Archive for September, 2014

grind

Posted in Uncategorized on September 24, 2014 by GJK

punch a clock

first time in nine years

pack a lunch

head to bed early

anxiousness

scurry and worry

uniform

and a plastic badge

brand new shoes

and a plastic smile

job is new

but the grind is old

bought and sold

borrowed and burdened

but i grin

i labor for love

GJK

24SEP14

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the idle mind

Posted in New Poems, poems, poems 2014, taoist with tags , , , , , , , , , on September 23, 2014 by GJK

the idle mind worms its way through reality

ravenous for something meaningful

to which to attach itself –

it tunnels through the sludge of a hundred billion

useless manifestations laced with hate and greed

and envy and sickening blindness and its hunger

twists into pervasive loathing and bitterness

but a purity remains at its center,

a nucleus tethered to the origin

of all things, and that center

begins to consume the poisonous infiltrations

that have ravaged the idle mind.

the mind then stops searching, stops besmirching itself

with the toilsome and treacherous mire

of perception of the external.

nothing in the world can be changed

is the realization that arrives

in a thunderclap and the mind is shattered

leaving only that subtle center

and its innate desire

to manifest love

everywhere.

GJK

22SEP14

Humans

Posted in best of GJK, New Poems, no-mad poets, poems, poems 2002, poems 2014 with tags , , , , , , on September 16, 2014 by GJK

I.

O! what drear, bleak, wretched savagery

of image or solidity

entombed

in the Womb of Night,

in the Grave of Day.

what life living unto living’s own

deathly way; scourge of man and woman

to shuffle, dim, alight, and strive to raise up

monuments of Divinity

rather than let the Divine live in

and through them,

but Time does crash and swell,

crush, surge, and purge intention

’til life does become bound and blinded

and action flails impotently

without desire or design.

the Masters of humankind,

the governors, the generals, the clergy,

do enshrine themselves in statues of stone

and brass and they shape their plaster walls

and wooden coffins to point precicely

to Martyrdom;

they rise up vulture-like to erect monoliths

of excrement that they would have us deify.

but O!  the masses scramble in rat-hole streets

burning to live one moment as humans,

but they are bent, brittle, spent,

beasts of burden for ideological-economic-fallacious machinery

while their infants weep

on soiled sheets

in shoddy cribs of splintered sticks

eating porridge from lead-poisoned spoons

as mothers make salt-soup with their own tears.

the tragic skylines of the world!

steel and glass pierce the clouds

edifices fling light wildly

obscuring the story-myths that are written there

every night and every season in the inky void.

these buildings assume majesty

but humanity chokes on the smoke

that billows all around these ant-hill-cities

that destroy truth and beauty of the

simplest and purest forms.

the horror!  great bridges spanning

churning polluted waters

and how many dead are there?  workers

forever entombed in concrete,

bodies without names, graves whose headstones

are the hood ornaments of a million brash, shiny cars

hurtling forward thoughtlessly,

cars with drivers that irreverently roar

and stomp upon the forsaken dead bones below them;

there are ghosts in the pavement beneath their wheels

and they have not a thought

for their repeated desecrations.

II.

O nameless demon that doth curse

our infinite strivings,

taint our pure and innocent yearnings,

what blackened wings will next overshadow

our small intentions,

our elemental living,

our inventions of mental contortion

that allow slivers of prayerful hope

as we languish in the chains of Time?

what bird of terror will again tear at our livers,

spilling our shimmering viscera on burning sand?

war-machines and politics, border skirmishes,

imperial hubris and outright hatred,

disputed thought-systems that control the money-flow

disguised as arguments over Gods

and morals of archaic religions.

all of this is ultimately absurd.

a plague of ignorant violence

leads humanity toward an atomic death,

mushroom clouds and desolation will remain;

dominion over the earth passes then

to the beetles, until they too

develop the malicious intelligence

to annihilate themselves.

 

GJK

31AUG02, 1SEP02, 16SEP14

 

 

ourselves

Posted in best of GJK, love, New Poems, poems 2014 with tags , , , , , on September 12, 2014 by GJK

you sit wrapped in flannel

enraptured by the flames

the night serenades us

we surrender softly

to it and each other.

you exist in heaven

with me as your witness

the flames are our haven

without time or distance

between ourselves and bliss.

your suppleness meets mine

our embrace is a spark

eternity is ours.

GJK

8SEP14

for Sunflower