Brian Harman presents three poems, with image above by Ted Eylan

Two Beaches

A friend of mine says the difference between the two beaches for Trump is
there aren't quite as many in-your-face American flags at the one,
and the residents won't necessarily hold it against you if you don't buy or
wear the meme-ish t-shirts, whereas the other beach residents get angry,
give you dirty looks, put on their hooded hoodies and stab you if you aren't
one of them—all this, while background waves roll dreams for future
peaceful horizons, and really that’s all we want from the beaches of the world.

Hell

Satan would make a better human being
doesn't care about gender
or borders
would just grab you by the soul
throw some bones
explain the sin of the world
being god-figure subliminality
how reality show isn’t reality
how it’s a shit show
and the shit has hit the American fan
and the fan is on high speed
flinging it all over the place
and there are more fans blowing
around the world and what
we the people want is to pull the stop chain
tidy up this cyclonic colonic mess
no more American Gothic pitchfork
we want a keep calm equality
with the artistic spirt of Banksy
we want to share a beer at the Hopper bar
under a Van Gogh Starry Night
O’Keeffe blooms to spread
over Dali’s melting clocks of
The Persistence of Memory and
the insistence of history repeating itself
we’re not looking heaven’s perfection
or some resurrection of insurrection
we just want to turn this hell into
a damn good place to live

 
Like a Moth to a Dumpster Fire

I get the infatuation for Only Fans
gay vampires
sweet coffee creamer
beautiful truths
land of the free junk
hoarding
fast food
opiates
even celebrity idolization
but the rise of the cult is tumultuous
vulture culture of kingpins
corporations eating all the pie
while turning blind eyes
to the poorer and the unhoused
potholes of society wider and deeper
dumpster fires burning
lunatic-politic smoke in the air
seems like moths are fulfilling prophesies
collapsing bridges
attracted to dumpster fire flames
something evolutionary or inherent
or something is in the water
or we’re all in a movie
with Richard Gere in it
what is this infatuation for this occult assault
this horror disaster and self destruction
taking us of all along for the hell ride
Molotov cocktails being thrown
into trash receptacles
wrong drinks for doing the right thing
the right thing doing right things
for oligarchs and mafia bosses
big losses for the production
and progress of humanity
it's all narcissist boomerangs
and moths hypnotic for flames
like psycho exes
what the f
if only dumpster fires
would just roast a rump
instead