The Perplexed Poet's Perch @theperplexedpoet - Tumblr Blog

detox

from this culture run by vultures getting ready for its shocks shit is toxic since they boxed it and set it behind these locks for they cannot run the gamut while still maintaining control only need them just to bleed them and to feed them to the toll we're just meat for their grinder machine of the one percent these times are a reminder what it is they represent tearing sutures building futures from the rot and festered wounds for the planet cannot manage fortunes that favor its doom those which cater to the greater urges of the lesser few where they need us just to bleed us as the greed does what it do we're just meat for their grinder machine of the one percent these times are a reminder what it is they represent from this culture run by vultures getting ready for its shocks one concocts it and they boxed it I need a fucking detox for it's deadly and it's spreading faster than the treatment works no proceeding past the bleeding so the feeding doesn't hurt we're just meat for their grinder machine of the one percent these times are a reminder what it is they represent fortune favored hailed as savior for the one that cannot fend without workers legal lurkers push overtime to upend norms and safeguards for the blowhard and his minion ne'er-do-wells those who need us just to bleed us their greed condemns us to hell we're just meat for their grinder machine of the one percent these times are a reminder what it is they represent from this culture run by vultures getting ready for its shocks one concocts it and they boxed it I need a fucking detox (07/22/26)

#poetry #sociopolitical #introspective articulations #trump #one percent #culture of corruption #culture of greed #billionaire buyout #government sellouts

the pact (made sense at the time)

and so the penny drops here owing tomorrow in fields with burning crops cream climbs to find sorrow can't make it to the top not on time that's borrowed and so the penny drops bill comes due tomorrow the pact was sealed in blood committed to pages that would unleash a flood spanning through the ages the terms were never clear yet still the line was signed with its protracted fear it made sense at the time the pact was sealed in blood committed to pages and therein lies the rub so once warned the sages was not yet a specter for was not yet resigned to face this collector still made sense at the time and so the penny drops here owing tomorrow in fields with burning crops cream climbs to find sorrow can't make it to the top not on time that's borrowed and so the penny drops bill comes due tomorrow the pact was sealed in blood committed to pages the torrent and the flood both came to claim wages for terms not understood eternally entwined with any chance of good it made sense at the time and so the penny drops here owing tomorrow in fields with burning crops cream climbs to find sorrow can't make it to the top not on time that's borrowed and so the penny drops bill comes due tomorrow the pact was sealed in blood committed to pages and therein lies the rub why it sets the stages (07/15/26)

#poetry #introspective articulations #pact #blood #poet #artist

picture (hey!)

picture held the answer pages held the cure fix for these old cancers is to live a life that's pure purely incidental recompense for one surely seeming mental but the battles must be won hey! here we go for Jesus here we kneel and pray clearly from the thesis it should never be this way way too denigrating margins set to burn say it's way frustrating how few of you ever learn hey! I don't need excuses I don't need your lies why won't these abuses and these tendencies just die dying to get off this coaster of despair vying for the off switch but there is just nothing there hey! what the hell has happened hey! what the hell indeed hey! we once had a captain of more than just industry hey! picture held the answer pages held the cure nixed for spreading cancers all that they want to endure during this debacle that they call a term earnings for the brothel the property of the worm hey! history repeats us herstory derailed mystery impedes us on patriarchy impaled pale in comparison to the dollar's deeds grail in the garrison and we're gonna make it bleed hey! I don't want excuses I don't want the bile why won't we throw deuces and give up the pedophile file it under pure greed print it in the Post style will take the proceeds for it's what you value most hey! what the hell has happened hey! what the hell indeed hey! we once had a captain of more than just industry hey! picture held the answer pages held the cure (07/13/26)

#poetry #sociopolitical #introspective articulations #history #patriarchy #trumpets #trump administration #rorschach test

diarrhea (apologies to ABBA but not to RFK Jr.)

been mistreated by you, and this whole damn admin you were all just of one mind, deregulation look at us now, with that cyclo burn I don't know how, but yeah this seems about right brain worm v. shit parasite core is shook and I can tell you one thing they're all crooks now we cannot stop shitting, o-o-o-o-oh

diarrhea, here we go again this guy, hasn't got a damn clue diarrhea, caused by infection bye-bye, it's time that they fire you yes, it's getting explosive you're completely corrosive why, why did they ever confirm you diarrhea, now we're really screwed this guy, has not got a damn clue

I've been angry and sad about things that you do

I can't count all the times that I've said, “oh, fuck you!”

