Busy by a Bee

Arrested by imbued grandeur’s glands 

As by a buzz I was stung you see

Nerved to rave, weaving strands

worths verbose, all this by a bee

For that fury desired for me

To write in a wry array

That pollen packer set free

That which would stay

Dear Apis aptly, stare 

See melius melior be

Yet for chap’s sake fair

Leave me instigation free


Very Short: Did Write

Open the heavens down

Speak more to me, I implore

For such wisdom is crown

a golden glorious lore

See, I nod in admiration

So continue, pretty please

Smiling, ecstatic in elation

With your wit, my heart agrees

So on this night similar

Mere little questions, say

Take my time, dear counselor

So begin, I have all day

What, Why, Who?

Where were we

Whither hath we waved

Why words wobble wide

When works witted we craved

Where are we

Oh how a mind can wander

Over such seas and hills

Under mole’s mountains maunder      

When will we

Contained ever be

Such weather wonders

If we ever a stable sea

How may we

Catch dreams fled

On mares, knight roam

To there be led

Within Whose Waters We Swim


In the great sea of Culture, we fishies swim, breathe, and have our subsistence. We take from these watery depths, letting its waves inform  and influence our actions, our thoughts and our deeds. Yet when an individual does something that upsets other individuals, infringing on their sense of identity, hindering their freedom, denying another their rights, many blame culture. For someone must pay in blood, one must be tarred and feathered, life demands a sacrifice and life must be satiated. Someone must pay. Why not the void, unfeeling, unknowing, impersonal, a universal that stands above us, why not history, the deadened past with antique “backwardness”, why not culture, for we all know its pervasive lies creep into and seer our souls with its destructive acidity.

So we blame culture. Yet we are to blame. For culture is not just an impersonal force that exist above us, controlling us, and affecting us in a one way exchange, a monologue of decrepid instructions toward destruction. No, this is a two way street. For human beings, individuals are not alone in the universe, we do not exist separate like islands, free, autonomous and liberal. No, we individuals, we fishies swim in these waters and as much as we take, we also give, as much as we receive, we also instate, and as much as we are influenced, we influence this watery world. For this aqua is not sterile, these waters are not pure, for we individuals pour our hopes, our schemes, our ideals and our dreams to dissolve into this solution–we individuals flavor the waves that we taste whether the waters are sweet and clear or are bitter, burning and acrid. Whatever has been taken from culture was put in by another human being, thus whatever problems you would like to blame on culture, originates from another human being across the pond.

Now before you sharpen your steak knives, pull out your pitchforks, and light your torches, not always do these problems originate from one human being, not always is one individual to blame–however, these problems are human, thus humans are to blame, every and all, for we all have the potential and the inclination to strive towards strife and more importantly, we will . For we individuals are personalities, bent and driven to the pursuit of our own life, liberty and happiness, for which we sacrifice others in our pursuit. Yes we fishies our own devils in disguise, we are the sharks stark in snark that snip and snap at other existences to secure our own. For there will be blood in these waters as all must work by sweated blood of their brow–yet the blood will not be ours, for aren’t those minnows swimming this way. What an opportune sacrifice.

Yet, look and see, those minnows, small, sleek, swimming by, those minnows are you and me, those victims and perpetrators are one in the same–see the flesh you suck at is your own, Tantalus the thigh you chew is thine as the prey prey. This is not us vs them, they the dirty sick dying, we the saved, wholly, pharisicylical. Redeemed does not mean reassigned–it means recommissioned so all yall crabby hermits drop the shells, lose your shields, take off the gloves, swim within the waters yet be, remain yet transcend, stay yet assault–whoops, salt these waters, for we were not commissioned to pedestals to stand on and look down, but we were sent to the trenches, the caverns, the land where the Son fails to shine especially, we have been sent, so we should go.


Heavy I sit

or sadly I sat 

for still I stayed

if not flit a gnat

Wind breathed

that inspired goad

bit a cow musing

who a cart towed

Full of mind pondering

heavy the wagon sat

but maddened milker stricken

wheels churned, mud begat

now notion in motion

did vivid verses travail

for that bully charged

leading a wit frail

distracted, the cart drawn

stanzas did forth go

even in lunacy’s yawn

a poem livid did glow

Heifer heaved, heaviness hidden

for here wry runes and rime run

wills witted write unbidden

thus punctually a poesy is spun

Conceit’s cautious concert

Listen clear all ye near

To my muse err, wondering

Hear now all endowed

For a song's now bubbling

Concert, for within the frame

A lyric cautious prances

Conceit, for the inspiring dame

forged beats, idea advances

Concise, four words terse come

Verbs verbose cut, dodged

Cautious, vims veiled stay mum

yet in lines gleam lodged

Consider dear, all ye hear

Symphony, sound together thought

Thus amused ideas blear

Captured, conceits are wrought

On the Whimsy

One day, on a whim I sailed
To find a sea imagined
Vapid, fastly far I travailed
Yet not an iota scavenged

Next day, on a limb I wailed
The dearth of ideas deplored
How yester festered and failed
How today I whimmed for more

Today, with a vim  I hailed
that whim so dear and fad
yet swiftly it wassailed
my failure, fled, a nomad

Someday, a rim availed
this whim I’ll catch for me
but now with sigh exhaled
I’ll traverse this mage sea