Tag Archives: iniquity

Shhhh I’m Now A Terrorist (Apparently)

“True moderation in the defence of political liberties is indeed a difficult thing: pretending to want fair shares for all, every man raises himself by depressing his neighbour; our anxiety to avoid oppression leads us to practice it ourselves; the injustice we repel, we visit in turn upon others, as if there were no choice except either to do it or to suffer it.” Titus Livy

Be afraid,

Be very, VERY, very afraid,

For the revolution is upon us,

Upon US and WE are the enemy.

Friends,

Be no more my friends,

Deny you know me,

Deny our experiences,

And the times we have known,

For in the exercise of OUR now non existent rights,

Global,

I am a, shhhhhhhhhh,

Whisper,

Extremist;

A terrorist.

By virtue,

Imbued by parents who clearly loved me,

I fiercely ravished books,

Thousands,

And still do today,

Of every possible design,

Exploring thoughts,

Exploring my own as result,

Analyzing, accepting and refusing,

At the behest of rationality,

Ideas that I find genuine,

And dismissing though entertaining those,

That insult,

As Whitman would suggest,

My soul,

But shhhhh,

Whisper,

I am a,

Terrorist.

“War is peace.

Freedom is slavery.

Ignorance is strength.” Orwell

Our civilization,

So called,

Has declared war,

Globally,

Against religions for oil,

Against citizens for greed,

Against myself and others like me,

For exercising our minds,

Exploring facts in evidence,

Exposing them,

Expressing and disseminating them,

And for this noble cause,

According to the bastions of governmental influence,

My thoughts,

My words,

These words,

Make me a terrorist,

An extremist,

For bearing witness against the wickedness of an evil few,

That pit us against each other,

For the perpetuation of their iniquity,

AT YOUR EXPENSE,

And for this,

I am,

A terrorist?

“As man consists of body and soul, all our possessions and pursuits partake of the nature of one or the other. Thus personal beauty and great wealth, bodily strength, and all similar things, soon pass away; the noble achievements of the intellect are immortal like the soul itself. Physical advantages, and the material gifts of fortune, begin and end; all that comes into existence, perishes; all that grows, must one day decay. But the soul, incorruptible and eternal, is the ruler of mankind; it guides and controls everything, subject itself to no control. Wherefore we can but marvel the more at the unnatural conduct of those who abandon themselves to bodily pleasures and pass their time in riotous living and idleness, neglecting their intelligence–the best and noblest element in man’s nature–and letting it become dull through lack of effort; and that, too, when the mind is capable of so many different accomplishments that can win the highest distinction.” Sallust

As an extremist,

Well read and reasonably well written,

I posit that in this temporal realm,

I have a body that will pass,

While these words,

The ideas that they present,

Represent and in some cases resent,

Live on,

Non Omnis Moriar,

Each of you are as Sallust suggests,

Abandoning yourselves to sins of the flesh,

Gluttons feeding at the trough of your own demise,

Giving freely your bodies, minds and souls,

To a hapless few that centuries ago,

Created a system in which you are owned,

From the moment of your birth,

Until the moment of the execution of your last will,

And testament,

At which point they no longer own you,

Returned, as we all will be,

To the universe,

But you don’t need to believe me,

Although, for these words, governments now claim,

I am a terrorist,

An extremist because I QUESTION everything;

As for illustration you should wonder;

Why, on all official documents,

From governments,

Birth Certificate and Passport,

Are your names ONLY in Capital LETTERS,

I AM NOT SENDER D. MACLEAN;
I am Sender D. MacLean

And as I openly rebel,

Intellectually and with these words,

I am not owned,

As slave,

For education, knowledge and understanding have set me free,

Just as easily so too could thou be,

But be forewarned,

This makes you a terrorist,

An extremist,

For you stand diametrically opposed,

To plans laid out centuries ago,

Maintained, perpetuated and mobilized,

Through the states monopoly on several powers,

None greater than the use of force,

Physically through the Corporations of Police Departments the world over,

Revenue generators,

Through the industrialized militaries,

Revenue generators,

Who despite their oaths at will violate your supposed rights,

Financially,

Through death warrants and a monetary system,

That creates something from nothing,

In perpetuity,

Enslaving you quite visibly,

Through DEBT!