I hope you go, with your sewage swims I think you know that we cannot take this too long hope that nothing else goes wrong by the book, now we can't stop expelling they're all crooks and so it's time that we sing, o-o-o-o-oh

diarrhea, here we go again this guy, hasn't got a damn clue diarrhea, caused by infection bye-bye, it's time that they fire you yes, it's getting explosive you're completely corrosive why, why did they ever confirm you diarrhea, even if you pout bye-bye, rizzless and not clever diarrhea, like the shit you spout bye-bye and we mean forever

#poetry #parody #introspective articulations #abba #rfk jr #cyclospora #foodborne illness #diarrhea #food safety #deregulation

this long poetic journey

when I first felt the rhythm when I first moved in rhyme a journey was beginning would play out over time role of the unforgiven I had claimed it as mine the veil had started thinning stars started to align when I first ripped out my heart first penned it to my sleeve I thought it worth the effort was something I believed I committed to the part vying for a reprieve journeyed across this desert was learning how to grieve this long poetic journey lens focused here within standing on bridges burning holding this weighted pen when I last felt the rhythm when I last felt alive moving towards its ending with passion and with drive for the part I was given came to the point where I've been breaking where was bending hoping the words survive this long poetic journey lens focused here within standing on bridges burning holding this weighted pen I knew how it would burn me and did time and again with lessons I'm still learning beyond what I knew then when I first felt the rhythm when I first moved in rhyme this journey just beginning would change me over time each line and all that's in them that document this climb and each the falls worth penning released from the sublime this old poetic journey lens focused here within standing on bridges burning holding this weighted pen I knew how it would burn me and did time and again with lessons I'm still learning beyond what I knew then when I first ripped out my heart first penned it to my sleeve I thought it worth the effort still something I believe (07/09/26)

#poetry #introspective articulations #poet #writer #writing #self reflection

integrated

I saw my hands corrupt this once a shadow on a throne doing the words injustice as I tread here on my own it was when we walked as one the shadow's integration speaking with another's tongue stunted articulations fell before the rising sun the pages decoration in which this all had begun suspended animation set the framing from day one just inking desecration unworthy and worrisome was a sinful placation exposing what must be done beyond insinuation it was then we walked as one the shadow's integration I saw my hands corrupt this once a shadow on a throne doing the words injustice as I tread this path alone it was when we walked as one the shadow's integration just one act of submission a form of meditation had no choice but to succumb the promise of salvation waited in this one action the pen's articulations I saw my hands corrupt this once a shadow on a throne doing the words injustice as I tread here on my own here endeth the discussion on eve of desperation with just one thing to become through pools of inspiration fool no longer played for fun and with such dedication it was then we walked as one the shadow's integration I saw my hands corrupt this once a shadow on a throne doing the words injustice as I tread this path alone (07/08/26)

#poetry #introspective articulations #shadow self #shadow integration #writer #expressing self #whole voice #poet

the music of our souls

sing a song for the poets for the fallen and the flawed for though they may not know it in its presence they are gods in each our souls is music is a song penned just for us the world's chords will confuse it will drown it out with its dust until we cannot hear it it gets lost beneath the roar taking with it our spirit all its threads and so much more but if we dare to listen in breaks of calm and quiet we find it does persist when we cannot recognize it sing a song for the artists for those defying their tense they will be hit the hardest when denied their providence in each our souls is music is a song penned just for us the world's noise and abuses do far more than break the trust they lock us in a pattern from which we can't deviate 'til we become taciturn amid days that obfuscate the song and all its glory turning us against ourselves but there within our story lie the keys to something else sing a song for the poets for the fallen and the flawed for though they may not know it in its presence they are gods building blocks of creation all resting within their grasp steering all ideation every creative task in each our souls is music is a song penned just for us the world would have us lose it to trade it for what's discussed set up as the status quo where we can no longer hear cutting deeper than we know 'til our own chords disappear beneath the rage and rabble and the lyrics they've supplied what we've tested for battle they would have us set aside sing a song for the artists for those defying their tense they will be hit the hardest when denied their providence building blocks of creation the fibers of their being steering all ideation giving each moment meaning in each our souls is music is a song penned just for us put there to get us through it ash to ashes, dust to dust (07/06/26)

