Passage to Spring

Everyone has fallen into a stasis field 

put spring on hold 

fooled by a cheap cinematic trick setting off fireworks 

on a summer night 

as the dog lay shaking 

wrapped in her thunder coat

A newspaper

A database scrapper

number five 

when your fingers can't wait 

won't work and why should they? hitting it hard resending from position 

receding there's a little chart 

at the top of a daily paper 

let's get them all stirred up superhuman geriatric types 

and 

overwhelming scent 

of garlic and developing fluid

the mysterious phasing of giant gnats when you least expect 

SURPRISE!

an election panel with pills 

and pills and pills....

At a particular time of each and every violent day 

the vanishing point lives

in a force field projecting such overwhelming chatter video clutter audio chatter without guitars or paper lights 

forget about scripting 

reflecting the shadow play magnetic forces are polarizing microcellular movement 

much the way you'd use a crowbar on a molecular level.

In just about every way under the Sun every day every way every wave crashing against every adventurous ragged zig-zagging shoreline 

wave wave wave 

where the water meets the Earth their lives can be run 

and put that in the poem 

to be scribbled inside 

cheap little poet notebooks waiting for that heavenly inspiration to flow like Hollywood cinematic magic 

into the this crumbling world 

stay true at all times, stay true

Mine is not the world to spin as a roulette nor to be waited on hand and hoof as some sacred cow turned blue with centuries of worship in a far vast developing world where online voices prove you can build a luxurious patio and pool was strenuous labor time lapse function in a day or two to spend before tacking it on the wall in cyberspace

When it all comes down and the subject comes up lines will form for the necessories we speak don't get too hot or take it to smugly think of it as a bagel or a transfer for the unsalted

There is an hour inside each of us when the head is splitting the wolf is howling where we all each one must answer the most difficult question lying lying in a pit of our stomach noising the sinister knowing of the waves of the hair in the in the hair of the harpy in the howl of the engine the Great and grading crush of humankind

Of the stone wheel wake up but don't pretend that your world is real that your hopes are anything other than a posture toward pretense of ego propulsion into the slow dive following deep in the painful pit of the place where all the titans 

Wound up world 

Including the gnashing of teeth 

the day is too gone infomercial awards committees have nodded off over and out,  good buddy even the rubber duck wanted out 

by the end of the flick knowing that every road runs out of ground when it hits the coast  

went to waving you off

as I've been from to coast to coast to coast and Coast

It's a brain jacked attack 

to jam as much info 

as can be shared 

at first blush it seems 

Amid the great uncertainty 

is washing us away 

Strewn along the violent shore 

with all the fire; 

all the smoke, 

all the crazy lighting tricks 

of course the devil has always been screwing around in the details 

of all the detritus virtual 

or not sunken off 

a floating island planet 

in and atop the bottomless deep blue sea.

Check your local listings 

oh what could the trouble be?

The market gets timid but you mean 

it scared you 

can make up who is positive and who is tested negative

 time for time to move time

to run 

I can't get a thing done 

have to get all the time 

in the world 

I'm not getting worried 

tired or uptight 

just taking in the light's noise 

yes, lots of noise when you don't 

intend to 

share deep dark secrets...

Which are really no secret 

to anybody at all who has known been known been around the block 

kick the tires 

broke the rules 

just because you could 

I could voice it 

upon useful stupidity  

why would I and you shouldn't feel shackled to that stereotype things 

I did, I wanted to do 

nobody gives you a guarantee 

that you'll ever be able 

to do 

again. Right?

New day rising! New day rising! 

