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David Swanson



Promised indulgences 

conjuring orders of consciousness 

Scratching surfaces for 

ways out of running riot 

Unflinching terrors 

ripping through buffooneries of 

a narrowing plausible

Smiley minddenter shaman 

calling sneery audibles

Living through these 

writhing whatever-anyways

Disruptions’ game blaming the strays

Zipping it up 

into the smooth bigmine sublime

Denials flooring it 

into the next-big-thing whine

Tagging, bragging, 

stabbing Truth—whacked


cramming the infosurges—jacked 


Alibiing silence 


Xselves’ smothered 

confusion up against rally chants 

Cannot get past the 

rush of the shills’ righteous rant 

Better being left alone 

That they will all go home 

All about everything shown 

Pushing back on the known 

Gladhanding skank 

Groping the sacrosanct 

So many do-overs 

Rationales that accuse 

Let-it-rip myopia glory bound 

Foxaganda oblivion going down 


It all squirms, worms, 

gnaws into the thundering maw 

Blundering on, flawed, pagan-raw 

Rationalizing the oozy vulgar 

Dullard vernacular not entirely clear 

Erroneous certainty smearing fears 

Bleary, twisting reason, jiving squeals 

So mindlessness is the real-deal 

No last hesitation, no wavering 

Savoring over and 

over again, 

this Anywhen


Ponderous pretense 

blindsiding any ability to cope, 

to hope, the 

fabric of reality gropes, worn 

Torn, promises shredding like swilling alibis

Takers and fakers on the sly

Backing into their mangled apocalypse

Can only stammer and stare

Movers and shakers denying the 

twofers-mindset, all those 

simulated regrets getting glares

Fear beneath the surface acting out

All about doubling down on doubt

Broken blather can only 

whine retractions and balk, 

gasp and gawk

Ignorance dumpstering its 

future for lack of strictures

Not a pretty picture


Hard to know what’s going on behind 

those diverted eyes

Easy to see what is not shown, it’s 

what they deny

An oil-disaster mindset weaseling 

the obvious proof

A top-stories attitude optioning the truth

What the…attacking the ethnic other

What the…an extreme 

economy that will not recover

What the…going with all 

those conflicted druthers

Bankster logic bloats and 

swells, smirks “That’s tough.”

Rough stuff—duck and dive, 

staying alive, rim the ride

Why won’t these wings glide?


Racists winking at 

the unblinking camera, stammering alibis 

Second Amendmensters rationalizing 

rights of under-privileged children to die

Politicians and their Bozo-moves never 

thinking they should be accused

Marriages turning on each other—feeling 

used—not on each other’s side 

Denial as pride

And the next boyband is out there 

selling the hook to their next happening hit

Happy TV people hustling 

the newest perfect It

Rightwing media smears

jonesing all the well-rehearsed lies

Wondering why they draw flies

Immigration sorrows finding 

shelter as the cartels fill mass graves

Who will be saved? 


If all is vanity, is 

still believing in Justice a sort of insanity?  

Moving on to the next calamity

Not a clue, 


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