#poetry #introspective articulations #writing #poet #artists #souls #music #our song

immersed (the scale and scope of verses)

immersed in inner turmoil where the hatchet takes its count reflections in the tinfoil speak to brave and bold amounts of circumstantial relics sentimental to a fault the kind that makes one jealous drinking tears that taste of salt and so the hour rings empty for the faded and disturbed as once more the ink tempts me just a servant of the words the scale and scope of verses take the sentiments to heart detail the hopeful curses for it's now they will depart immersed in inner turmoil below currents made of sand reflections in the tinfoil speak beyond simple commands to calculated crosses 'neath the fortune teller's card with nothing but the losses that have come in hitting hard and so the hour holds empty for it knows no other way as always the ink tempts me serving the words I betray the scale and scope of verses take the sentiments to heart detail the hopeful curses for it's now they will depart whereby the latest symptom born of such wells of despair will always find its rhythm will always be waiting there immersed in inner turmoil where belief had kept it ground reflections in the tinfoil are ready to burn it down with existential relics lighting bridges without halt these wings were once angelic now just tears that taste of salt and so the hour ends empty as a distant scream is heard never will ink not tempt me I'm a servant of the words the scale and scope of verses take the sentiments to heart detail the hopeful curses for it's now they will depart whereby the latest symptom born of such wells of despair will always find its rhythm will always be waiting there immersed... (07/02/26)

#poetry #introspective articulations #writer #poet #spilled ink #servant of the words #immersed

"not all men"

here we go time and again comes some bro with “not all men” don't know why it's still the trend battle cry of “not all men” so let's talk about the fact guys will balk and will push back when we move the spotlight from the abused o'er to the ones who abuse and own the act I'm confused what's up with that the instinct of so many why, methinks it speaks plenty here we go time and again comes some bro with “not all men” don't know why it's still the trend hear him cry out “not all men” put the blame where it belongs say it plain that rape is wrong don't mince words or hem and haw time to purge the culture's claw silence hides perpetrators shine the light on these traitors preying on humanity shadows gone and we see thee stop teaching girls how to be perfect victims so they can earn our empathy instead address the men who would inflict them all of these wounds we will not see here we go time and again comes some bro with “not all men” don't know why it's still the trend battle cry of “not all men” (06/30/26)

#poetry #sociopolitical #introspective articulations #all men #shift the conversation #responsibility #communication #talk about it #christina ricci #fuck the patriarchy #reframing #men own rape

after the rain has fallen there's a calm, a gentle hush applies a peaceful balm when the world wants us all to rush it fills the air with coolness and it stills the shares of day it grants the hour a fullness that can't be stolen away and it breaks up the rhythm of the pace that drives the score and so much is forgiven with the grace it doth implore it paints the sky in gray hues composes a new refrain always acting as a muse it's magic after the rain (06/23/26)

#poetry #introspective articulations #rain #peace #calm

never say never

never say never and never say die change in the weather it is always nigh has been forever a consistent lie never say never and never say die one for the money which they like a lot not being funny as far as they got they locked in on it and took it to heart ran it like Sonic and it was the spark one that has triggered so many wildfires and reconfigured how many are wired never say never and never say die change in the weather it is always nigh has been forever a consistent lie never say never and never say die one for the money don't expect a two they like it sunny like climate can do refuse to move on to step from the sun they are holding on to step number one with the imbalance that it has now caused scale-tipping talents garner their applause never say never and never say die change in the weather it is always nigh has been forever a consistent lie never say never and never say die one for the money now they represent the cold and cunning of the one percent and so they spoon feed the slop to us all my inner Goonie it answers the call seeking adventures worthy endeavor to alter postures will they change... never say never and never say die change in the weather it is always nigh has been forever a consistent lie never say never and never say die (06/22/26)

