junkmail oracle



section b

on this page:
13. i am helpless 14. later i'll know 15. been round 16. this that 17. The lines so long 18. We built machines 19. Things will never 20. i said 21. there is silence 22. To realize 23. If I could have 24. I cannot work 25. this land



i am helpless citizen of one
driving home with cup of gas
dollars short for nearly hour drive home
state of emergency
gas sucked dry in town number one,
running on fumes
and i realize i'm helpless citizen of one.
second town,
line of cars five blocks deep,
just like everyone else,
nothing to do but wait.
people panicked.
i just want back on the road.
i head out,
lucky to be out only sixteen dollars
that i didn't have to begin with.
i'm teacher leaving conferences
where i want nothing less than to
report a's, b's, f's to parents who care too little.
five miles outside of second town,
car jerks,
check engine light.
nine pm.
recovered, keep moving,
get home helpless citizen of one,
what about the rest of the world?
talking peace, war, love and hate
dodging perjoratives
racist comments from redneck teenagers
for hours,
hours and hours.
migraine is blinding this damn drive,
at least,
is in my possession.
all i want is home




later i'll know
the reasons
later i'll understand
how obvious it was
time will reel out
the sequences
the clues
the unavoidable warnings
that we didn't see
the reasons not to be there
the choices we'd been offered
time will make it clear
an israeli walks around
in shock
not knowing if uncle,
alive or dead
in NY rubble
a frenchman
holds a phone
that can not ring
in his brothers house
no calls taken
out of order
a refugee
hears dancing in his streets
and wonders what has happened
time will shed light
now, time threatens
another tick on a chart
of pain
again the meditation circle
joins hands to uplift
the doubts
towards hope




been round emotion wheels







and round
hollow shaking gourd
in dry aired silence
what am i thinking?




somethings will never change
and yet at the same time everything is changing
and that the things that will never change
are all ready like hollow voices rattlein around in
our heads, there by the gourd effect,
the words that are suppose to have meaning in our
lives, are like whispers, or shadows, or leaves
something that comes and goes, the wispers of
what is suppose to spell, significance!
the shadows of what is suppose to pass
and leave traces of memory and echo some
reflection of us, in the mirror of our
solitary thoughts, like the sound of
dry leaves of silence, the rattle, the combination
of whispers, shadows, leaves of silence
all the feelings, that move around inside
the things that never change
the voices, the angry crys, the screams of terror
utter disbelief in the face of isms
news flash of blasted towers, the black smoke clouds
the surreal image of a jet plane crashing into it...
the shear unreality, the memorys of the images
of the Gulf war, video scenes of bombs, bullit
tracers in the infrared night....
so far away, and now so close to America
who is in control?
who is controling these images in our heads?
our heads like hollow containers, of invisable turning




The lines so long, people are turned away
It's the one thing they have and want to give away
Many need it, many others have lost it
Human blood
It's the only thing that works against bombs and guns
Washes away our sins
Human blood
Rivers of it
Pouring through the streets at dawn
Take my arm, friends, lovers, children and strangers




We built machines
To build machines
To steel our place and sweep away our needs
We gave them chips for bigger brains but none for hearts
That's why the poet weeps
We sold our souls for TV dollars
Garbage wealth to choke us in our sleep
Six feet deep and crawling up to keep
Our bellies full and eyes berated
That's why the poet weeps
Ugly nations spit and vomit
Father mother running children
Hide in snowy cracks of rock and cold
Tear stained cheeks on young and old
Cleansing tide will sweep them all away
That's why the poet weeps
Children dance and splay
Dodging bullets as they play
Their dripping death chant hop
Roll those killing bones
That's why the poet weeps
Churchmen foam and spray
Clutch their unseen tithings
Cheat their gods and trade for rocks
Still no one prays for all the bleeding people
Crushed beneath the golden domes and warring steeples
The poet does and then he weeps
Airplanes falling in our skies
Burning buildings and burning lives
Death tolls rise, the living cries
of people buried in the rubble, calling
calling, saying help me, help me please
When the silence falls, the poet weeps
A single heart might hear the call
And curse the dark to see the nightmare fall
Away and morning stirring to arise
To kindle hope and whatever thanks
For one more spark and ray of light
One more day of life
It's all that any creature wants
That's why the poet speaks and we awake
With salted trails dried upon our face




Things will never be the same.
Back to nature is right.
We were arrogantly cool for 200 years,
maybe just since the 1950s
Once we had it all
two cars in the garage
we drank and did the twist
Nothing now but the rubble of our dreams
the rescue crews
who won't give up
but in their their search for survivors
They can't find us all
America, Liberty, Israel, Hope
Desert canyon dreams
I am going to my cave
to smoke many cigarettes
and write this on the walls




i said
i wished
i were there
a night before
the world fell
i know
to think,
to only
want to hear
from you
to touch you
to make you
i know
i said
i wished
i were there
but now
i'm glad
i'm not




