Below is my collection of poetry about Ukraine, Russia's War in Ukraine, or NAFO. If you are looking for [[limerick|limericks]] they are on another page. As always you can request or [[giftapoem|gift a poem]] with donation. If you want to offer up something for the tip jar donate to [[https://renegaderelief.org/fundraisers/|Renegade Relief Runners]] we collect cross-stitched senses of self as Poetry unfolds patterns anomalies commonly dawn on we only when they see wisp lines of truth from benign even weave in Needle minders of time written in wings of a moth made of aida cloth Basting in banality In a finality of moments that break with reality form and function two rings who fit meaning playing at schemes of morality anomalies an allowance Seams cutting at edge of normality Poetry is the prick of history Who fund these digital assassins bonking with mystical passion? Myths of whimiscal trysts to brick predictable tricks of war criminals who misshapen is fashioned as NAFO unfastens the lies dragging miseries of histories for these more equal piggies honk our conch as they damn well please Bringing enemies to their knees NAFO bonks hard and our kisses taste like your mom {{:bayonets.png?600|}} written February 24, 2022 {{::falconswings.png?600|}} {{::nafoday.jpg?600|}} {{:hownafobotsgetforged.jpg?600|}} {{:visionpoemfella.png?600|}} {{:cricket.png?600|}} {{:nafopoem.png?600|}} A global horde of memetic Methodius seeding Cyril's florettes of freedom on phonemes of the absurd. Each barb carrying a spark of Olah's seed seeking Accursed nonsense, insatiate A perfidous serpent crucifying sense sliced by Kosynsky's Klowns and on both banks truth and freedom flow {{:fordaynlo.png?600|}} Unheard savagery Glares from history’s silver laced eyes Pointed to Hollowed skies Painted by tyrants who see babes but vessels To torture in vassal states And rip Peace Bank to bank Sirens wail, Sounds drill in bits turning on echos Of shattered pasts. Ripping Into ears as Silver sleeves Streak across shrouded Clouds and torture now Descends from heavens above Repeated history whips Butchering facts in relentless Attacks on veins running deep In partitioned bodies of Children and Nations Promises of forked tongues Deliver silver drenched Sons and a Nation undone Until Brave Act Carve Ultimus pacta Carried on backs of loved Ones Raskol’ini nasha nalsyia No Pacta Et conditones Just victory for the fallen And a call for Children to come Home. Fellas develop medicinal plates of ceramic pfp enhancements to allow minimal enchantments of liminal distate in fates of info spaces dripped in subliminal hymnals sung in criminal tongues through imbecile debates of truncated principles Ostinatos of emaciated play dough reshaped to rape, and reap hate in disinfo spaces disgraces in cadence nested in cradle of tonality serving festering ladles dripping in pronounced nonsense sipping on the soup of my enemy Mathematical fools Not to assume Renisannce Tools maybe but a prism of Berezovsky's jewels For it is unmathematical for mathematics to stay unreplicable through unforeseen strings of regression to the mean When returns seem laudable, almost unplausible a causable catalyst maybe be Blat met the Capitalist for a company of mathematicians to always outperform competition is unmathematical market forces, that courses through the Heritage of such Foundations :?: semiotics of kicking signs to the Greek and Locke and leaving indigenous semiotics and symbols unsought left off the clock symptomatology of measuring blocks rocks of gray matter in Bell curve splatters meaning is kinda fleeting Hella rude to leave it up to Dead White Dudes As forces cast spells atop of semiospheres to spread bubbles of fear pushing dopamine and cortisol portals of lies through refactored eyes narrative boundary of understanding derived in biological. Are we but surplus value of code? Piercing de Saussure plowshare of authors tug on metaphor which Lakov roots in Chekov's metaphors and Alice's endless doors Derrida cried Signifier and signified, Fishing in triadic views that allow outside to skew the pews of neatly packed ideas in Churches of the mind More Us echoes in Semiological Guerrilla Warfare flare as Angry Place Faith in Fakes. interpretive Slate of a Rose by any name so Azov with the clothes off painted in fake shames of Pink Nazis in