The flying saucer has landed. We saw Digital Mob Rule (DMR) rear its ugly head in the US during the 2016 election with Trump’s win aided by the Russians, of course. These remnants seem to be still holding strong with QANon and other tripe still circulating heavily. On the left, we see it in the form of Cancel Culture and Woke. Both forces on the left and right utilize DMR to put people in the streets so DMR also leads to bodies being deployed for whatever group or movement utilizes it.
Russia did influence the 2016 election through the same…
In the reds of dawn, I see the orange of my own dusk
Grey storms of life, I stand strong at my own helm
And the sea of existence in a battered world undulates
Wildly abandoned upon the world’s throes
Harken, ye travelers, lift up your worn mugs
Drink mightily and merrily from blessed cups
Your soul is always yours, they cannot steal that
They’ll take everything else, stay your hearty course
Sing loudly as you go with joy in your voice
Tramps and gypsies, sailors and whores
I think of you as November winds boldly blow
And turn up my…
Walking down the street in Donbass
Russian sniper done shot me in my ass
Don’t wanna be here but I do
Might have to kill someone I once knew
Maybe we fished in the same streams
Could we have dreamed the same dreams?
Life is not funny here on the front line
We’re all sitting here wondering if it is our time
I got them old Donbass blues
Russian soldiers blood stains my shoes
Took him out, wasn’t gonna be the one
Mama, Mama, did you read the news?
Please, Lord, please, let this all be done
She smiled and…
The dog days of summer roll on here in Kyiv’an Rus. Heat indexes comparable to Florida haunt me in this ancient capital. Girls take self-love selfies at the beach bars on the Dnieper. Dust soaks right into your pores. Flowers each take their turns in bloom. One dies and another soon shows that it is its time. Babushkas sell their strawberries along the walking paths to Soviet ugly buildings. It smells like New York in July.
Cyrillic letters haunt my dreams and force me to read them on the buses that roll by. Traffic, deathly smells, and summer heat make…
A poem about the end of …
The needle and the art it’s done
Seems like now on just about everyone
Comes a time to say you’re done
Look at them, long may they run
Was a time when it was worn by just a few
Soldiers, bikers, criminals, the boys in blue
All the great rebels no longer hold it true
When everyone’s got one, it’s no longer new
Badges, we don’t need them round here
Original art and thought gave up, no longer dear
Homogenized, pasteurized and stinky craft beer
Give it up, maybe because you hope the end is near…
Soul pain, have you ever felt it?
Did you feel it in your head, or
Did you feel it in your heart?
That gut-wrenching wound in your chest
The one that never bleeds red
But makes you wish that you were dead
Soul joy, have you experienced it?
Did some piece of music touch you down deep?
Or maybe a baby’s smile or the happiness of a dog?
Could it have been a sunrise or sunset?
Or, the one you love more than anyone?
Did you feel it and smile at the sun?
Wherefore art thou, oh my soul
A poem for Russia, Ukraine, and Belarus
Winter snows have passed, days grow longer
Troops on the borders amassed, tensions grow stronger
Is this how you spend Great Lent? Preparing for slaughter?
What cost to your souls to be spent? Isn’t there something broader?
Your Orthodox faith ties you together, yet you still raise your guns
Will your souls burn in hell forever, Our Holy Mother shuns?
For now, lay down the weapons, instead to Pascha let us march
Oh, leaders, look to the heavens, and please do not be harsh
Can you stand in the fields of battle and…
Expat Poem from Ukraine
Winter’s greyness seems to be slipping away
Warm sunshine welcomes us again, today
Russian troops are massing on the border
Flowers bloom even among the ugliest places
Life springs forth amid even the most desolate spaces
Belarus troops mobilizing on someone else’s order
Oh, my adopted new country, now is Ukraine
Will you ever be free from Imperial Russia’s reign?
Sniper fire has laid now more of you to rest
Prayers and incense rise slowly to the sky
Is it really so necessary for others to die? …
No, I do not wish the world and everyone in it to die. It’s kind of doing that on its own, isn’t it? This is about trying and dying to the world. Trying and dying, hoping and praying, doping and staying… What’s the point, right? Why not just give in and embrace the world? It won’t hug you back, will it? I guess I should explain a little better.
“The World is Death for what does it offer that is not transient?” — St. Symeon, the New Theologian.
Deep, huh? Now I guess maybe it is best to offer some…