Welcome my blog. The intention is to publish every piece of writing that I have churned out for the past 10 years. Some pieces have a story behind the story, some lyrical poems have become songs. We have hundreds of poems, stories, songs, lyrics, and life musings. Subscribe and every Monday receive a story to start off your week. Art is created by Amina & AI.
It may not be a wise
practice to engage
in the metaphorical ‘stab in the dark’.
You never know when there might
be a good idea lurking in the shadows.
It would not appreciate having your metaphorical
carving knife thrust through its spleen
when it was only a harmless peeping tom
laying wait in the bushes of hidden intentions.
Derek Earl Houghton
You are witnessing the birth of the Industrial Poet.
His poems are screw drivers and drill bits .
His poems are factory recalls and emission control
Scaffolding and reinforced concrete
His poems are built to last.
Some self destruct. They are bombs.
They are warfare.
The are the Military industrial Complex
He is the industrial poet.
He is the Pharmaceutical Industrial Complex
He wants you dependent on him hanging on by
Your fingernails for dear life, needy dying but not quite.
He is the industrial strength family size hormone
Bloviated chicken that gives ten year old girls huge breasts
He’s industrial strength horror.
Hes the greasy dim lit factory marinating in motor oil
And machine sludge.
Hes the emergency exit and the fire proof door.
Hes the way out when there’s death everywhere.
He is the immaculate robot factory with lab coats
And shoe covers. Hes artificial intelligence
He is bolted to the Cloud.
He’s the Directed Energy Storm Cloud
He is the Goose Step and The Rain Dance
He is manufactured floods and famine
He is the Industrial Poet. Twenty four seven
Three hundred and sixty five days a year
Punching clocks, punching steel punching the
Fuck out of anything gets in its way
He is an iron fisted hernia slamming walls.
Blowing out crotch
He is the surveillance camera
He is zero pain energy.
He is the lie and the truth.
Derek Earl Houghton
Fear of poverty is rarely one's own fear. It is the fear of poverty observed in others as they observe one’s so called poverty that more adroitly draws social opprobrium.
Given access to just the basics of human needs, the so called impoverished can ride the freight train of life as reckless children laughing at the stars
and waving at the moon.
Derek Earl Houghton