*>>>* the contrary parody of conventional intentions; *<<<* * a descant of disenchantment *

in the vested West

(where hypocrisies

doctor
"democracies",

laundering
freedom's
apostasy

in
theocracies

of
"economy")

the carved and
starving uninformed

are uniformly fed

a despotically insistent,

covetously weeded,

consistently excreted

carcinogen drenched diet

from the spillings
of tillaged
pillage,

the cleaving rantings
of
dander expanding pander,

the misgiven leavings
of
focus atrophied
conceit,

and the
posh-sloshing
whitewash

of whole hog,
troth-betrothed,

vain-planed,
privilegesplained,

fracture-tractioned
and
faction-distractioned,

waning
reign
of
disdain
sustaining

brainwashing

(from worth's
turfed

indispensabled
birth)

tailored
to
hem
them in

by
the cloaked,
clocking blocking
of
stick beticked earnings;

the industrious churning
of angst-ridden yearnings;

a passive
exclusion
from
intrusion's
charred spurnings

(kept in reserve
for deeper
alienation's
hyphens and shadings);

and
the carefully
vectored
spectre

of
festering,
re-indenturing

securitied
insecurities.

*

every aspect
of
'popular culture'

sees to this;

the raison d'être

of
blithe exception's
snidely
prideful,

wild west
besting,

arresting investiture,

refined

since the first

world
war
lost.

*

considering further,

the furtive
spurtings
of abuse,

a deafness
of pontification
at its
most obtuse,

and
the bobbing,
hobbling

syncopated
justification

for
absurdly
skirting
herdings

and dust laden contests

over blustering gusts
of illusory power

in the
"mine"
entwined

spiraling
lines

passed
for
parenting

from one
generation

to the vexed
perplexed
next,

factoring
in

the always on offer
ecclesiastic coffers

from
Reverend Fealty Feelgood's

magicked bag
of
fantastic elastic

righteously
arighting
and
reversibly emphatic

instructional, dysfunctional
illumined
masturbation,

depressions,

repressions,

and
sexting
impressings;

that aluminum sidling
of plastic didactics

manipulated
into

the tide minding,
bind hiding,

writhing,
un-abiding

sidewindings
of
religion,

the
wonder
is

that anyone

is halfway sane

at all.

*

a few minutes
consumed

perusing "the news"

or swallowing
the
desensitized
inoculations

and clone droned
normalizations

of those
empirical
indoctrinations

called "action films" or "drama"

(not to mention
exempt contempt's
discarding yard sale
of
distortion's purported,
monopolized "reality")

ought to convince
even
an accidental

unaligned peer
amidst
slipping gears

(with ears ajar
enough
to
hear

the knell
of
the spell)

that
forever out of season

proportion and reason

are scarcely apportioned

to the fell
common wells

in the
abandoned reeling weal

of dumbed-down dells

at all.

*

given the
copious, unseemly appendage

of discouraged,
upending,
undernourished courage,

unchanneled,
unfunneled,
unempaneled vision,

and relative absence
of pre-obsessed

shutter cluttered
"self"
possession

entailed
in
seeing past

the predictably human
predilection

for the inventive
preventative
pratfalls

thrust by
evasive projection

in order to grapple with

(or even
come to see)

the collective deceptions
conveniently packaged

by the
editing pitch
of the
oligarch patriarchs'

invasive
incorporation
of
patriotic lunacy,

from
where
i glance, askance

common
is

to
sense

as
military

to
intelligence;

the
"world's policeman"

to
equality's disruptors

discovering democracy;

the
clutch of "Christian" churches

to
revolution's outcast

founder of loveocracy;

and
Hollywood's
spoon-fed crooning

that crowned thy 'good guys',

(and bound those 'othered'hoods)

to
a
chance
happened
stance

in
step
with
fraternity

for the war weary
time of crime's

unrhyming of chimes

in that place without space

where angels
i
imagine

unentrance
the
dance

in a barely seeded,

rarely heeded,

desperately needed,

SuperPower superseded

incandescent drop

of compassion's unconditional,

wholly unconventional,

at long last
unexceptional,

humanity-infected
and
un-dis-connected

decency.

