Donal: Is Occupy Over?
Ramona's Piece de la Resistance (Including Pics of Obama, Romney, FDR)
dagblog To Give Away Logoed Hairshirt To Most Effective Lamenter Of Left's Ineptitude
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Donal: Is Occupy Over? Ramona's Piece de la Resistance (Including Pics of Obama, Romney, FDR) dagblog To Give Away Logoed Hairshirt To Most Effective Lamenter Of Left's Ineptitude |
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The night is my shadow,
and the shadow, my light.
The coyotes and I roam these canyons and squares,
our long, ragged coats sweep the streets
as we wander.
We are the Cherokee Curse
upon the American Mall,
pursuing the Trail with magic
and soft padded paw.
The coyotes stop to breathe on a store window,
and my warm tongue on the cold glass
writes the revolutionary word:
"Communion."
*
The dream-life of our nation
has become a psychotic non-dance,
driven by remote-control brutality,
written, produced, and directed by naive demons.
Menacing lights sweep
the smoggy basin of this 20th century,
searching for a zeitgeist gone AWOL,
(and the networks promise us EXCLUSIVE coverage.)
Faithlessness fills the night air,
and Babylon reloads.
*
And the prophet said, "They are armed...
Where there was earth, they have sown erosion.
Where there was truth, they have sown advertising.
Where there was love, they have sown the Super Bowl.
Where there was justice, they have sown opinion polls.
Where there was dance, they have sown tranquilizers.
Where there was community, they have sown prime real estate.
... but we are dangerous."
We are stakes through the eye of fashion,
and our bride is squalor.
We are safety net fallout,
and regret nothing.
We are silent extras,
on the Imperial set.
We are the shamans of the alleyways -
forming sacred signs in the bus shelter,
healing highways jammed with screaming cans of meat,
repeating our sacred prayer, beneath the broken bridges:
"Blessed Are These."
*
Our words are made subject to the National Security laws,
for we are traitors.
Yes, we are traitors...
to their pale dream,
The Dream of The Betrayers.
They have forgotten God, and God has surely forgotten us.
(Jesus tells me, this I know.)
***
In 1987, I had never written a poem. In the late Spring of that year, I returned home from my adventuring, and upon setting foot in the farmyard, began writing. Pretty much compulsively.
This is one of the poems from that first batch, a number of which got published - such as "Harvested" - but some of which I just kept to myself, like this one. I'm putting some of them up at my Posterous site:
http://quinntheeskimo.posterous.com/
This poem incorporates phrases and images from my friend Scottie O, who was then - and is now - a great writer. Thus, the address, "to/from/for Scottie." We were writing, swapping comments on the twisted world Reagan was leading us into, and it gave birth to this poem.
Anyhoo... how do Scottie? Hope you're keeping well, and writing up a storm!
Perceptive Dagblog readers know the difference between Obama, Romney and Bush:
Obama NYT today: .how President Obama’s thinking about what he once called “a war of necessity” began to radically change less than a year after he took up residency in the White House....The aide told Mr. Obama that he believed military leaders had agreed to the tight schedule to begin withdrawing those troops just 18 months later only because they thought they could persuade an inexperienced president to grant more time if they demanded it. “Well,” Mr. Obama responded that day, “I’m not going to give them more time.”...Mr. Obama concluded in his first year that the Bush-era dream of remaking Afghanistan was a fantasy...
Mitt Romney, Feb. 2012 : LAS VEGAS -- LAS VEGAS -- Republican presidential candidate Mitt Romney on Wednesday night blasted President Obama and his administration for “putting in jeopardy” the nation’s military mission by signaling it hopes to end its combat mission in Afghanistan by the middle of 2013.
Appearing at a campaign rally here shortly after landing in Nevada, Romney said Defense Secretary Leon E. Panetta’s statement Wednesday that U.S. forces would transition from a combat mission in Afghanistan next year “makes absolutely no sense.”....
George W. Bush, from May, 2003: BBC - "We do not know the day of final victory, but we have seen the turning of the tide... Free nations will press on to victory,"
Bush Afghanistan strategy : Gen. Douglas E. Lute, who had spent the last two years of the Bush administration trying to manage the many trade-offs necessary as the Iraq war consumed troop and intelligence resources needed in Afghanistan, arrived with a PowerPoint presentation. The first slide that General Lute threw onto the screen caught the eye of Thomas E. Donilon, later President Obama’s national security adviser. “It said we do not have a strategy in Afghanistan that you can articulate or achieve,” Mr. Donilon recalled three years later. “We had been at war for eight years, and no one could explain the strategy.”
Mitt Romney isn’t very far into the vice presidential selection process. But according to a dedicated band of conspiracy theorists, the pick is all but a lock: Sen. Marco Rubio.
That’s the current thinking among a worldwide collection of activists who are obsessed with the secretive Bilderberg Group, an alternating roster of global power players who loom as large — if not larger — in the online fever swamps of the fringe as the Trilateral Commission or the Council on Foreign Relations.
