Blackhumouristpress's Blog

January 17, 2019

Absurd

Filed under: america,Ethnicity,fast food,humor,humour,obesity,pope,Uncategorized — blackhumouristpress @ 5:40 pm
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Sitting in a fast food palace, wall to wall plastic

Maury giving a bro hug to a man on the tube that is the father of his daughter’s child… Wild? No. In a word-absurd.

 

A man with a blue tooth devise attached to his ear goes table to table selling Krispy Kreme donuts on the side, on the slide, trading a burger for a box of donuts. Nuts? No. In a word-absurd.

 

The people behind the counter move slow… You know the type- Type 2 diabetes, cherub faced sweeties with no neck, nails like claws, sagging draws and lashes long enough to tickle your face. Bad taste? No. In a word- Absurd

 

The heroin addict with the sad look and a sign by the freeway is doing just fine. He pulls out a fat wad of cash, eyes bloodshot from smoking some hash to clear his mind and face the day. A # 2 with a large Coke… Is this all some sort of joke? No. In a word-Absurd.

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January 9, 2019

We Interrupt

Filed under: america,donald trump,humor,humour,poem,Uncategorized — blackhumouristpress @ 8:17 pm
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We interrupt The Bachelor, Dancing with the Stars, The Khardasians and those texting in cars to bring you a message from the president… Not my president, there are no illegal residents, a New York precedent… It’s safe there and free, there’s no fee except to those at the tippy top who are moving their dough to the Caribbean, listing their homes and moving to Monte Carlo.

 

Raise your hands to block the kick, prevent the win to build a wall. We care too much for them all and after all, the future hinges on their vote. Please don’t quote me; it’s off the record, anonymous sources from the swamp. We hate Trump… We love Trump either way it’s a ratings boost for cable news and for whatever side you choose. And if you think you’re winning either way you lose.

September 22, 2018

Anything…

Filed under: poem,Uncategorized — blackhumouristpress @ 5:56 pm
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It’s been years since you watched a sunset
And saw the beauty of a day ending.
It’s normal to keep pretending when you make eye contact
In the rear view mirror, that the path and
Direction makes sense

Maybe others see what’s going on
And they’re at peace when they sleep
They ask you what do you want and what do
You want to be?  Where will you go?

Maybe there’s no truth
Maybe there’s no proof
Counting grains of sand for eternity
Treading water in a sea of futility
Consciously deciding things unconsciously.
What does it mean?  That maybe everything is nothing.

May 11, 2018

Forward

Filed under: poem,Uncategorized — blackhumouristpress @ 2:32 pm
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He wakes and sees himself in the mirror, squints like Clint
“I’m the boy I’ve always been… am I too old? I still feel young.”
Life’s a curious thing, miles of road in the rear view mirror and a
dead end up ahead.  It’s not what you heard or what I said. You’ll
soon forget the lunch bags and red roses. The mundane day-to-day
measured in minutes He kissed her lips on a sunny day drove the baby
to where she had to go.  Just trying to get it right.  He wakes when
they’re sleeping, says nothing.  I’m not leaving; it’s just a walk and
a quiet talk to the relatives gone before him letting them know others
are coming.  Fading, fading into a deeper fog of a mind stuck on
reset.  Life’s cruelty is to forget and lose comprehension of where,
what and why.   Life’s a struggle; life is tough but better than the
man with the cup by the freeway.  He’s lived a bunch of years, does he
get more? He thinks the deepest thing might be love.   Memories of
homes and hearts searching for the light switch in the dark.  It’s
there.  You will find it.

September 14, 2016

Nietzsche Beside Me

Filed under: poem,Uncategorized — blackhumouristpress @ 6:09 am
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The seconds tick matched up against my heart. Driving past the point where it starts. It feels like a hundred degrees, sweat drips down my back as I try to breathe, try to remember all the other Septembers. There’s a home in my heart from way back when I was given speed to help me slow down to think. The head gets weak and then the heart speaks. I went back to find them all knowing they’re gone. Perhaps the things I inherited are no longer suitable, no longer practical. I tried to slay the windmills from across the land from my head to my heart. I may never get tired of living, sharing a smile, a laugh captured in a moment. Life is a scent that won’t ever let you down. I want to steal back the things I thought would always be mine captured in the resin of time. Autumn comes in waves of warmth and cold. The warm sun and a cold breeze I remember this all of my life and can close my eyes and nothing changes. There is something there between the things I love and despair. Happiness and sadness as old friends on a park bench as they hold hands in a quest to understand why we exist. Maybe everything is nothing.

July 4, 2016

240 and Counting

Independence- 240 years and the descendants celebrate with wings, malt liquor and parades.  Bill of Rights and the rights of the dead, a bullet piercing the side of the head somewhere on the west side, south side, Chicago’s apartheid red line zone where the tourists never go.  But I digress- this is a process of processed food, entertainment and education.  Back when we were all English and white, on paper the ideas seemed right- Liberty and justice for all… or maybe some or none.  Manifest destiny, all for you and me from sea to shining sea.  You’re free above this line and slave below this one.  A war between brothers and in the end freedom with an asterisk- there was a fix.  You give us the presidency and we’ll look the other way for nearly a 100 years til someone refuses to give up a seat, sit where they want when they choose to eat, vote, protest and integrate, separate but equal became the Civil War sequel.  Well I’ve jumped ahead again.  The Kaiser, Sarajevo, trench warfare, mustard gas the rise of the working class.  Comrades in a sea of red, the Czar was dead.  The treaty left them angry and needy after reparations of Versailles a charismatic character, a director, a rector sold the scape goat- many die and why?  A bomb to stop a war and within a few years a little more and a truce that lasts til this day.