“They have plundered the world, stripping naked the land in their hunger… they are driven by greed, if their enemy be rich; by ambition, if poor… They ravage, they slaughter, they seize by false pretenses, and all of this they hail as the construction of empire. And when in their wake nothing remains but a desert, they call that peace.” Tacitus
Who are THEY?

Like any paperback detective,

Follow the money,

That facts in evidence are there for you to see,

Explore, analyze and reason,

With your minds,

Who THEY are,

But believe me, you are not one of THEM,

If you’re reading this right now,

But in your names,

And with your artificial currencies they are waging wars,

Of aggression, economic and military, psychological and spiritual,

To prolong this new form of empire and imperialism,

Colonialism all but in name,

And for these realities that I so deftly make you aware,

I am now to be branded a terrorist,

An extremist,

Because I can think,

And my friends, FORMER friends now as you should move from me,

Know this,

Tacitus was right,

Just look at the last one hundred years,

Unearth the facts in evidence,

And you will see the desertification of peace,

I assure you,

But be forewarned,

This makes you an extremist,

Thinking,

Makes you a terrorist,

And by doing so you will become and remain,

An enemy of the state.
“Nescire autem quid antequam natus sis acciderit, id est semper esse puerum. (To be ignorant of what occurred before you were born is to remain always a child.)” Marcus Tullius Cicero
As an extreme terrorist,

Because I think,

May I assure you thus,

I write from no moral authority,

As a former victimizer myself,

Instead I feel compelled ethically,

To disseminate thought,

Regardless of the outcome to me,

Not by telling you facts,

For facts are like statistics,

They can and are easily perverted in the halls of power,

For whatever nefarious means,

Instead,

From an informed and well read mental library,

I unleash a furious torment,

That should unleash in you an insatiable curiosity,

To THINK,

Critically,

To read, read and read some more,

For everything you think you know,

Every story told by your governments and institutions are falsehoods,

And your ignorance, YOUR ignorance reinforces their centuries old plans,

Do not blithely accept false narratives,

Presented to you by wicked people,

Of evil design,

Who own you,

Instead rationally arrive at your own conclusions,

But again,

I forewarn you,

These actions will make you an enemy of the state,

Perverts to a system that owns you,

A system that will defile or detain you,

Destroy or indebt you,

They will assail your work, your life, your bank accounts,

Your property and will take from you every supposed liberty you have,

At will, THEIRS,

Simply for thinking,

Because in opposition to their deceitful narrative,

You are the enemy,

An extremist,

A terrorist.
“In a republican nation, whose citizens are to be led by reason and persuasion and not by force, the art of reasoning becomes of first importance” Thomas Jefferson

Where is your reason?

What do you think?

I know of their persuasion,

I was a persuader,

I know of your acceptance of it,

Physical, spiritual and mental,

And you sit there,

Intellectually naked,

Refusing to see obviously apparent realities,

Trading your freedom for comfort,

Trading your thoughts for blood money,

As THEY, of whom you are NOT,

Are laughing because their systems are achieving,

By design,

What centuries ago was set in motion,

And by not thinking critically,

QUESTIONING EVERYTHING,

You give them ever more powers,

And soon,

Of this I am sure,

We will ALL be terrorists,

Silently stalked and hunted down,

At any mention of a perverted thought,

Against the machinations of power.

“In Company with Sallust, Cicero, Tacitus and Livy, you will learn Wisdom and Virtue. You will see them represented, with all the Charms which Language and Imagination can exhibit, and Vice and Folly painted in all their Deformity and Horror.

