PRELUDE
a. what is the essence of poetry
if not the very heart
of the greatest part of me?
what is the essence of poetry
if not the urgent start
to a better era of history?
what is the essence of poetry
if not the ongoing revelation
of the most sacred mystery?
what is the essence of poetry
if not an endowment offered publicly
displayed like the most sublime photography
for the whole entire world to see?
b. where is lyrical originality
in this golden age of cultural scavenger?
every tom, dick, and mary
an amateur damager or lightweight manager.
do not obey the laws of eurocentric pentameter
find your own uncharted pen’n’ink parameter.
terrific hieroglyphic not comin soporific
to be mad specific
dis poetry be experimental evolutionary scientific.
it will open doors for jailed minds that are steppin on invisible mines
snortin wacked lines swingin on racist tarzan vines.
c. only a dead poet never opines.
only a live poet never whines.
on both dead and live poets
a beam of original sunlight
eternally shines.
WASHINGTON
A POEM IN IMITATION OF SAMUEL JOHNSON'S IMITATION
OF JUVENAL'S THIRD SATIRE
Quis ineptae tam patiens urbis,
tam ferreus ut teneat se?
Juvenal.
Both envy and loss in my heart revolt,
Since maligned Kidhartha from D.C. did bolt.
My more sedentary emotions pride doth evince,
I praise the prophet, and admire the prince.
Removed, finally, from sin and its Beltway displaced,
To pursue the solace of a more righteous space.
There, upon a steppe’s isolated expanse,
Offer to the lamas a most joyful dance.
Who is it would forsake, without being cheated,
Himalaya’s vast bounty, where past glories are repeated?
There no souls are spent on predatory fortunes,
No treasures bought with ill-gotten cash portions.
Here murder, theft, rape, and arson do plot,
A bread-riot bursts, at the crack-corner spot;
Ghetto-blasters incessantly scream at full throttle,
On a faded shotgun porch old-timers share a bottle;
Lily-white ambulance chasers prey on forced margins,
A corrupt-ass pig-rookie is promoted to sergeant;
Dignified, the homeless congregate for a dime,
While striking young b-boys tear through a rhyme.
Yay ho! What of me, an observer most trusted,
As cirrhosis spreads, and legs both are rusted.
Optimism serves only to increase my frustration,
Hope doth conceal my destitute situation.
My sure-footed frame no regular sustenance supports,
I am constantly the subject of passerby snorts.
A cardboard home built atop a searing grate,
As my ever-blistered skin resigns to its fate;
Oh please Jah, grant me to find some happier spot,
Where concern and respect are never forgot;
Some gorgeous beach where palominos run free,
Some placid vale that straddles the sea.
The winds of memory take me, to that particular day,
When Kidhartha departed, and forsook the fray.
The images doth fade, then return with a stride,
Patience thou must have, for my story to abide.
After Kidhartha forsook the account
That contained his life savings in a splendid amount,
Upon Potomac shores, in meditation we sat,
Where gifted cherry trees their flowers begat.
Awed by the metropolis that breathed Marvin life,
We stooped, and ignored a cyclone of strife.
And what to ignore, when such charms revealed,
In D.C. the whole world, so why go further afield?
Thou may quite freely gaze, in Eastern Market’s melange,
Find a statue of Douglass cast in old bronze;
Thou can amble up the heart of a fresh go-go beat,
Hide in shadows of Dupont to escape summer heat;
Georgetown should well quench a true yuppie’s thirst,
For overpriced brand names of which all are the worst;
Adam’s Morgan well caters to a good meal unplanned,
Anacostia sunsets help the cosmos expand.
Thou can savor the rush of a slam poet’s flow,
A kaleidoscope of cultures packed inside the Metro.
From Farragut North on over to Wheaton,
This train is an artery, to a heart ever beatin.
Tourists love to take Smithsonian flights,
And view families of pandas bathed in bright lights.
The pantheon of performance known as Kennedy Center,
A U Street tavern so inviting to enter.
If the breeze is being kind, toss a frisbee on the Mall,
Ben’s Chili Bowl is a great place to stall.
A needed calm such merry visions doth bestow,
For a shooting-star second block intimations of woe.
Yet soon after rousing, with a question-mark frown,
Kidhartha adjudicates our sad guilty town:
“Recognition, I moan, in this latter-day malaise,
Means the sleazy reward of corporate praise.
Within those ghastly marble walls, villains doth excel,
And unfailing badness their policies compel.
In the District let those rule, whom are empowered unfairly,
And betray their electorate, for a half-shilling barely.
