*)(* the posing of a broken dish proffered by Mr. Fish *)(*)(* (a psalm for Thanksgiving's mourning)

and verily one asks
how such a
so long silenced
rebellious ringing dirge

tolling at last
for that unfathomed
righteous litany
of lost and shattered
unmattering worlds

inhabiting a channelling
collective keening voice,
indivisible of spirit

that hearkens
for the revenant
resonance
of unrequited truth

can ever again hold its weeping tongue

*

when even now
the coiffed and scripted,
vetted and indebted,
conscience-unembedded,
zombie army
of corporate operatives

manning
the right side of history's
embezzlement-bristled,
theocracy-thistled,
immaculate infrastructure
of Western impunity

with its lavish stable
of enabling fable;

that privilege-bedangled,
star-spangle-angled,
confirming firmament;

that regal dispensation
of honesty dispensement
and its knowing
recompense;

that black hole of redaction
spiraled by a binary
circus of distraction;

the denial-filed, guile-styled,
air wave-curbing,
verbiage-blurring,
proportion-interring,
wrath-of-god-incurring,
demon-inferring,
regime-murdering media

and those flippant
conning coins
twirling
in the Apparency
of Democracy's
brittle twilight

the incessant hurling spin
of the pleasant sounding
or simply astounding
pubescence abounding,

profoundly blind
to irony's drowning,

wholly-owned subsidiary
fracturing factions
of finagling,
fact-strangling,
stone-bleeding amnesiacs
and brokered, photo-op asses

are all of them
still marching
to the well-hung tune
of capital's
sole essential
Frankenstein monarchy
of bomb bursting
billionaire brigands

barfing brazen brands
with a barking braggadocio
in their pious
and pitiless
pirate's parade

decked out in America's
unquestioned tradition
of patriotic-opticked,
irretrievably racist,
scandalously panderous,

intelligence-proof
and election-immune,
invincible
lockstep conformity

(sewn from the same
remorseless garment
that early in its infancy
fabricated whiteness)

colour coding
expendable skulls
so the
lobbied embodiment
of profit assuring,
terror immuring,
independence obscuring
storm troopers;

the armed to the teeth
fell quelling shell
of the Empire's New Clothes;

that perfect protection racket
of mythos-dosed,
Hollywood-idolled,
export-import
heroes and cops

can add to their staggering pile.

*****

and so the bell tolls

for the untold millions
pooling in their
numberless,
overlooked fisheries;

for the collateral
colonial cattle
in that selective,
elective Father's

utterly forsaken folds;

unnamed and uncounted,
the fragmentary hosts
of our
temporary dust

resounding
and collecting
in those lonely
yearning harbours

that ache
within the
Commons of our Souls.

* **** * **** * ******* * **** * **** *
- Evan Hawthorn, the 26^th of November, 2017