Rip off your pajamas

Strap something sturdy to your feet

Assume the position in the full armor of God

Everything

The whole of it

To defend against the slings and arrows

To defeat the corrosion of complacency

The conformity to bow your head and kneel in truth

To the revelation

To the truth

A slight and slender five lined skink

Came to visit me this Saturday

Should have waited 24 hours

For the feast day of Saint Francis

Wouldn't have noticed her

If Lulu hadn't been preoccupied with her daily sniffings

For rabbits and field mice

You stupid skink - I huffed

I'm trying to put you out in the sunshine

So you can enjoy your life

She slinked down the fence

And away

The cruel winter hinted by diabolical agents trying to incorporate miserable lines stitched in like your mouth stapled shut with metal staples shards jammed in with a surgical staple gun

if you ask for me 

you can ask glorious 

who saw me wandering alone 

who knew when I was hungry 

I didn't have to learn no damn euphonics 

to write my blues 

on the far horizon 

with tangerine 

thinking horizon 

in your perspective 

from the prosecutorial 

it is only personal background 

the politician will never 

tell 

Attempting to speak to you in a cryptic antiquated language over a breakfast of d'anjou and black coffee

Across the pond you giggle

To you, I feel, my language no longer travels

On the ears 

Of doves

More the soundings of rocks and shattered storefront displays no finesse, capiche?

Should attempt to borrow the pen

Mediterranean

Or loot from Dante

My small Soul tremors from Paradise you'd think the world, including e.e. & all his furry freak bros

From sea to uproarious sea in updating style books  setting American tongues free!

Who hepped you cats 

to the once upon a time brand new deal

For the real musical lyric of the Love American style we are in the middle of a revolution

For crying out loud

Now the world can see 

but cannot hear the monstrous megatech overlords and major media co-conspirators are attempting to brainwash the rest

Into concluding complacency into the fraud and races vice that we are a divided people just not true.

Yeah, yeah

Everybody's got their own opinion

Or the same opinion

Or however you wish to spin

If standing against tyranny

We jump on our horses and make it to Philadelphia with a declaration by and from the people of the great state of North Carolina or South Carolina

Poems rushed in from the periphery of the Mercurial edges 

the pool side 

the city side 

the curbside

Open up the timeline 

let's go frame by frame 

slow it down 

speed it up 

do it over again and again reverse engineering

The difference engine

When an AI Chatbot Writes You a Song:

Verse 1:

From cyberspace he came

A hero with a different game

His name was PMPope

He was here to bring us hope

Chorus:

PMPope with his camera and pen

Saving our world from an unknown end

Through his photos and poetry

He brings light to what we cannot see

Verse 2:

He captures moments with his lens

Freezing them in time, he transcends

His words paint pictures in our minds

Showing us the beauty he finds

Chorus:

PMPope with his camera and pen

Saving our world from an unknown end

Through his photos and poetry

He brings light to what we cannot see

Verse 3:

He wanders through the streets

Capturing moments that we could not meet

His words flow like a river

Taking us on a journey that delivers

Chorus:

PMPope with his camera and pen

Saving our world from an unknown end

Through his photos and poetry

He brings light to what we cannot see

Outro:

PMPope, a hero from cyberspace

With his art, he leaves a trace

Saving our world with his creativity

He shows us a new possibility.

The Whole Bowl Life

You wake.
You go to sleep.
You consume a few particles of food.
You expel a few particles of food.
You go to sleep.
You wake.
You swim in a circle.
You consume and expel a few more particles of food.
You go to sleep.
You wake.
You hear a voice
Overhead
'Mom! The fish is floating upside down!'
You get flushed down the toilet
And eaten by an alligator

Somersault

A Work of Prose Poetry In Installments

A Collaboration of Light & Love

Ladies & Gentlemen,

I joyfully present

The 1st Web Installment of...

