White human's disease

Technology is the white humans disease as much as English is the devils tongue
For much of human history we've been ridden with natural ailments
The bubonic and the black plague may have taken many
But no more for the man made illness is destroying the world
An eyesore on on the face of the earth
Every race now is infested with the soul stealing scourge
And we the rats who skulk about in filth carrying the addiction everywhere they go
Turning majestic forests into concrete jungles
Where lofty trees towered and bird built their nest singing with joy as they worked now the tower of Babel rises as a tribute to our greed
Every time we find life around us we replace it with death
2 million Koreans ensnared in the net of the internet
I couldn't believe my ears when I heard of a couple's baby dying why they coddled its virtual replacement
If they say the revolution will not be televised the scourge is sure to be
Why a human turned zombie blankly gazes at the screen
Today I saw a hundred people talking on facebook
But they will never see the tears streaming down a person face
People use cell phones to try and find a friend
But all they find is brain cancer in the end
For technology the white humans disease
has become everyones disease

Everywhere I Turn

Death is everywhere I turn, under every rock and berm
AN all consuming fire
Greedily devouring the strongest of strong
Nothing left of this weary imperfect vessel
And lo, all is but ashes
To be swept away by a thieving wind
Like chaff on the threshing floor
Life is naught but a curse
Better to die young suffer less
Than regret the day of birth
My soul summoned hence
But not even death can cause such a restless soul
To be still and rest
Tis doomed to ne'er find peace
Wandering to and fro
For there was never was a place I was ever made to feel at home

Alive

Don't mark my grave when I die
Have no tears to cry
I am not to be found in any one place
I occupy every living space
I am every verse that to your heart sings
With every bird taking wing
Remember me in every laughing brook
And every sacred breath took
As long as my work is not forgotten, I am never gone
For my spirit lives on
Find me in every wind that rustles the trees
Don't ever feel sorry for me, for I am FREE
One last piece of advice I give
Don't be afraid to die
Be afraid of not having felt alive!

Hiroshima and Nagasaki

Falling fire rains
on this beautiful city




Nothing left but hope

The blank space represents the empty page that will never be filled, for all the innocent poets and dreamers murdered who thoughts we only have hallow echoes, of the blankness left of minds gone

Portland

This is a poem about Portland, born of a troubled mind
A place where junkies wait outside public bathrooms to get a shot at shooting up, vain attempt to fin a vein
Homeless people are spread out on the streets like butter
Portland is a place where bread butter are just around the corner
Feeds dot the landscape and people line up, like shoppers in as supermarket awaiting the latest discount
bums Carts are piled high with various goods and kept close at hand
Spangers looking to score pot in Potland clash with yuppies seated outside cafes, like junkies seeking their next fix
Zoobombers stand tall among the bike pile of 16 inch bikes, ready to ride the next hill
Portland's a place where one is free to work on zines at the IPRC, sell them at reading frenzy and dream of bigger things,of souls and guts poured out for all the world to see
Portland is a place where I meditate observe and muse upon life in forests of towering firs
And here is what I see all written down and only awaiting your eyes in this, the place of my birth
Portland