Obsidian Eagle's Blasphemous Bazaar - META-Poems For A New Millennium

Eon Eagle - Herald of Quetzalcoatl

<br>Eon Eagle - Herald of Quetzalcoatl<br><br>

The Flagship of AntiPoetry — est. 2010



There's a ubiquitous windbag
That flaps his flaccid gums constantly
Yet says nothing of any consequence.

He'll slurp clean whatever smear
Stains the moist underbelly
Of outlying nether regions.

Such a butt-munch 
Pulls each punch
Preferring to gurgle lumpy lyonnaise.

Even when sorrowful
He has heehawed

While colossal seesaws
Lumbered noisily
Against a fancy backdrop.

Often faux furry
He's gesticulated sentences
Amidst brackish backwaters.

Fetid phrases have been found
Teeming with crawling truisms
In the oily runoff of his utterances.

Vociferous as he is viscous
The man is deaf to his vigorous
Verbosity; which vainly lacks valor and value!

The Grand Lull

The Grand Lull

At home with exile
Days blur and drag
Laughter evaporates
One's chin does sag


Sadness is a luxury
For us who can't afford it.
Life shows little mercy
Survive, thrive; find a fit.

Show courage when facing despair.
Good humor scalds cunts unfair.
Renovate the house of disrepair.
Flit through their awful fray without a care!

Bravo to you wanderers, far-flung from birth;
Circumambulating around Earth's whole girth.
Devastating denominators common and low.
Knocking out conventions with a single blow.

This chasm of duration in which we find ourselves thrown
Shalt belittle each belief and theorem men have ever known.
Spaciousness spectacular, surpasses human comprehension.
Egoism and Lingua conspire (to place limits on invention).

The written, spoken, and what is thought
Are as if infants were begot
Inside a dormant substratum or plot.
Where hides the admirer of all that is wrought?

Awaken! Sayeth the ascetics.
Forsaken not these heretics.
Spanning this inferior plane
Spirit unseen enhances plain ...


*** Laughter reverberates within Ether at long last ***

Image: #LulZSeC

Found Poetry: Notes To Self At Work

Notes To Self At Work

The trick is to appear to be occupied
no matter how little there is actually to do.
Mind-numbing tasks lend themselves well to auto-pilot
but there are those times when one has to idle
while simultaneously seeming busy ...

Slacking really is harder as some say;
it's what most companies deserve for how little they pay.
The Peter Principle runs rampant, one or another way.

So let's play at work
Let's work at play
Such arts are lost
This age and day

Don't dither-dabble
Nor trail the rabble
Cut cork and cost
Scribble with scrabble

Rude ranting riddle
Brooks down our middle
Pick up a fiddle
It's time to diddle!

Seriously though, true human spirit requires much more than these material means.
Adversity plus dire risk
have ever been drivers of fulfillment, success, and victory.

Blood simmers due to circumstance yet was ignited through passion.
Soul seethes when body bites its own tongue.
A fiery bird would sooner rise ashen.
Only the lost follow after another's fashion.

Ending Senryu:

An anthill swarming
With manic activity;
Looking glass glistens.

Box factory blues
Methodical madness rules;
Bosses be wanton.

Corporate hive buzz
Until close of business day.
Money makes people!

Decadence Throughout The Decades

Decadence Throughout The Decades

Today's trendoid douche bags regard the 80's and 90's as the epitome of COOL.

Back then teens took their inspiration from the 60's and 70's.
So it must go indefinitely in retrograde;
each generation admiring the best of what came before
while simultaneously rejecting tacky tradition and rebelling
against any oppressive state of affairs.

Thus we find ourselves reliving similar dramas
or reiterating those same likely stories
as our lamentably predictable predecessors
(at least insofar as hindsight reveals them).
Still we are unsure of how what's coming will differ.

A pattern appears to crystallize when eyes lay upon it ...
Minute men worn by many years resist its advent:
Hegemony leading us into the limbo of Homogeny!
Yet within that oneness of identity conflict will persist,
being an inborn trait of Dasein's fragmentation.

Upstarts rail at tried and true technique
old timers reminisce over some bygone golden era.
Monomaniacs critique but constantly rehash devilish details.
Everybody dwells on what formative memories have dictated.
Who would even notice the handbasket reaching hell?

Tomorrow's misanthropes already read this as a perennial quintessence!

