Thursday, October 20, 2011

It was the best of times, claimed the White House

I know this feeling, 
of feeling marvelously 
good. It's very, very 
Virginia fratboy. You 
can still check out 
Ceaucescu's slaughter, 
and probably George Bush 
will let you heft 
Saddam Hussein's handgun, 
for a donation to his

Now we have a Libyan to feed 
to naïve idiots, who think 
the acts of their suffering 
will deliver them from it. 
How stark, the sight of 
endless White Houses, 
ever since Hiroshima, 
applauding the charity, 
the progressiveness of murder. 

You know? 

Life didn't come to life 
to be a part of this. So, 
what are we supposed to do: 
pretend another President 
on his watch? Show Givenchy 
at his best, sunsets 
in their bloom, French 
lit at another turning
point of genius? 

Or listen to some delegate
of our responses, steeped
in the flux of the Manichaean
Heresy: better him than me.
What then is the difference?
Are we here for nothing?


  1. thanks for this... such horror

  2. you and I feel we have to say some things, sometimes; but you have such a stalwart heart, Tom; we know this; thank you for staying close.

  3. yes, difficult to watch and to understand.

  4. For such commentary as this I keep coming back to your blog. (This, and your artful blending of the male figure with literature.) To my mind, you are at your best when you obfuscate least, when you embrace the clarity of poetry, as in this stark row of endless White Houses. Thanks.

  5. Kind of you to advise and compliment so constructively. In truth I dislike what a posting of this character does to my spirits and my preferences, and to this blog as a resource for exchange and reflection, so if there is some redeeming element in its style I'm always grateful to believe it. But it's a blog and a person still under development.