Category Archives: Poem – Not Written By Me Though

In Hollywood

IN HOLLYWOOD

In Hollywood miserable rich people who are bad at living teach the public how to live.

In Hollywood people who have lost touch with their humanity teach the public how to be human.

In Hollywood the most fake people in the world teach the public about reality.

In Hollywood they make ninety-minute commercials about how America is perfectly sane and how neoliberalism is totally working.

In Hollywood people pretend to be other people saying words that other people wrote telling stories about things which never happened and we base our entire culture on this.

In Hollywood they make horror movies about a murderous psychopath running around slashing people, instead of making horror movies about the fact that murderous psychopaths rule our entire world right this very moment.

In Hollywood they make movies about good guys fighting bad guys, but it’s never the real kind of good guys and it’s never the real kind of bad guys.

In Hollywood they make movies about heroes fighting powerful villains with ambitions of global domination, but it’s always imaginary villains in an imaginary world and not the real-life villains who are doing exactly that in this world.

In Hollywood they make movies about cops and soldiers fighting on the side of justice to rescue good people from bad people, instead of about the real kind who do the very opposite.

In Hollywood they make movies about a band of protagonists fighting to save the world from disaster, but it’s always some far-fetched imaginary disaster and not the actual disasters our world is hurtling toward right this very minute.

In Hollywood they make movies about superheroes punching supervillains into buildings and supervillains punching superheroes into buildings, never about superheroes using their powers to to do the things real heroes do like leak evidence of corporate and government malfeasance, defy unjust laws, free the unjustly imprisoned, or conduct investigative journalism.

In Hollywood they make movies about imaginary billionaires who use their wealth to fight crime and injustice, instead of about real billionaires who do literally the exact opposite.

In Hollywood they make movies about protagonists who start off happy and then something bad happens so they have to get things back to normal, but it’s a fictional normal that normal people have never experienced in their lives because our society is gravely dysfunctional.

In Hollywood they teach us to expect clear linear stories with easily recognizable good guys and bad guys, and then in Washington and Langley they exploit these expectations by telling fake linear stories about targeted governments with easily recognizable good guys and bad guys.

In Hollywood they train you to think in terms of hard linear narrative and then propagandists exploit that training, when real life follows no hard linear narratives and awakening from this delusion exposes the whole deceitful puppet show.

Reposted from https://caitlinjohnstone.com/2020/08/05/in-hollywood/

A PERFECT STORM

Light in a time of darkness.

Bits of things that pop into this mind.

Maestro please. 

A masterpiece. 

Lightning that strikes the core perfectly.

A thunderous clap.

Clouds stream in quickly.

Raindrops race down, cooling everything.

Such a perfect melody.

Natures symphony,

conducted perfectly. 

All while the world continues to gravitate harmoniously.

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Attacked: A Poem on Anxiety

Look out
Look down
Look up
Look in
One step
Eternity
Breath in
Breath out
Relax

Phoebe, MD: Medicine + Poetry

By Riya Bhatia | Featured Contributor


Note from Author: This was written when I was experiencing one of my worst anxiety attacks. Instead of running away from it, I decided to embrace it and use my words as a means of understanding myself better.

*   *   *

My breath trembles
as the room seems to be
consuming my soul,
The walls are closing in
and my thoughts are
consuming me whole,
Sweat and tears
dim the shine
and rosiness of my face,
And all they can say
is keep picturing yourself
in a better place,
I’m crippled with fear
and can’t think
beyond this second,
How do I move on
and when will this ever end,

Breathe. Breathe. Breathe.

Hold it for a few seconds.

Keep breathing.

It’ll be alright,
The day will get better
and the sun will shine bright.
My heart starts to race
as tears stream down…

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The Framing

If I may?

fourwindowspress

In Memoriam Kevin Michael Davis

Doors at Chaco Canyon photograph by Kevin Davis (2/16/1982 – 7/21/2010)

The Framing” a poem by Richard Brenneman

This is the anniversary of our son’s death in Poughkeepsie, New York from cancer ten years ago. This is always a sad day for Ethel, I, and our daughters, Sonja Bingen and Mary Wood, every year. This blog was started in honor of Kevin, who was a wonderful web designer, photographer, artist, and poet. This year we are publishing one of Kevin’s most iconic photographs, a doorway found at the Chaco Canyon ruins in New Mexico, and Richard Brenneman’s wonderful poem about the photograph, remembering someone who was deeply, deeply loved.

THE FRAMING

by Richard Brenneman

Ekaphrastic poem celebrating the Kevin Davis photograph, “Doors at Chaco Canyon”

 I   Picture this -- seen through the lens of a camera; eye sighting perfectly this line of…

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Make America Again

Not to mention the woman. Hmmm.

Still a mighty poetic cry nevertheless.

