Note: This will be an evolving blog post, an exercise of a perceptive mind, that is a mind surrounded by "performances" which necessarily come with a post-industrial world, "performances" which sadly pervade even the spaces of freedom we hold dear. It is evolving as an anti-dote for treating the waste of a daily grind and liberating language from gutter-like conversations. Image from Wikimedia Commons, a painting of John William Waterhouse - Miranda and the Tempest
Vaginas fall in line for Cardinal.
Willing to kneel before his tyrant dick
Them who accommodate all his ring's pique
Never minding King Loius' notes verbale. - 2 March 2016
When the Mayflower sailed through the storm,
Pilgrims high and low vowed a new norm.
The sermons began with the tempest ---
When the heavens punished the souls' unrest.
But dedication turns into rage:
Women who read were thrown and tied at stake,
Hells' gate beckoned at Plymouth's shores.
Smith's mistress spat at the women's chores.
- 18 January 2016
Flipping pans to play with butter and fire
Two farmer’s eggs subjected to the whip
All with grace: served on a ceramic plate
Turned in by Julia Child with her pearls
A smudge there all across America could see
A glorious scrambled egg, all she cares.
But flipping scores over results undesired
— A judge asking for another trial and jury
Evidence was just too short for conviction
But when one jury penned a damning dissent
All glorious heavens unleash into hell
Crucifying the just, crowning the wanted.
- 19 November 2015
These days I think of myself as Jean Valjean, an escape artist on the path of evolution. Haunted though I maybe by Javert, I would never have to feel purposeless nor jump into the abyss of death. Instead I am hopeful that his suicidal future would mean one less scumbag soul on the face of the planet. So carry on with the evolution. Revolution will be upon us.
- 17 November 2015