The Left Column

Politics for Poets

Love

trumps politics

Never base your decisions about love on your delusions about the government.

May 14, 2013 (4-14-2013)

well . . .

I think I've blogged enough today.

content goes stale and making it spin just makes it suck even more if it really does suck. If the content is anygood unless the spining has some function it might become quickly tiring.

~ OK Now.

Banish Nonsense was his scree. I'd have to delete this whole website!

There are new features here that are annoying at times but fun in some ways. This page is best viewed with firefox. Chrome doesn't seem to pick up all the rocking. This is very cool: angle spin gauge or John Barents Carousel. Because this page is rocking. Rocking rocking rocking. What it is, he said, what it is. The problem is, what it is. Span Rocker.Paper Sizes. envelope sizes. Look at this sample page and have some fun with it.

  

  In his mind that war never ends

  He hears the marching
       the marshaling music
              and the clup clup clup
  of Calvary
        and carts pulling big cannons
    draped in bunting
        color d'jour
   as designed d'modern
        and a diplomat
     would rather be
         in another country.

  The danger of that battle
       is that bullets 
               fly and kill people.
   If it were you in the field would you
           walk away or 
                 fan out into the forests?
  In a mud field, where the pigs are
       don't open fire on
      on a field full of pigs
 unless you want the house mother
     grabbing at her house frau hair
   her face in terror 
            in a scream of fearful rage
 running, towards the imagination that 
      running away, (run away run away)
 will make the horror better.

  The pigs know and they
      swoon as a group and scream
  with horror
   at the psychos
   with their automatic drones
  who thought these were All Kay-da
   they did it in the later
           afternoon
   under the light of the moon.

  The old
      man hears the
   bag pipes but
   those horse clatters on the side
 clatter in this
      war stance day he hears
   those rockets repeatedly glaring
        and his heart
          grabs his hand like a magnet. He
             thinks it's holy
              to pray at a soldiers grave
               how more holy
                to end the war
                   that killed the dear boy
              in the box
              curly locks
               eyes that sway
          the people his way
     because they were full of
     honesty

            
      The senator knew him when
         he would bounce
      upon the old man's knee  (he,
                the senator,
                    was old even back
                         then)

  If you  hear the sound of 
           a baby cry who loves you
  and latter you gotta 
           put him in the ground
  can you ever believe 
            the war is ever over?
  will you ever hear 
                any other sound?

  Outside of time,
    where none of this is even real
  there are dead people there
      who would like to
          teach you how to feel.
 
  Praise God!
  








Wake up!



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