Muammar the Sandwalker

Born and begotten in Bedouin sands
Near Sirt, the child of nomads
Descending from those that had long roamed these lands
Grandson of a man
Claimed to be Khoms first martyr
As he grew to Abdel Nasser
Tutored by the minds of Misrata

Prodigious in ambition, will, desire to fulfill his prophecy
He enrolled in military academy in Benghazi
Seeking to unite and equilibrium policy
Weaving the workers plight into Green Book Philosophy
Of unified nations, The Solution to Democracy:
True Representation, The Solution to Economy
Socialist collectivization, Third International Theory
On how to build a utopian rational civilization

“If national demagogues crowd third eyes, and cloud third eyes
from seeing the plan of Allah
Then it is rational that they will reap conflict amplified
Return to the world as two nations divide”

“Naturally, tribes are made for social posterity...
Surplus in excess never breeds prosperity...
A People's Congress, predicated on parity...
Ruled by people and not parliament to whom its a rarity
of an interest in the interests of their constituents...
Whose election is a mere ancient erection of Greek thought
When men could be led like cattle, sold, and bought”

He became a member of The Revolutionary Command Council
Joining the Free Officers Movement, that had a political evolution planned
Training his powers abroad
His focus, vision unflawed
All came to pass, his coup met with applause
On that start to September, he spilled not a scarlet drop
His star's ember now flame
Sparks of freedom remembered this day
Noble Colonel, toppler of kings
Saw his dream to conquer unseen hands of evil
meet resounding acclaim, sounds made by newly equal
People in the newly named Libyan Arab Republic

He sought to bring balance
Expelling colonialists from the West
Compelling them to increase his nation's oil profits in the process
Creating free government housing in the process
A large man-made river to water the thirsty in the name of progress
But the black beneath that he had been blessed
Was blackened as his soul from the power he held from conquest
Conquered by darkness and hatred
He labeled dissenters non-patriots
Targets worthy of termination
At this time he began a period of mediation
End of days visions plagued him with destructive pan-Arab prestidigitations
Spying on the people for whom he had sworn to cease subjugation
Hanging, beheading publicly, Censoring creativity
in a land of free speech to feed paranoid sensation
Now a bloody terrorist, whose dislike merits assassination
Becoming the tyrant he so vehemently deposed
His true dastardly intentions exposed
A corrupted, twisted totalitarian in the throes
Of the egomania of throne, caring only of his own status monetary
and not of the people who rose
him to the top, freedom fighter now pharoah
Soon a rebel alliance would propose
A counter argument to the former antithesis
Now the top of the latter without authority legitimate
Monopoly on the use of force unlimited

So they took to the streets
Cries like the voice of lost liberties
Dissent that had to be silenced
As unarmed citizens became the victims of violence
Colonel ordering the killing of all not in compliance
even his own soldiers, with he. The Dark Lord
Killed one by one, like bull's-eye on a dart board
As soon as the grandson of “the first martyr”
Had birthed his opposition was as soon as he spilled red waters
The 17th of the 2nd month, they forgot the 1st of the 9th
Failing to remember that September in 1969
For in February, the once brooding populace was now ready to fight
Al Bayda, Darnah, Benghazi
In the name of Fathi Terbil and Jamal Al-Haji
Against this failed Jamihriya
Against oppression by the veil of Sharia
So came to be the body of insurrection
Dancing to a waltz, “Thesis-Antithesis-Synthesis,” an old rebel one
To provide for Libyan's protection
National Transitional Council, trudged into the maw of war
Intent, they upheld principles they were fighting for
“No to tribalism, no to factionalism”
Yes to human rights and yes to autarchy
Arab Spring in full swing
Intent on fulfilling prophecy of liberty
Quadafi had thought of in Benghazi
Even as rockets rained down during siege
Like an apocalypse of artillery, they yearned to be free
...So they fought
Even when their wounded limped to the hospital to be permanently
Hushed by the apocryphal Imperial Shadow guard
Colonel still killing men for not firing on men unarmed
So many slaughtered in Misrata
It's wrought a flood of blood of martyrs
Trying to free their home of the grip
Of an autocrat, his soul ripped
from his body and pinned on his false hope
That he alone could one day bring balance
But as guns fired, his empire collapsed
In Tripoli, crippled he abdicates
responsibility of his tragically altered will to build a more perfect state
As the cycle comes full circle, Allah Akbar, God is great

Brainstorm

I sit outside viewing the overcast skies,
shrouded by clouds. As they pass through my eyes, images of lightning inciting
sparks and brainstorms. Light rainstorms cast upon these pockmarked lenses.
Blurred by frame of reference are my perceptions.
Endless and swathed with vaseline to hide clarity, like so many soap operas.
I ponder whether it is reality or dream
Cigarette vapor teems as it captures my cillia
Neurons captivated as stimulus ripples
Axons acting on impulse
I hear the pitter-patter of falling bodies of water, crippled
in that their fated to be but ripples on the gene pool
Passing through the temporal lobe every so temporarily
Like the Caspian Sea, endorheic and saline, action potential realized
A flash of charring ozone
Electrons dash from zone to zone
Synapses snap as rain drops on untrained thoughts
Train of thought, I hear after the thunder after the bolt
From here to the hereafter
Dendrophiles strike sending dendrite signals
Following the path of least resistance
To the Tree of Knowledge, wondering if I should choose the same for my existence
The same electrons in my brain parade without assistance
not realizing their kind persistence for excitation is not without limitlessness
As my cerebral flood washes over
An ion among that set of anions with cast over
As lighting inciting the whole world over.

