butterFly caught

pale man 7

i am tired-

of

Politics.

the Incessant(ly) pandering, yammering, “dithering”

withers me til i Am nothing but skin

and

Bone.

i no longer find entertainment or Humor

in a Rigged Game,

and
wish

ONLY

to Live outside this world created by, and For

the

Intellectually Feeble

and

Morally Fabled.

each time i hit a  key
on my electric typewriter,
speaking of peaceful trees-
another village explodes
(Margaret Atwood)

modern “LIbEralism” is a complete and Utter failure.

turns my stomach listening to that

Disingenuous bullshit

“Non-violence?”

Bitch, please.

people in Chinese made glass houses shouldn’t claim

to be above

Throwing stones.

your entire existence depends on the

the Perpetuation of

Tyranny-

your homes are founded in

Blood.

and

your every step exudes-

Death

it’s far too late to chicken shit out now.

your platitudes cannot/will not

save

Them

I drink to our ruined house,
to the dolor of my life,
to our loneliness together;
and to you I raise my glass,
to lying lips that have betrayed us,
to dead-cold, pitiless eyes,
and to the hard realities:
that the world is brutal and coarse,
that God in fact has not saved us.
(Anna Akhmatova)

i could reach inside

and tear

you

a

p

a

r

t

only-

my broken fingers prevent me from doing

s

o

i find

nothing

erotic

in

masochism.

after all-

it is you

who

lusts

after

nightmares

When roses cease to bloom, dear,
and violets are done,
When bumble-bees in solemn flight
Have passed beyond the sun,

The hand that paused to gather
Upon this summer’s day
Will idle lie, in Auburn-
Then take my flower, pray!
(Emily Dickinson)

there is

Splendor

<-loistokkuudessaan->

in this

wOrld

but it cannot be

Found

within

the vacant Hearts

of the

Sloganed

AnD

Scriptured

who

wield

their

Book

of

Haughty

Parables

as

the

Slave Master

Did

His

Lash

tongues

Blissfully

Fluttering

as their

Eyes

Drown

in

Hell Fire

My darling, the wind falls in like stones
from the whitehearted water and when we touch
we enter touch entirely. No one’s alone.
Men kill for this…
(Anne Sexton)

there is

NO

Future

Here-

IT
IS

Suffocating

Beneath

the

Din

of the

Sacrosanct Sentimentality

of

the

Greatest Generation

their

Alzheimered Memories

archived alpahbetically

recounted

Metaphorically

sans even the slightest hint of  Irony

Long

for the Day

When Time

Finally Sews

their

Fucking Mouths

closed.

While dreams decay and lifetime idols shatter
What in the world can you be thinking of?
Among the other things that do not matter

I hear you boasting of your unending love.
(Amy Jo Schoonover)

I am tired of politics.

Rakkaus on lepo.
Oikeastaan ainoa lepo mitä ihmisellä on.
Eikä mikään ole niin rasittavaa.
Ja se on vapautta.
Eikä kuitenkaan mikään sido niin paljon.
Siinä on rakkauden paradoksi.
Ilman rakkautta ihminen kantaa kuin taakkaa
koko ajan ja on yksinäisyytensä vanki,
niin vapaa kuin yksin ollessaan onkin.
(Eeva Kilpi)

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~ by fairlane on November 4, 2009.

13 Responses to “butterFly caught”

  1. And knowing what I now of it and them and her and him and me – that is why I stopped caring.

  2. Purrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr

    Rgds,

    TG

  3. Just perfect, fairlane. Your best post ever. And of course I agree. I’m looking for something. Don’t know what it is, don’t know if it exists, but I figure it has to be better than this.

  4. Ha! I got tired of politicks when it finally dawned on me that the bizness is full of assholes and it is impossible to separate them. Ya, what Pissed in NYC said.

  5. Great nihilistic poetry pretty much summing up the situation. I am finding it harder and harder to care about the politics lately myself. There should be a better way.

  6. well put indeed. i agree completely.

  7. If you don’t care, there is always Nora Roberts, Meth and Wal-Mart. Or Canada.

  8. Paper football is always enjoyable.

  9. dave- i’m pretty sure mentioning nora roberts and meth in the same sentence is redundant.

  10. Magnificent piece, fairlane.

  11. I can’t believe that I am just now reading this… I basically stopped reading blogs for the past two months, but I never should have overlooked this. Fucking magnificent, fairlane. Honestly…. it’s brilliant.

  12. wow.

  13. I don’t usually read poetry, Fairlane. And to find you quoting translations of Eeva Kilpi makes me really wonder ‘where you wander’.
    Tire of a rigged game.
    That’s the point, isn’t it. Mostly one watches the hamsters in the cage go round and round.
    The destruction of out habitat is exhaustive and almost exquisite in its completeness of artistry. The bozos following the Almighty Buck have nearly completely polluted planetary resources : posing the threat of Global Warming while glaciation is more likely imminent when Greenland lets go its ice mass.
    Can’t say they don’t have a sense of the ridiculous.

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