VARIOUS POEMS

painting in dark browns



the daily extinctions
cut into my gut

cringe at my cowardice
despise myself & about everyone else
for doing next to nothing
as the innocent die lonely
calling softly for another of their kind

heard a psychologist saying children
will one day want nothing to do with nature
they will avoid the dying as a downer
& innocently hasten
the concrete greying of the forests
lose their knowledge of the joy of a wilderness
unscathed by we the virus
never know an animal not imprisioned
enslaved or imposed upon

we distance ourselves from
ourselves as denizens of this realm
hole up in compartments
connected to video wonderlands
afraid to get too close to the dying

afraid to care

& so humans will change
turn
more
mechanical
less enheartened
less prone toward wanting to emotionally connect
more sociopathic
agoriaphobia normal
obesity eroticized
stone cold killers watching another channel
while their bodies pile up





THE DEVIL'S CARRESS


the wickedness costs me the love of a brother
who chooses to deny and keep peace
rather than burn down the house

my torch offends him
he thinks I am all crazy for wanting to get even

the offender offends again & again & again
stays ensconced in the family
while they leave me to twist in the wind
alone with my messiness

a cliche from a psych book came true
& I still can't believe that I am the scapegoat
in such a banal drama

expected better of everyone
cool & reasoned mechanical responses to data
& they just acted all human
crazed & afraid
trying to save some face

they grew too content in their quiet lies
to want to ever leave the lazy boy chairs
that they fought so damn hard for

I swear on all that was and will be holy
me & that childhood killer
have some unfinished business . . .



agent provcateur



The pain of not being able to pay the bills
the self loathing in envelopes marked urgent
We ALMOST deserve this mess

worlds' got me trained like a circus monkey
bell rings & I jump & cry & RENDER ONTO CEASER
even when we can't afford food

the rich decadent Ceasers all fat and horny
will take away my lights
my internet
my pets
my car
unless I agree to their play money
& pay from birth to death

ain't fair to the losers
ain't fair to anyone

that 2% at the top
needs to be dragged down
and beaten to death
their wealth sent to the starving children

superman would lead the revolution
if he wasn't too busy
doing coke at the playboy mansion
with all the other alpha males



for sale signs




the market that god so mindless and cool

i'll write porn for kids
to read about each other

tales for a crazy cat lady
to rationalize the stench of her diseases

let me tell ya about presidents
the green house effect
the whores in Bombay
and the little boys in Thailand


any damn words that you please
i have a high tolerance for sleaze

tell ya whatever
they want me to tell

prop up your crosses and bosses
challange evolution itself

i'll praise fetuses
and damn abortionists criminal

write out how to hate minorities
and immigrants

don't matter what i think or feel
the market is the only thing that is real


i'll tell the kids to smoke
the aids soaked to poke


tell everyone you are a saint unsainted
a star fell from the sky

got your dummie books and cliff notes
your self help drivel

sure i'll tell ya how to live for awhile
if it makes your money smile

I'll be
the
death
of
us
all



the killer aims into the side of the deer
the round sight of his scope fills with soft brown hairs
he squeezes the trigger
a puff of bright red blood appears in the cross hatch

cheering the killer pulls out his knife

the creature falls
gasping
kicking
coughing up its life
gagging
fighting the dying


the video game screams at us
"Can your killer extinct come out to play?"

The world resounding 'yes'
reverberates through my skull

we kill our way through another game
unconcerned with the shape of our mind

how we create ourselves & our world
comes from our capacity to feel right and wrong
from deep inside of ourselves
in the place where our self respect is born

violence as the horror of last resort
isn't to the market's delight
so we just simply forget the wiser words of our gods
the sense of the Ceaser Chavez's
the hopes of our mothers
& hunt down the deer population
hoard guns in gleaming wooden racks
talk about instincts
create more killers
for histories endless parade of soldiers



the blame game


man's worth is judged by the mindless market
in a population explosion
that cheapens most all of us

just not never no that top few
not the deluded fools
who will whore out the world

that 2% at the top who prefers a bejeweled pool
over a thousand starving children

the ones killing our earth

wish my fucking tv
would quit pretending they're innocent

Play your fiddle !
Watch the burn!




EXPLODING STARS


when the rich and famous
let their hands grow traitorous
they begin to shine like beacons
spewing blackness into the light of day


Hemingway sat in bars
picked fights to feel something real and pure again
through the fog of his drunken mania

Hunter wandered around in the snow
in his bathrobe
firing his shotgun off
into the snowy hills over Denver

maybe they expected everyone
to learn the lessons of their novels
and act accordingly?
come around
wake up
become
all those writer's dreamt of humans ?


Suppose they felt like nothing much matters in the end?

Though the ones left crying at their funerals
stranded here to do the hard work of living
would surely disagree


I wonder if they would like being literary examples
of expecting too much from this silly life?

Ah, but who they were once . . .





the great sleep

Do you pretend quieting the voices in your mind
is the only war you have time to fight?
Is that how you sleep at night?

Do you pretend love is going to step in
and make you feel alright no matter what the fuck?
Is that how you sleep at night?

Do you pretend you have turned to stone,
become a drugged out manniquen,
chic and gorgeous and immobile forever and ever?
Is that how you sleep at night?

Do you pretend the biblical babbling is true?
Dream of heavens worthy of your struggle?
Is that how you sleep at night?

Do you pretend until you forget you are pretending?
Talk the talk until you can walk the walk?
Is that how you sleep at night?

Do you pretend until the world just can't stack up
to the eutopian visions you pretend into?
Make yourself believe you are going to a better place
while you crawl on a bus with a bomb and blow up?
Is that how you sleep at night?


Do you pretend there just ain't nothing you can do?
Is that how you sleep at night?











THOU SHALT NOT STEAL THE WRITINGS OF JOHN SCOTT RIDGWAY... YOU CAN EASILY GET PERMISSION FOR A NON COMMERCIAL REPRINT BY CONTACTING MY EMAIL.