By K. Jody Rucks
Now, Past, Future, now back to Now
Rotating Sphere that never come down
Now I write Now, but Now has now passed
I now think Future but its disappears in a flash
Now back to Now, not now but then
It merged into the Past before I could begin
Again and again Now becomes Past
Until I now realize that Past will last
Past only moves when Now bumps it thither
Future Nows become Past and Past just grows bigger
Now, you cute ghost, I’ve got you at last
Now’s only Now until Now becomes Past
Yes up in the air, the spheres they flew
And I grabbed on to Past, now I fly too
Future is mine, I once now knew…
Homo Sapien Civilization
My people? My people?
Bent, broken, poor
Soiled, sick, carnal
Weak and meek sheep
Clashing though caring scapegoats
These are my people?
Fat, feed, exploited
Washed, warmed, desirous
Fooled and schooled tools
Concerned though cowardly herd
These are my people?
My people. My people…
Pampered, plastic, managers
Scented, cerebral, obscene
Tricked and sick dicks
Criminal though confused overseers
These are my people?!
Ha, my people
Perfumed, prissy, barbarians
Augmented, alienated, inhuman
Unkind and divine swine
Calculated though cold-blooded capitalists
These are my fucking people?
Ah, my people. My, my people.
Strong, smart, classless
Earthy, erotic, lovemaking
Willing and building children
Curious though courageous civilization
Yes, these, these are my people
This is the true homo sapien civilization.
Inverno em Salvador
A wisp of whirling wind rolls up and over Bahian praias
into this slave colonial made slave capitalist
Afro-Brazilan cidade by the sea
Bringing with it first thin
then thick branco clouds
The once blue sky now covered with a white fuzz
A clap of sudden thunder and what was once a slow tropical bake
becomes a cool and light shower.
Thin rain quivering in the still whirling wisp of wind
The gente hurry to their destination
evidently not bothered by this erratic weather
Another Winter in Salvador, I think they think they think
And they scuffle off to the concerns of the classes
in this slave colonial made slave capitalist
Afro-Brazilian cidade by the sea
And just as suddenly and quietly as it came
This wisp of wind, this invisible horse from the sea
passes on, weaker now, to the next part of Bahia
The clouds, with it, travel away, revealing the Equatorial Sky
Thus the heavens are clear, this beautiful winter in Salvador
at least until the next wisp
K. Jody Rucks, a first year Liberal Studies student, is an avant-garde auteur and poet. His artistic work is a fusion of his interests in philosophy and social change. He has written, directed, and produced several short films, and has written three feature length screenplays, in addition to over 40 poems and short stories.