hundred percent subservience
to the Machiavellian wishes of Israel and Saudi Arabia,
evinced in the election-resistant
slightness of light
between the establishment's firmament
of right and righter parties
(notwithstanding those bulging curtains
and shuffling sandals that loom in the 9-11 mists),
Russia's unprecedented,
heinous and nefarious, Godzilla-rearing influence
must be a preternatural thing indeed.
going only by the sold out crowds
for the resurrected re-ascendance
of nationalism and patriotism,
by the strange sightings of McCarthy's ghost,
lurking with his war profiteer bedfellows
at the head of the goose-stepping ranks
of the Party that isn't Democratic,
joined at the hip as they suddenly are
to "Democracy's friends" at the CIA,
spontaneously sprouting from neoliberal pods
as a redefined species
of born again regime changers,
speaking in their suspicious,
fifties tongues,
just loud enough to be heard
by the listening devices
their souped up cell phones
so willingly surrendered
to one of their folksy own,
sounding on their righteous trumpets
a clarion call for the
infotainment freedom of regurgitated speech,
while sharpening pikes for the heads of Wikileaks
and shading the right sides of elephants' hides,
brandishing their subscriptions
to the woefully persecuted
John the Baptist scribes and channellers,
those Prepare-Ye-the-Way-of-War serial criminals
at the Times and the Post,
this inconclusive, and stubbornly
elusive influence,
thinly veiled and eagerly,
unanimously assailed,
would have to be a sort of
hitherto unimagined dark matter,
a reverse-acting, negative-exposing,
history-and-reality-reinventing,
circumspection-circumventing,
menacingly-clever-yet-obtusely-clueless,
conveniently-refocusing,
repackaging and recriminating,
self-inflicting-with-demonization
type of 'influence',
equipped with a malice
uncannily similar to our manifestly predestined,
projected intentions.
those very same, never questioned,
mythic intentions
we're forever hearing all those accolades about,
that are in fact the stock and trade
of every American politician,
and form a kind of religion
in and of themselves,
prompting us
(and oddly, no one else but us)
to surround other people's countries,
especially the independent ones,
with eight hundred state of the art
military bases.
those very same, ever so profitable intentions
that naturally allow us to excuse ourselves
whenever we happen to murder
a noticeable number of "other" people,
which happens whenever an angel rings a bell
and the stocks go up.
the sputtering, Democracy-splattering intentions
that gushed from a string
of proudly appraising presidents
who eyed Cuba as the "jewel" in their "necklace",
glinting with promised riches
in their gated and whitewashed
Latin American "backyard".
the beacon-beaming, exemplary intentions
that the peasants and pack animals
in Southeast Asia
are still reeling from,
and so many refugees are trying to escape.
the "good" intentions that are buried
with the "bad" Indians' freedom.
unfailingly masked by the
pornographic fiction of colluding Hollywood,
and the dependable deflection
of our directionly disabled, looking glass media.
and yet
as if to prove our legendary lawlessness
and our stunning dearth
of sentient, functioning journalists,
they are brazenly flaunted
in the bedazzling light of 'America's day'
in Bill Clinton's celebrated
declaration of piracy
and the Sainted Obama's smooth assertion
that "full spectrum dominance"
is the "overriding goal"
of our "exceptionally indispensable"
foreign policy.
meanwhile,
i expect the uniformly reputed rarefied niche
of Simon Bar Sinister's
retroactively ricocheting, reasonless influence
will one day be explained.
it's the sort of thing one might hope to find
in the special features of a Doctor Who DVD.
perhaps in that lost episode
where he stumbles over
the invisible weapons of mass destruction
and ends up accidentally
spreading Democracy™.
** **** * **** *** **** * **** **
- Evan Hawthorn, the 22nd of May, 2017
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