4 20/20 gutter

gutter rush

inevitably our individual colors mosh pit into society's rain

we crush and crash and scratch and slam against each other

clueless inebriated jetsam caught within the universal riptide

clutter-rushing like ecstatic lemmings towards life's grey gutter

anotossil

(uninterrupted non-manipulated digital photography)

8.5" x 11" before mounting

as if

'keep god in america'

the gas guzzling bumper car message stated

as if god was a captive or

as if god just played favorites

as if god inked our maps or

as if god made our might

as if god wore red white and blue robes

and patrolled our borders at night

to the highest almighty patriotic bidder

who thinks god is a commodity to own

or the holier than thou

that vote religion and profit from war

you should know that buying the universe

does not buy us a god as well

and using god as a guise to kill

is not knowing god at all

... .thurlo.

august frost

as if a blue moon happens every month
as if the northern lights aimlessly wander south on a lark
as if stars secretly square dance at our sidereal midnight
“feels like earthquake weather again” she said
and i knew exactly what she meant

it's our faith in our moral compasses that shine amongst the falling stones
it's our salvation in the space that disappears between our lips - every night
it's our religion that makes our bitterest winter seem sweet upon spring reflection
“feels like earthquake weather again” she said
and i have no doubt in my mind that she is right

... .thurlo.

america now

when i first hit the streets in san francisco i stumbled upon city lights bookstore.  the written word like music may be from the physical past yet feel fresh to the soul that is imbibing for the first time.  why the hell didn't my public education introduce me to the beat generation?  [everyone snap your fingers]  a re-revolution flag of questioning our state of the union needs to fly, and early in the month of july seems a patriotic moment as any...  for those that i am about to offend, i salute you.  for freedom is our skin and opinions are our backbone but respect is our heart.  blind affection is not being elastic, our founders knew that.  and though clemens was not a beatnik, he had it right: patriotism is supporting your country all the time, and your government when it deserves it.  so with the utmost respect for the howling allen, america now...

america i have a right to think twice
for i have been burned more often than the years around my eyes
america i have a right to question the holes in my socks
the pebbles in my shoes that have altered my gait

and the corporate sidewalks that wish for me to stumble and fall

america pray that the laugh track loop never breaks

america pray to the paper gods and damn those who won't

america support your faith by cursing at others who don't

you worship as if those who cannot see the crosses over your heart

are demons barely worthy of your lucious spit

america follow and edit the sanskrit writings

and choose your words carefully

choose the words that make you holier than the thou's

that loiter in your yard

america why do you need to fight - again?

and again?

and again?

why do you need to remind yourself

and justify yourself

that there was a reason for spending all your allowance

on toys of destruction while schools fail?

america, your military beckons the uneducated welfare soldiers

gritty fleshy drones who have been mislabeled as out of options

forced to swallow the virtues that the cowardice mainstream feign

forced to do the unthinkable thousands of miles away

all for an unseen paragraph on some commercially chaotic site

america, your only tally that you take are the finalities

from the battlefields

glossing over the numbers from the broken homes,

the upward solo bullets, the patriotic nooses,

and the plastic limb factory casualties

america these are our heroes

yet they still breathe the foul air and drink the fracked water

they still wait forever in drab humid fluorescent lit buildings

with faded military initials and overflowing with hate

america turn your eyes away as these icons limp downtown,

drunk and lost and holding out there hands for leftovers

america where are the songs of protest now?

america
i'm sick of reading regurgitated news

i'm tired of watching pandering and biased views

america why do you consume so much?

america you eat and drink until all the minutes are bought

with blood, toil, antibiotics, and regret

america you are hunched over, confused, racist,

and looking over your shoulder with a tyrannical glint of disrespect

why is it that a nap makes you feel guilty?

why is it that spilt seed makes you seem angry?

why is it that you have to get laid in the shadows

and drink yourself to sleep?

why is it that you have fantasies and nasty habits

that betray your public image?

america hiding behind medicinal smoke screens

so that the poor populace can nurture the prison industry

the white house will soon officially have a sponsor
not in the closet but on the front doorstep

america your seasons plod along lacking rhyme and reason

while morning commutes show the truth of our human nature

america why do you need to bring your guns to work,

to school,to the rat infested malls?

why do you need to bring your guns to lunch and dinner?
we watch violence emulate violence and then turn the channel

america i am rambling to myself

as if i am an immigrants son, all alone and un-showered
frothing in front of a condemned public library

america

houses divided and so spiteful

houses filled with our pigs sitting there with cum in their hands

resetting their search engines
and collecting a tax less check

america why do you burn bridges before assessing the tolls?
america why would you shove a dagger up your own ass

instead of compromising?

america why would you rather shoot a bullet into your own head

than to let someone else hold the flashlight?

america where is your balance?

why is it that fear brings us together

and love tears us apart?

america you need to listen to the howl again

america you need to read the jungle again

america you need to see how the other half lives again

america you need to recite the preamble again

america i could go on and on

but what the hell for?

who the fuck is listening and why would they care?

maybe i am the only fool
in that glenwood room that doesn't get the joke

so be it

but at least i am listening when my heart wanders

but at least i am watching my frozen breath linger

but at least i am embracing what my mind can question

america i am you

america i am them

america i am everyone
america i am a cog, a number, a widget at your disposal
america i yearn to be free and hope to be brave

america i am laying down my excessive guns

america i am laying down my excessive greed

america i am laying down my aching head
a head that is showing signs of cracking under excessive strain

america i am praying to dream