Blue Lode

Procreation relegated to a spectator sport
Masturbation elevated to best, most favorite sort
Of release and it doth cease
The desire, the entire need for a conversation among flesh of beasts
Stroking takes nary a minute
As the keyboard responds to my digits
I, well-oiled machine, sheathed in an ichor of self-gratification
Power on my well-oiled machine used to display sensation
Had by 1, 2, 3, 4 and often several more, well-oiled machines after several preparations
In which prior to their publication they oiled their moving parts with greed, glamour, and self expression for lubrication
Everything needs to be a little easier to swallow, easier for penetration
Both for self and others
Because friction utterly stutters the structures one uses for one's process
Yet the progress is autonomous and self-contained
Disdained by others at times, bottomless is my inner lake
That perfect spot of spit, placed among sweat to wet the pages
Between my legs proves harmony of my dichotomy
Autonomous automatons, alone-together with a polity of others
Inward drawn, probably plotting on how best to draw out their next stroke of genius
By and on the lives of well-oiled machinists
Sword in hand, smooth and soft channels
Lord, Master of my domain, manual labor
Handywork, savored for and by the craftsmen
Whittling and whittling, with no desire to craft men
a product that could impact
other well oiled machines
Doing the math, all the crude black blood creates an impasse
When making a diamond
Kindling my menora's eternal light
With the oil from my labia minora
Ejaculating an aura from my organ
Seminal, this solo of fingertip and lip cadenzas
As i touch my feminine side, somehow this concert of one lends a sense of community
Its own invented unity
My penis coming for ebon eyes to see
To ebonize tissue with the blot of my ink,
Mine, lustrous lode now blue

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We the undead smiths of smoke
Zombified masters of mirror
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I could sell a bee his own honey
A nomad his native sands
With a well-placed commercial,
I could take the blood from your hands if it served my commercial purpose
I'd rather steal the funds to increase demand
Supply you with false hope you can't remand
You demand a refund
Because you can't sleep on your new bed
You aren't thinner
You can't be wowed by sham wow
or see the definition of necessity for higher definition tv
As long as you embark on the buyer's expedition

You are unhealthy
Just look at your shopping list
We love your flaws
They give us insecurity to deconstruct with contracts without escape clause
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We fabricate Faberge egg foo young
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It’s more like a macraméd Mao Zedong
Our service department has 0% interest
About anything that won’t boost sales percentage
Sorry, sir, we don’t make house calls
To the Mariana Trench

Bring this all in one pocket knife from Sears
As you dodge creditor tridents and spears
In the sea of debt
Indebted to the loan sharks and urchins
That made the product you purchase,
A new lifestyle
You can either adapt as a parasite who no longer wishes to keep up with the Jones
Or continue past the euphotic pelagic
So close to the surface to the aphotic
Benthic, tragic, dark abyss
Like a rust, ancient crustacean
Frustrated, clutching angrily at the ocean seemingly adjacent
Yet clutching for what had been said to be above
Had got him in this situation
Maybe detergent could whiten your bank statement
Maybe milk and protein shakes could do my shoddy body of work good
Maintenance of the new computer by Bill Gates is imperative
Upgrade your hardware with surgery to change yours into magazine faces
Sell your soul software to maintain your rank and file paces
Perhaps with these handy, new pots and pans
You could cook your way into the fire
For selling your sell as a buyer
But don’t worry about that tricky soul
Dr. Scholl’s in-soul insoles
Are the sole solution
Sold on the sole assumption that the problem is in your feet, not your head
Provided you have the cash to ride the revolution

Plays

I'm an ascendant so ascendant with a sentence
Forthcoming like the fourth coming
of Christ coming forth
Only to be coming fourth in line
Behind what he saw; carpentry and saw
Becoming Esau, carp in tree and soldering irons
Reign reined in when deluge rained dissent
Reign reign go away, dissent
By much ado about nothing
Bye-bye much adieu is about nothing
And a dew is due for all I do
My adherents adherence blew me away
Without adherence you can lecture adherents til you're blue in the face
I hope you read into that
Because I pour my red into that
Blood, sweat and tears
Blood's wet and tiers separate
Barons from barren
See what eye open to assent
Sea of I, open to ascent
Meddle with your metal to win medals of gold
Or be foiled by dramatic foils as your fencing foil folds
It's alright when you realize you aren't all right
You and your real eyes are one part knight and one part night
I wore jeans wade in the window pane gene palate
War genes weighed in the window pain palette
I'm not a little Malcolm
but I have a little Malcolm Little
Under the influence of influence in my pixels
I'd rather die, hew my life tree
than dye my hue
I'll never become a dyer no matter how dire the straits
Straight, what I sew, needle eye so sow a flower empire
Where all have daily flour
Rose on rows of rose
On subject of prose and posies
Never does a pro pose
When I propose never subject my subjects to the throes of throws
Of thrones thrown
Without popular acclamation
and a period of proper acclimation
And a ration of daily bread
Irrational a dei we bred
Cane marked as not able
Cain marked and shot Abel
On altar altered to sentence penance
Pen in sentence presence
Our presence a gift of the presents
Presently prescient
I'd rather be Shakespeare apprentice
than a shake spear menace
An augur aurical orally observing swallows
An auger oracle aurally consuming swallows
All the world's a play on words
All the worlds I play on words
I never act entitled
In this one act play entitled
Act Won
One act won by acting as one
With stage, actors and effects
Never stage, act or otherwise affect
The other wise men mending why's