The pusher-man pronounces sentence from the high and lofty elite gates purchased on the backs of the so-called "lower classes." After all, in their minds we are all too stupid to do the right things for ourselves, The oligarchs must save us from ourselves. Or rather, save themselves from us. They attend galas and birthday parties without protection, except from us. Do we suppose that the folks in those gated communities of wealth and power -- the glitzy diva-gods and goddesses are ascended avatars & more virtuous than the deplorable stupids that grovel on the ghetto middle-earth streets? Are they correct? When Captain Cook discovered the Big Island of Hawaii, the Polynesians assumed he was a god. They brought him treasures and worshiped him until they saw the Captain eat a banana which caused them to whisper among themselves because "the gods don't eat bananas." X marks the spot near Kona where Cook died a very human death.
Category Archives: Poetry
What shall it avail you if you go viral all over the world but losing self-respect? What value is a popularity on social media platforms that only permit the opinion of a preconceived algorithmic gatekeeper? Does it make sense that everyone must fall in, marching in lockstep, or else be black-balled as an enemy of an Orwellian consensus? Now is the season for a new brand of lyric to flame, bite, and name regardless of fame.
Ambrosia, Pink Lady, and Honey Crisp flaunt ruby as harvest apples appear. Stacked ears of corn on the cob await shucking, boiling, salt & butter, then the chattering-smile of front teeth. Cleaning the cob a row at a time will probably need a toothpick or a fingernail. When the tooth fairy got my front teeth at the age of six, my mom would cut the corn from the cob with a sharp knife. She called them boxcars because the strips of kernels resembled a train. Mom has been gone for decades, but her loving nearness is as fresh as this late summer's end.
Our administration left the dogs behind, persons with more honor than they. Bomb-sniffing hero-dogs who defended the lives of many of our service people - just abandoned there--- with a regime known to curse dogs religiously. We've lost more than the 13 by the careless ill-advised act of our feckless leaders. I haven't told Murph yet because I know she'll want to gnaw a glute.
It's my body, and I'll die if I want to. Smoking and drinking have not yet been outlawed though my coughing neighbor blows three packs a day & stresses everyone's insurance premiums and an inefficient health care system. Obesity-related illnesses are at a pandemic proportion all based on people being allowed to make their own sugary choices. Yet, authorities try to mandate forcibly on everyone an experimental concoction that hasn't had nearly enough trials to be vetted appropriately. Why? Because of fear-mongering $ interests which go far beyond a concern for public safety. The nanny-state wants to sterilize you from having any choice but theirs. After all, Bill wants to see a reduction of the human population to a much more manageable number - like a billion, while refugees are flooding the borders who are being covertly bused into our cities without being vaccinated or even tested. (by the very entities blazoning the pandemic panic). Globalism is now on full display, creating a problem then mandating itself as the savior of the world.
Murph and me watch the squirrels during our morning sit-down on the porch. There is a mixed population of grays and blacks, with chipmunks staying to themselves. Each clan largely stays close to its own fur. The grays are quite hierarchical and just chose another chief to preside over rodent relations, becoming an absolute nutter. Tho whole rodent population can quickly see how badly the grays are acting under senile leadership. The blacks won't even shake their tails at them anymore. The crows laugh from the trees at them all because the squirrel drama gives the crows greater dominance over the whole backyard.
As Brick said, "Mendacity is a system that we live in." How true now with the cyber augmentations that can compound this system infinitely? He suggested two answers: The drink and death. Both are solutions for cowardice. How about asking better questions? How about the role of skepticism? How about walking right up to the monstrous mendacious system and staring it down armed with the integrity of a child. A motorcycle gang member walked into a corner store. He was known as a bully and a brute. A 5-year-old girl noticed him, walked up to him and said, "May I sing you a song?" The chain-wearing Hell's Angel grunted, so the little girl grinned & began: "Jesus loves me this I know for the Bible tells me so..." The colossal fellow melted as his tears flowed. The little girl smiled and touched his hand.
Big business paid off scientists who skewed data about harmful substances. Remember when people were told cigarettes are safe? Look backwards 60 years. It took several decades to expose the tobacco magnates who funded scientists to support their carcinogenic product. Consider also the lie that dietary fat is more obesigenic than refined sugar and carbohydrate. This infernal lie is still passed off by those who call themselves experts but refuse to take the time to dig deeper, still clinging to the convenient dogma they inherited. Meanwhile, 4 in 10 are now obese with 75% of the population being insulin resistance with prediabetes and a fatty liver - this is happening in supposedly the most developed country in the world. Diabetes is a far more pandemic than covid, yet old lies still find die-hard adherents among the willfully ignorant pseudo-scientific community who spike the science. Woke yet?
Our cat was named Kelly. She was a tortoiseshell outdoor cat of the '60s who lived on eight acres of an untamed rural homestead. She was as wild as her environment. She regularly fought with dogs, cats, and other vermin. At about 14 years of age, she lost an eye. She was an old warrior that was hard to look at. During her last years, her royal leadership over her subjects seemed to wane. She rested during the days basking in the sun, waiting for her final call. One day, a cadre of chipmunks surrounded her bedraggled reclining body. She seemed to struggle just to breathe. I felt sorry for her as I saw the chippies taunt and mock dancing around her spent frame. I came back later. Kelly's cheeks were full, and a sad tail-less victim was trapped under one clawed paw. The remaining eye squinted a feline smile at my naivety.
Most squirrels are black where we live. Today, while gallivanting with Murph, one clambered up a maple tree ahead of us. It was jet-black sporting snow-white back feet. Its back paws resembled tennis shoes. It knows it is dope by the jauntiness with which it kicked up its heels. I imagine the other black squirrels have made this one a celebrity of sorts. The pit bull wasn't impressed and wanted it for breakfast.