Marketing Procrastination

Marketing, A spontaneous poem (for procrastinations sake)

One man's dream is another man's scheme
Where does it all end?
Centralization brings profits to the core, but what of our centralized fallacy?
Can we be actively pursuant of a new paradigm
or must it slap us in the face like they always have.
One might think an escape would be desired, but the spring
only coils more intensely, as if waiting for consensus to release
The tension of collective our budding egos.

Have I got a poem to sell you!  Vertically integrated thoughts
from the basal syllables to lofty concepts, wrought by words
and vessels of meaning, stopping short of meming
leaning on a a necessity of information transfer, but
needing a little bit of vaguary to leave something
to your imagination
Let me waft my broken business sense like a washed up dancer
spinning around the pole like an executive begging for VC.
Now that's a nice ass!

And so.  Here I am with a poetic solution to my wealth
A vast alchemic product capable of boosting your net worth
through cleverly arranged devices to devise a divisive
decisive insightful missive, mitigating useless employee dismissals.
This will bring a greater clarity as we automate the functions.
Discuss this over luncheons that cost a years salary for the lesser qualified.
Lesser quality, but more quantity.  Let the words flow.

For free form finds fecundity in fields, fallow and waiting for indoctrination.
Let me address the nation with a solution for the down slope.
Do it yourself. Decentralize your mind, and the rest will follow.
So, let me know when you are ready to purchase this disruptive solution.
Here's my number:  1-800-get-more.
There's never been an easier solution,
than nonsense.

October 2010

Yes We Can!

I imagine the subject title yelled in voice similar to Gandalf warding off the Balrog in the mines of Moria... Yes we can, despite what the forces of darkness would try to implement. The veil is lifting.... But we will not fail. Yes We Can. This poem is a burst of positivity, a voice shouting out among millions of groans... Yes We Can!

Yes We Can!

Bless this man, steadfast and saddened in African veil
Yes we can fail, though as of yet we stand, full-sailed.
And needless of the fanfare of obsequious pucks or pans here.
Interesting…if that’s the Klan there, they just got squashed like patapan.
We stand clear. And now stand cleared, our names vindicated.
We drowned flames of hatred as they licked at our toes.
Came out thick with our votes. Because of this I flickered with hope.
So that this quick and verbose thick worded prose
With words which fit snug and hug gripping you close,
sticks to the bones, although this title shtick is a quote:
Yes we can.
Follow the lesson plan.
Attest to fan flames inspired by hope, to warm hearts,
not to heat irons and set the brand, let's beautify life the best we can
experiences tattooed on skin that’s etched and tanned,
Watch as I outstretch my hand, yes we can, reach out and touch someone:
like ET and Elliot, Carl Sagan on the SETI stuff,
Edmond Hillary on the yeti hunt, or Apple and the iPhone stunt with A double T.
See, that’s a lot like me. I, too, am ready to meddle with my ability
Whether it’s with these words honed, or even verbs moaned in operatic tones:
I’m big like baritones, bellicose, with varicose veins ready to explode.
Loud like bass bins booming with full payload,
Colorful like paint splashed in passion as orgasmic chode
On body’s canvas to caress the skin with new beginnings. Oh!
Yes we can.
“We the people” starts a text extracted from a blessed pen.
So this text aims my intellect to mend our battered land.
After 8 years of a President proud to be the jester’s man? Here we stand.
Made to believe that the world was about to kick the can.
Scared about invasions from our neighbor Mexicans?
From across the Rio Grande real bandits, Machetes in hand?
Guess again. The Taliban?
They were resting, dressed in tan, at the Bush nest in January its not them.
Pakistan, Afghanistan, Uzbekistan, not gonna stand
for more war and torn body parts that stress the fam.
Bringing home to roost proof that nukes are built specifically to test the ban.
Bring home the troops! Protest this family rule! What’s next Iran?
Yelling at the top of my lungs, until I’m hoarse like equestrian.
Overcome the chills from fear poured like ice down our cardigans
The Vatican does not determine the destined plan. That’s a sham.
The blessed Quran is just one of many books they quest to ban.
But their quest is bland, distressed and canned.
Forget them, man. There is one sure thing now:
Yes we can!
January 2009

Bees Make Hexagonal Hiveworks

Daily Freestyle Thought (part 1):

Listening to the multi-worded,
overly verbose MCs of Anti Pop
slop their thoughts thru unchanging style wars
of informational propganda,
suddenly inturrupted by a phone call..


Break.

And here is today's poem. Inspired by the many words of Antipop Consortium:

Bees Make Hexagonal Hiveworks




War in the mid east is tragic and needless,
yet pales in comparison to rising waves on the beaches.
Hurricane's and levee breaches, mass death and disease,
viral fleas, bar codes, species loss and dead seas

And our bees are dying faster than the troops in Iraq,
When the winters freeze kills species they aren't coming back;
and what'll fruit trees do without their pollinators?
Whoever said you have to embody man to be a terminator.