Read more: http://www.politico.com/news/stories/0512/76518.html#ixzz1vN5egowz
Aristotle and Plato didn’t agree on much, but they were united in identifying wonder as the origin of their profession. As Aristotle said, “It is owing to their wonder that men . . . first began to philosophise.” This idea appeals to scientists, who frequently enlist wonder as a goad to inquiry. “I think everyone in every culture has felt a sense of awe and wonder looking at the sky,” wrote Carl Sagan in 1985, locating in this response the stirrings of a Copernican desire to know who and where we are.
Yet that is not the only direction in which wonder may take us. To Thomas Carlyle, wonder sits at the beginning not of science, but of religion. That is the central tension in forging an alliance of wonder with science: will it make us curious, or induce us to prostrate ourselves in pitiful ignorance? We had better get to grips with this question before we too hastily appropriate wonder to sell science. That is surely what is going on when pictures from the Hubble Space Telescope are (unconsciously?) cropped and coloured to recall the sublime iconography of Romantic landscape painting, or the Human Genome Project is wrapped in biblical rhetoric, or the Large Hadron Collider’s proton-smashing is depicted as “replaying the moment of creation”. The point is not that such things are deceitful or improper, but that if we want to take that path, we should first consider the complex evolution of the relation between science and wonder.
[....]
Pretending that science is performed by people who have undergone a Baconian purification of the emotions only deepens the danger that it will seem alien and odd to outsiders, something carried out by people who do not think as they do. Daston believes that we have inherited a “view of intelligence as neatly detached from emotional, moral and aesthetic impulses, and a related and coeval view of scientific objectivity that brand[s] such impulses as contaminants”. It is easy to understand the historical origins of this attitude: the need to distinguish science from credulous “enthusiasm”, to develop an authoritative voice, to strip away the pretensions of the mystical Renaissance magus who acquired knowledge through personal revelation. We no longer need these defences, however; worse, they become a defensive reflex that exposes scientists to the caricature of the emotionally constipated boffin, hiding within thickets of jargon.
... We’re trying to harness photosynthesis. A key part of photosynthesis is what happens when the sun goes down. Cells convert CO2 into sugar and fat molecules. And they store the fat to burn as energy to get them through the night ... We’re trying to coax our synthetic cells to ... store far more fat than they actually were designed to do, so that we can harness it all as an energy source and use it to create gasoline, diesel fuel, and jet fuel straight from carbon dioxide and sunlight. This would shift the carbon equation so we’re recycling CO2 instead of taking new carbon out of the ground and creating still more CO2. But it has to be done on a massive scale to have any real impact on the amount of CO2 we’re putting into the atmosphere, let alone recovering from the atmosphere.
... We envision facilities the size of San Francisco. And 10 or 15 of those in this country. We need sunlight, seawater, and non-agricultural land, but you need a lot of photons to drive this. You need a lot of surface area of sunlight to do that. It’s a great use for Arizona. Lots of sunlight there.
... If we can’t get some key scientific breakthroughs within the next couple of years, it probably won’t happen in 10 years. So it’s something that’s really dependent on fundamental science. But we’re already able to do things that were once seen as impossible.
... I think the new anti-intellectualism that’s showing up in politics today is a symptom of our not discussing these issues enough. We don’t discuss how our society is now 100 percent dependent on science for its future. We need new scientific breakthroughs—sometimes to overcome the scientific breakthroughs of the past. A hundred years ago oil sounded like a great discovery. You could burn it and run engines off it. I don’t think anybody anticipated that it would actually change the atmosphere of our planet. Because of that we have to come up with new approaches. We just passed the 7 billion population mark. In 12 years, we’re going to reach 8 billion. If we let things run their natural course, we’ll have massive pandemics, people starving. Without science I don’t see much hope for humanity.
And yes, mobbing is encouraged.
No rules in a poetry fight.
I don't know how to write a poem.
I'm glad that you do, Q. ;o)
Keep them coming. '...a psychotic non-dance'. Brrrr.
I kinda like birrrds.
A few weeks ago a small grey fox came near the house and circled a weeping birch tree with a bird feeder hanging from it. Damned if it didn't climb right up the tree. You read that they can; it went so fast it was hard to tell how it did it. Then it started climbing my goofy fake trees. I've planted some tall apple tree branches near the house, and i wire juniper branches, or pine, sometimes quakee, to them to draw the birds closer. How in the world he/she got up those is anyone's guess. One night he/she came down fast and scared a skunk; bad night, that was.
Last night I dreamt that an imaginary tree out one of the solar windows was full of sleeping foxes, red and grey... and one red chicken.
A mind is a terrible thing to have...
I like them alot, Q. Especially Camus the Canuck. Reminds me of your other Last Shadow piece. Same dark place. Same 'voice', no?
On this one here, it made me think of this Huxley vs Orwell smackdown I came across the other day. Thought you might like it.
