The Tower and the Ball

Out in Berkeley Cal they have a big sculpted ball;

while The Donald building in Chicago is straight and tall.

Notice the Berkeley ball has a chunk out of it,

while The Donald building is a gleaming megalith.

The blown-out ball suggests anarchic demising,

while the skyscraper implies capitalist uprising,



We note here in the devolving USA today

we have two different extremisms now on display,



The Berkeley cadre's unrest has unfurled

as the Donald crowd is getting up in the world,



Some Trumpist whacko named Milo came to speak,

so the lefty radicals in Berkeley had to freak.



In fact the Berkeley riot had gotten so violent

that the talking TV heads could not remain silent.



The Righties said it was instigated by Lefty Professionals,

while Lefties blamed it on Whitey Right Radicals.



Both sides are flinging the fascism word,

to the point that now it's getting absurd.



In reality however the fascist delusion

stalks us through both Leftist and Rightist confusion.



So whether you're grabbing power and wealth,

or radical revolution inflicted by stealth,

the real question's do you plan to kill and maim,

or does your strategy retain the law and order game?



If by the sins of Hitler or Stalin your impose your will,

We the people will oppose you by the rule of law still.

Of dragging us down that murderous path--

don't even think about inflicting your wrath.



Whether you're destroying by hook or by crook

we will defeat it by throwing at you the book.



Smoke

It's the Contest

The destroyer is a spirit, a corrupted zeitgeist.

But in spite of his apparent worldwide heist,

he is no christ.

He's eloquent in spreading fear

while whispering in your ear.

She slides in on a sled of doubt

chewing up our courage, then spitting it out.

He serves up fodder for defeat;

she slices delectable discouragement for meat.

The destroyer fastens our attention

on cultivating nervous tension.

He's obsessive with dismay;

she casts hope and care away.

They display

excrutiatingly excellent excuses

to focus on all those world-driven abuses

for which we have no productive uses

so that accomplishments can be decimated,

achievements aggravated

and defeat elevated

to a sordid art form

so as to blot out our war-torn

mission

as if by atomic fission.

Hey, they say,

it's all going to blow someday,

maybe the big one even comes today.

The destroyer will habitually say

conspiracy is the order of the day,

and rational order has been put down

as we're all just fooling' around.

She says decency went out with the tide,

been cast aside,

and integrity is dead

and that we should just party down instead

because the whole damn system is fixed

for sure, bewitched

and our course cannot be switched

cuz life's a bitch,

not a beach.

So don't bother to reach

out.

Just glory in the art of pout.

We'll make of complaint an art form

and criticism a craft, to adorn

our death-wish thanatos

with exquisite, tragic loss.



On the other hand

as far as the east is from the west,

in spite of all that, we could be supremely blessed.

The comforter says you can do this;

your arrow is not destined to always miss.

If the system is rigged what does it matter;

your hopes and dreams aren't doomed to splatter

on the mean streets of this world

because the true kingdom is not of this world;

it displays a flag unfurled,

that flutters in our heart

urging us to start

a work, an art

apart

to begin anew

a place for me and you

a place in the son

no matter what the gun

has done

to make us turn and run

from the challenges of this screwed-up life.

We can overcome and defeat this strife

by faith, by hope, by true love,

bestowed to us from above

if we can allow the destroyer in us to be crucified.

On a cross of sacrifice, that enemy has died,

and to its own defeat is tied.

But I'm not tied to it;

they can't make you do it.

Death doesn't have to overcome me, nor defeat you;

I tell you true.

We shall rise above it all

if you can hear the call

of resurrected victory

for you and me:

He's signaling from the other side

if you can resist the tide

of death-wish thanatos

and the destroyer's proposed eternal loss.

You may hear otherwise,

but death itself in the end just dies.

Selah.



Traveler's Rest