You will ever remember that all the End of study is to make you a good Man and a useful Citizen.—This will ever be the Sum total of the Advice of your affectionate Father,

John Adams”

By nature,

In my heart and soul I believe,

In the goodness of humanity,

However, I am acutely aware,

And have actively participated in enslavement,

Of you,

Using words like links in a chain,

That you will never see,

So long as you believe talking heads,

Consume products of spilt blood,

Engorge yourself with poisons,

Rather than devouring, blessedly,

KNOWLEDGE, which is POWER,

And which when used can SET YOU FREE.
But again,

You sit idly by,

As if the television, radio, movies or Facebook,

Can inform you passively,

They are tools of mass distraction,

To keep you from informing yourselves,

To delude you, divide and conquer you,

And believe me,

You have been conquered,

But through intellectual exercise you can and should free your mind,

In so doing,

Putting yourself directly in the cross hairs,

Becoming an extremist for speaking out,

Standing up and protesting peacefully,

As you are supposedly allowed to do,

But not for long,

And thus I wonder,

Will you read, analyze, examine and explore,

Or feast at the banquet table of lies that enslave you,

For the choice is yours?

“If voting made any difference they wouldn’t let us do it.” Mark Twain

Would they lock Twain up today?

Terrorist?

For social commentary necessary to expose,

The iniquity of man?

For in a way, they already have,

Having removed the word nigger from his works,

As THEY continue to white wash history,

Just as easily as Huck a fence,

And as a victimizer,

I admit my guilt,

In my knowledge that voting makes no difference,

For people like me,

Manipulated by vice,

Can rig any vote, any where, any time,

And yet, within the current paradigm,

If you don’t vote,

Which I beseech you to do,

You relegate yourself to arm chair quarterbacks,

Uninformed and deserving of what befalls you,

The real vote, the one that counts,

Is the artificial currency in your accounts and wallets,

Vote wisely and en masse and watch how quickly the tower of Babel,

Comes crumbling down,

But remember,

This opposition, active not passive,

Will brand you,

Just as I, an extremist,

A terrorist!

“The work of an intellectual is not to form the political will of others; it is, through the analyses he does in his own domains, to bring assumptions and things taken for granted again into question, to shake habits, ways of acting and thinking, to dispel the familiarity of the accepted, to take the measure of rules and institutions and, starting from that re-problemitisation (where he plays his specific role as intellectual) to take part in the formation of a political will (where he has his role to play as citizen).” Michel Foucault

I am Sender D. MacLean,

The third of eight children,

A man,

A lover,

A reader,

A writer,

A teacher,

A warrior poet,

As a now branded by government puppets extremist and terrorist,

Please I beg of you to understand,

The assumptions made by you are dangerous,

Not to me,

But for us all,

The collective known as humanity,

Which imperils every other species on this Spaceship Earth,

The rules, institutions, histories, established order,

They are all predicated on a contrived, well executed, funded and manipulating

Series of systems that seek to make idiots of you all,

And it’s working,

QUESTION EVERYTHING,

Take power back,

Rise up, PEACEFULLY,

United,

For an idea whose time has come,

Is more powerful than all the armies in the world.

“The first duty of a man is to think for himself” Jose Marti

It is a tragedy,

That I am become terrorist and extremist,

In exercising my first duty,

To think,

But I beg of you;

What would you do?
Will you perform your first duty?

Or will you sit absentmindedly by,

Until that coming moment,

I assure you,

When under cover of darkness,

Or even in the light of day,

They come knocking at your door?

That is, unless of course, you start THINKING!

Last week,

So called leaders of the world,

Puppets in their emperors finest clothes,

Gathered in Sodom,

The heart of financial terror,

Each presenting cases on the ills affecting our world,

Christian, Jew, Muslim and Atheists all,

At the pulpit of the New World Order,

Speaking vacuously,

Inciting hatred and promoting increased war,

Up to and including, yours truly,

Sender D. MacLean,

Extremist and terrorist,

WHY?

For thinking.

Scribo Ergo Sum!