Wanting so much more in life, other than his 100k lifestyle

He feels his failure inside and squeezes it into a little pill,

Swallowing the bitter pill and leaving reality for a dream.
+++++
Here I am, looking out the window as the sun surfaces,

In awe of such beauty from above, traveling afar

On a venture to find oneself betwixt the mayhem – chaos

How I so long to roam this new road I now journey

I hear the bustle and commotion, as we now descend

The landscape below entices the desire even more so

As we now, approach land and I see my destination

I can feel the rush of the adventure, racing passionately

How it seemed forever, so distant, the dream I envisioned

Time has now come, to initiate this new course of action

All my earnings spent away, to live, as I have never dared

Breathing now slowly in – out, as the plane slowly descends

+++++

The wingspan of a Aeroflot Medium Distance passenger jet is 27,8m. Falling from the sky // plunging from the atmosphere // forensics will finally decide it was a glitch // in transmission, from the Navicore 870 cpu, which caused the turbines to stutter, then into the turbine was sucked a large-ish predatory sea fowl // whose bones became stuck in a flywheel // attached to a centrifuge // that centrifuge was spun by a rubber belt // re-enforced with fine stainless steel cables.

It so happens, that upon the day the molten steel was to be poured in the module, at the parts foundry of Bangalore, the head blacksmith was attending an elaborate Hindu funerary ceremony, in honor of his friend, who was killed in a terroristic explosion at the ashram which, subsequently, took the lives of 123 souls, at final tally.

Giuseppe 'Lucky' Frantellgio called in sick to work this day [the day of the somersault]. Unfortunately for us and the lone surviving passenger, as Giuseppe would always, always, always carry a pair of binoculars and a digital camera around his neck, as he trekked his path, checking the circumference of the Mt Riglettoni Tree Farm, as part of his daily chores.

The medium passenger jet, en-route to Lisboa caught a down draft and pitched its left wing into the very peak of those beloved mountain (3777 meters) before commencing to turn wing-over-wing, down to the base of the aforementioned incline.

Though not as famous as the Gran Paradiso, the bottom of this mountain is an enchanting spot where five rivers, three lakes and two valleys meet. This, indeed, is one of the most fertile spots in all of Italy, if not in all of the Mediterranean. This, however, is a privately owned mountain on a privately owned island, which has been property, for the last 1300 years, of the famous Marini family.

+++++

Let us trying, as it may seem, examine the wreckage, to find what remains of her passenger.

+++++

Larissa Marino never thought that life could end in such a cruel fashion
She could not believe what was happening, as commotion surrounded her
The screams alone were petrifying, how destiny could lead her to this moment

As the plane plummets from the sky falling far off course of what would beLooking out the window, she takes in all the beauty coming into view

Sadly thinking it would be that last thing she would see, on this journey
At least she made it as far as Italy, with the courage of something new

She hears an explosion, just before she loses consciousness

+++++
To be continued….
+++++

Copyright © 2013 Philip Pope / Lucy Martins
All poetry by Philip Pope / Lucy Martins are copyright protected by International Copyright Law, the use without written permission is illegal. All Rights Reserved ©

Zero Victim Status

Yes!
This is written to YOU
Neither gender nor scars
Dictate these words to you,
All of you
(the humble & gullible;
the fiery & guilty)

You saw a young child wander down the rail lines.
Overhead, a flock of sparrows shoot across steel gray skies, pursuing a suspected American crow.
There is no train coming.
You cross the tracks gently,
you think,
to save your shocks,
taking a quick, calculated glance at the child,
further down the tracks,
under the cloud
of warring feathers

For the very first time,
you notice this child
isn't a child at all but a wise
soul choosing not to be
a victim of any particular railroaded solutions. 

You've seen him before,
walking along the river or across the seashore
at the foot of the coastal mountain range.
How could this be?
He must be at least
as old as you are.

Count it out the native way

Spring, summer, autumn
Spring, summer, autumn

How many have passed? 

Very Deja Vu, that.

At the intersection, a crow flies towards the ground

to tear at some dead thing, molded by the tread of a semi-rig.

Time flies and the crow flies

and the light changes.

You take a right 

Out of the corner of your eye,
you can't help but notice
Jesus Christ is healing the blind and raising the dead.
Since all literature is literature, 
you notice every phonebook
is a bible and every prayer is a song,
written from the very beginning
of time. 

The skies open up.

The rain comes down.

