“Just Another Evening’s Fast”

“Just Another Evening’s Fast”

Just another evening’s fast,
By chance, a simple dinner, happenstance within the seams
And lining of sidling sibling intercourse that satisfies or possibly redeems
The thing that leaves its fossils free for future scavengers, no past
To contemplate, a coroner’s delight from the proceeds of a centrifuge.
Cleverness of movement mounts in moments somehow cleft
And processed as lesions in the lard of what’s been left
To marinate or age. Discharge, wastes from the deluge
Along the banquet boards, but dammed provide
A watershed, the simple servant to all cardinal sins
To celebrate with sufficient zeal a subtrahend
That will not be outgrown nor decompose and cannot break its stride
With backdoor vipers or ill-used garden snakes. At harm’s length
Visitations of the witnesses can only grow in strength.

3 responses to ““Just Another Evening’s Fast”

  1. Jacob Simpson

    I understand you quite well. None so deaf as those that won’t hear😉

  2. I think politicians are totally unbelievable and tissues don’t exactly cover the description of lies…(maybe a blanket would) and isn’t it a tragedy that I say that? By painting them all with the same brush I show I am swayed into a cynicism complete with disdain, which may or may not be warranted, and what further distresses me, is that I really don’t care…it’s become that bad.
    Love the words, Sidling siblings, draws a complete picture in the mind. .. I enjoyed my seat at your fast not a feast.. xPenx

    • I remember a scene from the movie, Cromwell, in which Cromwell with an appointed delegation from the Parliament visits Charles I and in the process of the “polite” conversation with the king on the subject of the dire possibilities of civil war should the king continue to ignore the needs and wishes of his subjects, Cromwell speaks up definitely for the first time with a kind of “Let’s get to the point,” attitude and tone of voice unheard of from the average “commoner” of the time, to which the king replies, “Sir, you are impertinent,” alluding at once to the fact that none of the committee were holders of titles, all were “commoners” from the “House of Commons” and that they existed solely by his “grace” and were in fact in the presence of their king by divine right. Cromwell’s reply was something to the effect that in circumstances such as the matter of grievances about which the “committee” from Parliament was consulting with the king, “manners are of little importance, if not superfluous.”

      Your comment reminded me of that, and, as a matter of fact, the whole of my poem was written in just the same mood and content of your luminous comment and, at the same time, the similar circumstances of what it was that drove those “loyal subjects” to approach the king at all on such matters in that scene in the movie. By now, I have seen enough of politicians and, for that matter, enough of anchors of news programmes who are so rude and even crude in delivering whatever the news that they vie with one another in station with the very politicians about whom they are supposedly objectively reporting and whom they openly ridicule.

      The intellectually sound principles of “keeping an open mind” and/or “allowing for tolerance of opinions and actions in the diversity of both within our society” have become all but moot in the opening decade of the 21st Century in the face of the obscenity of the lesions within “civilized” societies in this world paraded before the public for well over one hundred years through two world wars and at least two dozen examples of genocide since the close of the last one. In particular, the last two years has inaugurated a kind of open season on anything close to what was formerly revered or honoured as the virtue of “humanity” in favour of embracing, full-tilt-boogie, “the realities of the day” head-on and disqualifying virtue as “beside the point” when it comes to who does what to whom and what must be the result.

      “…and isn’t it a tragedy that I say that? By painting them all with the same brush I show I am swayed into a cynicism complete with disdain, which may or may not be warranted, and what further distresses me, is that I really don’t care…it’s become that bad,” are sentiments that I have heard from no one else on earth aside from what conversations I have overheard between my mind and heart and visa versa on a continuing basis for months, even years, now; I am reduced to silence save through my poetry and, yes, it is a tragedy, to say the least after having taught my own students to apply reason together with compassion when addressing the world and everything in it; the present world scene has reached the point of egregious self-righteous obscenity from all sides with the present starvation of 10,000,000 human beings in the horn of Africa even as I write being but one of the buttons on the vests of the “takers” in this world, a fact that seems to diminish the importance of anything happening in Libya or Syria, Washington or London, Wall Street or the pirates just off the coasts of Somalia.

      Luckily, however, I know that even were there to be a number reduced to a single soul who knows and manifests the truth in whatever is permeations, the entire world’s population cannot ultimately stifle or smother such light to the point of extinction. Of course, the present heat is close to unbearable, but so it was by September of 1939.

      Many thanks for your comments, truly; apparently, these observations are no a one-man show. I have often wondered if I do not border on the negative throughout my poetry even though in actual point of fact, I know that they are written, one and all, to affirm and not to negate humanity. I leave negation to the politicians and the media, not to mention what passes for entertainment these days. I feel a little like Descartes in feeling that because “I am” I know that all is not lost; it is not, however, because I think that I am but because I know I exist and why I exist and just Whom it may concern that I continue to do so, and I suspect you have the same problem.

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