Archive for the poems 2014 Category


Posted in best of GJK, New Poems, poems 2014 with tags , , , , , , , , , , on December 3, 2014 by GJK


plagues me

torments my calm

ruins peace of mind

tremendous desire pervades my bones

razor blades lacerate my milky eyes

brain stem throbs like a withered root

all i want is one more intoxicated moment

all i want is one more ecstatic cresting wave

all i want is the beauty of fervent feeling forever

thirst runs rampant in my desolate brain like frantic fevered vermin

lust for drunkenness writhes through brambles of consciousness from dawn to dusk

moonlight has lost its luster and coyote howls have become screams of demons

i am split asunder by the thundering blade of clarity that exposes my weakness

i shudder under the weight of the knowledge of time and its passionless lethal grip

my ability to love is hamstrung by the discord that rages within my bleak denuded soul

i feel forsaken and lost as i am set adrift on an ocean of sobriety without sails

i ache for tranquility and lightness of being but i am severed from this peace by ubiquitous need





Posted in 4x4x4, New Poems, poems, poems 2014 with tags , , , , , , , on October 26, 2014 by GJK

autumn decay

sunshine decline

retreat of geese

leaf-piles burning

Orion looms

near sublime moon

wolf-packs wander

pine needles fall

firewood stacked tall

gardens tilled under

coyotes prowl

mad humans howl

audacious frost

wind whispers winter

hawks circle high

Oktober sings



red house, blue house, purple haus

Posted in New Poems, poems, poems 2014 with tags , , , , , , , , , on October 7, 2014 by GJK

this guy thinks he’s jimi but he ain’t

but he’s good he tears at the soul

he bleeds well

on the fretboard.

this guy is trapped in digital playback

but the guts still scream


he got the blues.

i am a red man here hearing him

in freedom u.s.a.

but my heart is off in a workers’ paradise

in a world we are still dying to create

and my love is gone

(not my peaceful heart but my beloved)

so i’m down enough to be striving upward

into royal purple sundowns and dawns

a triumph every day

to just simply

not quit.

not quit fighting for meaning and depth

and grandest of all,

the humor to carry on

amid the horrors.

this guy ain’t jimi but he got the job done

he goaded me into this poem

in his own blessed

frail little way.




Posted in 4x4x4, New Poems, poems, poems 2014 with tags , , , , , , , on October 6, 2014 by GJK

idle chatter

all around me,

empty blather,

retail robots.

smash and shatter

my rigid brain

with wagging tongues

drooling gossip.

bullshit has wings

in this stale air.

choke back vomit

and sweetly smile.

bridle anger

withhold judgement –

as a stranger

just sweetly smile.




Posted in New Poems, no-mad poets, poems, poems 2014 with tags , , , , , , , on October 2, 2014 by GJK

mighty Orion

strides lithely with graceful light

and magnificence –

his deft hands bring death;

with arrows of righteousness

evil’s heart is cleft.

the moon howls havoc;

drear Oktober brings him near

to mortal hunters

beseeching his blessing

worshipping his grandeur.



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





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


O! what drear, bleak, wretched savagery

of image or solidity


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.


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.



31AUG02, 1SEP02, 16SEP14