by John Kaniecki

Data, information, Truth
Can you compute?
Are you astute?
These theories they present in
Higher education
Do they serve sin?
Do they offer salvation?
Scarecrow on the cross defining pain
Nails pierced through skin and bone
That is not the reason
For his moan
He is paying the price
For mankind’s treason

All alone


I have never written
A poem for Alen
Once close and tight
We were a comical sight
Me short and small
His lankiness looking tall
Alen wanted to play baseball
Major League dreams and all
Now he pushes pharmaceuticals
We all have our fantasies
We all have our realities
I am happy and content
But ah if poetry could only pay the rent
Sell your soul
Or abandon control
Either way

I clearly say
You pay your toll

Life of a Poet

Living kills me
Bills poke my eyes
Tears fall
Generic form rejections slash my jugular veins
Blood flows
Junk mail is from Pluto
Graffiti is the brave new frontier
Art-poetry-civil disobedience
Meaningful pretty colors
The masses are extremely gullible
The elite are conceited in know it all stupidity
P stands for pompous Doctor Spock
I’m proud the FBI search my mail
Irrefutable evidence I am a patriot
Treason is the noblest crime

Poetry is the art of rebellion

Guilty of Death

I brought my own nails to the crucifixion
Being hung on a cross breaks your bones
But names are eternal
If Plato was so wise why didn’t he write poetry?
Autumn the golden harvest, winter the purity of the end
Pilate inquired of my defense
I handed him this poem
He smiled and turned thumbs down

“Guilty of death, Amature!!”

Barry No Moore

School boy infatuation
Lost over a Richard M. Nixon rubber mask
Stretching the prominent nose
Flabbergasted at the elastic recoil upon release
A metaphor on life
Norma called
In a round about diplomacy she declared
Our comrade Barry is dead
He’s better off was the diagnosis
Was Kissinger correct in his fascist arrogance?
Masturbating in lustful ego and influence
Time Magazine stained in the White House bathroom
Tricky Dick and Sticky Dick
Here’s a suggestion in memory of our dearly love departed
Herd together the entire collection of despots
And their spineless cohorts whispering sweet nothings of vile
No true warrior celebrates glory in death
Unless their humanity has been X’d
Like John Chivington and his cousin in killing Custard
Take a group Polaroid
After it is fully developed in techno color
Strike a match and set it ablaze
Just cause you can
Use claws of justice to shred the smug mocking mask
Of the sinister superior Nietzsche charged super man
Observe a tormented toddler
Wounded beyond point of view
Never to comprehend
The most precious words
I love you
Like Barry would pronounce
But no longer
He is fading fast into forgetfulness
Unless in irony in future days of radiant glory
Inquiring minds come across this pome
English a vanquished dead language
Babylon banished
Tyre toppled
And all the proponents of genocide meager ashes
The darkening of the face of humanity washed clean
As we pronounce bold words in caution
We walked the winding way once before
Of whom Barry was one
Demand in meekness
No more
May all wars cease
Then Barry
You may rest in peace
One you participated to create

Where Love rules over hate

About the Author:

John Kaniecki is a Christian of over thirty years and is presently a full-time caregiver for his wife Sylvia. John served eight years as a voluntary missionary to the inner city of Newark, New Jersey with the Church of Christ at Chancellor Avenue. John is a published writer and poet who has a very diversified collection of literary art, including his personal story “More Than The Madness”. John hopes to become a professional writer to support himself and his family as well as to bless others. To learn more about the author please explore his web page.