Fireworks [a prose poem]

{We need the Revolution we were meant to, supposed to have in ’69, of Newton, Baldwin, Cleaver etsetchrah}

Fellow Nihilists Unwitting and Erstwhile Testosteroned or Not Sufferers of Indifference Exhaustion, Aurora Dysphoria, Victims of Tinnitic Chantless Squeal of Once Happy Unsung Songs at Dawn! Morning of Mourning Comes! Evolutionary Psychology Demands Your Revolutionary Wakeology This Yesterday!

Old Robespierre plugged himself in his proud orator’s chin on the left though deft righthanded in a fit of erroneous suicide alleged; alas, he— history’s precursor of the tedious righteousness misarrived two point two five centuries later—,

he unwisely seems to have believed the purpose of equality was to enhance staunch stiff virtue promulgation by a populace entranced by a self-inflicted mesmeric daze of civic duty, right at a time when (then, like now) self-hypnosis was all the rage though then it was a salon parlour game for deft amusement, whereas now the hypnotized en masse aren’t aware they are asleep, in need of waking; yet,

Yet it seems to me government’s solitary duty if not purpose indeed ought to be at the very least universal prevention of starvation.

The absolute mimimum being strenuous efforts to enact possibilities enabling something resembling universal well-being; aside from deweeding sidewalk cracks, polishing traffic signs and lights, and keeping libraries stocked with comix regarding plants, cats, and The Life Of An Ant, [Brief History Of The Pothole, (and) Amateur Basics Of Knitting For Naifs, plus the prequal preamble of Pary Hotter number sixty-eight!], now

it’s reputed on the basis of history that equality of outcome as a guarantee results in death of freedom’s meaning as well as openly enforced tyranny presumably out of envy yet

None of that is clear to me as axiomatically an irreversible inevitability so thoroughly irrefutably guaranteed absolutely. Why must that automaticality so certainly be out of some sort of intrinsic human necessity?

Stalin, Lenin, PolPot are cited, such that what is relied upon is a mutual felt urge to purge. Revenge becomes justice, guns lose all fun, whenever the individual is devalued at the expense of the optimum value of The Unique; meaning is deindividualized, as defined by an assigned collective, tribe:

You are an exemplar of a generality and this comprises your meaning as a person. Your thoughts are as mouthpiece of a power block which as repressive requires the self-assessment of redefinition. All self-definitions in terms of uniqueness and individuality are due to racial solopsism, love of self of self, the virtuizing of the narcissist’s mirror, the self-congratulatory tendency of honkey thinking (etsetry);

here being but the thing of it is, if I am consigned by reality itself to be what I am and nothing else, why should I seek to change the unalterable, reverse the irreversible, fix the intrinsic essence, recogitize the functional automaticality alayin at the root of all my

helplessly race-based, racial, racist thought. And after I repudiate squaredancing as Hank Ford’s sneaky plot, deromanticize the romance of Walt Scott, commiserate the last stand of jazz, and in my mind end a kind of boyscoutish admiration for hollywoodic blackness confined to old dancefloor riff with goldchain glitz, what’s left? —for all us yachtclub commodores of our own minds after all the boats are burnt, piers are wrecked, buoys are sunk beneath leftover memories of frayed, graying choppy waves.

My quote unquote intrinsic merit?

{“Facetiousness is the highest form of moral gravity in an absurd world….” } That is an unsought truth ungot by reading it in a book, hearing it on a netflix trailer, or glimpsing it on passing billboard while my lost brain daydreamt it within my squarish intercellchild who owns me.

O surfing Serf, do you not know, believe

‘Everyone should, even thou shalt be: poor, and happy!’?

Let us spend our lives in preparatory angstless yearning for the birthing arrival of That Great Day (when fireworks may again be mutually intelligible every place remaining on This Bigass Globe)! Let’s give it up for us!

Last jesters of death!


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