“Once the government can demand of a publisher the names of the purchasers of his publications, the free press as we know it disappears. Then the spectre of a government agent will look over the shoulder of everyone who reads. The purchase of a book or pamphlet today may result in a subpoena tomorrow. Fear of criticism goes with every person into the bookstall. The subtle, imponderable pressures of the orthodox lay hold. Some will fear to read what is unpopular, what the powers-that-be dislike. When the light of publicity may reach any student, any teacher, inquiry will be discouraged. The books and pamphlets that are critical of the administration, that preach an unpopular policy in domestic or foreign affairs, that are in disrepute in the orthodox school of thought will be suspect and subject to investigation. The press and its readers will pay a heavy price in harassment. But that will be minor in comparison with the menace of the shadow which government will cast over literature that does not follow the dominant party line. If the lady from Toledo can be required to disclose what she read yesterday and what she will read tomorrow, fear will take the place of freedom in the libraries, book stores, and homes of the land. Through the harassment of hearings, investigations, reports, and subpoenas government will hold a club over speech and over the press.”

[United States v. Rumely, 345 U.S. 41 (1953)]” William O. Douglas

Base desires,

Primal; are actively used against you,

And YOU passively accept it,

Desire and Fear,

Desire to consume,

Fear of the invisible, artificially created boogey men,

Governments the world over are now using this club,

Branding those who would think,

Like me,

Terrorist or extremist,

But I am not those things,

I am a human being,

Deeply concerned,

Imbued with a mind that thinks,

One that encourages rationality and intellectuality,

I provoke and promote NO violence,

Although I do represent intellectual violence,

Whereby thoughts can destroy these machinations;

I encourage peaceful dissolution of the systems that own you,

But it is only YOU, YOU who hold the reins of that power.

Will you use it?
“Protest beyond the law is not a departure from democracy; it is absolutely essential to it.” Howard Zinn

SDM

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My Iniquity

 

The darkened sky,

A transformative canvas,

Black, as a starless night,

My soul heretofore rising and falling,

On seemingly blatant whims,

Manic yes,

Depressed no,

Setting me on an uncharted course,

Of history, the present and future yet revealed,

Empty, like a new found easel,

Palette stained with the blood on my hands,

And yours,

Decision made,

To have the most perfect child of the light,

Months of manic expression,

Blessed transformation of my soul,

Decision made,

Miserable repression of wretched sorrow,

In a feigned attempt to rid myself of my acceptance,

Of a choice, I dare not make,

Let alone accept,

But what choice could there be,

Cleaning the slate to record the singularity events,

We’re barely yet to understand,

You, moved on, with nary a thought for what we’ve done,

Me,

Trapped inside festering deliberations of the apparent lie I bought,

Selling my soul once more to an imagined devil,

Selling my soul for your comfort,

Placing your needs above my own,

As expected,

Demanded,

By the circumstances of fate,

Hmong Key,

Deleterious choices that were not mine,

But to which I am a party,

And will eternally be strained to accept,

The theorems of our own grandeur decorated,

Foolish grown children,

Playing with fire,

Whereby I alone am burned,

By the footsteps I will never hear,

The cries I can never answer,

The first words I will never hear,

Launching me into a vanguard of disheartened insurrection,

Perplexed, by how quickly in a moment, all can change,

And for what,

To what profit,

In the red,

Celebrated scourging accolades, unearned,

For once more I failed my child,

I failed my love,

Hmong Key, how did I fail you?

I did fail you, didn’t I?

