feel the Bern/political poetry

City silhouette,

cut-outs for lighted windows.

Inside, stories are shared, embellished

to suit the mood.

Mrs. Rio’s son flew into combat.

See her so brave, civilly smiling,

wishing well to each partier who greets her.

But don’t we all have our masked anxieties,

sorrows, shames?  Civilly shaking hands,

breathing deeply to hold from shaking

inappropriately.  Please, more liquid dullness,

more chemical restraint.

More strident complaint of political --

yes Our World’s gone to hell!

How dare THEY tell us how to behave!

I’ve a mind to blast them all into atoms,

to take a stand against whomever crosses

my path without due regard.

When did everything get so hard,

so unyielding, so thick?

I know there was a once we made more sense,

gave more embracing warmth.

There are stories.

What are yours?

 

 

 

politics

 

 

infinite regression of change and resistance

multi-rhythmed rhyme

singing into the winds of change

to move their vector more in line

with where we wish to arrive

 

 

 

so sick (in my gut, in my head, in my heart, in my arms) of all the divisiveness.  Men can't understand women.  Whites can't understand blacks.  Rich can't understand poor.  Left can't understand right ...
That's why we have language, art, long-term complicated relationships, community projects and festivals and  -- tell me your story

If they were listening, I would say:

figure it out

but first, think about your precepts

and, most importantly,

where you want to be

(not where you should; or where you could)

on the other side.

It’s a self-fulfilling system, with plenty
of bad actors to go around.

Theories for social distribution of power (politics)
or resources (economics)

 

 

The privileged have the power of wealthThe people have the numbers, andless and less to lose

 

 

 

ive Revolution

 

 

Revolution comes when it is ready.

Sparks so many times seem sure to light, embolden change.

Only when the tinder is sufficiently arranged will fire take hold.

Blaze clear fidelity to this erupted moment, charging forward.

After images, ash flakes in settling dark, take flight,

swirl within echoed breeze.

Readiness, relative to chaos, free range of human whim.

Revolution is but a shared anthem, parts of anger and revenge,

parts of reaching toward a new religion.

In the aftermath of violent schism,

what bright vision will sustain?

 

 

 

 

 

New World Order

 

 

Post-feudal society

obsessed with security and place

lock-step shuffle of obeisance

counting corners, counting on

science and leaders of order

counting on gospel served cold,

filleted, and layered just so.

Fashionably secured, tied and

corseted, made up for easy recognition.

"Mommy, Mommy, Mommy! Buy me

the pretty fire." So mesmerizing, so

certain to tell me who I am, how to be.

Casting savage spells, they are,

far and wide, telecommunication.

Tying up and tidying with vast

imaginary whips and wheels,

spinning like a Pied Piper's tales.

No wonder.

We get it wrong and twisted.

Throwing out the wheat to eat

the chaff.  Poisoning the well

that no enemy may drink our bounty.

Burning our bridges and tunnels

to save them.

Embarrassment of riches.

Gorging on fine cakes and

sugar water champagne.

No wonder.

Eerie daylight marching

timed by mechanistic masters

armed with decisions directing

torture, incarceration.

Power derived from the people

constrained of memory

mistaking some paranoid parody

for a promise of life.

 

 

Power

 

 

What is power?

Power is a word.

Power is an idea.

The Word is power.

The Idea is power.

Power is a distribution of energy, wealth, strength:

Physical, material, mental, metaphysical,

social.

Power is that which allows us,

Or we allow others, to have

sway over their/our actions, emotions, limitations.

Power is a rush of air, of water, of electrons,

of words,

of weapons, of will

-- the force behind movement

or stasis.

 

 

 

 

Feudal Diffraction

 

 

It's not the color chart; it's the hierarchy.

Hoarders of permission slips for supplies

thereby decide what gets prioritized,

which brick gets laid, or even fired,

who lives well,

who scrapes til they no longer get by.

It's not our genetic code that compels stupidity.

Perhaps it's a kind of manic compulsion,

depressive obsession,

mass psychosis,

St. Vitus line-dance to a zombie

caller's tune.

What to do?

Meme-web reconstruction in increments

paradigm warping incidents

realign the pulse of macro/microsphere

benign gibberish cy-phones through?

Take back your time.

Take back your right to self-valuation.

Take back your place

outside of the lines.

If our needs, self-fulfilling desires, greater

ecstatic glory and grace

are to be based

on solid infrastructure,

on fruitful interplay,

on free and freeing expression,

let us take hands in

undulating, beatific dance

multi-rhythmed

direction.

Let us be and do and feel

that which gives us permission

to be whole.

 

 

social net

 

to paraphrase that great poet, Donald Rumsfeld:  We work with the Congress we have, not the Congress we wish we had

 

 

Yes, of course we ought be fiscally responsible.

Yet of far more import is that we be rational.

Hyperbolic apoplectic, Apocalyptic rhetoric

reduces us from politic to stagey raving maniacs.

No need for such hysteria; learn from recent history.

The flagrant ways of LBJ, Reagan and GWB

found mitigation in administrations following.

The People, energized, expand instead of wallowing.

Exciting industries take hold, real worth -- not hollow gold.

 

The conversation we as a nation need

is not a war of virtue versus greed

or capturing the rules to win a game

or playing catch with sophistry and shame.

We need to ask and answer in sobriety

Who we best can be as a society

 

 

 

 

When the national project was stolen before our horrified stares

When it became our duty to kill and destroy for the convenience of profit

When humane policy became anathema, unworthy economic drag

When the will of the gambling elite gamed the rule of law to their pocket

Did you scream so loud that bitter blood poured from your lungs?

