A flash
A thunderous crash
Today I took a subway to work, a veggie sub
Targets wear orange, in parallel universes
Where the bold fly synchronously
betwixt the skulls of conformity
stagnant in their hollow shallows
(Dream, fire-breathers! Dream!)
Bullets sing a high-pitched drone
Echoes have none to call their own
Baleful words fuel themselves
Law books sit on endless shelves
Spiritual lies lie scattered and broken
as grains of truth die unspoken

A hamburger today keeps the doctor in pay





Earth. Our creator, our provider, our mother. Everything we have we owe to her. Everything. Still, I cannot restrain the profound contempt that stirs deep within me for her. Allowing a species existence that shows her nothing but scorn and mockery, for her creatures, for her creations. These humans, mother, these despicable life forms that spawn from your very bounty. So afraid to die but not to kill. So eager to take but not to give. How long, mother, how long will you tolerate your wayward children?


Death of the Gravedigger Carlos Schwabe Public domain Wikimedia Commons

I ask of it nothing.
No rebirth.
No afterlife.
No awareness.
No Godly residency.
No fiery torments nor sensual pleasures.
No yearnings nor needs.
Only the peace of absolute nothingness.
How glorious then death to forsake the continuation, the damnation of want and suffering.
To feel nothing, to know nothing.
Having only eternal nonexistence, leaving to rot a waning memory in the wake of a floundered life.

Might you find Death’s welcome a twisted longing?

Still, It remains.

Perhaps in shadows unspoken, but foreboding.

Then to ease the menace, men fantasize some fantastic infinity that bears only a feeble assurance.

The insurance of those frightened by death.

And yet, Death is undaunted.

How can it be, that all our knowledge, all our love, our hate, all we’ve built, all we’ve destroyed, all vanished for eternity?

But therein lay the serenity.

Death will serve us well.

And I ask of it, nothing.

One by One

One by One

One by one they came
Two by two they fled
Others lingered by
the floating River Nigh
Raising the sun to their glasses
While fat ones sat on their asses
waves of chariots rushed the shore
Sent by flaming clouds in the sky
They caught hummingbirds in nets
and feasted on their pets
while roasting marshmallows fired by jets
But it all came to a head
as each floundered from their bed
their blue blood bled red
–and they cried, ‘Nevermore.’

~A Child’s Poem, from The Annals of Defiance – Thirteen Plagues

Trivial Pursuits

Picture courtesy: Dig Out Your Soul

People ask, what I do,
alluding to employment
as if a career could define me
(or…resign me?)
I tell them, I am vegan
Vegan is what I do
All else is backdrop,
the occupation
of trivial pursuits

So, when they boast
of bacon, ham, or roast

I have only this for them, Fuck Off!
Most sincerely.


Forbidden Fruit - Sinners
The Expulsion from the Garden of Consensus (Forbidden Fruit, Public Domain, via Wikipedia.org)


We were the sinners

the freethinkers

Perhaps we never changed a thing

But still, we did what we did because we knew it was right

the only thing to do

Unlike all the others

we had no second way

No options

No birthright to stay

Right would find us in the gulag if they found us out

But still, we had to do it

We had to think for ourselves

And everything our thoughts provoked

we either did

or regretted not doing

The Adversary

The examination of Job, Satan pours on the plagues of Job, by William Blake. Illustration was made c. 1821.
The examination of Job, Satan pours on the plagues of Job, by William Blake. Illustration was made c. 1821. Public Domain

The Adversary

In a comment to an article, someone wrote (the same trite nonsense people often say to animal activists) that we should do more for our species than we do for animals. Oh, they of little understanding, exasperating. My reply, “You don’t get it, do you? I’m not on your side.”

I am the opposition. The enemy, the adversary of humanity.

And do you know why? Well, I’ll tell you why.


People start wars. But that’s the least of it. The result of their moral turmoil.

People are liars, cheaters, thieves, and cutthroats.

People are rapists, thugs, murderers, pervs and child abusers.

People are opportunists of no ethical conscience.

People enslave and destroy one another, the animals, and the earth.

People pit earthling against earthling in life to death battles: cock fights, bull fights, dog fights, any fight or representation of war will do, it doesn’t matter.

People cut the fins off sharks and throw the shark back into the ocean to die slowly, painfully, and helpless at the bottom of the sea. Fin soup for an expression of love.

People set dogs on fire, for kicks.

People put firecrackers up cats’ asses, for amusement.

People boil lobsters alive.

People pull the wings off flies.

People imprison animals in cages to delight themselves.

People dissect live animals to “better understand them.”

People brutally bludgeon seals and dolphins to death in a sea of blood.

People skin, shear, and rip the fur, feathers, and hide off live animals without a second’s thought.

People pound pigs to death with pipes. Because they want to eat them. Any means justifies the ends. Or does it?

People are deviously greedy, selfish, hateful, and gluttonous to an infinite degree.

