My Trump Post

All this talk of conspiracies has got me thinking: fucking Trump was put there. He was placed by the overlords of our corporations because nothing gets the people motivated to go out and do something--buy something, donate, eat, fucking live--than to #resist a dangerous imbecile.

He said it himself: he can take all the heat. He seems assured a spot in History's pantheon of wheel turning figures so why does he even care to continue with this charade? His name emblazoned on giant buildings, this desperation to matter--to be somebody, to be someone of meaning. Vain. A hypocrite. An idiot. Evil, some say. But in his own way, his desperate need for acknowledgement reflects the core truth of humanity. His yearning for immortality, his own fervent hope that a future Daughters of the Confederacy will erect statues of his backwards ass...I get it.

See. I'm actually woke. Not in the way you are thinking but in the way you will one day think. Trump, in all his rage inducing fire & fury, is meant to put you to sleep by getting you out there: politically motivated, protesting, voting, having conversations and debates, dreaming once more of equality and fairness and a sense that the world can be one you believe in again.
















I wrote a book of poems.
I wrote: Peace & dreams aren't real a bunch of times in it.
Was this whole thing a commercial for a thing I haven't even published yet?









*I've become a walking commercial.*






What Trump realizes on those rare occasions his delusions clear and he allows himself a few seconds for introspection. Company who hired him? Life. Humanity. Some fucking quasi dimensional system of woe that also let the Patriots come back against the Falcons...









bastards.

Second Post

I wrote a sweet comment on another blog. But I was signed in as someone else. And when I tried to give myself credit for the words, it was lost to the world.

I had wished a man long days & pleasant nights.

I had told him I hoped digital archaeologists, turning some futuristic spade, excavated his words to know we weren't all so bad here.

And then it was lost.





But you know what? We are like those who believe in Jesus because know this, we will rise again. It's been ten years since I last posted and the darkness comes just as regularly as it always did--but so does the sun, and summer, and death, and all the smiles I can ever remember having. So much has changed.

So much is the same.

So much hope remains--you know what? I will go back to that stranger's blog. I will comment once more. I will let him & the world know, anyone who cares to look, we don't have to give up.

We don't have to fade into nothingness without a fight, gentle & goodnatured as it may be. Even as erasure almost happens again, and again, and again...still we will rise. We rise. Like

Zombie.

A song you used to love as a kid. It'll come back in style. The frustrations may mount. The fight may not appear worthwhile. So smile. Eyes open, fly into a sunrise and rise, rise, rise.








(doubt there is always doubt)

First Post, Test

We are entering a test, the great event nothing but a rumor, a shaking in the firmament, a twisting of futuristic girders shuddering from the heat and tension, a metal collapse into a cloud of debris twisting into the sky, a column of black smoke, dark and reflecting a hundred thousand faces in that terrible fall, a hundred thousand cameras showing a singular fear, a thread through space, through portals, all strung up together like a holiday decoration for the apocalypse.

The first post.