A Love Supreme

John William Coltrane (23 September 1926 - 17 July 1967)

John William Coltrane (23 September 1926 – 17 July 1967)

A Love Supreme

Coltrane is the angel God called upon
to blow the universe down its swingingest groove.
Music is the resonance of eternity in the transience of the moment.
But, to feel the living pulse of that essence —
holding all —
you have to hear the heart music —
the breath of God itself —
like Bach, or Mozart, or Beethoven,
and yes, yes,
that earnest, pregnant resonance of living air —
Coltrane.
He is like a pool with a buried sun —
on diving deeper its clarity expands.
Explanation is deviation,
the embodiment is acceptance, experience, devotion,
mystical wonder,
an unknowing, humbling sainthood of art.
Man is the instrument of God,
and Coltrane is God’s dream of love for us
blown through a tenor sax.

23 September 2002

Civics 911

Iraq War Protest SF

Civics 911

The election is a class war against the terror of democracy.
The people are the enemy of the state,
and corporate power is the state.
Hillary is the Joan-of-Arc of American parasites
(and foreign ones).
Trump is America’s response to being force-fed Hillary.
The American people are:
redundant labor,
a low-yield investment,
an inadequate market,
an impediment to economic efficiency.
It is true at least half of them are deplorable basket cases
of ignorance and bigotry,
while much of the other half are deplorable basket cases
of smugly hypocritical dishonesty and selfishness.
But, there it is,
the Janus faces of the American union.
The democratic socialist dreamers can fantasize
about truth and justice being the American way,
but there’s no money in that
so too few believe in it.
No, ours is an empire of stale bread crumbs
and grotesquely hokey circuses,
and every poor barely-working stiff is
monkey-in-the-middle
as well as a jeering lout in the encircling rabble,
shrieking in a delighted rage,
thumbing down on others
in a delusion of self-importance no one else ever notices.
Kill ‘em! Whoever they are.
Hail Caesar! Whoever you are.
You can’t make a silk purse out of a sow’s ear.

14 September 2016

Check-Up

Check-Up

My hearing’s good.
My listening isn’t as good as it used to be,
but my hearing’s good.
The doctor says I’ll live,
but I have to jump up and down more,
and stop sugaring my coffee,
so my numbers turn out good.
Otherwise, someday I’m gonna’ die.
Woe-ah! That’s heavy news.
We just don’t want it to happen
because of the way I live.
That’ll be a trick to pull off.
I’m going to have to have
a brown sugar cappuccino
with a cheeseburger and french fries
to think about that one.

14 September 2016

Karma Is Good For Everyone

Karma Is Good For Everyone

“Character is fate,”
we are as we do:
juggling karma: a comic gambler
dance with karma: an artist at living
wrestle with karma: an ordinary worker
fight with karma: an ignorant schemer
seduce karma: a clever schemer
abuse karma: a parasite
pimp karma: a heartless criminal
betray karma: amorally lucky
submit to karma: a broken spirit
love and hate karma: childishly immature
ignore karma: a proud fool
escape karma: a delusional mediocrity
embrace karma: an adventurer
transcend karma: hibernation of a recluse mind
contemplate karma: a poet.

8 September 2016

Why are Hillary and Trump tied? (2 months before election)

The “I’m With Her” people are worried. Robert Reich sums it up: “What? They’re tied? How can this be? A new national poll released today [6 September 2016] from CNN/ORC shows 45 percent of likely voters backing Donald Trump and 43 percent supporting Hillary Clinton. (The poll has a margin of error of plus or minus four percentage points.)…This makes no sense to me. Either the poll is faulty, or we’re in far greater trouble than I imagined.”

It “makes no sense” if your thinking is confined to the H-bubble of fantasized inevitability, and it also “makes no sense” because it is in fact nonsense: it is not the result of rational thought.

There is no compelling logic, compelling circumstances nor evident morality that would justify the notion that Donald Trump deserves to be the next US President. However, neither logic, nor the force of circumstances, nor morality play decisive roles in the elections of US presidents in our time: illogical emotions, frivolity, and a vast meshing of dishonesty and failures of character dominate that process. Donald Trump is the Great White Hope: the less educated, more economically strapped, and more fearful you are that your whiteness has lost its privileges and protective powers, the greater the likelihood that you will find Donald Trump the more appealing presidential candidate.