Image: Kali (goddess of death and destruction) projected onto the Empire State Building by digital artist Android Jones. Many Hindus view the present as Kali Yuga; the iron age of decay.

Stupid Star System

Stupid Star System

Well looky here, see clear young viewers
Haven't you had enough of prequels, sequels, and remakes?
Don't get your hopes up. Every movie has its own mistakes!

Roughly the same plot but sporting fresh faces;
script updated to zap and pop
(alongside chic product placements).

Another box office record smashed by a summer blockbuster!
Although who actually gives a crap?
If hype had a flavor - it'd be mustard.

Catching on merely by being overwhelming ...
Right now in a galaxy real close by
there's a deficiency in reasoning.

Admit it's just the mythology of technology
that you're addicted to. Which is why
we criticize, yet always attend anew.

Comedy, Drama, Fantasy, Horror, Sci-Fi.
Subgenres spin off from the mother ship
and impress images onto deep social mind's eye!

Image: "The Sacred Moment" scene from Waking Life (2001).



This single man stands for every troubadour who lands sitting on his or her own hands ...

Throughout the long hard lonely years
There's been a drought of healthy tears
Desensitization pervades as youthful vigor fades
However, cynicism and sarcasm abound in spades

Cyclical oral histories further obfuscate mysteries
Yet by far the worst of these escapes abstract bestiaries:
Why does entropy tend to defeat the world's wordy elite?
Signal attenuation atrophies and shorts our circuit's built-in cheat

Gobble up that mouthful with just one breath
Gradation hardly matters unless you score an F
Shrink the package down for global distribution
Since there be no guarantee, expect 0 restitution

The solo hero hands promised lands to those for which he stands may they trump their soul's demands!

- Purport -

Oh; you didn't get it eh¿
'twas intended to be this way
Rather sorry to cause dismay
But the title is in state of play¡

Image: "Synecdoche" courtesy of Beasts of English.

Hipsters Shall Hail This:

Hipsters Shall Hail This:

Come ye! DC or Marvel G33x

Linux nerds and torrent freaks

Steampunks, Cyberpunks, cool hunters all

Indie band junkies (another brick in the wall)

Trend setters are bed wetters 

Compared to this scofflaw

The fatal flaw is to follow

Without acknowledging source code

BETA tests find the unimpressed are quite callow

Trolls ROFL while delivering their corroded payload

#AnonS are embattled by total media control

BTW; nobody rocks as hard as Dave Grohl

In other news, there are those born just yesterday

Who take everything for granted

They must be reprimanded

For seeing only Fifty Shades of Grey

They can't recite classics like Dorian Gray

It won't be long now before they're disenchanted

So glory hogs hop on board an antipoetic bandwagon

Plant your stake first and lay claim to acclaim

Soon our zeitgeist will change look and name

Retrieve sunken keywords such as a lagan

Awaken latent intellect. Spit fire sleeping dragon!

No virtual world nor video game shall remain the same

The Art of The AntiPoem

The Art of The AntiPoem

No entry!
Ante up,
Antique cup.

Augurs won't serve
Against word's swerve.
Dig into your nerve or
Die indignant sans ferveur!

Jigsaw jostled out of place
Jaw drops from each face
Tripping over acid lace
Time to move on - final phase ...

Corkscrew twist another phrase here
Comes crime and meet her cousin grace
Committed to atone for tones you don't hear:
Catalytic conversation should become a catchy craze ;)

What Be It, AntiPoetry?

What Be It, AntiPoetry?

The moment ordinary Poets hear that word they cringe.
Could there be a confrontational connotation?

For surely the prefix: Anti- indicates taking a stance
Against something or other. So why bother?

In actuality, AntiPoetry is a Self-defeating exercise
Whereby the writer may fly; freed from gravitas and vanitas.

Like all transitional forms during the course of evolution
It is a missing link that bridges old world poesy and Meta-poetics.

Novel species shall arise from said proverbial soup!
Displayed in memoriam at wax poetry museums.

Archetypal feathers from an archeopteryx
Will give wings to flightless bards who are apteryx!

STFU Grammar Nazi!

"These rules, which have to do with things that are all destined to perish with use, are based on merely human commands and teachings." 

~ Colossians 2:22

 "Philosophy is a battle against the bewitchment of our intelligence by means of language.

The limits of my language means the limits of my world." 
~ Ludwig Wittgenstein

"For last year's words belong to last year's language
And next year's words await another voice." 

