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Intellectual disgrace
Stares from every human face,
And the seas of pity lie
Locked and frozen in each eye.
Follow, poet, follow right
To the bottom of the night,
With your unconstraining voice
Still persuade us to rejoice.
With the farming of a verse
Make a vineyard of the curse,
Sing of human unsuccess
In a rapture of distress.
In the deserts of the heart
Let the healing fountains start,
In the prison of his days
Teach the free man how to praise.
– – WH Auden
Sometimes it seems I had a dream, and, as a dreamer woke immersed in mineral baths closed within a cool, dark chamber fed by streams flowing in from the center of nowhere.
Hanging from the granite ceiling a kerosene lantern cast shards of light through the pale steam rising from the surface of the pools.
Ripples radiated outwards from the edges of my body and tapping faintly on the rock revealed the edges of the chamber.
Outside I could hear the wind slide across the spine of the mountains, speaking in a language that I remembered but could no longer understand.
Steam filled my nostrils and heat penetrated my bones until, after a time, I had no body, only a sense of silence and distance and calm.
As if I had just woken from all water into dream.
— Tassajara Zen Mountain Center, 1973
FSA/8d22000/8d224008d22491a.tif
The steel mill sky is alive.
The fire breaks white and zigzag
shot on a gun-metal gloaming.
Man is a long time coming.
Man will yet win.
Brother may yet line up with brother:
This old anvil laughs at many broken hammers.
There are men who can’t be bought.
The fireborn are at home in fire.
The stars make no noise,
You can’t hinder the wind from blowing.
Time is a great teacher.
Who can live without hope?
In the darkness with a great bundle of grief
the people march.
In the night, and overhead a shovel of stars for keeps, the people
march:
“Where to? what next?”
— Carl Sandberg
Down valley a smoke haze
Three days heat, after five days rain
Pitch glows on the fir-cones
Across rocks and meadows
Swarms of new flies.
I cannot remember things I once read
A few friends, but they are in cities.
Drinking cold snow-water from a tin cup
Looking down for miles
Through high still air.
BY GARY SNYDER
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
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That is no country for old men. The young
In one another’s arms, birds in the trees
—Those dying generations—at their song,
The salmon-falls, the mackerel-crowded seas,
Fish, flesh, or fowl, commend all summer long
Whatever is begotten, born, and dies.
Caught in that sensual music all neglect
Monuments of unageing intellect.
An aged man is but a paltry thing,
A tattered coat upon a stick, unless
Soul clap its hands and sing, and louder sing
For every tatter in its mortal dress,
Nor is there singing school but studying
Monuments of its own magnificence;
And therefore I have sailed the seas and come
To the holy city of Byzantium.
O sages standing in God’s holy fire
As in the gold mosaic of a wall,
Come from the holy fire, perne in a gyre,
And be the singing-masters of my soul.
Consume my heart away; sick with desire
And fastened to a dying animal
It knows not what it is; and gather me
Into the artifice of eternity.
Once out of nature I shall never take
My bodily form from any natural thing,
But such a form as Grecian goldsmiths make
Of hammered gold and gold enamelling
To keep a drowsy Emperor awake;
Or set upon a golden bough to sing
To lords and ladies of Byzantium
Of what is past, or passing, or to come.
– – W. B. Yeats, 1865 – 1939
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
Sometimes it seems I had a dream, and, as a dreamer woke immersed in mineral baths closed within a cool, dark chamber fed by streams flowing in from the center of nowhere.
Hanging from the granite ceiling a kerosene lantern cast shards of light through the pale steam rising from the surface of the pools.
Ripples radiated outwards from the edges of my body and tapping faintly on the rock revealed the edges of the chamber.
Outside I could hear the wind slide across the spine of the mountains, speaking in a language that I remembered but could no longer understand.
Steam filled my nostrils and heat penetrated my bones until, after a time, I had no body, only a sense of silence and distance and calm.
As if I had just woken from all water into dream.
— Tassajara Zen Mountain Center, 1973
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Do the schools teach Paine and Dickens anymore? I doubt if they ever did teach Bester. I remember I was amazed in the 8th grade(1959) when my Literature teacher not only allowed me to deliver a book report on “The Stars My Destination” but gave me a B+ .
From December the 3rd my soul looks up at me, from time to time, shakes its head in disgust . . . and goes back to puking.
All the “let’s move on” bullsh!t is nothing but that, pure and simple.
There’s no place to move on to since the Republic died on December the 3rd.
We are not a Constitutional Republic anymore but a 3rd world pigsty rule by tyranny like so many others.
Venezuela comes to mind. Argentina comes to mind. Rhodesia comes to mind.
“Deriving their just powers from the consent of the governed” is just cr@p in the lefto-pukes toilet.
The lefto-pukes are using the Constitution as toilet paper.
Fine.
Their choice.
They are traitors to the last of them.
EACH AND EVERY SINGLE ONE OF THEM.
Treason has a price.
Back to the beginning treason has had a price.
Nothing has changed.
We still have balls.
Some have turned theirs in to wives and state.
Some live to forget they have them.
But many still have ours hanging tough.
Sometimes somewhat bruised by misandry, granted.
But still very much there.
We are back to before 1776.
Want to “move on”?
Fine.
Let’s build a country, first.
We need a Constitution and proper authority duly elected.