* ******* *** ******* *** ******* *
- Evan Hawthorn, the 4^th of August, 2018

<*>> the thing about boxes <<*> (a psalm of intervention; an unsuborning of conformity's porn)

one could almost catch a qualm

in that breezy mainstream's
incorporating balm

for the travails
of the Empire's
enfablers "of record"

in their tug of war
with their very own

register ringing Frankenstein

were a skull and crossbones
not tailing the haunted sails

of their self-proclaimed
flaunting
of
journalism's banner

(in that
pale propped banter
of
blindering shades);

and if that trail of tears
for the death
of untolled millions

wasn't leaving
a telltale

crimson trickle

in the
undisclosed stains
of
their patriotic veils;

or if Julian Assange
wasn't
voraciously nailed

by the selfless integrity
of
achilles-compunctioned heels

to dictation's
gunwale punctured,
enabling stable of rails;

proof in the crosshairs

of the enmity
aroused

by informing
We the People

of our lording boards'
unmentionable
"representational" crimes.

*

and waving
their
wailing postcards

the
embedded abettors
have suddenly discovered

orphans in our midst

from the selective pews

and demonizing pulpits

where sainted protection's
genocidal anthems,
incarceration masses
and
unresponsive demeanings

ring from the
never aftering
rafters

of their
lesser evil

off-white children

sacrificing
steeple.

*

the reason
the
bugged, rigged,
and nuclear rocketed,

trillion dollar-shortfall pocketed,

intelligence-impugning,
constitution-pruning,
election-immune,

deeply
entombed
Eternal State of War

has left the Buffoon of Oz
in front of their
curtains

content to only pester him,

despite his embarrassing
casting off
of the
Emperor's old gloves,

and their objections
to a fanatical
sabbatical

for the assassin anointed
war queen

(the objective
of all those
mercenary valentines),

and the glimmers
inconsistency
shimmers

on the disowned,
then
intoned,
uncertained berth

of the white man's
bruise cruising
Euro-burgeoning burden

for regime changing
all the
lesser vested
peoples of the earth

must surely be
that they
daren't look

their gift nightmare
in its
puckering,
suckerfed mouth

when he's
turned out to be

such a
perfectly prospected,
incisively divisive,
invasively invidious,

sublimely infectious
distraction;

the obtuse, crowned papoose

who cooked
the spruced goose

laid
by the golden clown;

almost as divine
a
falling in their
laps,

halo arraying,

manna
from that angry god
in his
vengeful heaven

crusade-paving
miracle

as was 911.

so naturally,
he's covered 24-7

by supporters
and "resisters",

culpability
redactors
and
myth
persisters,

and all of irony's
peer-pressings,
war whores,
and
plastered
reenactors

attending the bouncing,
bubble-headed
star-spangled ball

of
vile,
viral
mouthpieces

that dependably skirt

liberty
and reason's

decades in the calling,
stalling and
falling

spiraling pall.

in light of such
a conformist-vectored
hectoring spectre

allowing one's focus

to be riveted
on the rantings

of the
uncontested
ratings maven
and
craven preying strumpet

is a
pornographic form
of
lemming-herded
obedience.

*

the deceptions of choice
for the fiction addictions

of septic paranoia's
traitorbait dystopia

amoungst
exception's
chosen
"indispensable"
enervation-nation

hooked to their
screaming headlines,
tapped apps,
and mainlining,
misleading IVs

whether the junkies believe
they're receiving

"the news"

from FOX, CNN, or NPR;

whether emptying heads
with biblical potions
on the gateway
to the beltway
of
ludicrous notions

or only inhaling
from local blonded bimbos

prejudicial presentations
of raced in crime;

whether snorting
distorting contortions
and
the smack
of lax proportion

that surrenders
independence
to the
doping agents of aristocracy

or the full blown fantasies
on broadsheets for white sheets

hanging
something wicked in the wind;

whether rhyming
adulation
for
appropriation

with the chiming Times
or
Pravda toasting Post,

or Rachel Maddow's
single-minded homage
to
warrior-buffed
zombie-restuffed
us or them
McCathyism

they're forever
being fitted

with carefully
constructed,

binary tinted boxes

(which has always been
the purpose

for stealing
our Commonsenting
airwaves

since the brainstorm
of broadcasting

vended its inception

at precisely the season

when the seeding of "treason"

uprooted
the
living

knowledge of trees.)

