June 30, 2009 :

I sit in one of the dives At Jone's Beach Uncertain and Celebratory As the clever hopes lift me above The low dishonest decade: Waves of empathy and compassion Circulate over the brilliant And darkened sandboxes of the earth, Obsessing over private lives; The unmentionable gossip of death Offends the June night. Accurate court-reporting can Unearth the whole, bloody, offense From Luther until now--Post-haste!-- That has driven a culture mad, Finding Lindsey Lohan lacking, What beauties imago made A psychopathic god: I and a million Iraqis know What all schoolchildren learn, Those to whom evil is done Do evil in return. However, those Millions were occupied. Exiled George knew All that a whisper can say About Democracy And what Good People do. The withering rubbish they spout To an all-too silent grave; Analyzed, by Generations of Boomers The enlightenment driven away, The habit-forming Vonnegut, Along with a Mismanagement of the Budget: We must suffer them In other more stately guises Again. Into this Swiss-like air Where blind skyscrapers reach Their full height to proclaim The strength of Collective Soul, Each wordsmith pours their vain Competitive excuse: But who can live for long In an Cabana's dream; Out of the mirror they stare, With Michael Jackson faces And the international String Quartet, bids us all farewell! Faces along the bar Cling to their sweaty pints: The lights must be lit on the porch, The music must speak for them All, All the tongue-waggers conspire To make this Arsenal-punter's abode Assume The furniture of home; Lest we should see where we stand, Lost in a hallowed wood, Children dreaming, Soft dreams of armies at Night Who've never been coddled or shunned. The militant clowns Important Persons shout Is not so crude as our wish: What mad Newman wrote About Alfred Is true of the satiric heart; so, What me worry?, aye, For the error bred in the bone Of each woman and each man who Craves marriage, along with Gay People have, Not universal love But to be loved as you would a Divorce Lawyer. From the Conservative Jive Into the eternal life The dense commuters come, (Paying the bitched fare-hike) Repeating their morning vow; 'I will be true to the conductor, I'll concentrate more upon savings,' And helpless governors wake To resume their Sanford-like games: Who can release them now, Who can reach them when they're 6,ooo friggin' Miles away! Who can speak for these idiots!!!!!? All I have is a voice And, blessed is this 'Cause I'm losing it. The romantic lie upon beach towels, Naked. Of the sensual man-in-the-grey-felt-hat, And the lie of Atlas Whose statues grope the breasts of Megan Fox: There is no such thing as the next Day, And no one exists on a pill-box; Hunger allows tummy-rumbles To the People or the Coppers; We must love one another or Fly!. Defenseless under the sunscreen Our world in stupor lies; Yet, quite speckled, everywhere, Ironic points of confusion Flash out wherever TMZ Exchange their messages: May I, composed like them Of Eros and Erections, Beleaguered by the same Newer words and desperate prose, Show an affirming flame. [thanks, Auden] x,William H. Balzac. 6/30/09