Thursday, September 13, 2012

Taking the News Personally

As the crowds in Cairo chant “we’re all Osama now”
My lumbago throbs like Sirius at a false flag itching immanent,
A wagging of the angriest hound in the firmament,
As soldiers of the IDF bus to the Wailing Wall
To make peace with their holy pineapple before

As my country stares sleep-swollen at the sermons
Of Baroness Burnett, Vanna Fortuna and Quim Carcrashion
Or that Michigan Romulan Romany the terrorvangelist Mormon
Whose mad shame glistening eyes transport them like Persephone
From the underworld of a chimney-purple President waving the bloody
Gorgon’s head, paralyzing like the idol of every tribe, to some meadow
Free from dew, as the harps and wind machines go through Yanni’s
Magnanimously voluminous hair.

Running my eyes across the entrail teletype, the luminous flicks
Unspooled from their safety canisters at this moment of the world,
I grieve for my countrypeople, for things are always so much worse than
They appear to be: the Boys Town abductees have influential positions
(If they’re raped when young enough the voices in their heads can run
their lives)
And the cells of virus programs have been mobilized for swift distraction
(In case the mind-controlling drugs and food have side reactions),
The money made in secret shipped offshore (dead sent offline).
The secret’s hid in plane site, the jail gates left wide open,
It’s clear they only care about destroying love, destroying life,
And we give in worship body, mind and soul for the privilege
Of them eating us like Chronos for our own good. And we’re happiest
To serve like this; it’s those on the outside who are lonely
With the coldness of the truth their only friend
And an opening in the rabbit-hole that only hints how deep it goes
Revealing we know nothing at all levels. But the writing on the wall
Proclaims the truth in incomprehensible diction
Which the guests at the table of the beast whitewash
As if Cleanliness was next to Godliness not Death.

Ah, but how could this matter to me? Love is at the end of every thought;
What need could it have to defend itself? There’s no enlightenment
Without Lucifer. The hero’s journey must go through delusion,
For at-one-ment is too easy, without the play of dark self-doubt
We would leap through all our lessons, be untouched by what's not right.
We’re created in full consciousness, and we’re learning all the time,
Reaching for the light in all that moves. Infinite blackness on all sides
Would scarcely be enough to keep us eyeless, without yearning, without
hope.

Yet I cannot accept that all is God, I want you to hear the screaming
From the project towers and bazaars under the bridge,
To feel the brainwaves masquerade as radio transmissions.
I want you to see the grid for rats, with electromagnetic channels,
Surveillance and a noose around the cheese.
When she clutches on her cellphone for dear sweet life
I’d have you believe it has kidnapped her daughter
And she’s waiting on some invisible lord for the ransom word.

The thing is, you see, every fact telegraphed in advance
Comes with a fat disclaimer, that the sender is never satisfied or complete.
In my case, I’m a prophet who remembers how my mouth was washed
with soap
For telling truth; the advocate told at three years old
I did not know what the hell I was talking about;
The visionary shamed for believing in God
By the people I most wanted to please.
I see only terrors in your stoic faces,
Feel keenly the fear that comes off of your brows,
Afraid I’ll be sliced to order again
By the merest raise of an eyebrow,
The slightest unanticipated question.

We calculate the debts we owe to fathers, sons and holy ghosts,
But what of that orphan left with nothing?

When every word is a lie
Maybe silence is the truth.

The bitter man who took away your dreams
How you would thank him now, if only you could.

3 comments:

Anonymous said...

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the walking man said...

We are not even considered as men, or even human anymore, we have been counted and scored and exist as only a potential profit stream for whatever oligarch is dipping into the well this week.

I for one loved every word you placed here. And the last line--yes daily I am grateful.

Jack said...

Poems like this, and others on Poet Tree, are a much-needed chronicle of the social, political, economic, and psychological themes of our time. Evil and complacence are colluding, which you capture so aptly.