[HT: Pete]
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Even though a cloud’s white curtain in a far-off corner flashed
An’ the hypnotic splattered mist was slowly lifting
Electric light still struck like arrows, fired but for the ones
Condemned to drift or else be kept from drifting
Tolling for the searching ones, on their speechless, seeking trail
For the lonesome-hearted lovers with too personal a tale
An’ for each unharmful, gentle soul misplaced inside a jail
An’ we gazed upon the chimes of freedom flashing
Starry-eyed an’ laughing as I recall when we were caught
Trapped by no track of hours for they hanged suspended
As we listened one last time an’ we watched with one last look
Spellbound an’ swallowed ’til the tolling ended
Tolling for the aching ones whose wounds cannot be nursed
For the countless confused, accused, misused, strung-out ones an’ worse
An’ for every hung-up person in the whole wide universe
An’ we gazed upon the chimes of freedom flashing
Stone-cutters fighting time with marble, you foredefeated
Challengers of oblivion
Eat cynical earnings, knowing rock splits, records fall down,
The square-limbed Roman letters
Scale in the thaws, wear in the rain. The poet as well
Builds his monument mockingly;
For man will be blotted out, the blithe earth die, the brave sun
Die blind and blacken to the heart:
Yet stones have stood for a thousand years, and pained
thoughts found
The honey of peace in old poems.
— Robinson Jeffers
Reason will not decide at last; the sword will decide.
The sword: an obsolete instrument of bronze or steel,
formerly used to kill men, but here
In the sense of a symbol. The sword: that is: the storms
and counter-storms of general destruction; killing
of men,
Destruction of all goods and materials; massacre, more or
less intentional, of children and women;
Destruction poured down from wings, the air made accomplice,
the innocent air
Perverted into assassin and poisoner.
The sword: that is: treachery and cowardice, incredible
baseness, incredible courage, loyalties, insanities.
The sword: weeping and despair, mass-enslavement,
mass-torture, frustration of all hopes
That starred man’s forehead. Tyranny for freedom, horror for
happiness, famine for bread, carrion for children.
Reason will not decide at last, the sword will decide.
His soul stretched tight across the skies
That fade behind a city block,
Or trampled by insistent feet
At four and five and six o’clock;
And short square fingers stuffing pipes,
And evening newspapers, and eyes
Assured of certain certainties,
The conscience of a blackened street
Impatient to assume the world.
I am moved by fancies that are curled
Around these images, and cling:
The notion of some infinitely gentle
Infinitely suffering thing.
Wipe your hand across your mouth, and laugh;
The worlds revolve like ancient women
Gathering fuel in vacant lots.
— Eliot
The scientists are in terror
and the European mind stops
Wyndham Lewis chose blindness
rather than have his mind stop.
Night under wind mid garofani,
the petals are almost still
Mozart, Linnaeus, Sulmona,
When one’s friends hate each other
how can there be peace in the world?
Their asperities diverted me in my green time.
A blown husk that is finished
but the light sings eternal
a pale flare over marshes
where the salt hay whispers to tide’s change
Time, space,
neither life nor death is the answer.
And of man seeking good,
doing evil.
In meiner Heimat
where the dead walked
and the living were made of cardboard.
Even though a cloud’s white curtain in a far-off corner flashed
An’ the hypnotic splattered mist was slowly lifting
Electric light still struck like arrows, fired but for the ones
Condemned to drift or else be kept from drifting
Tolling for the searching ones, on their speechless, seeking trail
For the lonesome-hearted lovers with too personal a tale
An’ for each unharmful, gentle soul misplaced inside a jail
An’ we gazed upon the chimes of freedom flashing
Starry-eyed an’ laughing as I recall when we were caught
Trapped by no track of hours for they hanged suspended
As we listened one last time an’ we watched with one last look
Spellbound an’ swallowed ’til the tolling ended
Tolling for the aching ones whose wounds cannot be nursed
For the countless confused, accused, misused, strung-out ones an’ worse
An’ for every hung-up person in the whole wide universe
An’ we gazed upon the chimes of freedom flashing
Gerard Van der Leun
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I see his Chinese handler stays within 6ft.
The kids know what’s going on. Joe doesn’t.
The clueless dolt has been punked by a group children and they are laughing about it.
If they don’t take the jab they may live to tell their grandchildren about the day they punked the pResident.
Sharp as a marble Joe.
JWM
I see Biden standing around with a bunch of little kids. Mask off. Smiling. I wonder what’s on his mind?
Mind? What mind-
You’re right. To rephrase: “I wonder what’s in his head?” Hmm…not quite. How about: “I wonder what his thoughts are?” Again, a thought presupposes a mind behind it. Let’s see: “I wonder what Joe’s fantasies were at that moment?” There is is. The right chord is struck.
I’d be as watchful as a coyote on a chicken pen if Bidet was around my children, grinning like the jackass that he is. But, in any event I wouldn’t permit my children to be wearing any kind of cap or t-shirt that had a political message on it. No ‘party’ would influence my girls at that perfect young age.
“But, in any event I wouldn’t permit my children to be wearing any kind of cap or t-shirt that had a political message on it. No ‘party’ would influence my girls at that perfect young age.”
I tend to agree with you, Jack. I was a little surprised when I saw families attending Trump rallies, kids adorned with all the political paraphernalia and then they were targeted by the opposition thugs. The current political climate across the land is volatile to say the least. Best not be bringing your children to the fight. They can stay home, load magazines and other such useful activities. 😉
“load magazines and other useful activities”
I concur.
At some point this country may become so foreign and detestable that decent people will seek solace outside these 4 walls. As the noose gets tighter the view becomes clearer.
See him touch the nipple on a little girl during some ceremony? She shies away and he goes right back to it.
I can’t wrap my head around it. Maybe Ann B’s “demonic narcissism” comes close.
“A knave; a rascal; an eater of broken meats; a
base, proud, shallow, beggarly, three-suited,
hundred-pound, filthy, worsted-stocking knave; a
lily-livered, action-taking knave, a whoreson,
glass-gazing, super-serviceable finical rogue;
one-trunk-inheriting slave; one that wouldst be a
bawd, in way of good service, and art nothing but
the composition of a knave, beggar, coward, pandar,
and the son and heir of a mongrel bitch….” [King Lear]
And THIS JUST IN-
Pedo Joe just got caught on film (literally) TERRIFYING a poor little baby in Colorado, as he attempted another one of his “sniff & kiss” attacks on the poor little thing- https://www.thegatewaypundit.com/2021/09/biden-scares-baby-colorado-leans-signature-sniff-kiss-video/
That kid seriously looked scared sh*tless.
I wonder if the arrangements GEN Milley has made vis. usurpation of Trump’s authority as CINC, still apply under Biden? IOW, is the military still freewheelin’ and out from under the authority of POTUS?
I need a playbook. Better yet, a bingo card of absolute fuckery that we’re going to observe as we devolve into the hell that’s coming.
I’ve evolved. Now I think Milley should skip past 5 and go straight to six stars. He has dog-styled 2 presidents, and is now the most powerful general in history.
Look at Pedo Joe’s right hand, right on the hip of the little girl to his right. You can see his fingers wrapped around her. I wouldn’t hold my best friend’s granddaughter that way, and I’ve known her all her life. FJB!