Daily Archives: December 12, 2002

The Madness of King George

A couple of days ago, someone on my friends list posted an article about our current president that suggested that his “simple country boy” schtick was an act, that he was not a witless rube, but something a bit more sinister. This idea has rolled around in my head since then, and resulted in this poem. Be warned … if you do not appreciate political satire, proceed no further. Also, if you represent any type of government agency that seeks to limit free speech that certainly is not threatening anyone (except by challenging them to think about a couple of things), please be informed in advance that I support our government and its leaders, and wish them no harm of any kind. That being said …

They call King George a simple man, one prone to verbal gaffe,
and when he trips upon his words, his sworn opponents laugh.
In all the papers of the day, his speeches are displayed;
the pundits pounce and quick, renounce the mistakes he has made.

A checkered past, our sovereign’s life, one filled with up and down,
but those would be the fools who think there’s nothing ‘neath the crown;
For in his head, there is a plan, a grand “strategerie”,
That fills his life with hopes and dreams – the world he’d like to see

It shows when he speaks eloquent on ground attacks and war;
his stammer only shows itself when he speaks of the poor,
or when he makes a statement on the rights of common man –
’tis then he stumbles on his words, and seems to pale and wan.

He has no trouble giving thanks for privilege of the strong,
but when asked to define a course, is when his words flow wrong.
Upon the grim and bloody battle, he can wax sublime;
but let him voice his thoughts on peace – he falters, every time.

His motto, surely, must be this: I am, therefore I rule;
To underestimate this portent, one would be a fool.
A vain pretender to the throne built by his father’s trust,
he leads his great republic down a path that ends in dust.

They call King George a dull buffoon, and think his mind a blank;
but think of it as focused, like the gun end of a tank.
His madness has its purpose, for it misleads those who hear –
and do not see the dark and sinister in his career.

And so it is with leaders with whom subjects are well pleased;
they pull the wool over our eyes, and bring us to our knees –
while citing our security and freedom as their goal,
they seek to weaken our resolve to save a nation’s soul.

In nineteen twenty seven, there was such a valued king
Who gave his subjects hope, and pride, and promised them this thing:
That none would laugh or ridicule them, or stand in their way;
The price for them was higher than they had the strength to pay.

The leader of the thinking world, he claimed their land to be,
and so invaded Poland, France and joined with Italy
to spread their message ’round the world, to build a Fatherland;
instead, they left a legacy too weak to even stand.

But George, they say, is different – he truly wants the best;
Despite his dark proclivities when hard put to the test,
he seeks to unify the world, not with great bombs and guns,
but for the benefit of mankind’s daughters and its sons.

They call King George a witless cretin, but I think they lie;
I only hope that I can be disproved ere by and by.
For in this brave new world, we do not need another king –
And only by seeking the truth, can we avoid the thing.

12 DEC 2002

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Monotheists Anonymous

A Twelve Step Program for Decreasing Spiritual Density

Note: probably the hardest part of this journey is the point at which you realize there is no Big Book. Once you have reached that epiphany, you can start working the Steps.

Step One

We admitted that we had total and full responsibility for our thoughts, actions and lives, whether we perceived them as good, bad or indifferent.

Step Two

We ceased to believe that a third party, seen or unseen, could be blamed for our situation, or could restore us to sanity.

Step Three

We made a decision to seek a balance with the divine energies that exist in all life, as we understand them, accepting and cherishing the both male and female nature of these energies, and at the same time, recognizing that each individual’s perception of the divine is unique to themselves.

Step Four

We made a searching and fearless inventory of our fears, social conditioning, religious/mythological worldview and educational limitations, identifying those areas of our thinking that did not accurately reflect reality, as we understood it.

Step Five

We admitted to ourselves and to another living creature the exact nature of our interdependence and co-creative responsibilities, as fully functioning egalitarian participants in the Universe.

Step Six

We became entirely ready to seek a balance between the “light” and “dark”, realizing that duality is a function of perception.

Step Seven

We humbly accepted our shortcomings and sought to overcome them, and in doing so, came to an understanding, acceptance and appreciation of the shortcomings of others.

Step Eight

We made a list of all persons we had harmed and accepted full responsibility in this life and the next for the consequences of our harmful actions.

Step Nine

We made direct amends to those we had harmed who would accept those amends, except when to do so would interfere with operation of another’s will, and accepted the loss in our lives of those who would not either accept amends, or make them to us.

Step Ten

We continued to consciously examine our motives for thought and action, and to seek positive change in ourselves through the application of internally embraced ethics, rather than externally imposed morality.

Step Eleven

We sought through personal and meaningful ritual, meditation and communion with nature to improve our conscious awareness of the Life Force inhabiting all things, seeking to realign ourselves with the Universal Current and resolving to Know, to Will, to Dare and to Keep Silent.

Step Twelve

Having had a spiritual awakening as the result of these steps, we shared our path with others when those paths coincided with our own, but realized that each must find their own way, their own path, and did not attempt to convince anyone of the suitability of our own path for any but ourselves.

Although this page is intended as a parody, it may also be taken seriously. Results in the program, however, will vary depending on how seriously you take yourself.

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Ode to the Cantos

Ah, to be Ezra Pound for a day; to compose an intensely complex and almost unintelligible series of poems fueled by an unwavering desire to be misunderstood, misinterpreted and misled.

Ah, for the Cantos, those bright shining things,
that late in my life, subtle madness may bring,
so I may excuse any ill-thought out words
and spend my late afternoons feeding the birds.
To fund an asylum, and check myself in
and thereby escape the world’s deafening din
I shall write until blinded by weak light and gin
and collect random royalties, raking it in.

To defraud all the poseurs, shall be my great feat,
and while they sit watching, their theses I’ll eat
with a helping of hand-me-down bastardized verse,
or maybe their own poems, which would be worse.
I’ll call myself Ezra, though not of that name
and herald the coming of poets of fame
whilst threading new words on the needle of time
and once in a great while, I may even rhyme.

A poet, a prophet, a seer of truth,
That often when dining requests their own booth,
and sups on the bitter, bold fruit of the vine
while reading reviews on this project of mine:
The rebirth of Poetry, strange and unheard
That strangles definitives with the absurd
and coughs forth, like hairballs, the torrent of words
from some unseen spring, and then retails the merde.

Of course, it’s just nonsense, as you and I know –
but never the prize went to simple and slow;
For art is a servant, and works for a price
(and as Dali proved, it oft can be sold twice).
So off to the writing desk, raven in hand,
I shall shuffle to sit, for no more I can stand;
And dear friends, remember, it could be much worse –
for the muses have landed and are parched with thirst.

A drink to the poet, although there’s no ale,
and hats off to Ezra, whose verse never pales;
For workers in prosody, un-sung or -cheered
Who struggle with meter, whose minds never clear
But seek for the vision inside of us all
And reach ever onward, and oft trip and fall;
Their hands on the empty space, eyes on the goal –
The illumination of mystery’s soul.

12 DEC 2002

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