*

the toxic reeking vapours

hypocrisy's
dolled-up doxies

curl
in sanctioned unfurlings
of
ubiquitous
inconspicuous wallpaper

are always evident

in a million subtle things,

but rankly obvious

in what's
uniformly
overlooked.

even in the method
pushed subjects are broached

an un-teamed i
can see

the coasting encroachings
of privilege
being coached

as compoundings
resound

and "interests" seep through.

*

but boxes
must have "sides"

for identification's
teeming
and
steamrolling's
seeming;

for divvying
remaindered
citizens

in the
slight of spite's
night;

for insecurity's
anchors,

simplification's
sanding,

and Wall Street's
dispiriting,

disoccupied rebranding.

yet,
being boxes,

it's in their lot to block

perceptions
of dimension,

memory hole abstentions,

and unacceptable,
unconventioned connections;

let alone
the unclasped grasp

of complicated realities,

uncongealing fealties,
and
unexamined frailties;

or the last gasp
chancing glance
of
self-serving fallacies
and
duality's causalities;

not to mention
those
obfuscated roots

the powers that own

don't want

the people to see.

*

all the
screening gizmos,

seeing
eye drones

and i
i
i
phones;

all the watcher watchers,

conversation splotchers

and concentration
botchers

are shaped like
flattened little boxes,

like the fenced in
pretenses
so offensive to the earth,

or the ridges
of worth,

that wrongness
or righteousness

brace
inside brains.

they don't even
try
to hide

their built in dearth

of emancipation's
imagination.

*

the bottom feeding,
stone bleeding,
compassion weeding,

Alzheimered elephants
in the room

and the CIA-threaded,
war crime-indebted,
photo-op-wedded,

prevaricating donkeys
drowning out our doom

as "the two practical options"

form one such
box
themselves.

for
the crucial thing

about
boxes
is,

viewed from within,

there's no way to see out.

and thus,
like the useful lie
that communism ever existed
(in its totalitarian usurpation)

kept socialism
at the
capital of capital's bay

so, too
the shattered
shaken box
of hard-wired resistors

construe
a defense of the
only
bad guy

they're capable of seeing

in the evil revealed
in those "Democrat" detractors'

attacks on diplomacy.

but such is the myopia
of Lilliputians
and Blefuscudians

when their cataracts
have gone untended

for generations,

whilst nursing their offspring
in the rivers
of spoonfed denial

next door
to jealous godliness

and adjacent to
Aryan complacency.

*

despite the cloaks
of freedom

and tropes of democracy

yoked to
the lynchers
of Julian Assange,

squeaking in the spokes
of circus wheels
under
the brokers
of broken hypocrisy;

notwithstanding
all the sundered hides

they
strive
to
stride
behind

ye shall know them

by what they cannot abide.

* *** ***** ** ***** ** ***** *** *
- Evan Hawthorn, the 20^th of July, 2018

*(* <* *> "the misconstrued photo" <* *> *)* (a disabused muse on another symposium of posings pre-imposed)

maligning direction,

reputed "sides"
riddled

with proportion's
distortion

distract to protract

their
binary bases'

statis

of mined
and
blindered

lies.

for
none of the players

verily pay

for
anyone's "protection"

in the laundering
of projection

attending
conventions;

notwithstanding
the abdicated media's

adamant refusal
to recognise

those jarring
dissonant echoes

in the yawning,
unconscionable gap

between
focus-hocused,
fawning propaganda

and the
inconclusive inconvenience
of
un-complacent fact.

for ever since
the
rebranding

of
incessant
interception's
grand
inception

NATO,

that flag-bedecked

territorial rigging

of tagged
and
wagging intrusion

has always been

an OFFENSIVE organisation.

*

assuredly,

the inured
Lording boards
insuring the hoards
of
SuperPowered
Profiteering

are in their
ringing heaven

and all slides right

in the

slurred
blur
unfurling

as
dictation-taking stakers
for
colonial
fakirs,

bespoken,
betokened,

hollow-
wooded
toy generals

and zombie-eyed,
regime-begleamed,

teeming
scheming
spokesmodels

at sordid, assorted
editorial portals

that enable
enfabled
entitlement

are
inclined
to
advisedly
ween.

*

for
inexpressible reality

lies
reliably,

obsequiously
hidden

in Profit's
bidden midden

of slickly
bickering,

embittering
sheen.

