Some poems from the 2013 Archives

#1. Invitation

            “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.”   - Gertrude Stein, Idem the Same – Let Us Describe

                              

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.

March 8, 2013

#2. Monday, April 15, 2013

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.

#3. Trapped in a purgatory…

“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, The Cyclist Conspiracy

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.

5/14/2013

#4. August 14, 2013 – Man and the expanding universe: art

moral courage dies

and corruption’s stench prevails –

lies erase 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.