painting by norman rockwell
Ode to Citizen Bane
“Suspicion is the companion of mean souls, and the
bane of all good society.”--Thomas Paine.
We
of the masculine genus,
you know, the ones with a penis--
sometimes
wonder wistfully if during our other lives
we were once more than brothers
playing with motors, guns, & knives;
that perhaps we might
even have been mothers
in
some
distant
land,
during
some
distant
time,
whelping
poets,
bastards,
sculptors, predators, pimps, & presidents?
We
deliberate denizens of these United States
rolling blindly on red-white-& blue skates,
fed up
with partisan politics,
pining pathetically for a way out of the
fray, egress from the mix
of empire building,
corporate sodomy, unending
cycles of war, war, & more war,
ill health, & the obvious
uneven distribution of wealth
would really love to get on
the buses,
get in line,
drive to DC, then
march by the billions to the very steps
of Congress; that is if we actually thought
it would accomplish any of
the things we fought for,
wished for,
died for, needed.
We
of the wordsmith predilection,
the heavy lifters,
the bleeding hearts,
spokespersons,
loose cannons,
gad flies,
romantics,
pariahs,
petitioners,
prophets;
we
will be embed with the warriors,
will work for your slave wages,
will suffer the dehumanization,
will consent to being bullied,
will remain within sad relationships,
will take up the unpopular causes,
so that between the bouts of bathos,
wedged between chaos & coitus,
we remain free
to let loose the daring dogs of poetics;
unleashed,
teeth bared,
unmuzzled,
& ever faithful, ever loyal
to the rare Masters
of Truth.
Glenn Buttkus
Posted over on dVerse Poets FFA
Would you like to hear the author read this Ode to you?
9 comments:
Well, Glenn, this is quite a commentary on the state of things. I do enjoy the concept of letting loose the daring dogs of poetics.....unleashed, teeth bared. Perhaps it would be a healthier state of affairs if the poets' voices were listened to in this out-of-balance world. But then again I find myself wondering about the Masters of Truth...and whose truth...but that's a question for another day.
What comes across most stongly in this passionate ode is your sense of outrage that despite all the protests, despite the sacrifices, despite the widespread anger at the injustices of the way the world is today, nothing is really being done by those whose hands are on the levers of power.
I thought the words were foaming & roaring with passion & anger & hopeful as poets longing for rare Masters of Truth ~ The format always works well Glenn ~ I say let it all out, smiles ~
Glenn, a firey blast of eloquence and quite pleasantly unusual from anything I've seen before. I liked your mingling of forms and style it worked well for the function of the piece. >KB
ha. I like much...you did some really cool things formatically in this as well glenn...so much to appreciate...and you know I am always up for a bit of commentary as well...smiles...speak loud brother....I feel your rage man
Justified rage blaring cross the pages - the forms unformy wiggling like snakes. Very cool indeed
"wonder wistfully if during our other lives
we were once more than brothers
playing with motors, guns, & knives;" - what a great way to begin a poem, Glenn. Your words just draw us into your poem!
I hear your anger and disgust. I even echo it. Well done.
I really feel your passion while reading this, Glenn. Made me think of my 'Death as Life's Lover' tirade with somewhat similar structure, and man oh man, did you cover everything worth the angst bellow on this one here, Glenn. You jump-start this heart
into remembrance of why I love poetry! You are my Master wordsmith and my first stop as I attempt another journey ..on the road again.
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