** *** * ***** * ******* * ***** * *** **
- Evan Hawthorn,

that day they stormed the Bastille (hint, hint), 2018

*<*>>>> "the leaking unconscious of a confidence critique; a pondering of cracks amoungst conscienceless criminals" (an impromptu indepthing of a surface surfing meme) <<*>*

actually,
he planned a massacre,

arriving at the dawn's early light

(as was their wanton wont)

so they could murder
The People
in their sleeping robes

and light fire
to all their belongings,

fanning the flames
of civilisation's
grand abandonment

to the reinless ravaging

that drained
the waving plains,

staining a terrain
already
ingrained

with that
train
of vain disdain

Christianity's
amassing of clashes

had stashed

with uniformed,
plastiformed,
cookie-cutter
heroes

in its karmically trashed,

steadfastly unabashed

hollowed,
hallowed name

countless times before.

*

apparently this poster general
for sacrifical aggrandisement

and pedestalled poobah
of
poaching,
encroaching,

and coached mass murder,

never grasped
that a host

of friends and relations,

from myriad bands
and neighboring nations

had gathered for the
biggest observance
of the
high holy days

in anyone's living memory.

(for it's said
that reverence attending

the rays of grace
descending

incites in those who gaze

an embrace of the gifts

Great Mystery insights

in sunshine's dazzling haze.)

*

but the (later assassinated)
Hunkpapa holy man,

Sitting Bull

happened on a vision
that enlightened him
on what was to happen. 

and anyway,

a hundred or so
boistrous boys in blue
clattering with weapons,

and addled by their
straddled saddle bags

(stretched with mementos
of victims' noched niches
and privatized parts)

could hardly surprise
a mega village

of ten thousand
democratically
unparalleled,

horizontally assembled souls.

*

the boys entrusted
with the sea of horses
saw them first,

and the
heroes
of The People

donned
their courage
in time

to save

(for the nonce)

their families' lives.

(though many
first person
accounts
survive,

alas!
PBS,

hokus-focused
as the nested
networks

and their empire-mired
public,

doesn't recognise
off-white existence

without a programmed
guide.

and hence
they've never managed

to discover them.)

*

news of this
miraculous blip

in the
gilded annals
progress ascribes

to the relentless strides
genocide unleashed
out of
pilgrims' pride

reached
capital's capital
in the midst
of its

centennial feast
of self-congratulation.

and the 'opposition party'
used this

(inexcusable,

untimely failure

of the
patriots'
planned
massacre)

to embarrass
the symmetrically
opposed

farce in power.

so of course,
preternaturally cruel,

exponential
retribution ensued,

visited on the
"savages."

(one may as well
call them "terrorists"
or "pagans",

for any
enterprising appraisal
of dehumanizing despisal
will do.)

naturally,
(for those who know
anything
about conventional
interventions'
intentions
at all)

more successful
massacres,
assassinations,
and concentration camp
round ups

set things swiftly
back to rights

so the
(apparently divided)

complaisant celebrants of

[[the right to intervene in other peoples']]

independence

[[at the
exceptional whim
of profit's
inviolable will]]

(known in some quarters as "piracy")

could go blithely back
about their
universally applauded,

(mindlessly entertaining
and
exhaustively distracting)

business.

for the heroically
averted catastrophe

was always
and only

about white people

in their
manifestly clotted eyes.

*

so now they call it a "battle"

and,
the (also assassinated)

quintessentially charismatic,
enigmatic and magnetic
Ogalala holy man,

Crazy Horse

(whose simplistic
gringo moniker
attempts to translate

the translucent
transcendence

he,
astride his horse

came to be
known by;

unstilled,
as if dancing,

in a strange mesmeric 'way')

has been appropriated
as an all purpose
didactic example of a

(it goes without saying, demonized)

"chief"

who defeated "the good guys"

on "our side"

in yet another "mistake"

in the power seeking beacon's
never ending
mission
to "civilize"
and "Christianize"

those (undeserving) unpeople

right off the
scarred and harried face

of "its"

"consensus"-according,

border-boarding,

"homeland"-hoarding,

torched
and scorching

earth

with that
brassily trumpeted
unique brand

of righteously projecting,
prospective-protecting,
psychosis-infecting,

ironically-
uninflecting,

democratic spreading of death

from its
exemplary spurting berth

in worth's
shiny dearth.

* *** ***** ** ******* ** ***** *** *
- Evan Hawthorn, the 4^th of July, 2018