RUBICON FARTS

change of pace now

(well thats times fault)

& i am fluffing my lines

(thats on me - i am off balance)

so here come the half-poems
& the ambient frags

(blood on the keyboard)

off-cuts make the best cuts

(sometimes)

motivation is the next sandwich . . .

& poems are a bodily function 

too much like gas 

but i know that we all 

farted over the rubicon before

BLAMELESS MORNING

the morning 
wakes indifferent

NOTHING is its fault

passive aggressive masterclass
amps the horror

to impress
its 
gone dark twin

~

it just IS
morning is

there like an uncut lawn

& it dares you 
to violate parole
& claim different

as
you
dress
to
leave

the warmest bed behind you

pic from pinterest.com

MONEY MONKEYS

their
high risk
black money magic

is juggling hand grenades
by
proxy

and 
they tell us 
poverty is 

a, our own fault
b, other poor peoples fault
c, totally unrelated to their superyachts

either way
we
are
plated like prawns
in 
their 
soft buffet

an arranged mass of dead eyes

bodies sold

and
drowned
in
melted
butter

from novotelbangkokploenchit.com