Exhume the Mind




'ExHume' reasoned ideals from
Where David the Scot 'interned' them,
The Cosmos papaless
Sliced and diced down to the marrow,
Leaving the mind-less, psychic exhaust,
Of the brain, the nada of a dark
Unlighted cafe at the end of survival--
A shotgun wedding with Idaho



The Incredible Shrinking Consciousness



Falling up through the evangelical flames,
Ashed Servetus another heretic burns
While the blanched shadow of Calvined Geneva
Rises in triumph like a winged god-evil phoenix,
Wreathed so thankful of propped-up-positions
So cavernly predestinarian and twistedly
Safe in the Synod of God's Dorted hands
While shrieking humankind burns forever;

Falling down through expanding history
Amidst the dry snow flakes that blanket
And whiten the bloody corpsed banks,
Frozen carcasses of Napoleonic soldiers
Guns at the ready, stomachs bloated
In their intestined turning, plummeting still life,
Receding from dim shadowed Moscow
In a blanked Rembrandt white out;

Falling sideways through the energy blast
Of one hundred million tons white
Flashing into distant walls leaving children's
Flamed skin to sketch tangled shadows,
Truman falsely demonstrating the total
Warred reason, of how one nation acts
Like its axed enemy in the Hade-fired end;

Falling damn-angled through
Sin's tortuours twists and turns
Down human-unkind's
Incredible shrinking
Consciousness only
Redeemed by a
Reviled, rejected
Jew.


In the News: Eye Bandits



    
high
skirt tech p e e p i n g
Up

More visual pickpockets
voyeuring

down
to
Prurient depths
Picturing her d
Intimate e
Skin--
Cell phone
Demania p
t
h
s

Men so given
to demeaning
extremes--
In the East

Prudes cover her
Supple glory,
In the West jerks

Uncover their porn;

S
t
i
f
f-necked men
filled emp ty

Skin-game misers, missing

Her inner
feeling and being.





A Twist of the Words



Dangle, dawdle,
Malice in wanderwater
The swimming porpoiseless of it all
Only a mat of matter
Said the mad hitter with natural
Selection's wand
What's the smatter?
Why do the atheists get
Up their datter?
Let them walk on water
Tottering
Laughter


Alluded Fractures



Just the facts, Mam!
Don't try and yeast the cliché
Of Man shall live by facts alone;
Avoid all loaded smiles with the i wrong,
Those lame-dropping of proverbial
Heavy objectives, millstones into the sea,
Especially nothing about escaped goats--
Billy or his fabled regress;
No fish or lamb stories, please.

Walk those iota, jotted data
Safely to the solid bank, not
The left one where painting fractures.
Remember a fact is a fact is a fact.
We want plain joe and jone,
Not the good, just, and beauty full—
But logical positively hard concrete.

Stay with the mammon tested.
Naturally avoid all references
To the silent allegedly absent landlord
(You know 'Waiting for what's his name')
The media's ever spitful curse, yes
Crisp bills over 'Play-dough'
And his imaged cave,
which I take Lightly.

To be safe from Forms,
Don't ever Thoreau
Out ideal words like transcend
Dental; because of the unfair
Association some will grind
Their eye-ful towered teeth.

Oh to be factual—fixate
On the parabola, not the parable
Of the prodigal daughter;
Line those bits of matter
Sequentially like carnal bites
On a Dawkinized skewer,

Focus on your pair of (more is less)
Cleats to stay grounded
Not the Paraclete, who ever.
If it isn't measurable, it doesn't
Count; (Don't count on it.)
Neither Dracula or draconian.

March like right leanings
Down in mass dutifully
(Not Dudley) to the 'see..'

Never mind…Oops.
Yes, do. Let me turn
Around—
One wisecrack will suffice:

Please Mam, the just--
not only the facts--
That's the gist.


Daniel Wilcox earned his degree in Creative Writing from Cal State University, Long Beach. A former activist, teacher, and wanderer--from Montana to the Middle East-- he casts his lines out upon the world's turbulent waters and wide shores in Moria, The Recusant, Crossing Rivers in Twilight, Word Riot, etc. Poems will soon be published in Frame Lines and Wild Violet. A short story, The Faces of Stone based on his time in the Middle East, was published in both The Danforth Review and Danse Macabre. Recently, Daniel completed a novel and a poetry collection. He lives on the central coast of California with his mysterious wife and youngest son.

Visit his WEBSITE.


Read more work from Daniel Wilcox.

|
││ ││

All material is copyright © 2009 - 2010 Counterexample Poetics and individual artists. All rights reserved.