I Suffer the Trumpet
Every day I
suffer the Trumpet.
Mind and eye recoil at the garish sight
of an incoming, twisted, bloated blight.
Each and every day, I curse the strutting popinjay,
Mind and eye recoil at the garish sight
of an incoming, twisted, bloated blight.
Each and every day, I curse the strutting popinjay,
presuming to pose astride The Republic.
Leaving all feeling wholly and totally unclean.
Nearly unholy.
Nearly unholy.
My
affirmation then, (Though not salvation,
for those who place proof before faith
are disqualified from entry into celestial kingdoms
by virtue of reason), must be elsewhere.
for those who place proof before faith
are disqualified from entry into celestial kingdoms
by virtue of reason), must be elsewhere.
Away from savagery pirouette.
Careen from vulgar calls, for barbed walls
Careen from vulgar calls, for barbed walls
carried past rushing rivers, kiting beyond hissing trees
gliding over the piercing thistle of thorns ...Until we arrive. Here.
Perceiving artful brush strokes of masters,
Leafing through hallowed Leaves of Grass,
Whirling within Eliot's worlds within words,
surrounded by the keening wail of
A Love Supreme is all that is heard,
no need to speak another word.
Men! Women! children! All!
Even as we remain vigilant on the ramparts,
Let us take our stroll upon the promenade.
Drawing our curtains closed, shut tight,
Let us take our stroll upon the promenade.
Drawing our curtains closed, shut tight,
shaded from the bullying madness and HOWL!
Brush aside these cruel soul trying times.
As the noxious odor of mendacity subsides,
From the shadows the cat rises from the shadows into the light
From the shadows the cat rises from the shadows into the light
Arriving where veracity never dies.
Our enticement, enchantment and endowment
Our enticement, enchantment and endowment
intact and sanctified as our gift of wonder.
Brush aside these cruel soul trying times.
It is not golden empires for which we strive,
Nor for vainglory, for we prepare far
Beyond the reach of the Gilded Palace
within where dissent is turned aside,
within where dissent is turned aside,
finding what is still and kind inside,
Reminding all as each night falls
where calm and wisdom resides.
HL January 12, 2017
NOTE: I continue struggling to find the proper balance between opposing The Thug Who Would Be King and not allowing him to infect my life and pursuit of happiness. (I suspect my liberty is in his power now more so than my own). I do not want to devote a large portion of every day crafting and hurling insults, each intended to wound more deeply than the one before. These are exercises in cruelty that I fear will diminish me. (It's sure as shit playing havoc with my sense of humor and I swear more than I used to). But I dare not abandon vigilance and am duty bound, compelled even, to oppose this monstrosity with every tool at my command. I guess sometimes, I just have to step away, y'know? I did so last evening. I turned to the books and music that please me most and, while I was away and in contemplation, scribbled this little ditty. Like most of my lyrical excursions, I got bored playing word scramble before it was quite finished so ...it ends where it ends. Like, whatever, y'know? I hope you like it. The search for balance goes on - with a loathing curse directed at the Trump Who Made It So.
HLJanuary 13, 2017
HL January 12, 2017
NOTE: I continue struggling to find the proper balance between opposing The Thug Who Would Be King and not allowing him to infect my life and pursuit of happiness. (I suspect my liberty is in his power now more so than my own). I do not want to devote a large portion of every day crafting and hurling insults, each intended to wound more deeply than the one before. These are exercises in cruelty that I fear will diminish me. (It's sure as shit playing havoc with my sense of humor and I swear more than I used to). But I dare not abandon vigilance and am duty bound, compelled even, to oppose this monstrosity with every tool at my command. I guess sometimes, I just have to step away, y'know? I did so last evening. I turned to the books and music that please me most and, while I was away and in contemplation, scribbled this little ditty. Like most of my lyrical excursions, I got bored playing word scramble before it was quite finished so ...it ends where it ends. Like, whatever, y'know? I hope you like it. The search for balance goes on - with a loathing curse directed at the Trump Who Made It So.
HLJanuary 13, 2017
3 comments:
Genius!! And a healthy break is needed in these times. We do what we can. What we ca't do we have to let it go or it will "fester like a sore".
Lea
Genius!! And a healthy break is needed in these times. We do what we can. What we ca't do we have to let it go or it will "fester like a sore".
Lea
Genius!! We do what we can. What we can't do let it go. A healing break is necessary in these times. Lea
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