Monthly Archives: June 2015

As Long As There Is Silence, poetry by pd Lyons (revised)

what could I give you, for your own?

but that is something no one else can know
or give another.
I can make you hunger
but only you can
give it.
only you could know it.
nothing really to do with me.

that is something I could look you in the eye with.
I could make you cringe.
but that is something you would
never do.
hit back,
yell back,
run away.
a thing only for everyone else to share.

maybe something with ink?
a series of needles
piercing colours
well chose by yourself.
images of meaning
secretly placed in hard for me to reach places.

accompanied perhaps by steel?
pure, stainless,
holding other holes
open for future explorations.
how busy will I then become?
new places
usual spaces
and wherever else could I get lost in you?

what could I give you for your own?
whatever have I always done?
your own cum,
my own tongue,
whatever else you love
as long as there is silence.



Sometimes there is that love between two people. You know the kind.  No matter what you give or do for the other, it becomes a gift to yourself. Its that kind. You know. That’s what this one is about.

Now On This side Of The Highway , Sometimes I Still Think Of You, by pd lyons

Now on this side of the highway


I spend more time on looking back than anything


Turns I should have took

Places it would have been better if I stopped


Mostly haze as if dust and sun

conspired with fog and dark

salt and grit   steam and slick

But anyway after a million miles or so

I still see you



As if I could convince you one more time

As if you’d still be in that same old town


Maybe you are

Maybe you’re still with that boy who worked the bowling pins

Bluest eyes we either saw

But I didn’t have the time to stay then

 Figure it  out

Did you really   love him

and if so was it more than me


See there were these wide empty spaces

Pulling like fish hooks in my heart

Wanting me in ways I never thought you could have

And now?

Ah there’s a big rig pulling over

Wonder how many miles

Driving straight into this evening sun

He’ll get me



Nobody’s Child Should Be Killed For Any Asshole Person, Place or Thing Even If It Is Your “god” .by pd lyons

Nobody’s Child Should Be Killed

Great adventure
Fraught with spills of Disney danger
Ogre infested roller coasting
Wood slates buckle
In a pre-safety -harness dawn

There are no directions home
Resistance is fatal
No one can verify the conspiracy theory of your life
Contact with those you even think can
Is mercilessly forbidden
(Who are you?)
Why do you think they’re so far away?
No body can stay in one place any more
Besides who do you think they are?

Through cracked glass eye
Looking glass creatures
What will you find?
Where do you go?
Paris in springtime
Looking at you kid
Better hold onto your life
Draped in Shan gri la la la boom D A
Dancing merry as a moth in May

All your wonderful fears
All your fantastical inspirational fears
Settle into muddy sucking reasons,
Reasons to stay home go to work, get insured,
Go home, watch every possible moment of TV

Your mission, you’ve accepted, is non negotiable
The situation is non superficial
Critical mass is a constant
There’s not enough pretense to make a hill of beans
The whole world is looking for a blanket to hide under
If you don’t keep your back turned all the trees that have turned into gorilla monsters
Will get you and if they get you they’ll get me so do as you’re told

Pins and needles dinosaur chimes of freedom flashing brief
As if all the lifetimes of all the worlds were but a pan.
No matter how old you are
There’s always so much more time than that
That you will not be
(Who are you?)
Where do you go?
The simple joy of youth –
The ability to say fuck you to the truth and mean it
But when do you become adult?
Where are those roads you promised to go down?
Rank and file
Basically a rotten plan for escaping.
No matter where you go there they are.
No matter where you go, there you are.

I am’s what I am and I can’t stands no more.

You get the life you deserve,
You get the leaders you deserve –
You know we don’t deserve anything as fucked up as we got.
A strung out petrol-chemical nightmare addiction full blown paranoiacs unexplainable any more by mere greed.

Its people. It’s made from people.

The small-scale suicide is terrifying.
You want something comforting like Hiroshima or Auschwitz.
There’s a degree of stupidity that transcends mercy.
(Who are you?)
Where do you go?
Dukes of hazard big brother X file factor maybelline extravaganza
How to be the perfect whatever it is they’re trying to sell this week

There goes your final wake up call
There’s no going back
No post-apocalyptic fiction
No post anything
It’s apocalyptic now
Right now there’s no fucking later.

Oh the wisdom of the west – base your entire way of life on a single
Rapidly diminishing non-renewable highly toxic substance found mainly in parts of the world where the indigenous peoples hate you for it.
There’s no fictional account of anything.
Every book a holy drivel worshiped by some idiot.
The majority of all life is lived in panic.
Which way do we go?
Which way do we go?

The Roman Empire built on concrete
Blood mixed in the mortar lasts a thousand years
You in the west
You in the west
Foundations set in human blood
Good reason why it rhymes with best.
The blood of all the children of this world
Nourishes your unequivocal pursuit of acquisition and
Only the insane would ever want to blow it up?
(Who are you?)
What does it take to fill you?
When will you ever have enough?
You who have everything can’t even recognize what enough looks like.
Insatiable pit, a black hole without even an ass to hold it
(Who are you?)
How do you travel?
To eternity, to the great beyond, to the wild blue yonder?
SUV Four wheel drive of course
Crush the world you see through TV windows
Climate controlled stereo CD DVD padded seats and harnesses
Oblivious to howls screams flood fire
No shake no rattle no roll
In complete safety and comfort – just like your own home.

