
You yearned for the moment where I discovered: You weren’t everything

Perhaps no one can ever comprehend,
why such a callous soul would afford, contentment upon another

Or maybe this was always your sick plan,
temporary respite from fighting,
a ceasefire with mal intent

Whether you wished this or not,
your actions yield your future

Without, me







2017 Strategy

2017 Strategy

14 Previous years are sufficient study,
to measure progress

The plan of attack is now clear, the estimated casualties have been precisely calculated

The conditions of sustained victory are simply surmised, and she,
with ineffectual, weak grip strength, relinquishes her easily obtained gain

The aftermath of a conventional nuclear war lays upon the field of battle, where she ignores the score

She looks past the wounded, the dead, the dying
She gazes beyond the sick and stricken population,
convinced she remains in a position of power while,
her soldiers suffer

The truth is a different matter

The truth is an illustration of despair,

A landscape of uninvited solace

Desolate land

The strategy is thus; a mantra

Give what is deserved, or suffer the ultimate insult, apathetic hopelessness,

hateful abandonment, superficial extraction

I don’t require her validation for victory,
as I have already won,a lifetime of amnesia








Latency Contingent

Returning home

Bodies inhabit structure
but, lack fortitude

A sour mouth, after hours of drought,I dare to speak
and waste the contents of an inhalation

Gemstone eyes once sparkled,
sparkle turned to burn, and burn to fizzle

The proprietary formula for contentment,
lost in patent litigation

Once, words were just words,
words turned to whispers,
then, to screams
then, to last wordschoked through cobblestone passageway,
a desiccated larynx

In all seasons,
the house is frozen,
heart muscle lost in tundra



The walls are so high
I know It
is insane
To think of scaling them

The kind of challenge
impossible to ignore
unable to avoid
its ornate glow

A creature of the Earth, though thoughtful
and considerate of the vast acreage
land plots, awaiting Blix,
I wish to drink from the trough

Therefore, preparation,
a component necessary
for success, in the ultimate escape

Ten years worth of gun powder,
Starting shot is fired, GO
It has, finally begun

My legs respond first, jerking into action
readying my stance
Preparing for freedom
Salivating for salvation

I hit the wall at full speed
Body weight multiplied by velocity,
You forgot about lift

I vault half the wall in a single leap,
the last ten years were simple
now it must happen

Pain, the silence of solitude may persist,
I may subsist sleeping in a car,
I may end up in a freeway divide,
thanking my stars

I may find delight in the most impoverished of circumstance
While the status quo is  mass starvation

Contextual Sublinguist

Baffled by her
lacking clarity

She sifts through mist
Lost, adrift
mind fools lip
her spine is a fool

Choosing to, hold up
Regrets’ weight
crushing Hate
blushing when I ache
face red, she has regressed
I am dust no trace, lost in flakes
not quite,
but there exists a Boston Taste

Hate, do I need to cheap press
Berating, coal baked with each step
relating your face with burning
sensations turn leaving her speechless

That is a cheap dress
malicious intention
window dressing is not still impressing
jaw tension, all raw condescension
pills won’t sweep away your flawed contravention

She truly fears mind canvas
unruly tears, cry when I vanish


Objects Left Helpless and Forgotten

Ten thousand used cigarette butts line the sidewalk,
while a blackened, forgotten shoe has been left to the wayside
it watches traffic pass, not asking for a helping foot
or a matching shoe to place adjacent to it,
if only for comfort

homes crushed by quaking forces of gaia
bodies, like biscuits, crumbling under thunderous strength
the black shoe starves for attention,
while humans forgot where it came from
where they originated

Trying to crush hatred below the sky,
and cannot even feign sacred cries
how  a prophetic never lies

The levers cry out for attention, but the black shoe is left on the wayside
ignored by all who pass it by, for they have shoes of their own
don’t need its decrepit protection from the elements
now, the elements rain against it

the pace never changes, while the weather swirls dust-ridden ranges
patient pasture awaits its drink,
while a single patient lingers, deep in double-think

the black shoe will eventually perish, imitating all life
shortened attempts of longevity
wishes for limitless bounds
bliss found in frigid shrouds
kissing feet of rigid sows