Concerto for blunt instrument

An irregular heartbeat from d.o. to you. Not like a daily kos, more like a sometime sloth. Fast relief from the symptoms of blogarrhea and predicated on the understanding that the world is not a stage for our actions, rather it is a living organism upon which we depend for our existence.

Thursday, January 26, 2017

The Cabinet

This cabinet, it's come unhinged
it's come off the wall and
all it contains is spoiled
soiled and without usefulness
each and every remedy's
expired, dated as bloodletting
as wolfbane by windows or the
broken mirror we can
not see them in, the
contents being not content
with their directions for
use, the warnings are clear:
keep out of reach of children
children who will have to clean
up after them, after the doctor
wakes them and sends them
out into the troubled world
the bizarre, the flashing lights
and carnival screams. Close the
door, bar the door, place your
body against the door, and
the doctor? Put him away
as well.

                        - d.o. 1/27/17

Monday, January 23, 2017


Is your Big Government
bad as Big Oil or a 
big boy or big bully
pushing you into the locker
dark and confining where
all your whining echos back
bigly as your classmates 
pass by outside chattering
loudly about mindless text
or something red, white and
blue coming to you from
our sponsors or big orange
monsters bloviating bullshit
as brotherhood dwindles and
sisters are sequestered, confined
yet again by gold plated sin.
Big Oil trumps Big Government
or it is, big boys barely cognizant as
big pictures fall from the wall
you're still in the hall, in the
locker as the Doctor jiggles the
latch. Got a match?
Let's light this thing up
it's big and corrupt
break open the lockers
take out the stoppers
and get all abrupt, it's
what we do out here
we overcome fear.
             - d.o.  January 20, 2017

Monday, January 02, 2017

The New New Year Fear


Recall the Puritan progeny,
the god-blessed money tree?
Now all pretense of righteousness
gone up in smoke, emissions for
The Machine of very bad dreams.

The new calendar of your devices
says 2017, the scene is not serene
it's mean and it seems the angry fist
is shaking in your face otherwise, the
dark motorcade still passing bodies slumped
in even more doorways, under more
crumbling bridges, babies still in trash cans,
unnatural disasters mounting the screens
and he who would be king, gold plated,
phoney as a three dollar bill, fake and
on the take, holding court with the worst and
 your best interests in contempt, by the neck,
staked decks and a knockoff disaster sequel,
bloodful, dreadful, and yes, deplorable
spills off the screen into your scream.

Still the homeland shelters wait
only for the great and fate, but
we know where the hiding is,
we live out here after all
and for now.........we wait.

                             - d.o.  1/1/17