Fine: learn it later, earn your paper, take the wafer [to make you safer]
I'll make a wager that your fates in favor of survival, lest you waver
You know the truth, as do I and it is undeniable
Not just some philosophical abstract where words are pliable

But as fact. We can deal with tact later,
Create our own universe from un-tampered with data.
I plan to convey a way of communicating more information
in shorter time frames slaying the repeat of misunderstand-ation.

Just playing. War and peace requires talks in Sirius Tones:
like dolphins moans across light years that set the tone
for the whole earth zone, not manipulation of the power
and participating in building monuments to make the people cower.

I speak to those who brought showers to drench the earth populace,
disaster and ultimately war to wrench up the face
of our planet. Goddamnit we live peace! and God Bless, you live war
Give to yourselves greater than the earth has in her stores

I speak in meta-in-formation spores, but am much more than pissed
Just give me a second to wind up to the gist
of the sick bureaucratic black magick practicing clique
Practicing rituals written down in extensively in cult lit.

How Tulac burns every spring and rites worship devils…
how hallucinogens are used to pass initiates through the levels…
That’s why their illegal...what if we knew what they knew?
What if information ballooned and we found out the truth?

I vote to drown out the spoofs, Broadcast from the roof
Pod-cast and Kazoo, myspace.com, blogspot and yahoo
Internetted multitude, interstellar space travel has resumed
Lamarckian evolution at last and not a moment too soon!

Blast to the moon, dude that was a past attitude.
The whole class is in the mood for mass gratitude.
Communication at last that permits vast perspective
Introspective omniscient thought pattern direction.

Try and catch my inflection and lessons inscribed.
Self-preaching to teach myself how to settle the sides
and find peace to cease warring parts of my soul
from fighting for control and trying to take hold.

Trying to make gold of ground sold in the craze of rye mold
Haze of days old and past but seeds of evil well sowed.
Now showed to be outmoded but the momentum is massive
Blasting over like bowling balls to pins pacifists acting passive

Pass the spliff and forget the past failures and blows
Possibly prescribing the final solution for those in robes
Foes in the clothes of the leaders your holding close, Stop
Control your woes and realize now is the only moment we've got.


It’s a twinkle in the eye and a nod of the head
A quick turn of the face to show acknowledgement
The Fam is the Fam, and the Illuminati are bright
When the infrastructure crumbles and they turn out the lights

Light up the city in ember and burn down Babylon
Replant the rainforest get these cattle gone
Burn down the bank system to earn my interest
Replant the real hanging gardens to feed the kindred

Stretch your mind to relieve the cobwebs of the state
Stretch your body to receive the touch of the great
Stretch your soul to imagine an infinite web
Stretch your aspects to embody your intricate head.

The next move require little stretch of imagination
As the nation degrades in less than 10 generations.
Please. Our Satan is more than just our past sins
Perhaps it begins with illuminatus occupying our pyramids.

They stole your gold dude, who’s funding the research
To research for dead bees and seas dying on earth?
We need our capital back, before we go the way of old Mars
The stars are filled with planets with nothing remaining but scars.

There is no guarantee we flee this mess and escape
But our fate is a great choice we collectively make
And for now, it’s a few bastards ruling the roost
With an internet giving infinite networks a boost

So all we have to do, is participate in passing truth
Through our interested synaptical friendships and groups
Gridded connections as strong as your dreams
Streams of information are the universal strings.

September 2007

Simple

Simple…

CHORUS (2x)
These days seems like nobody really wanna stand and be a man no more
Everybody so concerned with profits and the prophets of today aren’t concerned with the world.
We’re lost in the memes and dreams are fading like the stars at the rise of the day
But so far sunlight don’t shine so bright that we can see the light for the right of our way
CHORUS:

I am not a simple man but I lead a simple life with the goals that I keep in my sight
I am driven to unite the community despite any perceived chasm of the left and the right
We can be better than that and better yet we can see better in fact when let in the light
All life has the right of existence that’s implicit in the fact that we opened our eyes

And as we open our minds, finding truth as close as the slope of our spines
This hope that is mine grows up like a vine all way to the sky clime
Ascending the beanstalk to stalk the giant that holds us down in our minds
We find that in fact we had the power to change the world the whole time

CHORUS (2x):
These days seems like nobody really wanna stand and be a man no more
Everybody so concerned with profits and the prophets of today aren’t concerned with the world.
We’re lost in the memes and dreams are fading like the stars at the rise of the day
But so far sunlight don’t shine so bright that we can see the light for the right of our way
CHORUS:

We need statesmen who will face them who have sold souls to the dark to destroy
Our earth-ship needs the berth equipped with living systems support all the goy
Government for the people by the people of the people we the people Being equal
Declare the freedom from the evil that roots in the concept that earth is a toy

We can hope that the wise are given the credit finally as we choose to align
Ourselves with a true Good and God modestly, honesty honoring this place in our lives.
Honoring the clay that shapes us, honoring the snake that gave us
Honor in the face of faceless Never fear the unknown, the unknown made us.

