Always A Great Crash

When will the markets fall?
The ghosts of the Palatine know
this.
The futile obsolescence is
faith.
The pillaged and raped tomorrow
being the rich in this hour
with their orange groves.
The ghosts of the Palatine know
this
and yet they build more skyscrapers
in New York City
where the water is rising
and will rise before the migration
to space is possible
and the fiends of eternity will
perish.

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
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Thanatos Apocalypse Hexer Teeth

The passing of the body,
from one boat to the next.

This place where the planes been
downed
by war.

The architecture of white men,
the place,
all places,
the cremate servants of the beast.

Leaders of corporations.
Scaffolds of skulls.
Blitzkrieg and beat fast.

The passing of the body,
from one boat to the next.

O poem of the tropics.

The land. The lands!

Submerged on lost planets,
so far across stars.

We’re lost, our ancestors.

Subjugation to death.

Unformed and worshiping of it.

– Poetry by Wes tewkMehrtin
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PictoPoem of S.T.R.E.N.G.T.H. Cats

STRENGTH-Cats-WP

It’s the poetry that bleeds for us, from the bleeding that those on the top are doing from beating and beating us. As long as we have our TV shows, social media, and iPhones, they can keep on beating and beating us.

S.T.R.E.N.G.T.H. Cats
from ANTIPOEMUS.com

S.T.R.E.N.G.T.H. Cats

In the middle of the night I awake
to the smell of bacon and eggs in the air.

The people of the world
are outside on the lawn cooking bacon and eggs
for the President of the United States.

The United States military is standing all around them,
pointing guns at them
while they cook bacon and eggs for the President.

They give him the eggs of their daughters,
their ovaries for an American football match,
a contest of strength.

The President is the Signifier of Penis.
This sentence is the signifier of rape.


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

Clown Presidential

I defend the family.
I stand upon the balance.
I defend the family.
I stand upon my head.

– Poetry by Wes tewkMehrtin
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Saturn

Saturn come to destroy
the M-16 deliverance

a wall falls
on a family of peasants in China

the free world elects a president

a tyrant takes his post in the leftover lands
of Persia

technology beats the bayonets

a tank crushes canisters of food

somewhere at latitudes north of northwest
Saturn is crushing the spark of
new gravity

Saturn is man’s holy alliance,
his walled cathedrals and the
tapestries of mosques

– Poetry by Wes tewkMehrtin
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Postscript

Learned how to be a “valuable” worker
in a free-market economy.
Also learned to be a “team player”.
Did not learn to reject
the free-market economy
because that upsets
everyone else
still stuck
in the sham show shit scam mess.

This has a 99.9% chance
of being your postscript.


– Poetry by Wes tewkMehrtin
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Nahuatl Codus 2

The commodity-discriminate-hospital
on purpose a backing of the
commodity-segregate-economic-system.

A champion, a prized artifice of war,
the ruler-commodity-hierarchal
of the only-thing-holy
commodity-segregate-system.

The commodity-sad-emotions and
commodity-bored&tired-spending
keep you in check,
not thinking outside of your
commodity-place-where-they-need-to-be-kept-those-people.


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

The Holiest War

In Portland, Oregon somewhere at some point in time
we found a home for ourselves.

It was not a home in a place,
but the first home to ever exist in Time.

We ran through the streets.
We sat on a beach. We fingered each other.
We ate birthday cake and exchanged our body fluids.

We flung wars to the Earth,
and wars to the mountains and the seas,
the wars ended up drifting off into eternity.

We saw the cities of the future
and lived in them in these days,

the people who are made of the ocean
and the unimagined technologies of light,

you and I,
the players of time,
the mechanics of cellular overloads,
the owners of whatever we should be,
the oligarch destroyers.

Inventius! and Realizer!,
conscripts for the Holy War Of Time.


– Poetry by Wes tewkMehrtin
READ POETRY tewkMehrtin animated gif image