Donald Trump is the popular response of the white working class to its nearly 40 year degradation by neoliberal economics. Donald Trump is not Hitler, neoliberalism is Dracula. The neoliberal plague was unleashed in 1979 by Margaret Thatcher (in the UK) and Ronald Reagan in 1981, and has continued to be propagated in the US by a succession of corporate-owned factotums: George H. W. Bush, Bill Clinton, George W. Bush, Barack Obama and — if the Democratic Party can rig everything to come out just right — Hillary Clinton.

It is abundantly clear that should Hillary Clinton lose the November election (as seems more likely with each passing day) it will be a richly deserved loss. She seems to have the singular talent for becoming more repellant the longer one is acquainted with her. She is like an infinitely layered onion of corruption that becomes danker and more odious as each succeeding inner layer is exposed. One can only speculate with extreme dread at what lies at the core of Hillary Clinton. In the electoral battle to win hearts and minds, time is definitely not on Hillary Clinton’s side. Indeed, most people outside of the Hillary Clinton personality cult believe that American democracy would have to be sacrificed in order to elevate her to the presidency, as her neoliberal masters wish.

Though Donald Trump’s enormous repulsiveness becomes instantly evident on becoming aware of him, one’s distaste for him saturates at first exposure and never increases thereafter, and one soon becomes desensitized to it. Trump has a personality, of grandiosity, of near unicellular simplicity in comparison to the fungal manifold of deceptiveness that is the personality of Hillary Clinton. So, with Trump what you see is what you get, and all there is. With Hillary there is always something hidden, and it is never good.

The American electorate may arrive at a consensus of voting for a train-wreck they can be assured of seeing unfold in every detail, instead of voting for a stealthy railroading of them all, under the guise of social progress.

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New National Poll Shows Donald Trump and Hillary Clinton Essentially Tied
6 September 2016 (New York Times)
http://www.nytimes.com/2016/09/07/us/politics/poll-donald-trump-hillary-clinton.html?_r=1

Survivor’s Luck

Survivor’s Luck

When I was a baby I had my mama,
and she was sweet and loves me still.
When I was a boy I had my toys
and I played with them till all were gone.
When I was a lad I had my dreams
of sleek cars and voluptuous girls.
When I was a young man
I worked to make the lad’s dreams real,
and though the cars were pudgy
and the women complicated,
moments of dreaming did become true.
When I was a working man I had pride in success
and fulfillment in shouldering society.
When I was a thinking man I knew
my only real successes were those nobody saw,
and that society is a boneyard of illusions
and an anthill of acquisition.
When I was a redundant man
I had irrelevant wisdom
and near perfect invisibility,
and, boy, was I ever stupid!
I was filled with memories
and occupied nearly none.
When they told me I was an old man:
I still felt like a working man
who wanted to save the world;
I still felt like a lad
who could delight in adventure and romance,
though now such dreams are only nostalgia
instead of heated anticipation;
I still felt like a boy
who wanted to play with intriguing toys;
And I have the luck of a baby
whose sweet mother loves him still.

30 August 2016

Pins In Fermented Lemonade (an unpoetic poem)

Pins In Fermented Lemonade (an unpoetic poem)

Religion is a thinking disorder, a brain disease.

Capitalism is a sociopathic disorder, a soul disease.

The World Crisis is simultaneous epidemics of religion and capitalism.

Evolution has brought humanity to the point of being intelligent enough
to realize it is the cause of climate change,
but not intelligent enough
to change its behavior to prevent it.

There are only two ways to make money as an artist:
establish a personality cult
so your productions have a reliable paying audience,
or be a decorator
who panders to popular tastes.

An entertainer is a decorator of time
who distracts an audience from its normal boredom.

Most people are self-limiting,
and they resent help that criticizes those limits.
Most people are self-limiting,
and crave co-dependents comforting them in self-defeat.

Acquaintances value you to the extent you contribute to their entertainment
or ambitions.
Friends value you for who you are.
As time goes on:
you recognize more of your friends as acquaintances,
and fewer of your acquaintances as friends.
An old grouch can be a person conserving their energy and contentment
by driving off all acquaintances,
and holding onto one, maybe two, true friends
who sometimes are people.

26 August 2016