there is silence
and there is silent noise
that roars in the head
take up arms of words
events are moving
but when haven't they been?
history is not static, not linear
like they would have you believe
history goes in circles
cycles of rhythms, of signs of change
listen to the holy molly ghosts
hear thier crys, tell you about the utter lies
if we fail to learn from the past
then it will loop endlessly
nothing happens in a vacuum, folks!
stunned silence, is for the masses
poets must use thier voice
or they ARE silenced!
its your choice!!!
psychic numbing
is the enemy
anger, fear
are gut reactions
and also danger signals
but for the poets of this torn world
the poem must go on, now is an oppurtunity
to find the words in the bottem of your soul
do not bury your feelings under confussion
warriors, are trained for battle, but how
do you fight the terror from within?
do you learn to stand in thier shoes?
PEARL HARBOR, they cry!!! funny but
wasn't that just a Hollowwood movie
huge corn ball blockbuster!!funny that
coincedence?...nothing is a coincedence in this
world people, karma speeds up, and so does the
language, its there to teach us the truth
the truth behind the gloss and gloss over
awake! to the clash of events, hear them sing
in your veins, let the words bleed from the
mirror to the day of unfunny!!!
use the horrible images to create
poetry is not a shallow activity
it takes nerve, and verve, it takes vision
open your eyes, lookwithin, then look without
again, what do you see?...smoke, debris, ideas
blowin in the wind of strange days...
death on the screen, going by endlessly...
remember thousands die of hunger daily
is that less terrible, remember the rain forests
remember the oceans are dying, crying tears are drying
don't be shattered like the black windows of illusion
the moon is still in the sky behind the cruel plumes
pick up a pen, find a place inside that is struck numb
and awaken it with questions, and test the limits....
and go beyond....awaken the pain in the world, sing
through it, to the sun beyond the angry hellish plumes




To realize in a blinding second
The futility of so many things
And in the next to realize such importance
But all the while mixed-up
Totally fucking confused
Not sure anymore
Sometimes everything seems futile
Everything seems important
Every scale seems to bend and sway
The wind is driving me mad
I can't take the daylight, I can't sleep at night
I watch the damn news hoping to find a purpose
Hoping to gleam some kind of reason
Hoping to find my own way through this nightmare earth
I have read the words of journalists
The prominent dissidents, purveyors of knowledge
The professors at the university
The priests and ministers holding vigil
Nothing works, it's all thrown into a swirling mess
How can I ever explain this to anybody
These things that I don't understand
How can I feel, when my only reaction
Is to shut down.
I cannot talk to people rationally
Legitimately about anything
I feel so purposeless and small
All my understanding blown out the window
I cannot feel myself
All my emotions have burned off at the receptor
They are singed, soldered to my heart
And my heart is skipping beats

--E. Matthew



If I could have never woken up
If I could have slept for eternity
If I could have broken across midnight
Never having seen today
I would have
The wave crashed on shore
Splashing down blood strewn streets
The tide now rescinding, gaining momentum
When will it crash down
Where will it crash down
Upon whose lives will it pummel
Upon whose soul will it swallow
Make believe we see freedom shore
A safe harbor light, a city on the hill
The euphemisms of a poorer nation,
Crying out democracy and wealth
Hiding all the time beneath the covers
Knowing the monster is truly growing beneath our beds
Grown in strength, fed of late night crumbs
Whatever we discarded he hoarded and grew
One day he was bound to overtake us
Only a matter of time
Today he has risen, born of malevolence and spite
A million years growing of breadcrumbs and dust
Today he looks in our eyes, unflinchingly gazing
As we look for our covers and pull down our shades
We cannot hide any longer
He has drawn our long-face out
He has set us to reckoning
And we cannot retreat
We act so reactionary
We flex our atrophied muscle
He laughs at our posturing
And gathers his strength
We cannot back down
Our own lines we've drawn
Where will we chase him
What city or town
As faceless as when we dreamt him
Asleep in our beds,
Pulling our covers
Tight o'er head
How will we fight our faceless creation
In this grand unfathomed devastation

--E. Matthew



I cannot work harder to understand
Something that I should never have known
Something that I wish I never knew
All my sensibility is shot
I am trying to understand something unfathomable
To the depths of the sea and the rise of a mountain
I am incapable of understanding the breadth
The depth that this world has sunk
In a matter of minutes we have all run
Called our loved ones, loved and loved
Our freedom and it's all towering down
In a ball of unbelievable flame
I wish there was some way that I could know
How we construct our construction
Across this earth, how many people need to die
How angry are they
Why are they so against us
And all reason dies
So many questions in midnight mind
So many questions that will never be answered
Crying out cell phone earth beneath
The destruction of a civilization
I cried so much I thought my mind had cracked
I saw so much
I saw so much
I couldn't speak

--E. Matthew



this land: no place, no time
to lay the corner stone
no place for more than
a cold existence, dropped out,
monosyllabic and overrode
your breath wandering around
inside yourself, looking for life and
freeing itself - hungry
for happiness and future,
yet returning
restless, sore and close to death
where is the comrade
without contract, the brother without
calculation, the sister
with a song?
who has not crushed
his dream underfoot or sold it,
who hasn't tuned his words
to benefit and rule
who does not duck
with half a sun under his hat,
nor sneak into his hole where
dust settles on impotence
and love, a pet, sleeps long
where is a man who's
neither handcuffed nor
puts in chains, where is
a place for the time
that comes to
lay the corner stone?
here you stop, you stand and
nobody can tell you:

--panta rhei


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(note: these poems originally appeared on www.litkicks.com. they are used here by permission of the authors and with the consent of www.litkicks.com.)

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