*<*>>>>>* dictation gleaned while on the lamb *<<<<<*>* (a whimsical, unvested manifesto from the right thinking Easter Bunny's divisive unbehooved cousin; the nefariously unglossed, rabidly unboxed, radical Rabbit of Dissension)

actually,
they were first grown

as carrots,

quite content
in and of themselves;

offspringing offspring,

tumbling humbly
from the hummed fumblings
of bumbly bees,

and communing
with their
un-industrious
meadow rooting fellows,

long before some
slack-jawed
presumptuous primate

stumbled upon them

and rumbled
their unprofitable destiny;



yea,

even before
the meaningless depths
vacuously
plummeting

from history's
blisters
on its
blighted rightest side

were repackaged
as immaculate,
evacuated memory;

and long before
even this,

in the
disasterous,
competitive wake

of our
presidential,
precedent setting

Reptilian
SuperPower
antecedents

in the predawn's
spawning yawning

when Bugs Bunny's
mopsy and flopsy
mop and pop flock

of continuously
re-docking
lolloping stock

incidentally interrupted
their winsome,
thumping spin

of Saturday night hops
and flippity flops
on floppity tops

and the unbridled
drop
of dna swaps,

stopping
for the nonce

the shopping
for succulent cropping,

and all that
relentless

field mouse
bopping;

verily,
i say unto thee

the carrots
still thought they were free

when the cinema's
premier
"what's up Doc?"
trickster vixen

and consummate
cartoonish transvestite

was naught
but an
incendiary
sparkle

betwixt
the rollicking
of sparking eyes

and that hapless
strain
of harebrained ancestors

sowed the
accidental seeds
of 
stereotypical addiction

so casually
bandied about
in the
emptying gestures

of an
idling jester's

sullied and
exploitative
rise

to trite
commercial stardom.

* ***** * ******* * ******* * ***** *
- Evan Hawthorn, the 29^th of April, 2018

a mourning for man unkind **<>>>>>>>>*<<<<<<<<>** (good guys and defensive intelligence: the myths that make America fake)

was there ever any doubt
that France

(taking a break from
undermining West African independence
and circumventing plans
for their crushed-with-Gaddafi currency)

and Britain

(unsettled by the setting
of its commons-stealthed sun,
and the tarnished fraying reins
round a laboured, illiberal party)

would collaborate
with the Buffoon of Oz
in his latest round
of pitiless
and vicious
man-dated terror?

(goaded again
by the imploding Deep State,

those proliferating agencies
of militant "intelligence"

and the Feed-Me-Seymour
trillion-armed
demonizing beast
of offensive "defense"

in cahoots with the empire's
enterprising editorial enablers,
hallucinating generals
and bobbing talking heads,

and the Hollywood stumping,
sexting and pumping
adolescent dream catchers

all flanked by the planked,
stuffed and vetted,
binary-bated,
partisan-plated,
right and righter parties.)

for prior to playing
mass-murderer's tag
with Vietnam's invasion,

and even before Churchill's
"healthful terror"
poured chemical weapons
out of airplanes,

clearing the way
of "dog in the manger"
Palestinians
for Israel's virgin birth

the pirate triumvirate
had inconspicuously formed;

that lawless consensus
of contrived connivance
and border hoarding,
UN distorting bullies

in their Colonial
Rogue Axis
of Lesser
and Greater
Unspeakable Evil,

who can always be
counted on
to misrepresent
their savage intentions

as they pander
the plundering patriarchs'
heroic democracy
to delusion-consuming
patriotic sheep

while they demean
and dehumanize,
project their
brutal crimes upon,
rape the minerals
and aspirations of,

and consistently deny
connection to

any off-white life
they happen to run over.

but fear not,
Alzheimer's "good guys"
have rigged
the prised, divided sides,
sidling the cries of history.

for the CIA
who terrorized MLK,
prodding his suicide

and probably arranging
his murder;

(but never mind all that)

the same CIA
who robbed us

of so many Black Panthers

(the best community organizing,

democracy boosting heroes

the sixties produced),

along with several
"good" (dead) indians
and Leonard Peltier,
still rotting in his cell;

they who've toppled
dozens and dozens

of other people's governments,
and spent untold millions
unstabling dissent;

who piloted their exported torture
from university laboratories
to the seventies' argmageddon
thrust on Latin America,

consigning populations everywhere
to dictated hopelessness,
cruelty, and misery

because our owners
apparently
don't make enough money

from other-people focused,
duly demonized
leaders;

that never dozing CIA
who dreamed up al Qaeda
to saddle the Soviets
and,

with their
monarchist, extremist
bosom buddies
and birds of a feather
apartheid enforcers,
outfitted and funded ISIS;

they who've misled the American public

into countless wars
of blatantly illegal aggression,

are currently spying
on every creature in creation,

sharing their homegrown
apple pie files

with the 'Five Eyes'

