rationalization is survival

First; I have been perplexed for years why Bush and comrades went with a devasting, costly and foolish war in Iraq, instead of a surgical removal of Saddam. Recently, I have come to a reason that I believe is theirs. Historical lessons are such that it is a sure thing that the Gulf oil kingdoms are doomed. I know this as clear as I know that my life will end. The Bush cabal is an intimate business partner with the leaders of these soon to be historical has beens. A wrecked, hugely disabled Iraq becomes a buffer a no mans land between the Kings of sand and oil and the popular governments of elected, historical ascendant muslim states. A resurrected, democratic, well functioning modern Iraq was never the intention. Second, private capital in the hands of, private investment banks(rich really rich people), do not like balanced budgets, so a credit card war. This crucial policy allowed for a few more decades of gold sheiks and decades of debt servitude for Americans. Third, both the Bush family and the oil/gold sheiks believe in dynasty. Family, clan and dynastic wealth and its ascendency must be protected, perpetuated and enhanced. The enemy of this identity is progressive, democratic and popular 'will' based states.(coherent nations) For all of this to survive, rationalization is needed- hence the current contradictory rhetoric from leaders and their courtiers.

ooze inside

Genes configure us. Culture/experience make us. Situations confound us and genetics limit our options. So the circle is; we drink because we have a hand, a glass and a thirst. If a drink is proscribed, and we are watched, despite a hand, a glass and a thirst we do not. Science must bow to the unhitched truth of social studies. Social studies must quit the illusion that it is science.

big bucks bucker boo a nation is toast

Democracies, after a while start to look like stock companies; one share one vote, not one citizen one vote. This happens because some members have a pathological desire for shekels. Little can prevent this. Ministers in high office, guardians of the peoples interest fall into toadyism and become grubs of gold. For a time damage to the democracy is checked by the folk traditions of shunning and tar and feathering. But the bloated bags of dough, the wealthy upper class, avoid this public humiliation (and the risk of losing their bags of gold)by preaching and reaching for EMPIRE. Hence, one of history's great ironies appears. The liberal democratic state transforms into a rabid international thug,a parody of itself. The good citizens of the democratic state are kept at bay(pray)by the poetry and loot of these "just" adventures into beyond border foraging. I as poet, assure all, that this under the fence grazing ends in death: the soldier citizen's death on the bloody fields of conquest, the death of innocent foreign(alien) people on the field of robbery and rape. They arise martyred, these collateral- the wretched regrets- to shame heaven and seal the destiny of demise that awaits all empires. However, the death that oozes the longest and utters the most pathetic rattle, is the death of the body politic that chose empire. It happens at a dance, a dance preformed naked, by skeletal bodies jumping up and down, flapping their arms as if wings going round and round a silent super gun, a one of a kind, monster, without ammo. It is revered as god. Perched on top this marvel, are admirals and generals dressed in peacock cock finery. They are lead in song by pinstriped suited, black shiny oh so shinny shod, good on t.v. guys and gals. The crazed citizens of the democratic EMPIRE expire unaware of their delusions, a folk who quit the great sport of shunning and tar and feathering for the worship of killing. The few citizen pathogens now exposed in victory slither over the bones singing; I've got it all,all more and still more all! The song is ended- now Hark and Mark marc; poet of empire--- All hail! HAIL liberty fish, bilibby bissh and hibbity dish, hooray!

in progress

pluck a Poseidon plant a Trident 

three cheers for dollars from ears

 i am the composer and compositor of the American Empire

chip chip and away 

no mo shame 

its us and we rule hooray

 do or die say I

Winter tea time afternoon

I began to recite my poem about pooh. but my daughter said oh heaven no I'll leave the room
instead

a tite crystal morning light is giving way to a wash of dulling gray
a buzzz---so gentle----hums through the high ceilin room

silver plates piled high with white and brown squares, some are circles, host cucumber slices and a dull red paste. Green olives,sliced-thin as skin, caped with pimento, rest on a white paste-adorn more. All all are
propelled about the room by women dressed in black crepe. Just below the belly is a lacy, stiff, dainty white-oh so white apron tied a slight inch above the hips. Nylons rolled just below the knee.