No congressional reps, yet insist on paying tax;
For two-faced “developers,” all regulations relax;
Use old fascist methods to keep children in line,
Build prisons and malls, another stadium is fine.
Allow those with vision bold, and a part more noble,
Stay glued to the streets, yet prepared to be global.
The city’s flaws illustrate, with golden eloquence,
With bronze banners declare- freedom hath relevance!
Together shalt they emerge, while I, whose sidelined seat
Can scarce be considered an authentic retreat.
As an organizer dissed, as an idealist neglected,
Let their cold shoulder flourish, as my star is resurrected.
Through stirring fantasies, our rebirth imagine,
Envision an end to this dystopian pageant.
Now view her starspeckled banner with authentic pride,
The leader of a new people, by justice’s side;
Before private interests contaminated, and fascism erupted,
Before Satan’s hands were shook by big-business puppets.
Yes, reality does roar, and dare show its face,
A legion of scare, across this unholy place.
Empty is my canteen, and the sun truly burns,
To suffer means existing, or so the world turns.
Most glorious Dubya! From the bowels of night,
A fearless crusader for whom might doth make right.
No chance for posterity to kindly remark,
That cluelacking gaze, and chimpanzee smirk.
Quite lost in pipe dreams, with contrived photo-ops,
Torturous soundbites whose bluster never stops.
Fairness, love, honesty frittered away into dust,
The adoration of Blair, with Chavez non-plussed.
Beware! The legislator on the Hill,
Makes a lie become truth, with incredible skill.
A shame-clad whore for whom decency is trite,
Unjustified warfare makes the fondest delight.
No honorable legacies can this Congress recall,
Titanic "special interests" any noble goals forestall.
Meanwhile, witness cheated youth unable to trust,
Witness tired parents devoid of any lust.
Knowledge, faith, hope parked in a vacant lot,
Cannabilized by “values” humanity should have forgot.
This duped country's earnest backstabbers, see!
Watch whom the masses embrace, whom must ignore me!
Teased on latenite, or ridiculed on Broadway,
Their manners, their fashion, their attitudes prey.
Evasive, clever, loquacious, and merry,
Amerika’s ignorance a ready-made quarry.
No worthy pursuit will their imperatives allow,
They distract, they sell, they shuffle, and bow.
All constituent weaknesses they must intimately know;
If we impeached them all, to Hades they would go.
Mendacity! With shards of glass thou dost grope,
Stabbing the hearts of the concubines of hope.
Conscience gurgles blood in a K Street gutter,
Lobbyists spread tax dollars as if it were butter:
A nickel for big pharma, and a dime for king coal,
Get thee to the floor! Put em’ on the payroll!
Let these swine construct mansions,
And long limos rent, brainwash with a lottery,
And new privileges invent.
With empty actors clutter an exclusive stage,
And bribe into silence a remorseless age.
With browbeaten media enforce status-quos,
Submission to slavery plus new tv shows.
On vanity’s drivel, the republic's earnings bestowed,
No dreams of the future, but do what we art told?
Exactly what hope, amigo, what hope is left for me,
Who rail at hypocrites, and revolt at burglary?
Which star has the guts, though White House galas serenade,
To admit he's but a tool in deception’s long parade?
Some news anchor’s knavery that only vampires toast,
Take liberty to wipe your ass with a copy of the "Post;"
Deride feckless construction in tax duckets attired,
Work but in vain to get mr. anthony fired.
Heroes, continue! What limits thine hubris know?
Any barriers to restrict an exponential cash flow?
Witness insurgent morality not reclaiming her throne,
Witness our existence, our purpose, our property thine own.
Washington! The gutless monster's eternal abode,
Move here a prince, and become soon the toad.
With fervent ambition, plus acquisitive zeal,
From each trusting citizen more dead krakas steal.
Yet, despite overbearing emotions of pity,
Be grateful at least it's not New York Shitty.
Until, it seems, the well its reserves are no more;
Manufactured nuclear menaces rain doom on our shore.
When all has been pilfered from domestic coffers,
A quick search abroad for cheap third world offers.
For homebound industry no longer is spry,
Behold World Bank chattel produce a cheaper supply.
More offshore production and increased corporate mergers,
Behold the ex-automakers now grilling burgers.
Denied their clubs, their hobbies, their resorts,
Left only with the distraction of professional sports.
Paltry wages spent all on beer, pot, and cable,
Perhaps, an underground network cash under the table.
Indeed! Regret's form with talons doth assail,
We captives far too long in history’s fetid jail.
