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Tag: resistance

No Substitute for Progress: qasida

Salutations and our greeting.
Welcome to this special meeting.
As you know, our time is fleeting,
so please take your assigned seating.

We control a heart that’s beating.
Ever forward, no retreating.
Never mind the lambs, their bleating
will grow softer. They’re just tweeting.

Taste the fatted calf we’re eating,
as this project nears completing,
raised free-range, on grain, no cheating,
farm-to-table, heart still beating.

All the numbers say we’re beating
anyone who tried competing.
We’re as sound as central heating.
Our position is concreting.

Still, this message bears repeating:
going soft is self-defeating.
Never mind the weak entreating
you for mercy in defeating.

This concludes our special meeting.
Please return your hood and sheeting.
The exit survey you’re completing
keeps our cause from obsoleting.

22 Jun 2025

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With a Whisper: rhopalic verse

A little whispering, un-hearable
by any listening un-awakened,
can convey purposeful information.

It appears trivial, unimportant,
to someone expecting revelation,
but supports meaningful activity.

On hearing transmitted encouragement,
the human animal transmogrifies.
It becomes completely integrated.

20 Jun 2025

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The Edge of War: Keatsian (English) ode

Let fly the cannonballs and fiery stuff,
release the fire arrows in the night!
They don’t already know it, but enough
is more than quite enough. It’s time to fight.
What good is mere diplomacy and talk,
when no one listens or misunderstands?
There is no point in waiting any more.
Our greatest weapons will leave them in shock.
When it comes right down to it, no one can
resist the subtle serpent’s song of war.

What good is it, resisting such a force?
It gathers in momentum by the day,
and casts aside all reason. Why? Of course,
because some people love to hear drums play,
and safely, from the hilltops, watch the scene
where lesser men and boys succumb and die,
and count it victory when money’s made.
What does it matter, winning? What’s it mean?
Who knows what is the truth, and what’s a lie,
when the glory and the trumpets fade?

Let loose the hounds of hell, and let them run,
among the poor and hungry fools who fight.
The battle ends before the war’s begun,
a pre-decided case of right and might.
Imagine this scenario’s a test,
a way for culling ignorance from bliss,
to see who gets it, or nothing instead.
What good is knowing who knows what is best,
or wanting to believe the world wants this?
There are no heroes there among the dead.

17 Jun 2025

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Wake Up: gwawdonyn hir

Wake up! The dawn is slowly creeping
behind the darkness. Just stop sleeping.
Dry those nightmare tears; end your weeping,
else your other dreams worth keeping
lose momentum and never see the light.
Right now is the only time to fight.
Please heed your urgent alarm’s beeping.

Wake up! There is not much time to lose.
You are defined by the path you choose,
not how you echo the world’s sad news
or crumble with each impact or bruise.
With every breath you must either stand or fall,
and only now exists for us all.
There is no option for you to snooze.

04 Jun 2025

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The New Almost Normal

Almost, nearly, next to, practically, virtually, pretty much, just about, perfect. Or talented. Or holy. Compassionate, professional, persuasive, convincing, genius, helpful, useful, good enough, or just enough. And that’s on the plus side, Imagine yourself as the absolute antithesis: almost unbearably, dispassionately, sadistically, cruelly, mischievously and maybe also horribly perfect. Or wealthy. Or powerful. That’s what the dream of absolute power sells you. That if you had enough power, you could be perfect. Like that little girl in the story by Saki, you could be “horribly good.”

But how does that work out? Once you’re “almost” something, you stand at the edge of a chasm so vast and endless that you are damned, like Zeno, to forever advance from your position at 99% to a full 100% in half-lengths that never get you any closer than half way there with each step.

Because perfect is a pipe dream. Just like forever. Or never, for that matter. These are ideas that convince you to chase your tail, sell yourself into wage slavery, cut off your nose to spite your face, or surrender yourself to an unseen, unverifiable, uncommunicative, and otherwise unpleasant dictator you created to relieve yourself of personal responsibility for why you live and die.

Think of it this way: we’re almost ready.

To start. To evolve. To grow. To prosper. To destroy. To decay. To diminish. To die.

That’s a lot of chasm to cross. And not a lot of time to get there, considering the only time we have is almost gone, nearly wasted, and just about up.

On the other hand, that last one percent is not as far as it looks. Objects in the mirror can sometimes be closer than they appear.

23 May 2025

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Straighten the Story: cyrch a chwta

Let me get this story straight:
do not act now, sit and wait
for the right hour, while the hate
in shadows there at the gate
shows no signs it will abate?
Why let darkness be our fate,
when we could stand up and fight
using light to save the state?

Tell me one more time, just why
it makes sense to bide our time,
not raising a hue and cry
while our big dreams start to die
engulfed by a horrid lie
that hope is dead? We can try,
or deserve some of the blame,
the shame, if we just comply.

09 MAY 2025

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I Woke From What: cyhydedd naw ban

I woke from what the world is wanting:
a dream in which illusion, haunting,
makes promises it is not keeping
and hides its face when I am weeping.

With my eyes closed, my thinking slower,
I’m not immune to that great power
that would enslave me to its choices –
a sleeping puppet, meek and voiceless.

We must arise from that dreaming state;
Wake up now! The hour is growing late!
Before the twilight’s shadows creep in
to keep us docile, weak, and sleeping.

I wake and see the world is dying,
so I must act through living, trying
to change the small things I can, and must,
before this time is gone, and I am dust.

08 MAY 2025

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