Like an exam I could not understand,

Words like gibberish, heard but never agreed,

For the wide canyon between our desires,

Grand,

So easily unseated by the opinion of others,

Family or no,

The choice made, was yours and yours alone,

Though I can not fault you,

For you did what you had to do,

And I stood by,

Like a trainer ready to throw in the towel,

Constantly reimagining what could have been,

What should have been,

What most I appeal for to the Ether,

What most you chide as a non event in your life,

Evidenced by the ease in which you,

Tossing our child, our love and me sideways,

Castaway by immature reconciliations,

Serving neither you nor I,

Though surely a life sentence I am again to serve,

Parole from these manifestations an unlikely event,

Causation,

Dwelled on like a circadian rhythm without deliberation or meditation,

Though for all the days between that and this,

I have thought of little more,

Than ten fingers and ten toes,

Blue eyes and black hair,

Beyond the superficial, horizons seen,

Realizing that I have flown too close to the sun,

Clipped wings,

Shattered soul,

From the veracity pained before our mutual eyes,

The tree of life, yours, mine,

And our beautiful child,

Stolen from my grasp,

As I clutched to the hope that finally,

Here and now,

It was to be,

Or instead not to be,

As my vicious companion,

My black dog reminds me,

And despite the noblest of intentions,

I failed you,

Our child, unborn,

Aborted,

And myself,

Authentic pleas loudly expressed,

Though the Ether did not hear,

Would not hear,

You refused to hear,

For here we are,

Separated by time and space,

Forever connected by the love we made,

Conceiving an innocent victim,

To our foolishness,

From which our existence is unabated,

Though not that of our child,

As we slaughter you whole, one by one by one,

As I have time and again and again,

Lost that most dear to me,

Ten fingers,

Ten toes,

Woe be not me,

Yet distressingly I bemoan what could not be,

For reasons clear as mud,

Yet crystal in your demise,

My child,

Beautiful child,

Innocent,

Choking as you did on our avarice,

Only to breath into fresh suggestions, disregarding our malice,

As if you could,

As if you should,

Bent on allowing us to thrive and continue to survive,

Though you, innocent, could not live,

Despite the persistence of our choosing,

At your expense,

And that of our continued optimism,

For now restless I consider,

All you could have been,

And all that I stole from you,

Your first breath,

The beating of your beautiful heart,

The resplendence of your love born soul,

Regardless of my veneration of it,

Devotion to not just the idea of you,

But in fact, you,

I am now stuck in place,

Quicksand of emotional sinking,

Peculiar reproductions, of the time before,

And the time before that,

I guess the third time is not a charm,

But instead the noose I wear around my neck,

Waiting for the floor to collapse between my feet,

The only punishment suitable,

The bear trap crushing my soul,

One hurtful thought at a time

Evocative spectacle of menacing exquisiteness,

For truly you would have been exquisite,

In my mind’s eye you always will be,

What of your thoughts Hmong Key?

What do you see when you close your eyes at night?

Is the nightmare the same as for I?

Portentous, sinister and yet curiously inviting,

As three dimensions squeezed into two,

And for a time two became three,

We,

Mother,

Father and unborn child,

Aborted,

As the final countdown reached the hour of my defeat,

You knocked up, pregnancy a suit you wore well,

And me knocked out,

By the simplicity of your words,

Followed by actions,

Transiting mine own compromise once more,

Door closed on the haunted house of my trespasses,

Under pressure,

Pressures,

That I, myself, had ill conceived,

Though you, my child, were not,

Instead realized in a moment of blind passion,

That continues to consume me,

As we did you,

Foolish children we were,

Are,

Loosing our souls,

To gain what?

To what avail?

Loosing each other,

And a piece of ourselves to which we will never arise,

At least not I,

You traverse unanswered, buttress our intimidation of beings,

She and I,

Mother and Father,

Become judge, jury and executioner,

Executioner, once more,

For both she and I,

Loosing more than just you,

But a piece of us,

Conceptions of love revealed,

To be the false hope of prophetic wisdom,

Fanatical depictions of what was, could have been and now is,

Not,

By what right of universal law,

Those commands from the Ether,

What right,

Did we have?

Ultimately giving way to the thoughts of man,

Touchdown in mere minutes upon this empty void,

Whereby you suffered,

I suffer,

Depressed and manic,

Considering the role I played,

The life you gave,

That I allowed to fall victim,

Once more,

An act of love, true and necessary,

For her, not I,

But I was a passenger in this crime,

Necessarily so,

For as man, I have no right,

To deter the decisions of your mother,

Or any woman,

No excuse offered,

Rather the acknowledgement of my delinquency,

My crime, convicted,

For I did stand idly by,

Waiting for you to die,

Of my feebleness to prevent this,

Longing for you to see the light of day,

Rather sent to the pits of hell,

By me,

Those steps I long to hear,

Now are the nightmare that I experience,

Night and day,

Flamboyant bizarre dints,

My psyche dented,

From a child love invented,

And cowardice took away,

Too easily, though not for I,

Or I and I,

Broken fragments of a dream shattered,

Reflecting the reality of the decision made,

And for what?