Brainwashed young with amerika's false claim to glory,
Forcefed many a white "hero’s'" story:
Did begin with john smith, and right on through bush,
Got swindled by a newt, now frist makes some mush.
In the tomes they produce, the “losers” can’t win,
No mention of Chomsky, Angie Davis, or Zinn.
John Brown is crazy, or at best forgot,
Sojourner’s Truth not even given a thought.
No mention of conquest, displacement, or wrong,
Upon each cheerful page, a myopic song.
So! What matters it, when from injustice not far,
I took my first breath in Virginia’s air?
Was instructed young to sing flattering praises,
And completely discount mad overseas faces.
Self-justification was my unhappy state,
As with backpack I waded through gauntlets of hate.
Eager to justify, and reluctant to cower,
What good is a Yankee with no sense of power?
Still, a willing contradiction I went,
Humor, gentleness, appreciation my tongue sent.
Found in each place a not-welcome mat,
The only conversation a finger pointing chat.
Yet ask, why doth they hate us?
Our singers they adore, our actors they delight,
Our scandals they relish, our good news they recite.
From barbarous policies suffer indignities daily,
Yet a visa received is welcomed quite gaily.
With stolen lives, playing an unseen role,
Grand traditions forsake, to get by on our soil.
The disservice industry, with its constant demand,
Makes adults into children, and enjoys reprimand.
Before it was Blacks, Irish, and Jews;
Now Latinos arrive, to endure the bruise.
On whose account, when privilege is so narrow,
Doth our existence depend, for its bones and its marrow?
Servants that sneak, across fortress-like borders,
Soon wind up as phantoms, just following orders.
Every citizen wins, their consent pre-ordained,
No objection or debate, but conscience is stained.
Our choice is malicious, but who dare protest?
The majority’s pain for material success.
For a lifestyle like such, worshipped, embraced,
A new urban mansion, in a crackhouse displaced.
A heart of true darkness the white yuppie doth possess,
Enchanted vampire, who profits most from the mess.
His day is a hex, his career a rampage,
Box seat royal treatment at Arena Stage.
Warning! Quite soon thine myopic decadence will end,
And find in the pauper an immediate friend.
In Montezuma’s halls, quite blameless we commence,
Each transgression is sacred, but cursed indigence.
This, only this, the rigged law’s satisfaction;
This, only this, moves the magistrate to action.
Some impish clown wearing a bloodspattered robe,
Can be told of compassion, yet goes out the earlobe;
With remarkable swiftness a life terminate,
And mock human decency with manners that grate.
With all the torments that wound the maligned,
There is nothing more harmful than justice unblind;
No institution can make a more sinister impression,
Than cancerous weeks of supreme kourt in session.
Can Paradise not reserve, out of debt to the poor,
An unexploitable niche, or class-absent shore?
No plentiful plain in the horizonless sweep?
No soft tranquil isle or unfettered deep?
United shall we stand, and deserved places gain,
And forever declare: revolt not in vain!
A tragic fact is universally expressed:
ALL OF US IMPRISONED, WHILE ANY IS OPPRESSED.
In this unmarked tomb, where morality is jaded ,
Where love is for sale, and joy can be traded;
Where luck is made merit, and imitation expected,
No greater curse possible than a (dis)credit card rejected.
Out of what but selfishness doth the friend ever act?
With Iago's duplicity, fake smile intact.
Thee angel, if wickedry's chance should appear
Any wisdom forsaken, love sent to the rear.
But blind thine emerald eyes from the flashiest offer,
Labor for the oppressed, not for one lonely coffer.
The quiet evening's rest, and self-assured week,
Hardworking saints will let righteousness speak.
Take heed! The afflict’d masses uproarious pleas,
In demos and boycotts, bring Citibank to its knees!
Brainwashed from the womb to seek power and treasure,
Most inaccessible goal, with no chance of leisure.
Fearful you begin, and with bravery charge,
A nation to gain, plus a world to enlarge.
Prepare to give up your meager possessions,
A family to honor, with rebellious lessons.
Meet many comrades with fear not of error,
Proletarian bonds the bourgeoisie terror.
Should Karma’s avenging rod elite wealth destroy,
Spread locusts and fire, and squash idle joy.
Then quick across counties the Good News will spread,
A party shall commence, for the emperor’s dead!
The propaganda machine in slavish eulogies will detail,
That without oilagarchies, every nation doth fail.
With sniggering acceptance the two percent band
Must return the vast wealth of a long-pillaged land.
Look! while recovery progresses, a coup they dost plot,
When our backs are turned, the army could be bought.
Imperative thus to make them patriots anew,
Fill them with truth, and loyalty shalt ensue.