#poetry #sociopolitical #introspective articulations #never say never #never say die #the goonies #greed

fuckery o' clock (one cold mother)

huckory, duckery, shock it is fuckery o' clock the clock struck one struck for freedom huckory, duckery, shock muckory, shuckery, bloc once more fuckery o' clock the clock struck two Netanyahu muckory, shuckery, bloc the days are getting goosey we're turning on each other the screws are getting loose see and I am one cold mother buckory, cuckery, hoc it's still fuckery o' clock the clock struck three from sea to sea buckory, cuckery, hoc huckory, duckery, shock yup, it's fuckery o' clock the clock struck four illegal war huckory, duckery, shock the days are getting goosey we're turning on each other the screws are getting loose see and I am one cold mother knuckory, suckery, cocks it stays fuckery o' clock the clock struck five mind like a hive, for genocide knuckory, suckery, cocks cruxory, luxury yacht fucking fuckery o' clock the clock struck six for avarice cruxory, luxury yacht the days are getting goosey we're turning on each other the screws are getting loose see and I am one cold mother yuckory, stuckery, mock always fuckery o' clock clock struck seven no more questions yuckory, stuckery, mock huckory, duckery, shock it is fuckery o' clock the clock struck eight as racists hate, no balanced weight huckory, duckery, shock the days are getting goosey we're turning on each other the screws are getting loose see and I am one cold mother tuckory, luckery, lock n'er not fuckery o' clock the clock struck nine justice maligned tuckory, luckery, lock fluxory, huxtery, rock can't stand fuckery o' clock the clock struck ten vast corruption, that never ends fluxory, huxtery, rock the days are getting goosey we're turning on each other the screws are getting loose see and I am one cold mother uckory, juxtery, plot why it's fuckery o' clock struck eleven caving heads in uckory, juxtery, plot huckory, duckery, shock yup, it's fuckery o' clock the clock struck twelve one percent hell huckory, duckery, shock (06/20/26)

#poetry #introspective articulations #sociopolitical #parody #satire #nursery rhymes #mother goose

was a time I could dream

saw the strings of the schemers with all their ways and means here playing at redeemer death waiting in the wings can't tell from my demeanor for nothing's as it seems yes, once I was a dreamer was a time I could dream the dawn came with the thunder was carrying a storm the current pulling under the sky painted to warn of each these dark tides turning the ways of their unrest how we should be discerning if we're to be our best the dawn came in to portend various plots and schemes they are trying to upend the way a dreamer dreams they know that one must have hope courage must be equal and the dreamer must evoke a belief in people saw the strings of the schemers with all their ways and means here playing at redeemer death waiting in the wings can't tell from my demeanor for nothing's as it seems yes, once I was a dreamer was a time I could dream the dawn came with the thunder no sunlight could be seen what eroded asunder was systemically deemed order of operations the failures cascading how do you break a nation keep the dreamers waking saw the strings of the schemer with all their ways and means here playing at redeemer death waiting in the wings can't tell from my demeanor for nothing's as it seems yes, once I was a dreamer a dreamer's meant to dream the dawn came in to portend the losses one by one visionaries left to fend for what life could be won where there are no perceived wins no, nothing here but costs with no one to believe in the dreamer's will was lost saw the strings of the schemers with all their ways and means here playing at redeemer death waiting in the wings can't tell from my demeanor for nothing's as it seems yes, once I was a dreamer was a time I could dream (06/19/26)

#poetry #introspective articulations #dreamer #hope #belief #belief in people #lost

costs of poverty

the sinister conversion heart rotted on the spit apathetic perversion all we have left of it we have truly lost our way a trillion times over avarice now owns the day we the people shoulder the burdens of the wealthy the fees that they inflict the pulse no longer healthy reflected in edict the documents are dusty founders turning in graves it's getting kind of musky the foundations betrayed the sinister conversion heart rotted on the spit apathetic perversion all we have left of it I saw these cold tides turning establishment of fees have paid with all my earnings these costs of poverty we have truly lost our way a trillion times over avarice now owns the day we just push the boulder the hill keeps getting steeper lines constantly redrawn the put upon seem eager to place these shackles on the covenants are crusty founders turning in their graves it's getting kind of musky showing signs of decay the sinister conversion heart rotted on the spit apathetic perversion all we have left of it I saw these cold tides turning establishment of fees have paid with all my earnings these costs of poverty we have truly lost our way a trillion times over avarice now owns the day methods growing colder laying waste to safety nets and the aid that matters to fund yachts and private jets excess served on platters machine no longer rusty for our blood soaks the gears the air is sour and musky so much it may not clear the sinister conversion heart rotted on the spit apathetic perversion all we have left of it I saw these cold tides turning establishment of fees have paid with all my earnings these costs of poverty we have truly lost our way a trillion times over as we're feeding this decay we die of exposure (06/16/26)