A proper penchant of collective tête-à-tête,

Though no words could I say,

Other than I supported her in your demise,

That also represents a dying on mine own,

Awkward,

In stains, blood, shades, hues and tones, all red,

Millions of them,

Demolishing what I thought I was,

For what again I’m become,

Failing you,

Failing her,

Failing,

Period,

Deluded by hidden lies,

Behind a radiant smile,

And glowing eyes,

That now seem, at least a bit,

To have lost their glint,

Just as my own,

Brought to the forefront of perception, judicious,

Judge, jury and executioner,

Ignorance of universal law is no excuse,

For what we’ve done,

Restrained sway of the eye enclosed,

Millions of possibilities,

Only one outcome,

As I failed you,

My child,

Beautiful boy or girl,

The language of my greatest burden,

Playing God,

While He/She/It/ They laugh,

At our imprudence,

Suffering now my crime of omission,

In a galaxy confined in the brain, rightly so grey,

For in this decision there was no black nor white,

Only grey,

The central question, importance and measure of our lives,

Our desire born love child,

Delicate haunting arms outstretched,

But to no avail,

You begged to be assumed, moved, valued,

Though no value did you have for she,

Seemingly only me,

As our tree of life is evermore death,

Yours,

Amplified in bewildering events,

One pill at a time,

Followed by the source of life,

Water,

Which again found the path of least resistance,

And I was held captive,

In symbolic penitentiary and isolation,

Our intention understood,

But not accepted,

Rippling loops artifact humiliating me once more,

Gushing tears at the banality of this man,

This consecrated gift, ours,

You,

Raped,

Without recourse or further consideration,

How can one be so cold,

Decision made, no explanation and instead the running of the bulls,

Whereby the Key,

In fact, once more became the lock,

That holds me prisoner,

Shackled by the very thought of you,

And what I have done,

Once more,

Ever more,

It was me,

It was she,

And the empty vagaries of an apology,

Falls upon her deaf ears,

And my wounded heart and soul,

Forced solitude to engage my darkest hour,

As the hour of your birth approaches,

Stolen from you,

Stolen from me,

I am failed,

I am convict,

Guilty,

Of crimes against humanity,

Against you,

My unborn child,

Cast aside,

Aborted,

And thus my torture ensues,

Considering the iniquity of man,

My own,

Iniquity,

 

I am,

 

Sorry!

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WE are the CHILDREN!

We are the children,
We need not know of the iniquity of the past,
Save that We,
The children,
Will learn and grow,
So that we may right the wrongs that were handed to us,
An intergenerational tyranny that is as old as time itself.

We are the children,
Africans, Asians, North Americans, South Americans and Europeans,
Those hold on our shoulders a weight,
That even Atlas himself could not withstand,
With no alternative,
You,
Our parents,
Adults the world over,
Have failed us,
In that you teach us to be ‘good children,’
And yet, your daily actions,
Are in direct contravention to what you preach,
We’re curious,
Why?

We are the children,
That need to find and develop,
Green technologies,
Settle age old boundary disputes in an age when the world as a whole,
Is more important than a sliver of land,
Yet you fight over it,
You kill and maim and destroy,
Thus, we ask you,
What kind of example are you setting?

We are the children,
Those come together to play,
Leaving behind the folly of race,
For we all are one,
We are a team,
The team,
That will finally put to rest,
The many issues that you’ve left for us,
And we accept your challenge,
Yet bemoan that when you could have acted differently,
We were and are your answer.