No time to recline, but be determined and patient;
In oration and deeds, destroy inequalities ancient.
Turn an old Northwest mansion into a communal expanse,
From the steps of the Capitol, proclaim a new stance.
Do send out our victory cross the now grinning plain,
With free media and door-knocks, a new world explain.
Sweep off dusty streets, and clip wayward vines,
Plant copious flowers, and stack trees in lines.
Remember, when lost in nature’s repose,
How the soil once was stained by the blood of our foes:
In the garden hear every butterfly’s flutter,
In the garden make a wish that will lead to another.
Fear not a thing through these hours of bliss,
Give thanks for the day and bestow moonlight a kiss.”
Those sweet dreams defer, yet let our hearts cry!
Remind Kidhartha I did, of reality sly:
Time is now filled with developer scum,
In money find strength, and defend the last crumb.
Tear the city in half, is their malicious intent;
For whites give a discount, only blacks pay more rent.
The sun began to fade, with one last wink to our home;
My dreadlocks felt free, across my scalp they did roam.
Still, Kidhartha expounded, beneath Jefferson’s dome:
“Though good will the white activist doth intend,
Many he’ll find are the hearts he shalt rend.
Hypocritical of vision, with historical taint,
Each of them naive, much less than a saint.
Organizing competes and wrestles with time;
On every street corner, “Socialist Worker” for a dime.
Be wary of murder, if after hours thou wander,
Avoid certain streets, or the morgue thou shalt ponder.
A nickel-plated g, with a rival to extinguish,
Will comb every alley till his target is finished.
Some desperate crackhead, fresh out of rocks,
Will shoot out thine eye, if opportunity knocks.
Still, these beings are noble, specimens of neglect,
Kings of the hood, that the shitstem reject.
Burdened they are with unemployment, AIDS, and prison,
Just a fight for survival, until a prophet is risen.
From outside they note the world they permit,
White Amerika’s wealth: a schizophrenic fit.
White amerika, heed! From your suburban feat,
In Falls Church and Bethesda, a needed retreat.
With no chance of success, pad thine door extra tight,
Escape guilt thou won’t, in morning, noon, or night.
Shameless in theft, and bold with excuses,
Thine life’s a parade of daily abuses.
The yin to thine yang may break the iron gate,
And get needed revenge while chock full of hate,
Reminding the forgetful that justice won’t wait.
Fast enough thou can’t build, a fresh Supermax,
Condemnation to torture, so thine mind can relax.
With tax dollars bars and injections provide,
As bought judges and media bias abide.
Yet, stop there it won’t, a higher level is also thine,
A government of bigots, white supremacy is fine.
Legislate thine horrors, noble senatorian clique
Whose unbalanced budgets make our vast nation sick.
Months of back-stabbing pass, then they escape in recess,
Every citizen a janitor, to clean up their mess.
What maketh for the future, Washington, D.C.?
If the future is the past, then no hope shalt there be!
Indeed! A most savage epoch, three centuries of woe,
On the banks of the Potomac, with no pride to show.
Founded on a swamp, built by slaves and malaria,
Now a hodgepodge of tensions, adrift with hysteria.
We are shadows on the Metro, and ghosts on the street,
We think merely of ourselves, and live only to compete.
The mind must wander, invent a past golden age,
With justice authentic, and no person in a cage.
Yet! It did not exist here, since England’s invasion,
In pre-Jamestown times, a righteous Indian nation.
An order sans class, was the Powhatan’s feature,
For the arrived European, a most unusual creature.
True democracy then, with no manacles applied,
The extinction of their culture is’ Amerika’s pride.
Recall! No strip malls blighted, no racist juries convoked,
Beatified age, but ah! How quickly t’was choked!
Ramble on further I could, but the canoe is now ready,
The broad river beckons, and my sailing is steady.
Ciao, comrade! Recall, when thine faith doth quit,
Carry thyself to a brighter shore, where virtue is legit.
If exhausted like myself with vice, greed, and hate,
In a most conscious voice, our truth thou shalt state.
Once decision is made, with few possessions in tow,
Still interrogate evil, and begin to row.
With intention uplifting, as the spirit moves thy quill,
Use satire as a weapon, and never grow shrill!”
His canoe quickly wades, into the simmering mist
No time for last embrace, or penultimate kiss.
My friend now a phantom, but my utterance pours yet-
What verbal economy for the best I have met?
“Meet again we shalt, in the navel of Everest,
Time that cold monster, but adaptation cleverest.
Once more thine seeking eyes engage,
Once more find rebirth in the arms of thine sage.”