(that sneaky league
of English speaking,
treason-immune
bromanced scooping snoops);

yes they,
the CIA
are always on the job

protecting this
predicament
we've learned to call
freedom.

and when anyone

airs their
preternaturally dirty laundry,

they go after them
for 'espionage'

proving that,
like Obama
(and all his presidential precedents)
they see
We the People

(the redundant
remaindered citizens
those unAmerican whistleblowers
attempt to inform)

as enemies of
the "interests" of

"the state."

*

so heed their call
for all out war
with Boris, Natasha,
and Simon Bar Sinister

(and whatever other
unbeholden
"bad guys"
they open a season
upon);

shield us from
unauthorized purveyors
of independent,
unregurgitated thought;

guide our trusting feet
from the paths of
unseemly discord
arranged by
strangely accented
or off-colour evildoers

who would dare inform us
of unconscionable greed's
essential and
exceptional crimes.

we can always
count on them,
the CIA
and those 16 other
mushrooming toadstools
of aspersion, coercion,
and devious diversion

to work AGAINST US,

consistently and viciously,

every chance they get.

so buck up, America,
and grab another gun.

Uncle Sam is calling you
to a brand new,
oil-spurting "homeland".

the barely noticed fact
that the party that insists
it's "Democratic"

(despite the woeful record
of wasted majorities,
the stolen primaries,
and the completely ignored content
of all those endlessly broached,
messenger-punishing emails)

has chosen this moment
to climb into bed
with insecurity's
intelligence firmament

under the Times and the Post's
emotion-stoking
apparency of resistance,
(and all their other covers)

while Trump's slight of farce

is awakening
so many 'progressive'
donkey-blindered Rumplestiltskins
for the very first time

should make people realize
how desperate the oligarchs,

spooked by the
looming silk road
in their rear view mirrors,
have become

and how pivotal this moment
actually is.

*

it's either George Orwell's
"1984"
from now until
major cities
are flooded
and the blowback comes home

or we find
within our
quaking selves

an honest revolution.

*

it's either a sane,
multi-polar world,

based on equality,
diplomacy,
and democracy all around,

even for pigmented,
third world,
and otherwise
unprofitable persons

(which means
the Deep State's
zombie army
of corporate operatives
and lavishly funded
bipartisan mass murderers
who call their
endless state of war
"America"

have to finally be stopped
in their presumptive
bloodied tracks

from their relentless pursuit

of "full spectrum dominance")

or it's the end of the

dubious experiment

of 'intelligent' primates

traipsing the harrowed margins
of the unrequited earth.

* ***** * ******* * ******* * ***** *
- Evan Hawthorn, the 14^th of April, 2018

<<<<<<<<< the chorus of unsung multitudes >>>>>>>>> (a psalm for swaying palms)

preserved on
coloured slips,
identities crumple
as fragile
memories fade.

yet the parchment
renders
its tendering of ghosts.

for Muhanad Shawki
(entreating his genie "i want to get out
of the hospital")

and Faiza Amir
(in a final portrait by her brother),

shorn of
ragged flesh
and unrequited dreams

have taken their
required, expiring places

in the chorus of
unsung multitudes

that burdens
the bitter wind

where cumulus echoes
of the briefest
of sojourns

surfing fraught waves
of arrogant indifference,

coalesce in
swelling knells
of a contra crescendo,

convening
a collateral choir;

delving the dissonance
of discarded
discordance

from the unseen victims
of America's
abhorrence

for other people's children.

*

the Iraqi section alone
boasts
half a million

falsetto voce
silences

sanctioned by
sanctimonious glee.

a worthy
shoring up
of those
numbing,
numberless legions

the previous
administration
decided to
stop counting.

for shaded
and graded
unexceptional folk,

clearly unintended
for voting booths,

have all been
redistricted

by protection racket dockets,

broken headlights
and itty-bitty rockets,

and regime-change's
jingling,
misappropriated pockets

to eternal
global
battlefields,

custom-fitted
for evisceration

in Hollywood's
patriotic arias
of popcorn pimping
pyro-technique

where Luke and Leia's
film-at-eleven
laser lynchings,
freedom fireworks,
and flimflam glam

are eked out
by the silencers'
boundless rounds
of derivative
racist recitative

in aid
of skulking raids
haunting
the nightingale's
woebegone night,

riddled as it is
by curious beams,

bed-wetting tykes
and their
terrified screams,

and special forced heroics

from the tricked out
baggage
of civilizing themes;

all part and parcel
of our
all consuming,
profit blooming,
humanity entombing

hell on earth arsenal

with which we level

the bridled
margins

of right-sidled
history.

