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Immersed in Popkultch the soul is smothered,
Sundered, even. The sensurround of sterilizing inanity anesthetizes, attenuates, adumbrates Those reflexions, connexions, selections Inherent in the inner self where understanding flows freely From one to one: Where all is of a piece In the realm of peace Where the role is that of play As fancy flows freely Beyond Time and Place: You are there, yet residing here Separation is but a barrier As life sets a stage Where webs, nets and traps Captivate the unwary Who go along to get along In a world where reality is not As it seems.
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Okay, so i was a bad boy as a kid
Typical enough I spose, back in the 50's... Blowing up ant mounds, fantasizing Red Chinese Oh yeah, we were programmed for war Just like today's electronicuted Gamers. Mind Kontrol is so much fun Feeding festering schoolboy fantasies Fertile fodder for imperial follies Wham! Bam! Excuse me Maam Didn't mean to hurt anybuddy Was just feelin my oats Like in some cowboy shootemup At the y'all come back Saloon Oaters, they usta call em. Shot mourning doves perched on a wire And sparrows at the grain elevator Peckers, poking at spilled grain by the tracks Just looking for lunch: Flys with a spraycan nozzle, Poisoning the kitchen air as a bonus: Got me back once, the yellowjackets did For stoning their pendulous hive on a branch Had to mudpack the swelling face... Made me look a human disgrace. So older now, allegedly wiser, See a wasp landing on the prison windowscape Grab my pencil, teasing, tickling,, barely touching Antennae flailing, she mounts it... Aha! So now the fun begins... Sidle the stick up by the windowsill Nothing doing... She's seen that frustration already, So i try the newspaper for a landing site-- Nope. Reach waaay up the glass, hoping for disembarkation-- No dice there either on that solid mirage of freedom. Getting tired of the game, i wave it in a big arc And it works! Jet-assisted takeoff, kinda sorta She flies off, darting around the source of daylight. Somebody gets nervous-- Such a frightful presence What gall! disrupting this precinct's quiet Imagine that! Wild nature invading manspace Something's gotta be done. A volunteer librarian rolls up a newspaper Knees on the floor, flails the weapon: Beneath the table the wasp flits and flees So he strikes again and again-- No luck. Now a second attendant enters into the fray Determined look, strutting strides intent: A third one introjects "been here since yesterday" As number two strikes, strikes, SMITES..! Victory at last: One bold step for mankind. One dead wasp for Mother Nature. Fifty-six years ago today
The shots reverberated, Reverb today That fateful Friday morning of a Texas November Echo into my ears, hanging in a K.C. poolhall Where hustlers and streetboys gathered. "The president has been shot!' Early radio reports uncertain Was there still hope? Age twenty, intensely idealistic--political-- My suspicions keyed, Tendrils of thought seeking, searching Who pulled those triggers? Sensed it ran deep--the President: No cue in my hands, clueless too, I listened on, Standing there, awaiting later bulletins, Bullet-ins "This just in: President Kennedy declared dead." Sunday morning in Topeka Fade to a friend's foldaway couchbed, watching Broadcast from Dallas police headquarters "I'm a patsy" escorted down the corridor... Plunging through cops, reporters, a hatted man Thrusts his hand out...snubnose BANG! Live video etches through a lifetime's memories From the hollow heart of Dallas P.D. security. Seared-in image of Lee Harvey Oswald's murdered grimace Concocted by subterranean schemers, Cancels the patsy's day in court ...all tidied up, the key to the truth collapses on the concrete. |
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