July 20, 2013

Part 1.   Invitation (inspired in large part by Gertrude Stein’s “Idem the Same – Let Us Describe”)

                “I knew too that through them I knew too that he was though, I knew too that he  threw them.  I knew too that they were through, I knew too I knew too, I knew I  knew them.”  

                “If you can see why she feel that she kneels if you can see why he knows that he shows what he bestows, if you can see why they share what they share, need we  question that there is no doubt that by this time if they had intended to come they would have sent some note of such intention.”

                Many others did go and there was a sacrifice, of what shall we, a sheep, a hen, a cock, a village, a ruin, and all that and then that having been blessed let us bless  it.”     - Stein                                                                                                             

The Queen’s Henchmen

request the pleasure of your company       

at a Lynching – to be held 

at 23rd and C Streets NW

on Tuesday, December 18, 2012 -

just past sunset.     

Dress: Formal, Masks and Hoods -

the four being lynched

must never know the identities

of their executioners, or what/

whose sin required their sacrifice.

A blood sacrifice –

to divert the hounds -

to appease the gods -

to cleanse our filth and

satisfy our guilty consciences.

Arrive promptly at sunset –

injustice will be swift.

There will be no trial,

no review of evidence,

no due process, and

no accountability.

Dress warmly -

a chilling effect will instantly

envelop Foggy Bottom.

Extrajudicial.

Total impunity at the top.

A kangaroo court in

a banana republic.

B.Y.O.B.

Refreshments will not be served

because of the continuing resolution.

And the ones being lynched?

Who cares?  They are pawns in a game.

Our game.  All suckers, all fools,

all knaves who volunteered to serve.

Us.  And the truth?  The truth?

What difference at this point does it make?

In case of inclement weather,

or the Queen’s incapacitation,

the Queen's Henchmen will carry out 

this lynching - as ordered, as planned.

 

Part 2.  The Aftermath (inspired in part by Basara’s “The Cyclist Conspiracy”)

                “The top of the pyramid – the organization is composed of Technologists who  only pretend to have power, although they are only actors in the theater of mirrors.  When the mirror is broken they die, because the internal drive of their  actions vanishes.”    --Svetislav Basara

Trapped in a purgatory

of their own conceit…

 

The web of lies they weave

gets tighter and tighter

in its deceit

until it bottoms out -

at a very low frequency -

and implodes.

It may be just a matter of perception –

they can’t undo their wrongs

for fear it’d undermine their

perceived authority –

an authority they think they require

to stay in charge.

Yet all the while,

the more they talk,

the more they lie,

and the deeper down the hole they go.

There’s nothing I need to go back to -

nothing to re-litigate -

nothing to defend -

and certainly nothing to prove

to the unworthy.

Just wait…

just wait and

feed them rope.

 

Part 3.  The Wizard

The wicked witch of the East?

The old, decrepit, ancient East?

She dead.  House fell on her ass

During the storm.  Feet all shriveled up.

That witch ain’t going nowhere!

Ain’t gon bother nobody!

But the wicked witch of the West?

The new, modern, amoral West?

She’s alive and kicking.

Causing all kinds of trouble.

Done signed a deal with the Wizard.

The lying Wizard.

Dorothy has her hands full with those two.

And the lion ain’t got no courage.

Part 4.  The Heat of Battle

I am feeling the heat of battle and tasting

its harsh bittersweetness. Still on track,

other things fall through the cracks of space

and time. But Poetry remains, a jealous mistress,

after all, a possessive lover without gender who

demands every gram of attention and devotion.

“Forget any other dedication, any outside legal 

or moral obligation,” Poetry warns,

“and ignore that silly wench you call your Muse!”

Poetry screams, “Be with me alone!”

And you accommodate, first haltingly,

reluctantly, then eagerly, anxiously

as you become narcotized by, then addicted

to the sweetness of stolen waters.

Part 5.  Letter to Walt

Dear Walt:

I seem to recall we met,

in the future, in the past, or in a dream -

maybe deep down in engineroom lower level,

repairing a valve or calibrating a gauge

on an obscure hydraulic line;

or maybe on the bridge,

transiting the Strait of Gibraltar,

the Strait of Bonifacio, or the Strait of Messina;

or maybe having a smoke on the fantail

while the ship rounds the Cape of Good Hope,

Cape Horn, or Ras Kasar.

The physical place is less important

than the metaphysical space we share:

lonely, tired, perplexed, distressed,

missing loved ones;

lonely, tired, perplexed, distressed,

surrounded by loved ones

seeking refuge from war’s alarm,

whether fighting on distant battlefields,
or negotiating in hostile boardrooms,
far or near, seeking refuge from war
and the rumors of war,
seeking peace.

We share the womb of America -

twin biracial souls within the same mother,
bouncing around in an aqueous environment.

Scandalized, scapegoated and heart-broken,

we forge forward together on this mystic trek,
guided by an unseen star in the Northern sky,
inspired by love, and hope, and steadfast faith.

 

Part 6.  Letter to Emily

Dear Emily:

The words we read,
the lines we write,
are gaps in time,
that soon take flight –
 

poetry has that property

transporting you through space –
we write a word and make a rhyme
and aim it to its place –

if accurate, we hit the mark,

we reach the goal we seek –
but if precise, we claim the prize,
and scale the highest peak –

the words and rhymes unwind, divide

with measured purpose, need –
then seek to replicate the thought
and shape the world of deeds –

The message in the poems we write

is free, yet hidden in plain sight.  

Part 7.  Reconciliation

1^st quarto:  Man and the Expanding Universe: Truth

truth expands outward

yields right-of-way to falsehood
continues on its path
 
Maria do Santos Pittsylvania

is my avatar in Second Life
she is a pink body-suited android

and she knows how to dance Kizomba

her steps are pure poetry -
her smile - deliverance – truth

  

2^nd quarto: Man and the Expanding Universe: Love

Love expands in space

Fills every crack and crevice
overcomes all hate -
 

Physicists say it’s not the universe

but space that expands – and material 
things spread out to fill the new space

if their internal energies allow it –  

love in the world wants to spread and
fill the expanding space – we gotta let it…

 

3^rd quarto: Man and the Expanding Universe: Peace

the big bang of war

makes us fear that peace is far -
removed from our dreams.

yet peace is gaining critical mass each

moment that passes: its energy is spreading
diametrically, at an accelerating rate, and reasons

for war and conflict are shrinking, like fear

and greed, and the senseless need to dominate
others.  Let peace expand and grow.


4^th quarto: Man and the Expanding Universe: Art

moral courage died

and corruption’s stench prevailed –
lies erased the truth -

my LinkedIn friends keep endorsing me

for Government.  But me and Uncle Sam

are a shrinking universe.  I’m leaving

the troop that errs, the team that lies,

leaders who destroy lives for sport, as art - 
themselves a crime, a sin, a plague.  Farewell.