shades of deep state blues For Traditions can't flirt with Frankfurt get a clue {{ :semioticsgetaclue.mp3 |}} Twist around Interstices that fold between spaces to spot patterns existing since provenance For a fallen Wolf Echoes of Broken ripples, circles splayed. Collapsing in on time, songs of fallen Crest back into future reflections in A Hero's Shadow casting umbras of light Dancing on lips dipped in tales once Whispers of valor Now Tidal Forces In cacophonies Of the Free Sasha felt need to speak turning to you with anxiety about mass media warned you rightist forces will not easily give up Restore order in mass media. Literární listy, Mlada fronta, Reporter, Prace every day publishing anti-Soviet and anti- party articles what does it mean to meme meaning of utterances in a sputtering of nonludic discourses dancing in abhorrent metaphors of mixed meaning seeing concrete, pragmatic effects of taking a brick to the dome? What is a N A F O ? Fellas be Tipsy Topsy eurytopy stenotopic Bonkers. Adapted to Brick a Cyclic Disturbance, an abundance of nonsense, successions of projections in epidemics of Vatnik Pronunciation. Some hold no pens gravity pulls weights of meaning, beyond standard of ink, Well of words defying boundaries, waves of allusion crafting new constraints in war torn histories. painting miseries with meaning Allowing hope to crack despondent darkness That's Victoria Inconvenient Existence chasing a false brilliance in face of persistent resistance to spews of incomprehensible evidence cast at distant audiences. A subsistence on nonsense in hope of another remittance. A Pittance for pestilence at Providence of Incompetence I do not know in spin networks of memes where Loop quantum gravity marks a fold of Space-time origins of beginning as a container of counting towards an end is two or two more and moar too We dance in steps more than signifier and sign. Fires and sickles in bifurcated illustrations by forsaken exploration of tattered brushes, bristles cracked and hardened more scores of scars on canvas fanning splashes of dry reality For KTARD Art picks at surface scratches scabs of pains interface. human condition encased in shades of meanings broken cracked oil pastels and charcoal shaving pushed to the floor burying scars deeper without believing in a beauty you just captured On shores of ancient rivers, rise banks of humanity now swallowed Bosmina once gatheres at Barriers of Barbaric Design Scars thrice ripped open Ancient trails extolled by Stabo and paths transversed by Pliny the Younger Gone Now torrents of misery wrought by monsters as immovable walls reflect an evil so deep Gentle sloping fields used to sing to wide valleys songs carried by Greylong Geese til sun fades on whistles of Night Herons Now voices washed away but our soul still flies n cosmic knowledge politics means anything but a forgiven sin as laws of ascent do not descend from a March on Rome. Nor slip off lips of technologists tweaking words at world's abyss Divine does not sink on an empirical existence or evil only begins when one grasps a weighted folly nature, God, and self part and parcel to a lost essence in Hegel's Waiting Room hoping to hold THE Rose in place et fated in concrete seal nothing more than a rabid dog descending on Human nakedness too diseased to see their demise as our only cure. Scripts drip in accidental plays as pages soaked in blood and soil turn, a third theater burns, and the children cry a 2-bit critic, with reflexive twists; dark doing in light what light only does in dark when curtains burn and the children cry death told in discourses of corrective masculine. measures and acts in tongues of nihilistic danger of deconstruction of a Nation's story told in dominant voices, forgotten who will hear us, indeed? spotlights fade and the children cry nd when cast and crew pooled amongst fools Crazy Eights in 14 words bound to happen and the children cry By the third act relevance done and now the gun points at you (and the children smile) bourgeois ideologists who dine on bacon fat of Marx's Paradox sail two harbors of inevitable possibilities bouncing on waves of proletariat subjectivity in tides pulling contradictions of grift as science says alienation must get worse, an immiseration of modern Pixels and proposals dance between probable, improbable toes