Did you set up mourning camps to gather forces,

to train grief and rage into worthy opponents against true freedom's foes?

Did you gaze into the cold eyes of propagandists and say "No!"?

Or did you march along in the parade, assured:  "First they get theirs; then we get ours."?

 

 

 

 

Prophecy

 

 

And He became The One

as we all swarmed together

in His direction

anointing our Saviour.

We, so impatient to be saved

from evil history

from slavery, hunger, hate

to make a better fate

for our kids

(and, don't kid yourself, ourselves).

Caught up, trapped, in the trappings

of fashion, co-opted hypnotic

consciousness.

Drugs to cure us of our many flaws;

because if you're not flawless you

haven't got a chance.

In marketplace fierce competition,

a youthful escapade can ruin you

for a respectable life,

that adheres peers' and elders' expectations.

And then where are you?

May as well be burning in eternal

damnation -- at last.

At least Satan wants you

for your sins.

In a mythical colony,

far from their petulant King,

it is said a people

fought and died, and stood their ground

for freedom.

It is said such pageant plays

are widely performed today.

"Freedom is not Free; but based

on blood sacrifice."  They say.

Freedom dependent on militia,

on strictly disciplined troops

firing into pregnant crowds.

Ancient wizards foretold

potent prophecy.

We will not listen.

We insist on martyrdom,

worshipping, as we do,

cults of murder.

Thus human life leads inexorably

to eternal death,

just as we demand,

when we all come together

anointing yet another One.

 

 

 

We Didn't Know

 

 

Efficient development requires deprivement.

No profit, no playground to feel alive in.

Those few groomed for career cheer, mocking:

"Can't you hear; that's freedom knocking."

"Work for rent, or stay in school, dude."

You get no cake for being a loser.

Orwell warned "Big Brother is watching."

We didn't know he meant on you-tube.

 

We didn't know our life was a crime

Sentenced from birth to pay all our time

Cast from the truck to the roadside to rot

Drawn outside of luck, all about what you're not.

Media screams their revealed truth feud.

Sell saturated garbage labeled food.

Orwell warned; we were warned:

"The best of you will be co-opted."

We didn't know they meant on you-tube.

 

 

 

Freedom FOR Security

 

 

Either, by nature, you're plagued with paranoia

Or you've bought pervasive propaganda.

I do understand:

It was so cheap, and in your color.

It wasn't labeled "Propaganda."

Sold as "News," common knowledge,

accommodation to the norm.

And it fits your internal dialog so well

"Danger is everywhere these days of disorder,

scary change."

Just like all the days

when Freedom seems such a flimsy wage,

a cheap exchange

 

for sham Security.

 

 

 

So envious of the unwanted? Quit your lousy job, too taxed, too overworked, too ignored.

Surely you deserve better those under. Enjoy your natural bounty, and all that our country offers.

Taxes? Ever it has been so in our culture. Jesus was born, so the story goes, when his mortal parents

were on the road to pay required tithes of their livelihoods. For the privilege of doing business, trading

our time and skills for pay, the top takes their cut. We pay our homage and percentage to our lord,

and hope his armies will protect us from invading hordes.

If you don’t like the system developed over eons for the benefit of those who have forced their way

to be in charge, create a better one. Then (here’s the trick) sell it to a majority; and make them care enough

to follow through.

Money will never be out of politics. It’s too attractive a game. The only way around that is to make money

irrelevant. The people would need to understand and agree on better leadership, better policies, that are

personally meaningful to them. They need to feel a real stake, real reason to believe it’s not all fixed

beyond their ability to make a difference. And, it’s got to be easy to begin.

 

 

 

It's not about
black or white
might is right
fuel to fight

 

It's not about
East or West
who's the best
forget the rest

 

It's about
me and you,
if we so choose,
what we can do

 

 

 

turn the protest into a party;surround the hate groups with flowers, and love
Sing and dance and make a racket
They won't know what to make of it
They'll try to shout out "HATE!" --
drown out their silly songs with roaring anthemsto peace and fun ~

 

 

Time for dancing in the street to relieve stressTime to take a peaceful revolution to the people
Time to recapitulate the 60's in the light of greater hindsight
and foresight
and vision
to demand true freedom
first of ourselves
then with each other
people
united
to wrest our best hopesfrom reality

 

 

 

I miss the space, open and free and wildI miss the marvel in exploration of each child
I miss the sky of stars unmarred by jets
I miss a market based on trade instead of bets
I miss people happily about their work
without expressing through their inner jerk
I miss sentimental time not on tvI miss the way we thought by now we'd be

 

 

 

The Earth screamsPeople die before their time
Or never get much of a life
Species die, their music silenced
Crazy theories of wealth
belie obligation or simple seeing
the laws of consequence
Scream Earth!
Pierce the cosmos with your
terrible cry
Acid rain burning through goldfalls

 

 

 

Government happens

Power differentials are natural

Makes sense to attend to these matters

consciously,

rationally.

Hot heads, coarse tongues, flail of arm,

crush of foot, outthrust chest, rancorous

demands

lively show and tell;

Yes, such forceful yell might get bells

ringing, choirs singing, merry pageantry.

After roaring Sun’s descended, crowds

disbanded to bars and beds

to dream lusty victories or private

histories, nobody charged to watch

for this twinkling of time.

Without law, there is no crime.

Without rules, no crown ascends

by common call – but only by

all against all

in squall of terrors,

contests of survival, games

scored in blood.

Believe all people peaceful

if you just let us be.

Walk among our brethren.

Tell me what you see.

If human kindness is our cure,

why do the poor stay poor?

Truly self-governing civility would

so obviously

transcend ills of political governments.