Evan Hawthorn's Blog

Evan Hawthorn's Blog
(visual aid by Christian Schloe)

Sunday, July 21, 2019

love


and some love
so borderlessly,

that they're
quite overwhelmed

by the unexpressed
weight of sadness

encountered
again and again.

and some are moved
to question
the starkly marked
convenience

of the very first leaves
of the desert primates'
oh! so popular
handbook of justification,

when their imaged "lord"
gave them "for their use"
the hosts of other life forms,
right off the freakin' bat.

they may even go so far
as to question the right
to "break in" a horse,

to confine their lives,
and their choices,

in the primate's
so tidily arranged
self-containing boxes.

these strange people
may look at a picture
like this,

and see a loving horse,
deeply loving its captor

(because love,
in its nature,
demands expression,

even when all
the doors are closed),

having long since accepted
that the primate's way
is the way their life must be;

that the question of ownership
is freedom's
grandest elephant,

that never seems to leave
the primate loomed "room".

*

- Evan Hawthorn, the 21st of July, 2019

Friday, May 31, 2019

rule of law (the slipped gauntlets of anger's jealous god); <*>>> a meme-posed prosing of loaded questions <<<*>

and would that be
the very same,
profit curbed,
barbed preserve of privilege

"rule of law"

that,
along with its
precedent abetting,
sun at last setting,
rebellion ceding,
dialect weeding,
shadow pleating
mentors in crime,

wiped out an
uncountable multitude
of unexplored
languages and cultures

(in natural company
with a ghosted host
of unlooked for treasures
and cures to diseases),

whilst warping, enslaving,
and downtroddening
the unimagined futures
of abducted and exploited
interrupted generations

of unrecognised relations?

surely the same haloed
broken taillight,
lynched, penned and juried,
minority quelling "rule of law"
that,
with the dawning
of intervention awnings
in that Twain awakening
Philippine "liberation" massacre

boded the greatest degeneration
of obscene wealth veneration's
hitherto bloodiest century,

ushering in an unparalleled
international crime spree

(causing Noam Chomsky
to matter-of-factly observe
"if the Nuremberg laws were applied,
then every post-war American president
would have been hanged.")

doubtless, then,
the proclaimed selfsame,
strangely embedded,
spearhead "spreaded"
tooled and ruled "law"
the kept media so meticulously
fails to fathom

in the Grim Reaper's lockstep
ministries of dashed hopes
perennially sprouting
sepulcher seeds
of bipartisan blissed,
profit blasting
amassings of misery,

offensively intensed,
fenced and recompensed
by the "only essential"
Godfather of organised terror

relentlessly brandishing
his 'exceptional'
whack-a-mole hammer and scythe

from the self-appointed
leaders of the free world's
denying choice to others
example thwarting arsenal

bristling with
righteous pirate,
punch-drunk Pilate,
starvation sanctions,
coups, and outright
assassinations

down through
battered and blistered
encrypted history's

collusion dictated,
technology exacerbated,
blanket infectioned,
selectively inspectioned,
insurrection confectioned,
(election correctioned)
we know what's best for you
string of lauded,
creased and pocketed,
'right-sided' decades

managing to rid that
patriotically impaired,
mined and mined,
pared from shared,
rocket red glared
"global battlefield"
of
millions of "collateral",
margined, and shunted,
voiceless and choiceless
humane beings
and othered living things

in those myriad
kaleidoscope tinted,
refugee tented,
element stripped,
brotherhood skipped,
disrespected homelands

from the very inception
of its presumption blessed,
self-obsessed,

firework fluted,
independence repossessed,

blood stained,
freedom waned,

vacuous,
cranked,
and
sanctimonious,

forted day
and gluttony knighted

hate reigning rain.

