Parabolic Receptor


Shout from the rooftops
those whispers in your ear
that schizos may speak
and their followers hear.

That nutcase Messiahs
and self-proclaimed Lords
may reign in the splendor
of psycho wards.

That demons be exorcised,
angels beheld,
and the Savior restore
what the Garden expelled.

That shepherds spin yarns,
flocks be well-fleeced
with no charlatan spared
from the reign of the beast.

Until virgins are satisfied
trimming their wicks,
and we see by that light
that we all need a fix.




Hard Cell

Free verse was captured,
confined to a cell
by readers unraptured
in modernist hell.

And there he did languish
while chained to the wall
and desperate in anguish
gave forth a last call:

“Listen and read me—
my muse is the best!
Applaud and then feed me,
your starving guest !

Don’t fall for that beat…
Please ignore their old line.
I’m here. I’m effete.
I’m a modern divine…

I like it in prison
No, really — I’m free!”
(But his lock was awaiting
Your Readership’s key.

For the moderns all lie,
as your readership knows;
Modern poets don’t die—
they just decompose.)





Ghost-Blogs of NaPoWriMo

Fake blog fronts
(Tumblr the worst)
Must think I’m a dunce,
though I am… well-versed.

The door is ajar.
I click on “about”
but there’s no one home
and the candle goes out.

Have you ever wondered why some of the blogs at the NaPoWriMo reader are fake?
For reasons known only to the number-cruncher bots at WordPress, Tumblr, Blogger, etc. there are phantom blogs created just for National Poetry Writing Month. Perhaps to generate more buzz, or to test out new strategies for imitating human behavior through cyber-technology (?).  I am not sure, but I find it spooky in an annoying sort of way. I am getting better at spotting them. They usually have no past, no archives, the poetry is nondescript and random, and when you click on “about” to find out who it is you get: This is an example of an about page”.



Samuel’s Anointed


Race-baiting covers for agit-prop agents
splitting white hairs in their dark distress;
with name-calling, bullying, lunch money payments
and shifting the blame for their people’s mess.

Reparations are due for your boring screed
that you scrawled at the helm of the Black Star Liner.
You owe it to those who were forced to read
your obtuse agitations (you Afro-whiner).

Poisonous shout-outs to fallen comrades:
holy Saint Michael in reaper’s hood—
endless blathering racial tirades
poor comrade—your dreams are misunderstood.

You’re obsessed with injustice. That’s nothing new.
You’re a David anointed to overthrow Saul—
(as long as he’s white and less rabid than you,
oh prophet and scribe of the activist call…)

Stay mad at the system. Revile all your foes
with raving, with preaching, with bitter bad words.
Insult all your enemies; list all your woes
as you document stink on your turds.