spoon and cup
the chime-the cling clang of spoon and cup reverberate the room-the chime punctuates,modulates, insinuates the haze of chatter within the room.
this winter tea time afternoon, winter tea time afternoon
cups and saucers cups and saucers no not flyin saucers this tea time afternoon this teatime afternoon.

pachyderms and paper

It is now, yes now that a Melville arises and creates the great work of literary daring demanded by the new century. It is full of allusions to those brave souls who came and went before; George Orwell, Ernest Hemingway, T. C. Boyle, many others who will be gathered sooner or latter. These pioneers were willing to hazard attempts to scale a wrinkled grey Goliath. Puny minds will share a boat with a tiger  but only the free est, craziest and those most willing to attempt the near impossible would share a field with -yes, share a page with- yes, share an afternoon with, and oh oh ouu share a peanut with an elephant. 

  Oops, see I said it; share anything with an elephant. Attention memory, the elephant jokes, the elephant anecdotes, the children genre swarms with flies on the backs of elephant stories. Elephants are like air, water and hair, just about everywhere. and SOON TO BE NO MORE!

  My wife is ga ga over the beasts. She is transformed, transmuted, transcended, harmonized, rectified, invigorated and just name it, all this by spending a week with her giant Thailand pet "wan-na" ! She is inscrutable , a laughing, insatiable, joyful , "wan-na". Men, old men young men, never middle age men, go to Thailand for_______well maybe teeth repair but never (no more) for elephants. 

 

 Thai elephants, the abandoned behemoths, draw thousands of female teachers from all over the world to spend a week maybe two riding, climbing and bathing and snorting in a brown stained river. Next, hours preparing repetitive tasks for a daily climatic moment, the parade, the parade of all parades-- hooray for the elephants! 

  Ladies of the world have gathered and are making paper from elephant dung. Move over darlings and Horton, the new kingdom a new Asia is rising on the backs of the gentle giant beasts, no longer on the backs of fair young ladies. Teachers are drawn to these abandoned giants as once to Krishnamurti or Gandhi, dare I say Christ. 

  I overstate, yet men of the past took stock, polished the wallet and trekked to far away spots to tea and pee in the bush and hunger for a shot. A precise , intense moment to shoot an elephant and return to humdrum, a Man with trophy. I find it a refreshing change that now the world's teachers flee for a short two weeks to hot, humid forests in the highlands of Thailand to commune with lumbering , long snouted, taciturns. 

 They carry no gun, no arrows, just the faces of their young students to whom they soon return with pictures and smiles and a heart of joy.

poet of empire

IT IS

 the right time, the timex time. IT IS  high time and about time. hooray for the poet of empire!  prayer of post conquest squash and thank filled feast is sung, songs of control of control by clogs  with knicks, dressed to kill.  hooray! the POET of empire marc hark and hail marc so mark marc poet of empire songster of might,right and plight- begins at harvard the collateral feast;

 
IT IS

Halloween 2007 at the global thought center where vice controls squeeze

NOT FAR THE STATUE  of  a marblized hero speaks

empty mist glazed night but lit streets round Cambridge green on top hotel commander; Neon radiated, reverberating comes the voice. "I control 4 beds, 4 comforters{2old style needle stiched quilts}
[2 new style filled by chinamade german inspired machined filiment] these for warmth." again proclaims
"I possess 2 keys, 1 [old style cut metal hung from a chain of minature steelballs], 1 {plastic programmed slipcard}-recoded. for entry!"
the voice is accompanied by drum and song.
rratatattat rratatattat rratatattat rratatattat drum drilled muzzeled
OAKized ratatattat
POTATOEized ratatattat
FREEDOMized ratatattat
swisssh , slishsh --mmm-- hisss

hail liberty fish! hail liberty fish! hail liberty fish!

at ease in east, a shinning eye west, gleaning opportunists marched
chopchop, chopchop, heave ho "formation"
Lines of ten--millions deep. from the green
Washington takes command.