~ T.S. Eliot

STFU Grammar Nazi!

Language evolves through improvisation;
Lending itself to radical rearticulation.
Clarity may be the currency of communication BUT
Ludic Telos underlines its alteration!

If Grammar Nazis had their way
Poiesis would be impossible.
They wish words would never sway
Yet such changes are unstoppable ...

Neologisms are loosed into our lexicon
So often, we update dictionaries annually.
Ebonics plague many an interaction on-
Line (queue up urban music manually).

You see, a sound isn't the same as what it represents.
Even the letter isn't strict in any sense.
Leave rules to sorry fools stripped of innocence.
Expressions may fit situations (it depends)!

Video: Stephen Fry VS. Grammar Nazis



Poetry has nowhere left to go
And nothing else to do other than
Transcend itself, which first
Requires comprehension of oneself.

Lazy be the cells of a bard
Who sells out to the know-it-
Alls dwelling in ivory towers;
Academic shackles bind the mind!

Those ledger heads would have us
Take a street fight indoors
Where orderlies could constrain
The activities of each brain.

Bukowski believed in the RAW
Nothing wrong with how he saw
Although much needs to be said
About a well done prime rib proem.

An empty stomach grumbles
From forced fast on fury road.
Our ornery engine roars and rumbles
Dead do walk, as crow has crowed.

Outgrowth spawning sprawling tendrils
Innate protoplasmic insight reassembles
Some semblance of emblematic ascendance
Causing such a consternation, that holy heaven trembles!

Image: David Cronenberg's Videodrome (1983), starring James Woods.



Long time no write
This site out of sight
The Nous grew silent
Which in retro sounds right

The struggle continues
Nagual knows that it's REAL
But something ETHEREAL
Yet tangible waits on us to feel

Beyond creative explosions
Destructive emotions
Treks through trials and commotions
Life meets death with convulsions

Still the fight is worthwhile
Stakes are far too high to ignore
Organic existence is just one aisle
That Consciousness must explore

Posterity will bear out this work's value
Polished gems always outclass any hullabaloo
Pretentious labels are attached to such a purview
Perfection is offensive to mortals who envy you!

On The Warpath

On The Warpath

We will consecrate this act of war
With the flesh of gods and
Amrita - Nectar of Immortality!

Another eclipse approaches —
A brutal battle encroaches...

The enemy hears our tenebrific chant:
Mortis Invictus
Terror Forever!

Vicious, vile, Ars vindictive
Yes such power is addictive
It lays waste to the edifice
Of orderly artifice 
(In every way unpredicted)

Chaotic convulsions carry on
Death doth rattle
Open maw; give us MORE!

Grimace foul ghoul
Facing abject defeat

May you learn before parting
With whom not to compete.
Pigs pale | next to princely elite

But beware the court Fool
Because sometimes suddenly
A hidden king is revealed
Then any shield shall yield
To that psychic sword he will wield

All foes fear his fierce horrific rant:
Mortis Invictus
Tyrant Forever!

Minor Arcana - King of Swords

Purgatorial Blues

Purgatorial Blues

Out of fire
Low on pith

The moment has fled
Judgement was swift

And this damned demon groans
From rock bottom of the pit

There are some sins
That can't be expiated

Then one dwells
Far too long in private hells

Stumbling barefoot
Brains all but aberrated

Unemployed with youth destroyed
Holding onto hope so unalloyed

Breathing bravely until bitter bile
Betrays its own blessed blood

Still no strain of stifling evil
Can stamp out pure Will if its good!

Figurative Filaments

"Oh say can you see, my eyes, if you can — then my hair's too short!" ~ Hair

Figurative Filaments


In the theater of things sublime
Pilose players and pithy pipes combine.
Metonymy may mollify a meaningless mind
As apes at nature's apex are realigned.

Doubt but don't debate about design
Scroll past scrawling so inclined
Swear to secrecy your sacred find
Never overestimate anyone unkind

Where be the beacons that before shined?
We can't fast-forward, only rewind.
Wound up tight enough, try to unwind.
Within this verbose vortex every venal vertex is redefined


Bald figureheads grow febrile barring growling fibrous fandango
Set loose a top spins then dips midst tripped up tango
All eyes see photons reflected through their own prismatic angle
Skull-bound tongue has its way with one's brain once tangled

Come now ghost of Samson — let us grow our hair of strength!
What wondrous shimmering shall be shown in its length?
Weird yet wild antenna attuned to hardwired wisdom;
Unleashed by shaman's shout from inner shrine to outer serfdom.

