She wore a bonnet of significant bees

A fleece of fantastic fleas

She knew black beans and pintos

From her lentils and her peas


She didn’t walk on water

But she glided over nails

Which were strewn across the floor

From rusty timeworn pails


She loved the smell of smoke

But disdained the smell of cinder

She met your father Satan

On the devil’d own site Tinder


You told her happy mother’s day

She said son I am fictional and abstract

You infer you own responsivities

From how you think I act


So hold tight to your nostalgia

Or quietly feed your rage

I am not your icon or advisor

I am never your blueprint or cage.

Gene G. McLaughlin 2020



Jump Cuts Like Godard

Jump cuts

Like Godard

On the evening news

Your attention is

The one thing

They can’t afford to lose


Stories like Hitchcock

Winding up and down

Twisted stairs

People searching

For secrets and motives

That aren’t really there


Sounds like Altman

Bleeding one into another

Cutting in and out

People trying to discern

Truths they whisper

From lies they shout


Faith like Scorsese

Still present, but

Beaten and torn

Hoping between

All the death and privation

Something better is born


Reality like Lanzmann

Laying bare plagues foul effects

On me and you

Not metaphors

No soft lenses

Just a truth hard to view

Gene G. McLaughlin 2020



The Monkey Sees God in Bananas

The monkey sees God in bananas

The tiger sees the divine in his claws

The crow sees God in the worms of the morning

As he cackles, preens, and craws

Man sees God in the unseen

The preacher sees the divine in his words

The zealot sees it in the crowds that gather before him

As he guides them like an unthinking herd

Let your eyes be your faith and your heart

Let your ears hear the sounds of the divine

Let your own steps guide you to your version of God

As I shall let my feet lead me to mine

Gene G. McLaughlin 2020


Everyone Thinks

Everyone thinks
The other side stinks
And they feel entitled
To that which was not earned
With Nero’s curse we were riddled
Danced to the sound of the fiddle
Never once broaching the middle
Everyone already decided
Whilst we burned
Gene G. McLaughlin 2020

This is Not a Blog Post

There was a book a number of years ago written by David Markson titled This Is Not A Novel. I loved it. There was no plot or characters or conflicts or resolutions, but it was extremely compelling. It was more about the strands of thought of the mind and the corridors it goes down and how what we read and see and hear reflect back on us as version of a story itself. Random facts, last words, lists of ingredients, baseball box scores. It might remind you of the much more famous Trout Fishing in America by Richard Brautigan, but with much shorter one or two line segments. This is Not a Novel was all ligaments and no muscles. Trout Fishing in America still had some muscles.

I’d like to reproduce some version of that idea on Facebook Live on this page and at It kind of goes like this-

1. I logon and peruse things like Wikipedia or YouTube and Spotify as I often do to go down rabbit holes of things that interest me and share it on Facebook Live. This is something I do anyway on a rainy night.

2.If you feel so inclined you can watch and comment and participate send me down other rabbit holes of things I don’t know about. Maybe I am checking out Robin Hood Prince of Thieves and you are the foremost expert on Bryan Adams and you can direct me to some fascinating Bryan Adams info or article. Maybe you want to point me in the direction of how good Morgan Freeman was in the movie Street Smart. Who knows? You can watch for 3 minutes and make a suggestion or an hour, doesn’t really matter. If no else joins the corridors of the rabbit hole will be dug by me alone I suppose. I’d rather people join though.

3.Whatever direction the rabbit holes goes in I post at via a a sequential series of interesting things reviewed from Wikipedia, YouTube videos, bandcamp songs, book excerpts, or whatever as ‘This is Not a Blog’ post for the day.

4.If it goes well I’d like to have people join and and be in charge of starting and picking the direction of the rabbit hole. A diversity of results for each ‘Not a Blog’ post would be nice.

This is an experiment as much as anything. Kind of a crowd sourced digital found objects pastiche or collage. It might end up mundane or maybe marvelous, who knows. If nothing else comes of it I will skill up my digital production ability.


If anyone who likes this page is interested please check out-

March 2020

In the distance I see

Monuments (built by unknown hands)

To wealth (accumulated via unknown plans)

I’d tell you what their plaques said

If the world would just stop spinning

I’d tell you what the score was

If I knew what constituted winning

Sometimes the smells of being alive are

Dust (as it covers all)

Rotting cabbage (you bought but didn’t use)

Spring flowers (they will not be denied)

Excess time (somehow it wafts in the air)

Uncertainty (you can smell it in your pores)

Will the world ever be the same again?

(The answer has changed since you asked the question)

Does all of this make me feel better?

(Parts I disdain and wish to fade away)

Or am I terrified?

(That which I love, and fear will not stay)


(No longer taken as a given)


(For all that has been riven)


(There is no sin to be forgiven)


(Opportunity has arisen)


(Actions of your own volition)


(The future remains well hidden)

Gene G. McLaughlin 2020


Bet on work and failure

As a path to growth

Bet it’s a bet

That won’t appeal to most

Own your sins

Grow from them

Acknowledge your failings

As much as wins

Become a better man

In the public eye

Be known as one

The day you die.

Gene G. McLaughlin 2020

Flicker and Shine

The spark
A Dose
Of Art
As love
Tears you

Gene G. McLaughlin 2020

Beware They That

Beware they that ask

For your love and rage at the same time

Love is one part of your story

Rage is one part of your story

They are roads to different destinations

That you will take at different times

They that ask you to combine them

Do so for their own means

They wish to become the story you tell

To simplify you

They that ask this do not mean you well

They have no wishes for you at all

They dream a dream for them

Cherish your love

Safeguard your rage

They are yours and yours alone

Gene G. McLaughlin 2020

Lord Byron’s Present Tense

To do it for joy

Without expectation

To do it for journey

Not destination

Ignoring the narrative

Embracing sensation

The pain and beauty

Your soul’s validation

Gene G. McLaughlin 2019