Showing posts from June, 2014


I'm on Facebook, and Instagram, and Twitter. Guilty as charged. I toyed with the idea of removing myself completely from all social media, but all my friends with whom I don't see face to face on a daily/weekly/yearly basis reeled me back in. But, there are things posted on The Face that can't be unposted. There are thoughts and opinions, and angry swipes and pessimistic turmoil. And it got me thinking about things, which can be dangerous.

There's a new (perhaps it isn't new) trend that's floating around social media. It's the act of painting all people of one particular set of beliefs with the same brush. It's saying that since one conservative believes being gay is tantamount to murder, since one liberal out there believes that being pro-life is treachery of the highest degree, then all people of those beliefs must also feel the same way. Which is what brings me to my point. We have become too concerned with labels.

Conservative, Liberal, Libertarian…

Highlights of Atmosphere

Uttered wasteland,
a pile of garbage
tipping the
like mountain

perched on top
a pop of color,
vaguely in the shape
of a Boeing 707.
Once upon a time,
it found purchase on a desk,
perhaps the landing a little too rough,
and was handed to a fist;
sent to the end of the world
with only one passenger.
-JR Simmang

Because the Beat Generation has Changed

who began their days with their feet to the fire and lept to the skies without anything but their shirts and their jeans
who left the morning light in favor of the bright fluorescent scathing rabies of ceiling tile torture
that left their skin molting like little caverns and cages
who stuck out their chest, emaciated and prolonged, only to beat the breath from their lungs and be so
goddamned proud that their children were going to be less emaciated and perhaps even one day find their stupid little trinkets and give them up to charity
who deftly defied the 9 to 5 when they really worked the 6 to 10 and only after the humdrum blue glow of that soul-devouring seraphim tripped a circuit breaker did they finally pour themselves a drop of scotch to stave off the hunger
who let themselves stay hungry so that others could eat, never realizing that if they dried up and withered the fruit they bore wouldn’t be as sweet,
who toiled their fingers and twirled their tongues and held signs and c…


It’s as if we’ve forgotten
what it was like
to built a fire together,
to gather
around the heat and
let the stories spill from our hearts
and impart
the wisdom of our ghosts
to the ones who needed it most.

It was in that first flame
we became the same,
for the fire melted our admonition
and left behind the admiration
of the story in the flame.

The heat was wondrous,
and its divine surplus
filled up through the woods
just like the words
of our fathers.

We listened then,
and when
the fire demanded
we were commanded.
We hoisted the piles
and smiled our smiles
as we carried the wood
to the flame.

Yea, as time flew on,
we saw the dawn.
The sun brought a new age
of impotent rage.
This fire we shared
couldn’t be compared
to the brilliance of the sun.

How then, when the moon
brings all too soon
the biting cold,
and winter too bold,
will we sing our tune?
The sun will return,
perhaps that will spurn
on our blessings,
clothe us in new dressings
(when will we learn?).

So the flame dies down now,


-An Abecedarian

Able-bodied and
blushing amid
concentrated masses of
desiccated corpses
emulating the
flocks of
golden eagles that wend and whinny through
haunted houses,
impotent rage silently
jousts against the
kinesthetic sphere.

Lock-step and
one seems to notice the
pressure rising
quickly against our
sides. Our
transition from
ubiquity to
violently reviled has been
welcomed by the
xenophobic sitters.
Yet, we have faltered, shrunk, and our
Zittau has become our zero.