We are the children,
Smiling all,
Come together through this ball,
A beautiful football,
(Soccer for you in North America),
To play this game,
That is a metaphor for the coming challenges,
As strikers, keepers, mid fieldsman and defense,
Will rise to meet the coming day,
Heralding a new horizon,
Where peace is not only possible but a reality,
Where environmental holocaust is averted,
Where what makes us different is not nearly as strong,
As what unites us,
And united,
We children say unto,
Watch out,
For our day is coming,
And thus,
So too is the new horizon…

Though we do ask of you,
Don’t mess this world up so bad,
That we can’t mark a new day,
And we entreat you,
To embrace your inner child,
For in that innocence,
You’ll make our job,
That much easier…

We are the children,
Your children,
Begging of you,
A chance,
For a better tomorrow.

We are a force,
And soon we will be reckoned with,

We are YOUR children!

SDM

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I AM my Brother’s Keeper

“The path of the righteous man is beset on all sides by the iniquities of the selfish and the tyranny of evil men. Blessed is he, who in the name of charity and good will, shepherds the weak through the valley of darkness, for he is truly his brother’s keeper and the finder of lost children. And I will strike down upon thee with great vengeance and furious anger those who would attempt to poison and destroy my brothers. And you will know my name is the Lord when I lay my vengeance upon thee. “

The iniquity and selfish,
Rise to my occasion,
Striking down I and I and I,
The tyranny of evil alive and well in my mind,
A furious intellectual maelstrom,
A wicked Oz like tornado,
That blows me far from here,
To a place where even the blessed,
Seem like the bastard children,
Of Satan himself,
Topsy turvy,
Flipped upside down and right side up again,
Charity,
Sweet,
Like Charlie at a dance party,
Perhaps the fugue.

Selfless and without accord,
To my own distractions,
I am my brothers’ keeper,
I am my brother’s keeper,
I am my brothers’ keeper,
I am my brother’s keeper,
As well as my sisters,
All of us lost children,
Like Annie,
Or The Little Prince,
Stricken at every step,
Beset by adverse tragedy,
Black comedy,
Dysfunctional to a T.
A sparrow guides the path,
To the righteous,
Can there be any righteous,
For we are,
As a species,
Doomed to iniquity,
Slaughtered by our own arrogance,
Sheltered by our own narcissism,
(stop to check my reflection)
Damn I look good,
As the sparrow chirps as it did for Uncle Remus,
Zip A Dee Do Dah,
Have I really become a caricature of myself,
I and I and I,
Longing for the return of the Oracle,
Delphi beckons,
The sparrow is leading me back home,
To the sage like wonder,
Of a bygone era.

Am I not the bubbly interpretation,
That you desire,
My fundamental lack of unicorns and rainbows upsets you,
Imagine my fortunes as beset by this endless struggle,
Screw unicorns,
Give me peace,
Damn rainbows,
Give me the pot of gold,
That I might,
In the name of the righteous,
Right the iniquities that destroy the fabric of our civilization,

(merely 80 Billion a Year for the next 10 years)
Marbled terraces,
Corner offices,
Consumerism,
I would feed you,
Bathe you,
Clothe you,
Shelter you,
That you may know virtue instead of vice,
Promise instead of failure,
Hope instead of fear,
May the sparrow and I guide you?

All is not lost I assure you,
Do you feel assured,
Shall I lick your wounds,
While you contemplate mine,
I am willing,
I and I, ready and able,
I and I and I will do it,
If that is what you require,
I will lap you up,
I will swim in your river of tears,
Be Atlas and I will not shrug,
For your pain is my pain,
Your sorrow my sorrow,
Your joy is yours alone,
So I and I and I,
Bury your discontent,
With sweet memories of that first childhood ice cream,
All thirty one flavours,
Then surely we will find our way,
Won’t we?
Will you be my escort?
Will you be my guide?
Shall you let me guide you?
Whilst thou embrace me as Brother/Father/Uncle/
LOVER,
Wouldn’t that be nice?