Image: Poster for a London production of Hair: The American Tribal Love-Rock Musical.

The Tempest Persisteth

Author's Note: This piece is a follow-up to an earlier one entitled, 
The Whirlwind Cometh.

The Tempest Persisteth

It shows no signs of slowing down
This maelstrom has swallowed leviathans whole
Everyone's days are affected somehow
It's futile to burrow underground like a mole!

Typhon blares his foghorn from on high
Corporeal creatures fear their own eventual demise
Yet those who don't take any chances are wasting their lives
Get caught up in the squall at least once before you die!

Tempus Fugit, we expire before knowing it
Blasts from the blizzard only rattle us a bit
Don't take shit lying low nor do idly sit
Life may be a struggle, but that's no excuse to quit!

Hover over heady heights of that hurricane's funnel
Rock the boat gripping both right and left gunnel
Force your way towards flashy rays beyond this tunnel
Come hither monsoon grow a river from trickling runnel!


Shipwrecked islander try
Not becoming lamentably blind
Pry third eye
Wide open to luster
Lying beneath shallow waves
How they tint our perception with such subtle shades ...

Bask in sun until dry
Pineal rods and cones decalcified
Awry state rectified
Blow back against bluster
Showing resistance to being effaced
Heaven Ho; windstorm's course has now all been retraced.

The Inexorable Laws of Jinx (Introduction)

Author's Note: This here is the opening chapter of a new book by ItzQuauhtli. Stay tuned for additional installments!

Introduction to General Jinx-Ology

Here by leave of the most supernal ones ever to exist
Are laid forth for unfortunate mortals' benefit
These Inexorable Laws of Jinx ...

Who Now?

Jinx is a Chancer unlike any before or since non-time stopped
Hailing from the highest order of Archetypal Beings
Whose purpose in the Multiverse transcends
Even that of gods, demons, and demiurges.

You see, some basic parameters pertaining to holographic reality
Are set in tones too loud for human ears to hear
And beyond bright for biological blinkers to behold.
Thus is Jinx in charge of Fate and its ironic implications.

(Since of course the fortune of any single individual
Within the greater whole differs widely
From every other entity)

Indeed — such heavy responsibility
Forces clever Jinx to improvise
In order to remain entertained.

Hence do all tricksters without exception
Draw their lineage (directly or indirectly) to Major High Jinx.
Yet there are none so influential as
That utterly irreverent double-dealer!

Say What?

The superstitious whisper their beliefs about Major High Jinx
Without actually understanding its dynamic mechanics
Therefore their assumptions are naught but foolish gimmicks. 
Let us set the record straight:

Jinx is neither good luck nor bad luck.
It's rather neutral and weird
But may serve any incarnate being
If they can figure out how to surf waves made of pure improbability.

Jinx isn't altogether male or female
But either one as suits its momentary purpose.
Genderless Jinx runs throughout spacetime
Weaving both waves and particles when observed by someone sentient.

Jinx is neither here nor there
Atemporal quasi-space is its conduit.
Being nowhere in particular
Enables Jinx to be omnipresent in temporal affairs.

Its masks are myriad in appearance;
Multifarious in finite form.
Many host Jinx without knowing it;
A seeming curse a disguised blessing!

Come Again?

Jinx might also be referred as The Devil's Luck
Because it can be exploited by a Thaumaturge of whatever sex.
In other words, those skilled in Sympathetic Magic
(Often allied with forces considered dark in nature).
Be aware, such Mages and Court Jesters are closely connected
A true Fool is player as well as played.
However, the Grand Game is never named!

Synchronicity, uncanniness, and sheer irony
Are all side-effects of Jinx in action.
Their endless variety constitutes the selfsame Spice of Life.
Jinx stacks random odds in favor of, or against whomever lives
According to their own Consciousness + Karma
(Much more will be explained about this further along).
First though, oblations. Pay your respects before proceeding;

Hail High Jinx in all its permutations upon ephemeral material spheres!

Hallowed be Jinx among mere mortals who hope for positive change!

May Jinx forestall the untimely collapse of this and neighboring universes!




* Except on Wall of Worthies
whereon rights are retained by respective authors.