And there you have it, my reasons for being, The Adversary.

But my list is by no means complete. The evil that humanity does and is willingly capable of would take the digital space the equivalent size of Jupiter to record. And then spill over into the endless abyss.

So, don’t ever, ever lecture me to do more for people than animals. And don’t ever mention the fleeting good humans are capable of. I’m sick of hearing it. It’s all mindlessly obligatory and self-ingratiating if it’s anything at all. And all so damnably overshadowed by the impenetrable darkness of their soul.

No, I’m not on your side, humanity.

You can’t possible get what you deserve. So, until you transmute — as few have done — into that lovingly caring heart-filled species you fancy yourselves to be, consider me your foe.

Because I am, you created me.

Now you must live with the wrath of my aim: To undermine your craft at every twist and turn, at every inkling of opportunity. This is war.

This is War

This is War
Image: Animals Australia

This is war.

I’ve championed peace and struggled against undercurrents for far too long when all along war raced torrents through my veins.

Like screeching banshees clawing their way from Hade’s bowels, I cannot restrain my lust for war any longer.

War has proved the normality of our species and served many, many faithfully well; adding treasures to the coffers of serious self-concern.

To deny war is to deny my manhood as it is to deny our Creator Himself, the Miserable God, and His warring belligerents.

And I am but a lowly, ignorant form.

And so, I yield to the Lordly ways that our species has so aptly adorned.

War shall be my comrade, my pleasure. My desire.

My duty.

Alas! The passive has withered and died and now from the ashes, I rise and cry: Warrior!

My face I paint.

I feel as though the pressing weight of Peaceful Hope has flown from my shoulders.

I can breathe, again.

I am a man, destined and fit to do battle!

The warrior.

And I challenge any who oppose me, fight. Fight as though all you cherish is at risk, as though your very livelihood depends on it. Because it does.

And I will be your formidable opponent, my word.

As our gracious Lords, have demonstrated time and again with their momentous and unmerciful wars of conquest, their farcical wars against drugs, their charade of wars against cancer, their pretense wars against obesity, their fictive wars against poverty, their collaborative wars against crime, their wars against every manner known to God or man, war is by their blessing example, honorable.

And I am an honorable man.

So, comes the time to declare my war, the war against the oppression of the most vulnerable and harmless among us, our fellow sentients. Those that you imagine feel no pain nor harbor desire for life. Those who you humiliate and call animals with contempt in your tone, those whose tortured remains you feast on with the least of concern; those who I’ve vowed their liberty to protect, I call friends. Them you kill or have killed in your name — and in the most horrific and shocking manner.

And for what do they suffer and die?

To feed the Spirit of War.

Innocent blood is on the hands of a rotten humanity wrought from the war slung venom that flows through painless hearts.

Make no mistake, this is a war. Where no bombs explode, no bullets fly no fires rage into the sky no sirens blare no medics care, and no war criminal is ever, ever held to account.

But it is a wickedly merciless endless war nonetheless that murders more earthlings than all other wars combined.

And for this, humanity holds itself blameless, for they are a shameless warring species.

This is war.

The battle of compassion versus cruelty, understanding versus indifference, right versus wrong.

And I am the warrior, wielding the Sword of Words, multi-edged, lightning-sharp, indisputable, and indestructible.

And I challenge you, the enemies of freedom, fight. Fight as though every lie you’ve faithfully accepted from the vomit of Authority depends on it. Because it does.

I am the warrior. Stand ready, this is war.

Simulation Hypothesis

Cosmic Winter Wonderland
Cosmic “Winter” Wonderland — Image via NASA

Of all things in the mighty universe,
the planets, moons, stars, and unfathomed space.
And so many life forms that came to be:
in the forest, hills, plains, mountains, and sea.
Of all inanimate objects there are,
why did I become this man that I am?
A curse, a blessing, my soul’s regressing.
Oh, why couldn’t I just never have been?
Never have end for never had begin!
There are no answers, and yet I drudge on,
knowing well the answer will never dawn.

We have no explanations, only dubious hypotheses to questions of our origin, our purpose if any. Only fools profess to know the unknowable. Myself, I can’t help but wonder, is it all an illusion, the fancy profusion of fake realities? A computer simulation, a binary stimulation? A contest, to see who wins and who loses. Who rises above the cruel and mundane? Then what is the prize awaiting the wise? And what of the fate of the losers?

Simulation Hypothesis

The Sway of Enlightenment

The Sway of Enlightenment

By The Bright of Knowing

Do your eyes see what others have hidden?
Do your ears hear the pleas of muted cries?
Does your grief reflect what others reject?
Do you comprehend concepts they despise?
Enter you, The Sway of Enlightenment.
Where dregs lie within Tombs of Yesterday.
Where your eyes light by the Bright of Knowing.
Where your ears discern Tones of Awareness.
Where pleasures paid debt to final Sorrows.
There you’ll live in the Sway of Tomorrow,