I am humanities umbrella,
Sheltering you from the hell fire,
That surely awaits,
Those who shall be stricken,
By the vengeance of the Lord…
(He/She/It or They)

SDM

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“We Choose To Go To The Moon…”

 

Now I’m no expert,
Though I am alive,
(Which means I, like you, have a say)
And sentient,
Thinking consistently,
(Possibly how I got to here?)
About abstract and the concrete,
Intuiting the many ways that this world,
Could be greater for all,
Concerned with why,
In this technologically advanced world,
We can still leave people behind,
Not just a few,
But billions,
We,
Yes WE,
Allow them to toil and struggle,
For the most basic of necessities,
WE,
Allow them to exist on less than a dollar a day,
WE,
Deny them access to education,
Through loaded loans with ridiculous concessions,
Whereby debtor nations become indentured servants,
To US, theft dressed up as foreign aid,
WE,
Continue to allow infant mortality rates to climb,
Despite the obvious things that we can do,
To improve maternal health,
WE,
Deny those who need it most,
Access to education, medicine and food,
Though WE do pay lip service,
Through paltry sums earmarked on invisible budgets,
And through donations to NGO’s,
Not enough,
Not enough.

Now I’m no expert,
But from where I sit,
(Which I assure you,
I am neither a Monday Morning Quarterback
nor a Back Seat Driver)
I can point out the iniquities,
Perpetrated against the poorest of the poor,
The bottom of the pyramid,
Denied hope,
Justice,
A living,
While you and I drive cars that are too big,
Live in homes that reek of excess,
Throw away hundreds of pounds of food each year,
Buy five-dollar coffees’,
Fight to get the latest gadgets,
Take vacations in places where those poorest we can’t see,
Hidden behind the big fence and the machine gun toting guard,
Through our actions,
WE,
Are guilty,
WE,
Allow them to suffer,
WE,
Perpetrate the iniquity against them,
WE,
Can effect change,
But choose not to,
So from where I sit,
Though I am no expert I do believe,
That we are guilty of the greatest crime in history,
In not helping where we could.

Now I’m no expert,
(Though I do know a thing or two)
We can effect change simply,
By demanding better from our so called leaders,
I say so called, because our leaders,
Are concerned with Military spending and tax cuts for the richest,
All cuts for the rich should be repealed, (don’t ya think?)
Subsidies for billion dollar corporations, taken away,
Forget Wall Street,
What about Main Street?
While people right here are dying of starvation,
Robbed of their dignity,
Mowed down just as effectively as if bullets from an M-16,
By foreclosures’ that were really theft dressed up as mortgages,
The culpability of our leaders, and by proxy we,
Is so readily apparent,
Is so obviously true,
Yet we do nothing,
Which for me,
Is the greatest crime,
We could stand up and give endorsement,
Only to those that will reign in out of control budget deficits,
Stop making cuts to health, housing and education,
Ridiculously named ‘austerity,’
What about austerity for the rich?

Unchain foreign aid,
Those who will shirk convention and go against the status quo,
After all,
From where I sit,
Isn’t that the very definition of leader?
Someone as vanguard, intrepid, at the cutting edge,
Of a paradigm shift that surely is upon us,
WE are guilty,
WE, are responsible,
WE, have to stand up,
Reclaim the fort and proclaim,
That the change is gonna come,
Because WE,
The people have finally said,
Enough,
Of people dying of starvation or drought,
Worse still by tyrants that we gave rise and legitimacy too,
Enough of children and mothers dying,
Enough of Rape being used as a weapon of war,
Enough of Machetes being used to lop off hands or heads,
Enough of this lack of education,
Enough of a lack of water, housing, food and clothing,
Enough of joblessness,
Enough raping the planet for short term ill gotten gain,
Enough deregulation.

Now I’m no expert,
But if the industrialized world,
G8 or G20 elected leaders would hold fast and true,
As well as the BRIC,
To these ideals, notions and ideas,
It would take less than one generation,
And far less than is currently being spent,
To effect the change we’ve paid lip service to since time immemorial,
I would stand up,
I would even once more work for someone,
That held these things are necessary not luxury.

“We choose to go to the moon. We choose to go to the moon in this decade and do the other things, not because they are easy, but because they are hard, because that goal will serve to organize and measure the best of our energies and skills, because that challenge is one that we are willing to accept, one we are unwilling to postpone, and one which we intend to win, and the others, too. “ JFK

SDM

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