violent volcano, Kilauea fuming

lava red; molten, looming

bug-eyed Balinese little ladies

doing the bobblehead

temple pimples popping

in Burmese jungles

are ancient but undead

Ninth Ward mud post-apocalypse

to Versaille’s opulence pristine

old Mursi kings with torn lips

are looking rather mean

ten thousand kicking kung fu kids

scaring the crap out of unity

displaced men mandela making

with international impunity

one grain by one million grains

Tibetan trumpets hum the strains

as young blood robes spin

the prayer wheel

 

red lights one way

white lights that say

L.A.’s freeways frantic

condos with freshwater

swimming pools

overlook shantyshacks

on a ghetto hill

and garbage snacks

in Manila’s landfill

beautiful sewage waterfalls

children working

’til night crawls

alongside bulldozers

at that dump

 

majestic mountain glory peak

dirty glaciers have sprung a leak

exquisite Japanese robot droid

with it’s twitching, soul-less

human void

this perfect geisha girl

sheds two

imperfect tears

the little blonde

mummy boy

has cotton in his ears

fish and banana Ghana

coffins?

buddy’s casket is a gun

spending eternity in

your favorite plastic toy

must be a ton o’ fun

 

body painted villagers

Ethiopian pillagers

carry AK-47’s to the peace pipe

fully developed sex dolls ripe

with adolescent faces

might just be the greatest product

of the eastern, civilized races

mechanical milking

on black and white

spinning carousels

speeds dairy cow depression

seventy-six sows pinned down

for the piglet eating session

chicken run but

chicken can’t hide

get caught up in

the butcher belt ride

 

C.P.D.R.C.

bright orange choreography

population assembly line

Chinese production freaky fine

churning out one billion nine

come on, let’s go

to a sulfur mine

bamboo baskets

on callused shoulders

hauling hissing

golden boulders

up sharp Indo

crunchy pathways

in bare feet

so neat

 

holy, Holy Divino

brace yourself, bambino

for the baptism miraculous

melted veteran sacrifice

N.R.A. family guns look nice

French performance artistry

sums it up so real for me

de Sagazan’s the shape-shifter

madness in his make-up, mister

consciousness attack, a lifter

to the Moksha monster pain

muted, powdered and arcane

but holy shit

he looks insane

 

Namibian desolation discourse

indigo salt pan feels no remorse

white, lonely plate of moon

listen to the monks moan

their lovely, haunting tune

little Asian army ants

wearing yellow shirts

black pants

circling frenzy of

the Mecca trance

one thousand hands

of her Beijing dance

and the Nemrut

goliath heads

have blue, chapped skin

 

red rock arches sing

Petra’s tucked in layering

wheel of life, ever turning

the impermanent sand

mandelas are now

mixed colors

in a cup

like shadows on that dune

repeat a cycle of light

although, that dune is

never the same

 

tall, gray concrete borders

West Bank wall dividers

keep ’em out

keep ’em in

I.D. demanded

smiles remanded

hey, soldier?

can I have my ball back?

(Thanka)

(Thanka)

very much