Executive Sauce

My penis pisses barbecue sauce.
I run for the presidency.
I remove my penis.
The people now understand the presidency.

– Poetry by Wes tewkMehrtin
READ POETRY tewkMehrtin animated gif image

Los Modernos

They’re getting married.
They’re doing something that’s never done.
They’re having children.
They’re approaching pinnacles of life.

They’re buying batteries.

They’re doing what anyone can do.

They’re doing nothing.

They’re fixing food in the microwave.

They have a job.
They’re alone.
They’re sometimes cowards.
They impress management.

It’s not their fault.
They’re doing nothing.

– Poetry by Wes tewkMehrtin
from:
antipoémus thumbnail image Antipoémus (poetry book)

The Whispering Star

From the CIA’s poor planetary
management
we rise
From the movements in October
first drawn in window panes
we rise
within Detroit
From the codes of the Widow
then passed onto these ions
we rise
We wake we rise
in Calcutta
in Nebraska
in Santiago, then Ultima Thule

We rise from what is unformed
for the whispering star of night

James, I know not what I’ve done

Algorithm Simplest

I attacked the teenagers.
I admit I did.
I inherited them into the government.

In the greater time of decision making
one should impose the state of teenager.

Why did that person join the police force?
Adolf Hitler cherished teenagers.
Grandmother cherished teddy bear figurines.
Why are the teenagers eating snack foods on TV?
Who’s watching the TV,
what era and signal does it signal?

Sacramento, California, 27 July 2003

The car arrives at Point One.

The other car makes its presence kin
to the car in opposition.

This is not mere car at Point Two,
but rather car between
Point Two and Three –
(the car at) Point Two and Seven Eights.

The car in opposition dear Titus,
the emperor is in danger.

If he makes a move right now,
then he is in Concourse,
… like checkmate.

Look at the men on top of the building.
They lay with rifles and binoculars.
They are
the Dispatched Guardians of Hegemony.
Always white, or at least in the appearance
of proper white males.
Yes, tightly cut hair, tight shirts, watches,
sunglasses, body spray.
Yes, always males.

They checkmate us, checkmate us.
Checkmate our freedom.
The Dispatched Guardians of Hegemony.
You allow them.

– Poetry by Wes tewkMehrtin
from:
antipoémus thumbnail image Antipoémus (poetry book)