*

in a surreal twist
to the relentless
plaguing

of Babylon's
hounded for centuries
progeny,

stretching the
industrial,
iron clad
scope creep

of proportionless
pride
in the progress
of pilgrims
in a pirate's parade

and Christendom's
reflectionless
crimson crusade

comes the gift that
keeps on giving,

the especial reward
for effective independence,

left by an
unprecedented,
preternatural pounding

snuffing out
whole neighborhoods'
courageous resistance,

flattening
the unfolding
city of Fallujah

where depleted uranium
and white phosphorus
have raised infant mortality,
cancer,
leukemia,
and birth defects

to rates far exceeding
anything ever seen,

even in the fallout
from that other
exotic Asian
littlest angel
recruitment scheme

radiating from
the good old days
of glory's gory yore

that turned out
hundreds of thousands of lights

in Hiroshima and Nagasaki,

drowning our
collective
unconscious karma

in the self-extolling,
binary-poling,
dearth of the
desert-doling,

myopic and priapic
god of destruction's,

insurmountable
and unapproachable,

unmentionable
and unquenchable,

unimpeachable
and unbeseechable,

undented,
unrepented,
and barely even vented,

utterly irredeemable debt.

* ***** * ******* * ******* * ***** *
- Evan Hawthorn, the 26^th of March, 2018

(another posting hosting Mr. Fish)

and just when i thought he couldn't possibly
make me laugh harder
or admire his muse more,

Mr. Fish gives us this:

Jack the Ripper's broken mirror * (a dreamtime meme from the Cheshire Cat's other brother) *

how perfectly
their bent pretense

conforms with that
rugged,
law deriding
legacy

consistently evinced
by America's perverse
terminally rehearsed

incessantly tensed,
prehensile fenced
nonsensical sense of "Defense".

the exact trajectory
Malice in Plunderland's
vainglorious looking glass
would seem to suggest

works best

for aiming cameras
and tailoring verse,

focusing illusion
on outcome's inverse;

the artful deflection
at profit's behest

unpinning the hearse
from the tax vipers' nest

of the vested interests'
incorporated purse.

'tis but the Mad Hatter's
Freudian infection

of reverse-vectored
charnel,
and funhouse
projection,

the diversionary
formulary
of the Times and the Post

recommended by
17 of 17
proliferating,
mushrooming,
eavesdropping squads

of tinkers, assassins,
and body snatching pods

so endearing to
gullible 'resisters',
McCarthy's inquisitors,
and the 'liberal' Masters of War

as featured
in the premiere issue
of the Queen of Hearts'
Stolen Tarts
mother of distraction
fact redacting handbook,

the regime-change quarterly
for the planners and fanners
of Debilitating Duopoly,
"Homeland" Monopoly,
and all the other

fakers and stakers
in that border hoarding,
independence-thwarting,
culpability-distorting,
apple pie in a pig's eye
do unto others
industry

shining from its gentrified,
coloured-coded
dungheap
on that lesser-ogled
and sickly
off-green hill.

*

this directional
deception
intercepting
perception

is discernible in every facet

the myopia-manacled,
maniacal-monocled,
machocidal beacon's
buffed and cuffed,
karma-curdled culture produces

like a cancerous
omnicidal DNA
rotting all the
whitewashed structures
that normalize gore

to their privilege-glossed,
fear-embossed,
exception-ridden core;

from the March Hare's
errant blaring
on arrogated airwaves

that eveready terror
perpetually mounting
its remunerating wares

to those fan-faired,
intelligence impaired
feel good affairs

scaring up
werebears
and copycat scares;

from that obsessive
idée fixe of "foreign relations"

a whack-a-mole
high tech hammer
from Felix's self-absorbing
patriotic bag
of stick waving pricks

to the endless regurgitation
of superfluous 'crime' dramas,
exterminating
demonized extras
till the next commercial break;

from genocidal idols
in Western bromance bromides
evaporating vinyl indians
in the venerated vintage
vaults of assault

