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PRESIDENT OF POETRY
President of Poetry
who holds the Universe
together, architect of the
blessed void unrolling
the blueprints for black
holes at the centre of
galaxies on parade,
horizon of awareness.
Voices of the sex police
on all American stations
beaming Confederate fundamentalism
to dump the President
and the Union, star wars
of an evil southern empire, an
alliance of hatred, wealth
and total control of humankind.
This is what we're up against,
look at all the fascist
government and corporate death
squad banana republics -
from Asia to South America,
they make our shoes, fashion,
television sex hollywood clothing
in sweatshop factories.
No union wages benefits sick
time maternity leave weekend
holiday overtime counseling - it's
work now or you're fired.
Chinese taxi-cab driver gets
ten years hard labor for
organizing other cabbies. Russian
mafia prostitution gambling
as big as the dead
economy of how we trade
like America? We can't afford
an army or nuclear weapons.
In enters Islamic short
skirts of Iraq now gone, no
middle-class, only starving deformed
babies, radioactive desert.
Cuba ready to trade real
beauty for technology. The
Revolution must change to fit
the rising generation.
But if the Robots aren't
made in America, don't buy 'em.
Make sure your software
is compliant, don't be time-depleted.
Sciatic nerve newspapers
delivered in the mud of Cities -
get coffee get the paper.
Shake off the numbness, talk.
Computers have sex. Your
bank account sodomized by
online marketing strategies.
Everything will be designed by God.
The Wind blows thru the trees
on the hill above the ocean. It
is this sound which tells the
future, cold or hot.
The Band Plays on and the
Artists are older like outlaws
tired of hitting the trains
for extra cash and morning mail.
Fortunate in love, paying on the
telescope, diary of a Cubist is
being written by old movie
vampires, sucking an image dry.
Watching the movement of wolves in
Alaska, baby whales playing off
Hawaii, entering a Roman bath from a
french restaurant in Paris,
reading Plato digging Socrates
at a banquet too hung-over for
words, Socrates wore his best rags and
sandals, spoke of love like
gravity to the field, column
supporting column, physic's choice,
the original cart-wheel human
discussing the divine because we may.
The finer things of life;
job, friends, wine, books, art, the
landscape we share, unknown
universal crossroads of consciousness.
Borrow from the past, reinvent
the future, repair the present,
keep an eye on our fellows telling
jokes to the sleeping statues.
I hear old electric music I danced
ecstatic to when young. Now the
players, the cosmic hall, the youth,
all gone. Just these resonant tablets.
The beauty of women in cycle.
The structure of democracy, shifting.
The Planet tells all. A space
station slowly assembled.
The Weapons of mass enlightenment
are loosed into the air. Light
rain falls. People put on their
millenium masks, projecting thought.
'The Opinion of good men produces
knowledge.' Three Of pentacles.
Material Work consulting the design.
The cathedral lies within.
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(c)1999 John C. Morrison