Monday, September 21, 2009
Competition Canceling Each Other Out
This is me, irritable jester in this time of cholera.
The suffering demands a plastic confidence, right in front
of the fear, nursing the containment of hate. Containers
leak a color there, a letter here, whenever pride fails.
I will have betrayed a streetsmart past, last indian,
snake from the grass out in a defensive gesture, head
up, a cup of venom boiling from the glands, ready now
for the next steady rampage of fellow snakes, fellow
proud jesters in the time of dengue rains, AIDS lanes,
A(H1N1) banes, cancer industry boons. I am, loony crooner,
singing here of my moody anger eager for forgetfulness,
longing for peace in the time of choleric pantings
and insane greed, wishing for an encyclopedic lung,
log of creeds to never ever hear your sighs again.
But, by a credence, there drops from the sky an image.
Hitler with a spoon, from over the moon, daughtered Picasso
with another woman, Dali with daggers, Liszt with a theme
jumping from mood to mood in a linear phase, irking Foucault
and a Buddhist Marxism. I was a cross jester in the daytime,
by nighttime a sufferer of your jeers and judgments, you
who have suffered enough humiliation in the green greed
of the times of choleric jealousies, art politics. Never
will I see you again, not again, Houdini of your magic.