Thanks for that Huxley-Orwell link - it's great! I always liked Huxley more, so it's nice to have my prejudices confirmed. ;-)
And odd, but I'd never noticed the Camus ---> Last Shadow link, but, yes, it's there. They are a very similar voice, Shadow's being somewhat older, a bit nastier. As a kid, I'd loved Camus' L’Étranger. It irritated me, but stayed with me. So the mood I was in that day on the beach, writing Camus, was one I associated with L’Étranger. And as you say, there it is again in Shadow, only less conscious 10-15 years later.
I'm kind of an idiot when it comes to seeing things that are there in my own poems. In fact, I try not to see too much or make them too conscious. But it's always fun when other people do it!
Thanks for the read, Obey.
Thanks Dick! Being extremely anti-real estate, I always kindof enjoyed that bit.
Glad you could drop by, and thanks for the read. ;-)
Very nice. I enjoy reading your words. Your writing is mesmerizing. Kind of like falling in a stream and being carried to who knows where but you know you'll enjoy the ride. I especially like your stories about 'slipping through time' and the one where you learned to run.
I haven't written many stories since the River Running one, though I hope the story-writing urge/muse re-appears at some point.
About the closest I've come is this one, about the rye-field. It was completely mesmerising in real life, though not sure I captured it at all in the writing.
http://quinntheeskimo.posterous.com/the-other-catcher-in-the-rye
And thanks for the kind words, Emerson.
First I read that Katie Couric is leaving the Evening News, and now I read this. My therapist has to increase my dosage now; she just has to.
Thanks for publishing a poem. I think if I read one more declarative sentence about anything I may expire. I set my default browser font to Wingdings for sites like HuffPo or NHK news. I’ve been reading your poems at your site and all I can do is rap my knuckles on the bar and say “Sooth man. Cool.”
Declarative sentences feel to me like declarations of war. At least lately. On politics.
These poems grew out of the most intense period of politicking I'd had in my life - maybe some sortof reaction, donno. Sadly, you can still hear the politics in some of them - dead men in big boots, clomping around in the background.
Anyhoo. The poem here - for Scottie - was originally, in my mind, one of the "big" ones. It felt long, multi-parted, unwieldy, and difficult as hell, what with the rhythm appearing, then disappearing etc. Little did I know that poeming could grow to monster length. Like that NY Sidewalk one.
http://quinntheeskimo.posterous.com/absaloms-hair-new-york-sidewalk-0
And when I go over them all, the ones that make me smile the most these days, are the shortest of all. Like this one, which I'd planned to put up as part of a batch over at my blog later this week, but which will do nicely here. A pure dream poem, one raindrop falling on the head during a hot day. Maybe help with the political withdrawal.
Cheers, Larry.
The Daisy
As I plucked the last word
from this poem,
I swear I heard
the universe whisper,
"loves me."
Oh. Bravo.
Canadian Haiku.
Sorry, we never had haiku up here.
Though we did have hai karate.
Quality stuff. A quart of that and a little lime, and you're in business.
OK. I'll have an English Leather neat, with a soda back thank you.
You know those Canacks can speak English and French:
http://tpmaholics.blogspot.com/
They do? Well that explains a lot. I see the Canadian Parliament on CSPAN. I just assumed that everybody in Canada had some kind of Turrets Syndrome.
Somebody was telling me about this film TODAY. Bizarrely, I haven't seen it.
Probably because they allowed French people into it, and that just seemed wrong.
I do not wish to sound trite.
But Damn! You got the Creative corner on the Hit List!
Damn!
Good for you and good for us!
That's because all 211 of my relatives came and visited, Dick.
Actually, nice that people dropped by and read this stuff. I'm kinda shocked.
Of course that number is slightly inflated. You should debit out the NSA crawler, probably a computer program that logged on just to sniff the air, and your DHS minder, The DIA reader, and the guy/gal/gay guy/gay gal at the Office of Naval Intelligence, CIA, and so forth. Still the net is a hefty number. Maybe you are on to something.
I would like to thank Jesus, for giving me this victory today... And I'd also like to say, to all the other finalists in this category, that I was proud just to be considered in the same class as blogs like.... ummmm... blogs like "Moo - Beep Beep Beep"... and ahhhh....
Wait a fucking minute.
Are you telling me that MOO - BEEP BEEP BEEP got as many readers as my poem?
Take me now, Lord. Either that, or you gotta take these others outta here. Cause I've had it.
MOO - BEEP BEEP BEEP, MY ASS.
You must be new here so let me give you a little heads up. If the Lord sent you to this planet it pretty much means that He is trying to get rid of you and under no circumstances will He take you back. Now you know why I am so upset about Katie Couric. Somehow for me she took the sting out of the daily Earth news. Maybe it was her smile.
I donno. Al Jazeera runs some nice stuff. I woulda thought this would turn your crank.
OK. You win this round.
I liked the
soft padded paw.
The coyotes stop to breathe on a store window,
the mannequins watching on the other side of the glass