skipping scales tipping norms of science and stolen appliances oscillating between phenomenons of interesting messaging awash in improbability I wonder if one measures the improbability of wonder has one wandered in error into probabilities of impossible measures in one type or another moments of atonement in Pagan casts of Roman villains of modernity as Pilgrims bore you by tick in our bosses time clock hands buttery in Bougie Biscuits on Brodway takes of the industrious risk yet clipped to a phone call of unfinished futures incompatible moments to contradict divergent truths of markets of Brokered Identities in Broken reflections cast on shards of total transformation seeking functionalist junction of modern cogs on wheels on cogs in systems in systems in cogs on wheels on cogs modern of junction Functionalist seeking he forgotten Spencer of not, knotted in a Principled Life, draped in an outfit for survival in tongue twisted evolution of liars who desire to clip identities in a unifying bind, of oops sorry had to leave you behind your truth did not fit mine Rats sell us living space rented in bio engineered realities of minds who mind that mine gets defined by force of expansion as States above us promulgate symbols and symptoms among us so sus Modernity burps as Bendix's Appendices Burst, in natural extended pressures of faculties left undeveloped an invisible hand at right of the almighty commercialization when my own thoughts are not in harmony as celebrated serfs who toil in Jungles of Chi-town Distrust dips into dialectical dances and claims We must drain it all for development as reactionay forces drill holes in buckets, to duck modernity's toil and blame someone else for soaked soil Discourses of interpretivism cast modernity as an approaching calamity, an evil cast in light, and must save us from instrumental rationality in praxis of truth lost in consensus of continuous redefining realities around me Post modern fools with tools of deconstruction requires thrusts at corrections in desire Nihilistic critical stances and who knows whats in their pantses bind our time and place to chronotope prisons seen through western forced prisms shatter other worldings on the farm all pigs are equal as all classes toil clocks clicking to noises of sunrise earth is our fertility and makes fruit ripen while vines of modern producers no longer, as in the fields, a sovereign and free father of a family, no alphas in Modern Family Two songs sung Sons drowned in silver tongues and Princes undone A bow, Now, to tyranny no wave washes such bite of broken promises until jaws of time ripped fang-less in our future As Gogol Guzzles gold of sold arguments young hang from gallows swinging on guilt of an aged gilded who dine with Ghosts when God gets past unlatched gates of felled ideas forgotten Viscous Biscuits Of our Brains Often Cant handle Mandibles Of facts That extract Truths Regurgitated, evaporated From swirls In nectar That dance in false colors All around. So some get fated to Exasperated flapping To keep colonies from Collapsing By cooling combs And tomes of energy Immune to enemies Who douse Langstroth houses In mistruths Spewed from Louses To protect A honey As We. Content among flowers that surround. A broken Birch branch scoured in tooth spurge shadows cast dancing dirges of besmirched towers Canopy snapping fingers in rhythms that linger, Yet we do not hear on verge of surging into submerging folds of deciduous matter But for now suspended in broken reality {{:shatteredoak.jpg?600|}} Shattered signals dangle in eerie peace found only in erasure when life fought out of existence for only wires dance now dangling moving gently in winter's breeze tossing shadows on cast iron fence bent fingers scraping humanity's garden overgrown with shrapnel and rebar iodizing vines festering atop cinder blocks and glass of empty boxes blown out windows to look upon a courtyard crushed Yet the Oak where the children play It still stands to hedge a bet at precipice of humanity despots pour porridge of insanity which alleges knowledge at ledges and wedges that dredge the lowest common denominator Sludge drudged for haters and splainers The loons who swoon over Buffoons and goons Yet do not judge nor condemn who holds the spoon for it is the Chef who deftly poisons truth as a hedge against reality