I can suggest the basis for one. The one we had on December the 2nd.
Could it be perfected? Probably.
A better, more explicit 2nd Amendment comes to mind.
And Ayn Rand’s “Congress shall make no law abridging the freedom of production and trade.” comes to mind.
And forbidding the government from involving itself in anything whatsoever that does not pertain to police, armed forces and courts of justice.
And term limits.
And depriving lefto-pukes of all kinds, from the franchise.
If you hate America you don’t get to vote.
And establishing the death penalty for election fraud.
And you only vote in person with inviolable personal identification.
And establishing the “we catch you and you are out in 24 hours” for illegal aliens and “we catch you again and it’s automatic 10 years forced labor”.
We don’t have any Republic, anymore.
What we have now is a limbo at best or a lefto-puke tyranny, most probably.
Yes, I know, Trump is still the President.
But for how long?
And, in the best of cases, what comes AFTER Trump?
And what do we do with the virtual civil war and all the traitors during the (IF) next four Trump years?
We are straight up in the midst of a coup against the remains of our late Constitutional Republic the United States of America (July 4th, 1776 – November 3rd, 2020)
This is not about America anymore.
The Republic is dead.
If we can’t elect a government then it’s all for nothing.
You don’t “move on” from here.
You begin by understanding that there’s no Constitutional Republic functioning.
That we are one day BEFORE 1776.
And then you move on from -T-H-E-R-E-.
Our worst enemy today is the normalcy bias.
All of our comfort is still there.
All of our inanity is still there.
All of the lefto-pukes traitors still living under the protection of our benevolence and still spewing their anti-American filth are till there.
All of our buildings are still there.
The flag is still there.
Our carriers and our submarines are still there.
Our Abrams still shooting nicely are still there.
Our trucks still keeping the country alive are still there.
Business as usual, amiright?
Uhh!! . . . . . . The Constitutional Republic is not there anymore . . . . . .
It’s kind of something, you know?
The biggest treason in our history is still there.
And from the modesty of my humble opinion somebody, several bodies, have to pay for it.
We have been wronged by traitors bent on enslaving us.
We can’t have them enjoying the fruits of their treasons and our servitude as if we are some kind of fundamental pussies.
We are a free people and we kill tyrants.
Two times we sailed the Atlantic (and the Pacific) to free the world from tyrants.
We are a free people and we kill tyrants.
And our Constitution was written so we can.
This? This is not normal. Not normal, at all. Not by a long shot. No, Sir. No.
I’m cleaning my gun…
Nice comment, George. I am with you.
I’ve been stuck in this funk since 11/4. I went to bed the night before confident that Trump won and freedom loving Americans did too. I awoke to the unbelievable shitshow that now be fronts us.
I’ve been in contact with state legislators and our one republican senator (Toomey a tool of the big banks, Wall St. and the globalists). The congress-critter for my legislative district is a leftist jackass and I won’t bother to voice my disgust at him and his party’s rotten trickery. It is a waste of time.
The only hope I can see at this point –
Option A) There will be enough objections raised in the house and senate that the electoral college swings back to Trump.
Option B) Trump receives the report from DNI Radcliffe and determines to invoke the Insurrection Act, call out the Special Forces, begin massive arrests of various traitors in both houses of congress (Adam Schiff I am looking at you), purge every department of the Deep State, additional arrests of Clinton, Clapper, Comey, Brennan, Wray, and others…..and while I’m dreaming, may as well go for all the beans – Abolish the ATF, restructure the FBI, oh and public hangings of the guilty parties after publicly broadcast military trails.
Ya know, I have heard many times of the court-packing threats by FDR that bent the entire government to his will … yet I didn’t really process it. Now we have seen the Supreme bent to the will of the mob.
I have heard many times of the blatant fraud in the Nixon-Kennedy race, and that historians now admit that Nixon actually won … yet I didn’t really process it. Now we have seen that two-state election fixing spread to all the states and burrowed so deep into the earth of the nation that I do not see how it can ever be eradicated.
I have heard of numerous other crimes and outrages … yet I didn’t really process it.
Why not, you may ask. I’m now coming to the realization that those outrages and crimes did not accord with the image of the nation as I was taught it. So I ignored them. I did not deny them; I simply did not process them and admit them to their rightful place in the true image. In short, I altered reality within my own mind to accord with the lovely image I preferred. And all along, I thought the left-liberal-progressive-socialist-whatev criminals were the ones doing that very thing to reality.
This year, I am endeavoring and struggling to process reality qua reality. I acknowledge now that I have neglected to practice this discipline and have lived a lifetime of wishful thinking. Mea culpa. I do not know what the future may hold, but I pray that I may atone somehow for my failure to use the brain the Lord gave me. May the Lord have mercy on me and all Americans.
People will submit. The Three Percenters will hide in their parents basements. We will live under Maoist communism.
Just sharing.
No Matter What Happens, We’re NEVER Going Back To ‘Normal’
https://theroadtoconcord.com/2020/12/17/no-matter-what-happens-were-never-going-back-to-normal/
Nut Up, Or Shut Up
https://raconteurreport.blogspot.com/2020/12/nut-up-or-shut-up.html
Quite frankly, it looks hopeless,
but so did things in 1776.
Just wait til the food runs out.
You probably can’t imagine what lies in store for you.