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Showing posts with label Cargo Cult. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Cargo Cult. Show all posts

Thursday, February 24, 2011

Blackout [Today's News Poem, February 24, 2011]

Blackout [Today's News Poem, February 24, 2011]

Rain the timbers sideways, raise the tarp
And slide if you dare through a hurricane.
Jets are steaming drinks of sky for you:
A latte of contrail and shivering.
Who recalls the first of many lights?
The last is the one we remember.

"The weather looks like shit in my neighborhood, but no snow yet."
-Khakjaan Wessington
Source: Khakjaan Wessington's window

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Tuesday, February 22, 2011

Time Machine [Today's News Poem, February 22, 2011]

Time Machine [Today's News Poem, February 22, 2011]

Los Angeles twists on Sierra—
A snow-melt from faucet to desert—
And gargles the fossils with toothpaste.

The mountain is boundary, sentry;
And distance is measured in pipelines
We lay like a path to the future.

The future is now and it orbits
A tribe in Brazil in an airplane
And photographs warriors fleeing.

The past is around us, it threatens
The girder with rust and the freeway
With sinkholes; turns water to sewage.

Machines are the network: they've processed
The distance with diesel, computed
The time with those nerves of connection,

And mingled—yet mingle the present
With infinite loops where the t-shirts
And bottles go drift in the ocean

That links all with shorelines and current
And plastic and ink made of pixels
With past to the future, with present.

"Four Americans taken hostage after their yacht was hijacked by Somali pirates off the Horn of Africa last week were killed early Tuesday when gunfire erupted during attempts by the United States Navy to negotiate with their captors, American military officials said. American officials had opened a channel of communication between the pirates’ financier as well as elders from their village to help negotiate the hostages’ release."
—J. DAVID GOODMAN. The New York Times, Published: February 22, 2011
http://www.nytimes.com/2011/02/23/world/africa/23pirates.html



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Sunday, February 06, 2011

Weekend Warriors Admire Boys of Leisure [Today's News Poem, February 6, 2011]

Weekend Warriors Admire Boys of Leisure [Today's News Poem, February 6, 2011]

Aluminum wreckage, cans at salute—
Miasma of anus, sweat and a cheer—
Defeat chips and plastic, tackle the Sunday.
Go watch, drink and fart as men are supposed to
While watching the boys of the jersey catch footballs:
Your weekend their workday; their workday, your envy.

"In Super Bowl XLV, there will almost certainly come a moment when Green Bay Packers quarterback Aaron Rodgers looks out over the Pittsburgh Steelers defense and is utterly bewildered."
—Mark Sappenfield, / Staff writer / February 5, 2011
http://www.csmonitor.com/USA/Sports/2011/0205/Super-Bowl-2011-forecast-60-minutes-of-chaos




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Sunday, October 31, 2010

State of the Union [CombatWords Story Repost, October 30, 2010]

State of the Union [CombatWords, October 30, 2010]

Once upon a time, criminals controlled America. And America? She was dying. And instead of renewing herself with a culture of life, she became increasingly obsessed with the culture of death. The death of honest work. The death of the American Dream... death of the Constitution—death of the very way of life and culture that had once made America so great. Life was expendable in those dark times and theft was the rule, not the exception. Honest people lived in terror, while murderers, thieves, propagandists and rapists dominated the courts, streets, media and even the presidency.

America was tired. It was tired and it had gotten lazy. The culture of death made criminals into heroes and honest, hard working citizens seem like fools. Young people learned to idolize the worst elements society had to offer. And then, on September Eleventh, two thousand and one, everything changed. Three million Americans perished in a single cloud of flame, when terrorists did the unthinkable and detonated a nuclear bomb in New York City.

But New York City survived. America rebuilt an exact replica her crown jewel. All save the World Trade Towers, as a symbol to ensure Americans never forgot that tragic day. Their loss is the permanent scar from a wound that will never close. Yet the pain from that scar reminded America that it was still alive! Real Americans took their country back.

Not surprisingly, the culture of death perished and a culture of life was revitalized. And now, America is optimistic again, working under a common vision. We took socialists at their word and put them to work in our factories, farms, and brothels for service men. Terrorist races were executed under the tragic, but necessary suspension of habeas corpus. America destroyed her enemies before her enemies destroyed her from the inside out.

Although much of the world still rallies against humanity's last, greatest hope, America has outlasted many terrorist civilizations and terrorist ideologies. And we're not alone in our quest to defend freedom. Our friends are stronger than ever; London, Greater Israel, and Australia have joined the coalition of the willing. We have liberated Canada, the former Latin American nations, and Europa—including The Fatherland—and laid ruin to Peking Man and the Mohammadan hordes. Americans live longer than ever and that's no surprise since we're the world's biggest importer of human organs. And we work harder than ever. What's in the secret sauce Uncle Sam? It's freedom my friends, freedom.

http://combatwords.blogspot.com/2010/10/combatwords-october-29-2010-farce-and.html

http://www.boingboing.net/2010/10/29/machine-of-death-ama.html

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Monday, July 05, 2010

End of the Cargo Cult [Today's News Poem, July 5, 2010]

End of the Cargo Cult [Today's News Poem, July 5, 2010]

The cargo is flying away and we're gathered
To witness the finish of what we found sacred.
Our engines are thirsty and whine as we clamor
Around the last tanker that wasn't quite emptied.
A silvery age is departing; propelling
An angel of turbine away on an airstream.
The scientists sit on the plane drinking coffee;
Their families gaze at the smoke from the ruins
Of home—once a city, now cluttered with refuse.
From dollars to gold; and now batteries purchase
A barrel of fuel—which I load in my pickup.
I'm waiting for things to return back to normal;
For people to smile and make plans for the future
And stop with the grasping; the tricks and the thieving.
I'm waiting for hope while he's waiting for nothing.
He's grabbing my drum and it's spilling the fluid
That everyone wants and it turns into vapor
And flies off to heaven to join all the cargo
That's never returning. Another is screaming
'It's over' and rushes the crowd that encircles
My gasoline, rolling my drum. And the liquid
Of power is spilling all over. A lighter...

“Protests against a recent increase in fuel prices shut down markets, schools, airports and businesses across India on Monday, and thousands of people were arrested as violence flared in some cities... About 1,000 people gathered at Chandni Chowk, Old Delhi’s main commercial hub, to protest the price increases and listen to speeches by opposition politicians.”
– Heather Timmons and Hari Kumar, July 5, 2010
http://www.nytimes.com/2010/07/06/business/global/06rupee.html?hpw



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