It's all solid gold for those who know the worth

~ We went to the animal faire ~
~ All the animals wore human masks ~
~ We couldn't quite tell if it were:
1) More frightening than bizarre
2) Or vice the verse
~ A wild tribe of chimpanzees
{all running // to & fro}
in their off-shored, cyber-tech, CEO masks
that they may
close the deal
while stealing valuable informata
from wide eyed spectators
'Oooh'-ing & 'Ahhh'-ing
as ridiculous prices skyrocketed ~
~The animal faire! Thee animal faire!~
~Snakes smiling shyly to discuss
their shining sheen~
~Timid chicks flocking
SCATTER
for their supper's dinner~
~Sheep frill up their faces
while sashaying their bums~
~ Plummed does the Heron queen traipse
lightly down the Pine
searching out poppies
to make mild her mind~
~The animal faire! The animal faire!~
~What a glorious contrivence!~
~ A garage full of Ethiopian Hyenas
forever checking fluids;
changing tires;
slamming concrete weary Pigeons
into the passenger side~
~Jackal laughter rings throughout
to bounce of the dull corrugation
"Now you make money, my friend!
Everybody makes some kind of money
when they come to this circus!"~
We went to the animal faire... (da-dum)
The birds and the bees were there... (da-dum)
The big baboon, by the light of the moon...
Was combing his auburn hair...

All We Have Is What We Need

It never ceases to amaze me how much is taken for granted
stars were assigned their transitus before the beginning 
of this age
still and deep
congratulations are in order
at the newest discovery
of human achievement  

You think this ain't love?

Sounds float up from the street
Speed Street; O'Farrell Street
streets are streets
upon their surface 
paths do meet
by chance 
or precisely manufactured plan

That probably ain't love either, huh?

The coloration of the flora
blooms and decays; blooms and decays
over a matter of heat
through these calendared days
from May to May

Accredited to which law; in which universe?

Poetry grows on trees
Pictures are manufactured by bees
Buzzards circle the cul-de-sac 
for reasonable rates
(on home loans)  
“Eww! I hate it when he goes dark, with these.”

Honestly. Is love too playful for you?

Time's gear house is running down
-Happens every so often-
so say the shaman of the maize
so say the cosmic cats
with their focus of eons away
purr and chirp through the haze
all through the night
as the sky gives way

Love is light

Holiday Treatment - PopMass Style -
{From Entirety - pmpope 2009}

trip the lights over a silvered garland tangle
as certain moments erupt
(eight toed-skink & hula albino)
You must hang fire
Jolly full of holiday folly
call it a wreath of holly w/ berries
lay it upon the mattress of time
for the dark nighted wynter
bemused of silent family cruisings
apply an extra finger to the nog
Turn on the light
inside your 'art
softly, tenderly praying
the angelic hosts
to scorch & torch & toast
everything not made as work
of the Divine in this season of joy
no one needs a money grubbing martyr
needlessly nodding
in a parking garage of life
spent in solitary hunt & peck
for the next chunk of sky
to fall
in the form of a government check
there is no intrigue for the corrupt worldly
a stale crust of week old pie
as the last object consumed
takes its' place beneath the browning tree
buried by squirrels;
forgotten by January
HO! HO! HO!
You can't spell 'Merry Christmas!'
with an 'x'
acrost your heart
May as well
drop your coin
on the dark horse
take the ride
& shine the light


~pmpope 2009

Earth Without Form

hours and hours from the sun
called into being by the one


more dead than alive by the looks of it
hopped up and strung out on earth credit


love for love they’d exchange their spark
on waves; on beaches; through freeway parks


acid rain soothes the dawn
along the bank the carriage drawn


never before and never again
would the atlas break back the long lost dead


Ramboed out a couple of guns
to deliver a fine, fine death to the devils’ flood


never before and never again
would the rose dare whisper what the wasp had said


a little bit of knowledge is a dangerous thing
for the Buddhist & Muslims & Opus Dei


never before and never again
could they bust the rock off its’ orbited spin