Factories of ConsciousnessHatred is infectiousFactories of Consciousness by Frank-Jaspers
Hatred is a virus
Virus of confusion
Virus that consumes our freedom
Freedom far too fragile
Freedom needing fighters
Fighters smashing Falsehood
Fighters guarding Truth
Truth be known
Truth is killed by propaganda
Propaganda in defense of
War machines well-oiled by ignorance
War machine morality
Morality that’s sick and chronic
Chronic glut and greed
Chronic hangdog citizens
Dividing Right from Reason
Dividing mercy from refugees
Refugees thrown in exile
Refugees invented by death-industries
Industries invading human nature
Industries imposing order
Order which unbrains the Skull
Order from the Towers:
“Towers open fire”
Towers of unearthly fear
Fear gains its power within you
Fear is the Angel
The Angel on a pale white horse
The Angel of the trembling
The trembling of Eternity
The trembling heartcore of the world
World of fire
World of coal and cold white dust
Night WalkAcross fields of dampNight Walk by Frank-Jaspers
Ebony, trees radiate
With tiny, white stars;
I cross dew-soaked grass, leaving
Footprints in soft, starry night.
A Sudden FlightInk-black birds scatter,A Sudden Flight by Frank-Jaspers
Writing lines of free verse
Across a paper sky.
Change in a Coffee CupIt’s 1998 and you're in New York.Change in a Coffee Cup by Frank-Jaspers
You sit Buddha-style
Like a beggar’s cup
On a cold Brooklyn sidewalk.
The passersby stuff coins in you
Like a karma slot machine;
They measure their generosity
Against your God-bless-you's.
Raised, reared, reviled in Texas —
That’s where you'll return to;
Less welcome than a polished
Thief dry-drifting through
You are a blood-warm stain on the sidewalk;
Bitter as wormwood, pale as pigeon
Shit, dirty like a soiled rubber, pleading
Like an empty coffee cup
The Good Samaritan, Chapter 3The Good Samaritan, Chapter 3 by Frank-Jaspers
One may wonder how Judas could have betrayed Jesus, wonder what his motivations were, and if he should, perhaps, have been executed for his treachery. To answer such questions, one would have to examine carefully the details of his life leading up to the infamous kiss in the garden of Gethsemane.
We turn now to the life of Judas about three years before the betrayal, to a fiery day in the month of August —the month dedicated to Augustus Caesar— to a day that would prove profoundly fateful for the man who was then only a little known merchant.
It was well after dawn when Judas, having only just woken, stepped outside of his master's house on the outskirts of Jerusalem, near the town of Bethany. The late-morning sun was a uniform, bright blue. Hot desert dust briefly twirled in a tiny cyclones, then dissipated into empty air. Judaea looked out over the horizon, the hillside congested with houses and streets. And in the distance, he could see the heart of Jerusalem.
The Good Samaritan, 2The Good Samaritan, 2 by Frank-Jaspers
“Someone must go to the temple …” said John. He wasn't speaking to anyone in particular and turned his eyes from one person to the next as though looking for someone who was willing.
“To the temple?” said Matthew. “Why the temple?”
“Because … clearly it’s the Sanhedrin who are behind the arrest. If we want to find out where Jesus is being held and what is being done, someone must go to the temple and ask queations.”
Several of the disciples nodded in agreement, but others, following Matthew, voiced dissent.
“Nothing’s happening at the temple. Wasn't He arrested by the Romans? They should have Him at their jail or perhaps He’s in their custody elsewhere.”
John closed his eyes and bowed his head, saying nothing.
“We could send someone to the Roman courthouse,” said Thomas, “and he might get some information —but what we’re really interested in is the intention of
The Year of the Rat, 5: Soapbox ApocalypseThe Year of the Rat, 5: Soapbox Apocalypse by Frank-Jaspers
By the time we’d gone ten blocks, we’d already made five dollars. It was time to catch a subway, but before we could make it to an entrance something else caught our attention.
Standing on a plank of wood and four columns of milk carton boxes, and surrounded by pawnshop amplifiers and militant banners, were six members of the Nation of Islam. Each one of them was wearing a shirt in a different primary color. Each shirt had a picture of a well-known Biblical person. Each picture depicted something other than the traditional caucasian image of European origin: Jesus with blond hair and blue eyes, Moses with pale Germanic skin. Rather each picture was of an African man with a name underneath: David, Jesus, Isaiah, Elijah.
This didn't strike me as very unusual. Why, after all, was a white Jesus with Germanic or Nordic features any more acceptable than one with Ethiopian or Somalian features? After all, the real Jesus didn’t look like either of these.
Cameron and I paused
The Year of the Rat, 4: Aggravated JaywalkingThe Year of the Rat, 4: Aggravated Jaywalking by Frank-Jaspers
As soon as breakfast was done, we left the House and took a long walk up the avenues until we found the corner store Billy had mentioned. He claimed it sold to minors, and that he'd bought beer and cigarettes there “a million times.” I walked in with a pocket full of change we’d picked up along the way, just enough for two forty ounce bottles of Old English. The store was dirty, dark and disorganized, but I found a couple bottles in a fridge in the back, seventy-five cents a pop, and cautiously approached the counter.
The cashier, a scrawny, unhappy-looking Puerto Rican kid who didn’t look much older than Billy, glared at me and my golden bottles of OE with cold, merciless eyes. He seemed very suspicious of me, and I wasn't sure he was going to let me make the purchase.
This store must not sell to minors, I thought. He must think I’m trying to fake my age. I started thinking a little too much, not enough to make me drop the bottles and split, but en
A Sudden FlightInk-black birds scatter,
Writing lines of free verse
Across a paper sky.
Change in a Coffee CupIt’s 1998 and you're in New York.
A poem about being a homeless teen in New York City.
Thank you for your support!
In Change in a Coffee Cup by Frank-Jaspers we follow the tales of a young person trying, and failing, to earn the love of a new city. Frank-Jaspers is one of our newest members in the Literature community, and well worth keeping an eye on. ( Suggested by PennedinWhite and Featured by LiliWrites )