Friday, July 20, 2018

Died Like a Window That Turns into a Mirror at Nightfall



  • Reflecting, I rediscovered not only can I write about parts of my life that are good, I don't because I don't want to, 
  • and cannot write about things that s(W)u(O)c(R)k in my life though I want to want to want to.
  • I knew this know this, breathing, awake choke, Life in the Apneacene.
  • Bitching re: each day's wet clusterfuck farts, breathing, sleep through night, kiddo.
  • Crash coming, tombstoney, bleggalgazian.









DREAMS OF A RIVER I WADED WITH OTHERS LONG AGO

Frank Stanford

She died in the river, she died stepping back
Into the shadows, she died under the bridge
With her pants down, she died with a tongue
In her ear and a dark cigarette in her lips,
She died like heat lightning and milo,
She died like snake doctors on the windshield,
She died in the spring in a dark house
With a storm, she died with her cats and saxophones,
She died with the dead niggerlilies
And the fan belt part number on the nail,
She died first like the wolf
Then the snow in her paperweight,
She died with toilet paper in the screendoor,
And she died with a flyswatter and she died like a window
That turns into a mirror at nightfall, she died
With chowchow and dead flies on the tablecloth,
She died without a hand
On her forehead, she died on the side of the road
In the arms of a stranger.


1 comment:

  1. Growing up during the 50s and 60s, despite the horror that was the Vietnam war, I was encouraged to think that things were going to get better because of the anti-war movement and the civil rights movement. When I received my draft notice I threw it in the garbage can wondering if I would be going to prison or if I should run to Canada to avoid prison.


    Strangely nothing happened. No jackboots came to my door. They probably thought I wasn't worth the effort and they were probably correct in that.

    And now I find myself wondering what happened to liberals, if there are any, in the now times. Now I think maybe liberals have always been frauds but then I think of the civil rights movement and how people risked their lives in support of civil rights in the Jim Crow south. So maybe there were really only a few actual liberals and the majority of so-called liberals were fakes and frauds merely going along with what was deemed popular at the time. I really don't know, and can't say. What I do know is that today's liberals, if that's what they are sicken me in the extreme.


    Today my liberal friends constantly rant and scream about Trump who is truly disgusting. But then isn't Trump merely continuing the same policies championed by Obama and the rest of the Clintonian Democrats? Where was their outrage when Obama was president?


    I read Paul Street's article over at Counterpunch. It was pretty good until I got to the last paragraph where he seemed to let liberal's off the hook because they were largely ignorant of the US involvement in the murderous war against Yemen where people are dying horrible deaths. Street claimed it was because of the media which certainly has some merit considering the media now only deals with lies. Yet I now hear liberals defending the US military and Israel, and they seem hell bent on starting a war with Russia risking nuclear Armageddon. If I can find alternatives to the mainstream media why can't liberals? In the end it would seem liberals are just a bunch of stupid assholes. I don't think they should be let off the hook due to ignorance if that's what it is.


    When I had a stupid bloog Avedon Carol, if that's her real name, wrote a rant about me because I said I didn't vote, and that all the bad things were happening because of people like me. Really and truly? Maybe liberals have always been dipshits. I don't know. At any rate when those missiles hit I hope I'm at ground zero because I don't want to be around for the aftermath. It's a bit ironic that having lived through the first cold war that liberals are now enthusiastic about bringing it back to life and possibly ending all life on Planet Earth.

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