CHORUS (2x)
These days seems like nobody really wanna stand and be a man no more
Everybody so concerned with profits and the prophets of today aren’t concerned with the world.
We’re lost in the memes and dreams are fading like the stars at the rise of the day
But so far sunlight don’t shine so bright that we can see the light for the right of our way
CHORUS:


February 17, 2010

Good Morning/Bad Morning

Good Morning/Bad Morning

I am destroying my body with my questioning mind.
I sit awake at 6:40am on this supposed Monday morning.
The coffee shop awaits its patrons
My stomach awaits sleep.
My brain is shriveled from being awaked to long
And my knees are jack-hammered
after 21 straight hours of on the feet labor
Hip-hop is put on hold for this old dog,
Now just 22 years old.
Early morning sky illuminates this sad square
And taps its foot rhythmically
Until the sheeple shove their way
Through a turn-styled gate (which ever is closest) and feed.
Only the sad time
trapped by the lack of forethought,
forgotten in empty lots
Laughs at the great hula-hoop of karma
Crashing down Elm street
Without making a sound.

For You

For you

Word for word, poem for poem,
I strive match my mind with the greatest of them:
Those who are remembered not for their legacies of invention;
Those who are remembered not for their great inheritances of wealth;
Those who are remembered not for the inheritance of power,
nor as the offspring of great statesman;
Those who are remembered not for their barbaric atrocities of tyranny,
But for those with wisdom, compassion and yearning for truth and good
Those remembered and those unmentioned millions who dream and challenge the world to bend and sway in political reform
and are never known.
Those of you--I know you are out there, for I have met many—
who conspire compassion and philosophic philanthropy;
who literate literal truths;
who prophesize prosperity thru proper peaceful progression:
I recognize you.
To those who cry at night alone for the injustice of the ignorant,
who’s confusion can convince the millions and multitudes to follow blindly;
to those who wish to effuse education with excitement
and lavish learned wisdom upon the billions of equals spread out in this earth;
To those who, sad eyed and solemn discuss the import of expansive understanding of this race as one;
To those who see more than the almighty dollar, or yen, or lira, or deutschmark, or peso or euro or amero;
Those who see more than a signature to signify accomplishments;
To those who continually strive to reach further
And read and learn and expand themselves beyond these mortal bodies.
You say that hope exists, and together we will overcome.
To love, learn, laugh, and never regret your short time spent.
I too, wish for you as I wish for myself
To all the Socrates, Buddhas, Platos, Ghandis, Boddhisatvas and saints,
to all the Mother Teresa's, and Ammas, I beg of you to continue,
for your kindred spirits are here for you.

August 1999

Before Facebook

Before Facebook.

Oh to be back on the corner of W. Hilliard or riding through the streets,
Chasing each other like fugitives, a Wild Goose Chase:
Who’s side are you on anyway? I’m going to hide at the school…
My spot is at the top ‘cuz it my yard and my tree.
Branches worn from use and overuse by nimble fingers
Calloused by daily climbs and wear: a symbiotic nature with tree,
And with life.
Cars without license plates, binoculars and spies like us;
Muddy banks of the creek and soaked pant legs
(Did you know what was the only time I ever got grounded?)
and wild onions
that make magic potion if you smash them in the rocks right…
Grown-up thoughts have no place in the Karate Room: Hii-ya!
Your drew blood on me once, we were angry.
Skinned my nose: you were so proud…
I might have been bigger but I never looked down on you, not once.
----------------------
Does the monitor’s white glare cut into the rooms’ Buddha nature?
Mu.
Overpowering, false vibrations of man-made electronics.
My eyes are puffy and my fingers ache from an all-nighter
And my thoughts are of a childhood friend.
----------------------
That rope must be a hundred feet long!
How did you dad build that tree-house way up there?
Can Eric come out and play?
Nintendo, Zelda and Mario, Zack, Eric and Peter.
“You like Michelle, don’t you?!? GROSS!
Zack and Michelle sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G…”
She never got to know about the computer upstairs.
Or the super ball on a string for a practical reason,
that baffled my sensibilities.
Dot-matrix screens and flat plane shoot’em up games.
You always won anyway.
----------------------
Sometimes I wonder what you are up to these days.
I almost stopped by the house last time I was in Eugene.
But you probably don’t live there anymore
Besides
The gravel road where we used to harvest ice crystals has been paved over
and someone cut the first twenty feet of branches off the old climbing tree.
And now it’s a new millennium and Pokémon wins with round.
But I’ll see you again, sometime.
Spring 1999