Unbridled growth and prosperity, suburbs and the interstate, sock hops and roller skates.  We liked Ike and then came JFK, Bay of Pigs, assassins and then LBJ and the KKK.  Just advisors to advise those who love and cherish democracy, imperial imposition of freedom for Vietnam.  Baby killers, draft dodgers, free love, and women’s lib.  Drugs and Nixon, the fix was in.  Watergate, oil crisis, a cancer on the presidency, end the war with dignity.  Ford, Carter Reagan- morning again in America.  This aggression will not stand- draw a line in the sand, new world order, Perot, Clinton, stained dress, Clarence Thomas/Anita Hill congressional hearings on the hill.  W, 9-11, weapons of mass destruction, mission accomplished, quagmire, Afghanistan/Taliban=Vietnam, Obama, Osama, Arab spring, ISIS, crisis of confidence, we’ll build a wall for our defense, terrorists, xenophobia, first woman presidential candidate, with shadows of doubt…  Stalin, Hitler, Pol Pot… Wait!  This just in…  Citizen Trump

December 16, 2015

And Justice For All

Filed under: america,poem,trump,Uncategorized — blackhumouristpress @ 6:42 am
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                Hang the flags perpetually at half-mast- every day a crisis

                NRA Card member or those among us who join Isis

                The reactionary fears arms closed, the liberal embraces eyes blind

                What we find in the quagmire is a desire for someone to come and lead

                Feed the electorate a new poll, detract away from the hole of

                Economics gives way to Islamics, tactics of the feckless and the reckless

                The new red scare finding fanatics everywhere that the radical facts are

                empirical

                Isolation resuscitation cooperation dissemination to save a nation

                Refuge or not to refuge refuse the nuclear centrifuge

                Weather or whether- it’s all huge and looms like a mushroom cloud

August 17, 2015

Winds of Potential Change

Filed under: humor,humour — blackhumouristpress @ 11:54 am
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Television blares images- the princess holding her baby is apprehensive, pensive look towards Calais

Knowing there is no way to change the ebb and flow of those who

Run from their kingdom- a mass of human destruction called Syria

Serious wringing of hands over construction of nuclear matter- does it matter?

You get a bomb, they got a bomb we have a bomb and the anxiety of what’s yet

To come.

If you conserve we preserve Federal Reserve and reservations for the indigenous and a

Prestigious candidate debating waiting for him implode to meet his fate propped by polls by those

Who see the holes in the road leading around the bend back to where we stand in the slipping

Sand- building Berlinish walls at the Rio Grande for the Grand Old Party going the way of Whigs

Stand tall and shake a big twig for the greatest country you never met- Tremendous debt and a genuflect towards a Chinese syndrome of the purchase of consumer not-so-goods

Come back to bed, dear- it’s only the wind of potential change in the age of climate changing back to the times of dinosaurs, pre-historic ingenuity- igneous, porous blind faith in the ability of the electorate to find the protectorate of this really great way of living- with liberty and justice for all… or at least some.

November 18, 2014

You Might Be A Racist…

Filed under: humor,humour,poem — blackhumouristpress @ 7:58 am
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You don’t need to wear a swastika or white pointed hat to be a racist.
We all claim to not be the “asshole”- racists are people we all know.

You might be a racist if you lock your car door to the panhandling, toothless crack whore or thuggish hip-hop lad, sagging pants and a straight brim hat.

You might be a racist if you feel the brownish people are here to steal jobs and benefits from true Americans or call all Latinos Mexicans.

You might be a racist if you voted GOP because you think the problems are the epitome of the liberal lesbian manifesto, rainbow inclusive giveaways of section 8, stirring the reactionaries before it’s too late.

You might be a racist if you think it’s okay to call all Asians Chinks. To mock the Indian man at 7-11 and think Muslims will kill themselves to send you to heaven.

You may be a racist if you think all your problems are because of the pink, pasty, blue eyed devils in the burbs, manicured blonds, lawns, giant homes and BMWs along the curbs.

You might be racist, sexist and a misogynist. A homophobic, xenophobic isolationist.
You may not believe this is true- the racist out there is probably you.

September 23, 2014

Galaxy of Complexity

Filed under: humor,humour,poem — blackhumouristpress @ 8:37 am
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Looking for a path to the road
Beads of sweat, appear quiet, contained
Ready to explode.

Hypertension wire
Inner fire
Balancing act at the funeral pyre

Soup du jour
I’m sure you know
I’m sure you hear
The talking heads while you sit in bed
African kidnappings, beheadings, Isis, never ending crisis
Of humanity, Ukraine and we crane our necks
At the accident on the other side.
Suicide suburban moms on a sunny day
What’s left to say that hasn’t already been said?

No knowledge or reality
The angst of finality
Purity, surety of the one next to me
Depression sets in when survival
Isn’t a necessity

Keeping faith on an angry planet
Nobody could plan it on the day you were
Born. I believe I’m not the only one in a lonely world
and a galaxy of complexity

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