Hark, The Cement Factory

Hark-The-Cement-Factory

The Cement Factory
received the votes from Television
in
suspension in the air
promulgated the holy
high fructose corn syrup
in lungs
materials
combined from the fields.

The cancer research institutes
with the quotas,
pipelines from the funders
in the keep,
the blast padded walls
of the Cement Factory,
one in Siberia,
one in Oregon.
We keep watch of good
economies.
People have lined up.
The keepers of the Factory.

We turn to you Television.
We listen.
We receive The Activations.


– Poetry by Wes tewkMehrtin

Bells of Tolrileum

The Bells of Tolrileum
I heard during torture,
the marketization, rule systems,
and subjugation
of
people.
The unfreedoms.
The magik. Symbology.

I remember the lost civilizations

          the Way of the Queens

          the days of learning and courage

          introspection with molecules.

I heard the Bells of Tolrileum.

Now
others are hearing.


– Poetry by Wes tewkMehrtin
READ POETRY tewkMehrtin animated gif image

Throwing Burgers

We’ll throw some burgers
on the grill That’s what
large scale manufacturing
affords us on this Friday
evening for us Throwing
pattied piles of ground up cows
to celebrate Our kids swimming
’round the pool with chlorine
and bovine fecal matter
floating ’round their blood
for later permutations of
congressmen To refrain their
handiwork with the agriculture
companies We are the normal
people We are the normal
people We feed our children
what business people and
government officials attain
in their single way of $ucce$$
and configure We worship
the Beast


– Poetry by Wes tewkMehrtin
READ POETRY tewkMehrtin animated gif image

Abercrombie & Fitch Equations

We’re here
on the outside
close to clean air.
The green, blue, and gray air.
The beige tones in between.
The air of reds and greens
and browns in the colder
times of year.
The shifting things you want;
we’ve got them.
We shift them.
We shift you.
You want luxury, vacations,
wealth, and freedom.

We’ve got you.
You’re in our eyes;

your hope, your money.


– Poetry by Wes tewkMehrtin
READ POETRY tewkMehrtin animated gif image

The Captor

To make services necessary;
to deliver us from evil

the capital of the superEconomy,

we lay undeterred in assumption
at night, in sleep

not withholding the shortcomings,
not to pronounce autonomous shadows

to be “the best we’ve thought up yet”

live upon a planet
and lay the thing to ruin,

the being as functionless rendered
of the luxury item as needed.

We place incense upon the capital,

or burn the images of Ganesh or of the Trinity,

watch it move across the ages,

you cannot earn money from the reasons of right and wrong.

It is in your head “the layout of the question”,

for
this
can
never
be
repeated.

– Poetry by Wes tewkMehrtin
READ POETRY tewkMehrtin animated gif image

Faux Paella

There’s something called a faux paella.
I make it when nobody’s looking.
I take my girlfriend down to the beach.
Yeah yeah yeah.
The faux paella . . . fuh fuh fuh,
faux paella!

It sits on a window seal in a dish.
The cops on the street look up at it.
The encyclopedia doesn’t dare speak of it.
The faux paella.

Now after it’s been cooked the process is finished.
You fake what’s been done in a pan – in a pot.
The priest is restrained and also well beaten.
O holy lake of fire.
The Holy Spirit jumps up out of it.
Toss it in an oven in between breathing.
Some people spill it on the beach.
Faux paella.
Yeah yeah yeah.
Faux paella!

The police are here to arrest all of you.
Faux paella!
Oh yes, faux paella!

I gnash my teeth and bash out windows.
Oh my Lord,
not again, not in my friend’s car,
the bombs are loud, the smoke is blue.
The faux paella!

News of a new war.
The faux paella!
The economy’s not doing good.
That’s the faux paella!
Arm the national police force
with the faux paella.

The faux paella . . . fuh fuh fuh,
faux paella!

– Poetry by Wes tewkMehrtin

Tactic Racial Lullaby

When the twilight was falling
American soldiers took their babies.
. . . for babies must be taken . . .
Whose babies?
Where babies?
Babies gooby goo-goo?
Do people still need babies?

When the war against the Arabs started
Americans hid their babies.
This baby.
My baby.
Cannot babies live subterranean?
They are very tiny diggers.
Teensy tiny, dig, dig.

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

Christianity, Christy

For a long time
I suffered from Irritable Bowel Syndrome.

I lived in a house on the hill.

In that house I suffered the mistrust
to believe that I suffer.

I am a candidate for pills
and evenings with pretty ladies.

There is a creation and labeling of me somewhere,

thence I take off my head and screw it
into oil cans.

I jump around and talk about tackle box
and incense holder.

I live in the house on a hill.

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

The Disciples Have Taken

Seldom
is
the daybreak
seen
by people
who need
to see it.

May
the city-dweller
rise
from
their TV dream
and be afflicted.

May
their veins
give up on the wine
the Roman Catholics
have given them.

At least meet me
in a heroin clinic
if you want to talk
about the Buddha.

– Poetry by Wes tewkMehrtin
from:
lovers of the century thumbnail image Lovers Of The Century (poetry book)

Before A Future Maximus

I attempted to write.

I attempted to do,

before children no longer mattered.

If ever I write,

if ever I do,

then children no longer matter.

Children own pieces.

Children have brains.

Children submit the ideology o nationhood.

Children as interests.

Children as food.

Children no longer matter.

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