to Superpower wowers
of pitiless and posable, 
cookie cutter Heroes
in those monochrome fixations
and "fantasy" flicks;

from the pentagon paragon
persecution complex
where United Nations notions
get nullified and nixed

to those alzheimer-riddling
"history" books,
discovery coquetries,
and pbs pampering pimps

where propaganda potions
for good-intentioned
conventions and convictions
are mixed;

from its suicidal lineup
of sacrificial soldiers

and We the People holdup
of Commons-snuffing budgets

hooked through
banked and planked,
plaqued and flacked
bipartisan arteries
and m(isl)edia IVs

to the protection racket's
expanding scaffolding
of erectile enhancement,
"full spectrum dominance",

and all the other
fictionalized trappings
and blowback bric-a-brac
of proportional dysfunction.

all fashionable and actionable,
recognisable ramblings
of the same psychotic,
life-extincting
unravelling thread

that ripples warping nightmares
in the weave of spreading dread

smothering the future
in the beacon's unmade bed

where zombies in shackles
arrive in freedom's stead

shunted like rats
in the sleepwalking ruts
of coercion's undead tread.

*

alas! Jack the Ripper!

if only vulnerability
didn't float your boat

and wee willy syndrome
wasn't yanking on your goat

you could finally stop seeing
those limitless
helpless victims

bobbing in
your trademarked
'protecting freedom' nets

as bottom bleeding

weeding
embarrassments,

resurfacing as threats.

* ***** * ******* * ******* * ***** *
- Evan Hawthorn, the 7^th of March, 2018

the lethal ism of the founding fathers (a psalm in search of comprehension)

 "our policies will never be based on claims to exceptionalism.  we protect our interests

  and respect the interests of other countries.  we observe international law and believe

  in the inviolable central role of the UN."

          - Vladimir Putin (from his recent speech, so at odds with the State of the Union

             precedent set by America's pantheon of exception pandering presidents.)

*

i wonder

if those proud primates

clothed in the rumoured,

pleated conceit

of the emperor's Americans

will ever be able to see

that it's their
very own

homegrown protectorate,

invested with the sacred

defining narrative

of threatened escalation

and proliferating myth

(the incorporated owners

of obliquely reeking,

cancerous cliques,

those emanations of irresponsibility

supremely deemed

to exclusively matter,

with their tank-cranking 'think' tanks

and vetted, indebted,

manicured batches

of distractfully bickering

racketeering bitches,

that lavishly remunerated

rotting lot

of identity framing,

flame retarding,

blame projecting,

binary blindering,

memory weeding,

screed feeding misleaders;

mainstreamed and laymansplained

by the deigning of dukes

and vicarious viscounts

at the Times & the Post;

those savvy automatic, self-censoring satraps

with seats on every hoarding board

that reaps reward

from whoring high-tech swords,

and all the other

knighted abettors,

pruning speeches,

grooming leeches

and listening at doors),

far better than any

of their

pitched and stitched,

cast and plastered monsters,

who insist on consistently

emulating Nazis.

*

for without their bullying,
preeminent example

of lesser, blessed,

and protectively dressed

vengeful,

'necessary' evil,

their Saudi, Israeli, & Al Qaeda allies;

(that myopic camel-lodged tryclops

of Abraham's extremist bedfellows)

and the g [for grasping] seven,

(the sunset sibling sorority

of paling colonial collaborators)

might slip from their

corralling,

corroborating sway,

putting those haunted

blatantly racist,

exceptional horns away.

for 'tis only

We-the-Mesmerized,

Insecured-People;

the squatters of distraction

on compassion's

stinted dearth

of stolen homeland,

with their divinely minted denial,

patrolling injustice,

and hallucinations of envy;

lulled by the

unreflecting

imprisoned prism

of freedom's

vain illusions;

at the trickling and teaming,

red, white & blue

tribal beck & call

of Profit's preying demons

who must

rouse ourselves

to find

all of

ourselves

and,

finally discover

in the freeing

forgiveness

such newfound contact

with inclusiveness

would naturally incur

our very first inkling

of civilizing,

humanity-valuing,

liberated

by its own

illuminating

borderlessness,

actually factual,

functioning

Democracy.

*

(for without that

hypothetical

link with
longed for sanity

and berth for living worth,

of thee i cannot

honestly

bring myself to sing.)

* * ******* * ******* * ******* * ******* * ******* * *
- Evan Hawthorn, the 2^nd of March, 2018

a setting of colours

though i always knew
how the white made the blue

'twas blinded, me
but now i see

from whence the red still runs.