Oh say can you see
How fuckin deaf can you be?
So much stupidity wields a star spangled nightmare
Of pure un awakening destruction.

If you want bananas
Will grow in blood
Pineapples in blood
Horror provides the blood with which you preserve your way of life
How do you not know?
How do you not see?

How long before the insane old men with their dried up old salt entrenched vengeful versions of arrogant entitlement shit die off?
Where do they keep coming from?
Is there never to be an end of ignorance in power?

There’s no place left to go.
Where do you think you’ll go when this world is dead?
Where do you think your child will be?
How can anyone not get it?
People die, human beings die mothers fathers children babies infants die so you can drive your car and wear your pretty little diamond rings
And before they die they live in misery
So you can make Justine Timberlake richer than god, rally round the Donald trump.
People watch their babies’ burn – on fire so you can count the shopping days before Christmas,
Have more shit than you’ll ever know what to do with, poison everything on the planet to get it and still feel depressed because you don’t have e-fuckin-ough.
(Who the fuck are you?)
Where do you go?
Cinematic re writes history
With theme songs and celebrities –
There is no sound track to the horrors of your world,
Plenty of human voices afraid
Afraid of their own pain
Afraid for their children –
Drenched in ancient orange napalm bikini smart bomb festival of fleshtuals
Ritualised horror but not terror
Drowned out with TV and Mctimberlake, Magazines, news show and talk show diets
Wal-Mart shopper specials, medicines and miller time.
Why would you want to hear anything else?
When do those old mother fuckers who kill our children die off?
When do those killers die off?
The only question worth asking.
The only one worth answering.
The only one worth hearing
Why don’t they take their own stupid asses to that heavenly paradise?
Leave the rest of us alone.

No body’s child should be killed for any asshole person, place or thing
Even if it is your god.

2011 connecticut

Between The Worlds? No. Not As Limited As That, by pd lyons

Between The Worlds? No. Not As Limited As That
I have met the cuckoo night
as if the stars
all warm and sparks had come to talk
I have joyed
as all those daytime forms
shift loose from a distortive sun
myriad of shapes more true.

sometimes you were with me.
sometimes familiar,
other times a stranger
all new to me in darkness
luscious before the dawn

hushed the busy universe

only you
caught my breath


red bowl glass

red bowl glass




i don’t think we should forget about Charleston south Carolina. i don’t think we should just let this one go. another poor boy off his meds another gun that didn’t kill,l another non racial murder spree. i think we should say lets sue some mfers. i think that churches and places of worship should be terror free. i think the sate whatever state should be responsible for giving people and provide for its citizens a reasonable expectation of safety. i think black people including the black president should be screaming and demanding appropriate action. i think Christians should be pissed that their religion is hijacked by terrorists and that they have been attacked by not only this person but by many of the republican party. if you don’t stop bullying, if you do not complain in the loudest legalist way then you get this kind of stuff over and over. America has been hijacked – who wants to take it back? I think that people of all races creeds and whatever who don’t agree with racial terror of any kind should be complaining and filing and calling and writing letters. do what you can do. don’t do nothing because you think you can’t do everything.


Lost to PTSD, Agent Orange: Veteran to Receive the ‘Welcome Home’ He Never Had

because people should know

Your Stories. Your Wall.

Army Photo of Mike Batkowiak in Vietnam. Army Photo of Mike Bartkowiak in Vietnam.

Mike Bartkowiak was just a young man when he volunteered for the Vietnam War in 1968. Stationed in Germany and Thailand, he was sent to Vietnam in 1971. While there, he volunteered to be a door gunner. His time in Vietnam was attributed to saving comrades in Cambodia and Laos. Mike was fun and had an energetic spirit. His smile was warm. His hobbies consisted of  nature and photography. Without taking a deeper look into his life in Vietnam, Mike was a simple man enjoying life to the fullest.

Mike lived the last years of his life in Cotopaxi, Colorado where he was a volunteer EMT for the Deer Mountain Fire Department. It was there that he would succumb to the wounds of war, PTSD and  medical issues as a result of his exposure to Agent Orange.

Mike would later pass away as a result of these wounds on July…

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no look away for america

no look away

it is through the gathering of our broken hearts

that hatred be



sorrow shared is not weakness

it is a statement of intent


How Do We Have A Good Life?

preparing for death is all we really can do.
so doing that well,
is enough



Liberation Upon Seeing, still life photographs by pd lyons






dear america – A response to reading the news today by pd lyons

dear america
how many does it take?
how many of my beautiful daughters
torn beat burned drugged ripped raped shot?
how many of my beautiful sons?
torn beat burned drugged ripped raped shot
why is there no room for tenderness?
why are the breasts of my motherland sharped to razor edge?
why the strength of my fatherland perpetrating not protecting?
dear america,
when did you become such an abuser of your children?


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