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