#poetry #sociopolitical #introspective articulations #poor tax #poverty #trickle down economics #trillionaire economics #systems #rigged

when I turn the lenses inward

when I turn the lenses inward used to not like what I'd see there were days the pain had hindered who I thought that I would be was a man of many faces a mask for each occasion as time would apply its graces with healing motivation making scars out of the wounded fusing mask with tainted flesh the hard edges were obtunded still the days brought cuts so fresh that I never saw it coming times like this when I would feel that the person I'm becoming would be able to be healed when I turn the lenses inward used to not like what I'd see there were days the pain had hindered who I thought that I would be was a man of many faces but each facade was a lie the way the wounded embraces was the very way that I came with grace to all the scars left where the blades had let them in gave them more than just my last breath had hope to be whole again with a process of blood-letting as the pen left crimson stains was the heart's way of forgetting moving on from this refrain when I turn the lenses inward used to not like what I'd see there were days the pain had hindered who I thought that I would be so played the part of the injured was a role penned just for me 'til a new shape had been rendered one they fitted with a fee was a man of many faces who had faced many a cost once believing in these places that too much of me was lost that I'd only get back traces of what came before the scars with a sleeve bereft of aces and no hand there holding cards so I never saw it coming never thought it could be real that with all of this succumbing I would find the means to heal when I turn the lenses inward used to not like what I'd see there were days the pain had hindered who I thought that I would be so played the part of the injured though no mask is worn for free still all that had been surrendered came back eventually was a man of many faces and each they served a purpose I am grateful for their graces am thankful for their service they created needed distance while allowing wounds to breathe like a balm over existence so it wouldn't cut as deep with the pen to clean the wounds out should an infection set in with the madness getting tuned out giving it less chance to win when I turn the lenses inward used to not like what I'd see there were days the pain had hindered who I thought that I would be (06/15/26)

#poetry #introspective articulations #self reflection #writing #healing #time #masks

man of words

I'm not a man of action here resting on my laurels I've got no satisfaction clearly bankrupt of morals completely out of fashion embroiled in many quarrels am here to write the caption to give form to the horrors I'm not a man of action for I am a man of words by no means a distraction nor the whim of the disturbed with some lines gaining traction while the others go unheard magnifying infractions and the culling of the herd there was no way to know it when I first picked up the pen that I'd become a poet and I would do it again with nothing to show for it but the words I'm carving in stained with ink as I pour it over scarred and fragile skin I'm not a man of action read the cards there in my hand I have not done a fraction of what I know that I can was part of the attraction and always part of the plan everything's a transaction from what I now understand there was no way to know it when I first picked up the pen that I'd become a poet and I would do it again with nothing to show for it but the words I'm carving in stained with ink as I pour it over scarred and fragile skin I'm not a man of action yet there's action in the verbs same goes for the reactions and the identities purged all part of the abstraction and of that which is observed am here to pen the caption for I am a man of words there was no way to know it when I first picked up the pen that I'd become a poet and I would do it again with nothing to show for it but the words I'm carving in stained with ink as I pour it over scarred and fragile skin (06/14/26)

#poetry #introspective articulations #poet #pen #spilled ink #tattoos #scars #action

for the rhythm (for the rhyme)

I came for the rhythm I came for the rhyme the former was given before it was time the latter was bidden at first show of signs I came for the rhythm I came for the rhyme I picked up the inkwell I bled for each word sentenced to this cold hell with what was fostered the muses were confined kept there in the cage and all of them resigned to suffer this rage I picked up the inkwell and started to spill these words meant to dispel the weight of this will with this path undefined itself a blank page and all of it designed to make me engage I came for the rhythm I came for the rhyme all of it was given none of it was mine that truth wasn't hidden it showed every time I came for the rhythm I came for the rhyme I picked up the inkwell bled deep for each piece each cut was its own tell repeated at least once for each collection showing persistence as each introspection fashioned resistance I came for the rhythm I came for the rhyme way to breach the schism as I set to climb cliffs of unforgiven martyred in their time I came for the rhythm I came for the rhyme I picked up the inkwell picked up the habit I welcomed this old hell as would an addict the muses by design danced upon this stage the suffering sublime meant less on the page I came for the rhythm I came for the rhyme the former was given before it was time the latter was bidden at first show of signs I came for the rhythm I came for the rhyme I picked up the inkwell was then when I heard the tolling of the bell with each and every word (6/10/26)

#poetry #introspective articulations #spilled ink #poet #rhythm #rhyme

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