Writing in Blood

Langston_Hughes_by_Carl_Van_Vechten_1936Langston Hughes, 1936. Photo by Carl van Vechten

July 4th, 2020

For the last 2 or more decades of my life, this day is a reminder to me, personally, of all America is not.

The other 364 days of the year, we unconsciously (or maybe we’re semi-aware based on our citizenship status) enjoy the many things America, our home, offers us. Especially if we compare our country to other nations that have even more injustice, political unrest, and violence against their citizenry within their borders.

I maintain this: until there is Justice for All, there is no justice.

Until institutionally-sanctioned violence of every kindis acknowledged, examined, addressed and redressed, always striving toward attaining the best possible equity at every end of the spectrum for the individuals who make up our society, then our society, as a whole, will never know freedom or peace.

Below, a poem by Langston…

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Planting a Garden

Weekend Writing Prompt #156 – Home

Let us hope we can transform the non-digital world into such a place for ourselves and our children. We have the key. We are the key. We have only to begin removing the lock.

Sharing Thoughts

Weekend Writing Prompt #156 – Home

Hidden inside my computer

Is my sweet virtual home

Known pathways

Each one takes me to friends’ home

To their world of stories, poems, photography

I feel so comfortable here

I am accepted here

My writing is accepted here

However boring, full of mistakes it may be

My friends are so encouraging

So kind and understanding

They are full of praise, appreciation

They make you feel important

They help enhance your self-esteem

No one is here to judge you

To make fun of you

I feel as if I have known them all my life

It’s an escape from the Problems of life

Maybe for an hour or more

But it’s relieving

Word count- 114

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Desperate Monsters

DESPERATE MONSTERS – Caitlin Johnstone

Desperate Monsters

We were comfortable in our complacency.
We were satisfied with our Netflix and our Taco Bell.
We were not happy, but we were satisfied.

We did not want to have to awaken
the strange DMT gods that live in our foreheads,
or the screw snakes sleeping at the base of our spine,
or the mushroom giants who dwell behind our visual fields,
or the great golden frog at the center of the earth.

We did not wish to have to summon
the caterpillar planets from the depths of space,
or the elephant squid from our secret abysses,
or the mammoth moths from the tabernacle in our throat,
or the Yellow Priestess from Her dinosaur throne.

But desperate times,
you see,
desperate times call for desperate monsters.

So now we’ve got to get up,
dust the cheese puff powder from off our sweatpants,
grumble our way over to the police tape-covered door
and, after clearing the theremin and the surfboard
and the sewing machine out of the way
(none of which we use anymore but we keep meaning to),
unleash eldritch angels and eyeball blimps
to burn this motherfucker to the ground.

We’d have been content with decent paychecks
and a viable planet,
and maybe some healthcare for the Yanks,
but you bastards got greedy
and now your mouths are full of weirdling worms,
and I bet you all feel quite silly now.

You did not realize that we have tentacles in our bellies
and wands that shoot eel ogres,
and benthic beasts swimming in our souls.

You did not realize that we are more powerful than your wildest imaginings,
and that you have never truly understood what we’re made of.

Desperate times call for desperate monsters,
old chap.
There is a feathered claw behind you.

~~~~~ ~ ~~~~~

https://caitlinjohnstone.com/2020/05/13/desperate-monsters/

Death is nothing at all / Smrt nije ništa

Timely.

Medju javom i medj' snom

Death is nothing at all.
It does not count.
I have only slipped away into the next room.
Nothing has happened.

Everything remains exactly as it was.
I am I, and you are you,
and the old life that we lived so fondly together is untouched, unchanged.
Whatever we were to each other, that we are still.

Call me by the old familiar name.
Speak of me in the easy way which you always used.
Put no difference into your tone.
Wear no forced air of solemnity or sorrow.

Laugh as we always laughed at the little jokes that we enjoyed together.
Play, smile, think of me, pray for me.
Let my name be ever the household word that it always was.
Let it be spoken without an effort, without the ghost of a shadow upon it.

Life means all that it ever meant.
It is the same as it…

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I love you!

Wild Scared Crazy

A million and one ways to say I love you
But none seems to suit you.

I’d go down on my knees for you,
But that’s too cliched.
You deserve something more intricate,
Something original, just as you are.

I’d promise you a life time,
But that would be the greatest lie.
For neither you nor I,
Know what the future holds.

I’d say I’ll keep you happy,
But I’ve let you down too many times.
And as much as I’d try,
I’d don’t trust myself.

I’d say you’re the reason I smile,
But you’re also the reason I cry.
You’ve hurt me like no one else,
We’ve had good days and bad days.

I’d write you a poetry,
But words are too less to describe you.
I’d give you a bouquet of roses,
But that would just dry away.

So darling, can you just read my eyes?
Hear the…

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