Benighted Nations

UnitedNotions

“Humankind: be kind – be One!
I am appalled at what’s been done.
Benign intentions must restrain us.
Hate should never entertain us.”

The toad comedian Ban Ki-MoonBankyMoon
croaked a pitiful One-World tune
while gunmen paused, reloaded, armed
checked that they had no comrades harmed –
and then prepared for further battle
against the clueless kuffar cattle.

Ban stood upright to intervene;
surveyed the terrorific scene…
muezzins chanted, mullahs chuckled
swords were sharpened, bomb-vests buckled.
Dhimmi dim-wits went on shopping.
(Are heads in sand less prone to chopping ?)

Hesitating, he cleared his throat,
raised his pitch by a quarter note:
“These acts are most undemocratic
We are saddened; yet emphatic – “

(no one heard his discourse further
drowned by the sound of massive murder…)

So let’s consider what is meant
by rolling heads and bodies splattered…
time for Truth to represent
(as if such inconvenience mattered…)

Such events disturb our sleep
and force us to compose, on waking,
lullabies for drowsy sheep
as predators are overtaking.

Flags of doom and holy slaughter,
sons of Ishmael filled with rage
are coming for your wife and daughter
and yourself. You turn the page.

Rising now to storm your tower
(7th century back to bite you),
Allah brings satanic power
to convert you or to smite you.

Dimwit dhimmis would have us think
such rage is due to unemployment;
pure confusion on the brink
of funding further troop deployment.

Meanwhile, mullahs sip their tea
while tenured academics prattle
watching MSNBC
as soldiers die in battle.

Autonomy in Catatonia

A DELETED TEXT IN 3 MOVEMENTS:

I.
surfeited
fractured syllabub i babble
cyber-clot the glutted universal drain
awakening ruined dreamscapes
drenched in pre-verbal rain i run
to archive linguists
archaeology inundates desire
no caps
no guns
cowboys indianed
in the wounded dawn matinee
the double-featured matriarch
the humble daily heresy
unmanifest density

II.
fêted/fetid
dog-star of your corpse breath
hound tooth on hag flank
reveling ruined symmetries
mythologize nothing less than true
all parties ended
distilled the useless pistil
of prayer

III.
unsought arcana
sister-shroud immaculate
rough bolt-bearer of Lydian cloth
shoplifted theft of history
who wove you
into our self-deception
warped mother
of the weft

[just joking tee hee hee – I wanted to try my hand at writing some truly SUCKY modernistic free verse.  The kind that we sometimes notice in the margins of famous reviews and that almost (almost) make us hate poetry. It took me 25 minutes.Thank the Lord, real poetry eventually came to my rescue and restored the wonder of the word again. No thanks to Modernism…]

The Selection of Sex and Descent in Relation to Man

fallenmias

…in every visible character man differs less from the higher apes,
than these do from the lower members of the same order of Primates.

Charles Darwin, 1871

The Other claims descent from apes
then acts like a violent monkey.
It pillages, it loots and rapes
performing as Satan’s flunkey.

Its actions bear the mark of Cain;
brandishing cameras, smashing things.
We feel its proto-human pain
yet dread the urban woe it brings.

It tries to justify, with words
its primal carnage, childish rage.
With anthropoid designs deferred
it struts the Darwinian stage.

The higher primate government
rewards them well in ripe bananas
for wrecking their environment
(jungle as well as savannas).

Their mate selection (naturally):
a semi-simian solution:
intercoursing sexually,
to hasten their evolution.

The wombs enlarge – they drop their young
then text their friends while getting high.
They swing from tree-tops, fling their dung –
while down below the humans sigh.

 

Painting: Fallen Mias, 2000. Walton Ford (b. 1960)
Watercolor, gouache, ink and pencil on paper, 60 ½” x 119 ¾ ”
New Britain Museum of American Art, New Britain, CT

Santería

Ogun owed Oxun for the fee he paid
to divorce Yemayá in the watery deep.
Babalu Aye‘s messenger delayed
(no rum in the bargain – price too steep)
until San Martín, divine caballero
deceived the third wife of el Indio Guerrero.

(Obatala‘s beats got lost in transit
the rhythm robbed by macumba-bandit.)

Eleguá cleared paths for He Who Opens Pores.
Black roosters smoked puros at midnight. Outdoors,
Santa Muerte was asked to turn down the noise
so Nana Buluku could get some sleep.

As she gathered Ashé, reduced to a heap
of Yoruba fool’s gold anointed with blood
Oduduwa pretended he understood;
but his mother-in-law knew he never would
until Olódùmarè returned from the feast
having sacrificed roosters while facing east.

The santero drew me a pictogram
to protect me from forces my poem conjured
but the blood of a sacrificed perfect lamb
affords more protection, I knew. He wondered.

dessin vaudou 1