but surely,
even reclusive apparitions
of gated aliens on Mars
(at least the curious ones
with perking antennae)

must have noticed by now,

like a slow falling shoe
from some
dragging heeled limbo,

lying in fate sated wait
for the sixth little piggy's
home to roost karma,

Manifest Destiny's
myth soaked,
Hollywood cloaked,
pride stroked,
machismo poked,

heroically invoked,

super-sized
and
power addicted,

whiteness inflicted
(and complacently depicted),

"intelligence" conflicted,

toasted boasting
"good guy" guised eyes
that,
beamed and moated,
anoint the "bad guys",

make our day/
lives of the rich and famous,
they hate us for our freedom,
might makes all the rights,

media constructed
Frankenstein heir apparent;

that "protection" racket
bracketing distraction;

that poster child
for Wee Willy Syndrome;

that Grand Poobah
of delusion's illusion,

the abdicated media's
ticket to ride register
that never stops ringing,

the preening and strutting,
curtain congealing
Buffoon of Oz himself

ALREADY TOOK those freakin' gloves off!

THAT's the clinching reason
the domination bidding,
Wall Street stoic,
threat ridden and paranoiac,
sociopathic establishment's
immaculately funded,
planked and choreographed,
right thinking and tanking,
rank flanking consortium
of
resistance/persistence "Democrats",
faith based factless "liberal" acolytes,
culpability redacting dictationers,
syncopated and trolling
'practical' practitioners,
assassins, spies,
broken imploding generals,
armchair testosterone hankerers,
mongering stenographers,
regime creaming cheerleaders,
and all those hoi alloyed boy toyed
bleached and bubbleheaded mouthpieces

are so very disconcerted.

what,
you thought
it was OUR "interests"

the blinding and binding,
fleeced world "policing",
defensively genocidal,
night of the unliving
McCarthy regurgitated,
traitor baited, patriot plated,
'progressively' possessive
popular-azzi had in mind?

¡Jesucristo!

there is no choice
in the plaqued
lack thereof.

the self choosing
"chosen" uppity primates,
so myopically aware of their
scaled and hailed
unequaled awareness,
made in the image
of teaming's imperious
and segregational
godly imagined-"nation"
ironically twisting
question is,

will the invention
of television,

with its blaringly incessant
appearance focused,
simplistic and hocused,
compulsive identification,
consumptive isolation,
reason compartmentalised,
context buried,
sound bitten
and sense fragmented,
compassion stilled,
commonality abandoned,
need drilled,
pandered, dandered,
and killing field frilled

branding of "American culture",

and lining of all that sand

turn out to actually
be responsible

for the banged,
drawn out,
or
pitifully whimpered

end of humankind's

eternally clueless,
savagely rueless,

empathically rootless,
mind-bendingly fruitless

blink of an eye sojourn

on its mother's only earth?

*
- Evan Hawthorn, the last fay slant of a Maying's frayed rays2019



Wednesday, April 10, 2019

will spring ever come? *~*<<<<*>*<<<*~*>>>*<*>>>>*~* (a flight of observance, told in a raven's scolding)


as sure as April rains,


as the sewed in,
power obsessed owners
of patriot trademarked
stalking freedom

tax for lavished war
their wealth possessed,
obscenely weaned quorum
of
denial besotted flocks,

the stumped,
wedged and pumped

round the clock bubbling
is again dredging up

from the seemingly endless
well meaning well,

in its dim lit chamber of echoes,

another ladling of liberal lament

bewailing the fall
of 
the
U.S Empire.

for apparently,
it's not 
what it used to be.

yet a concentrically eccentric,

next door to a hermit,
unbanded unAmerican,
treasonous bereasoned,

"radical" and Kremlin
usefully tooled,
neigh braying and fay,
rare bird confidant

feels compelled by the nature
propelling him to ask

how could a 
"civilised country"

ever become an empire
in
the
bloody

first
place?

how can the pored in chorus
of flag styed, smug plugged,

essential congratulence
fail to notice
the scads of scoreless nations

(Mozambique 
for instance,
Vietnam or Bolivia,
Haiti or Cuba,
Lesotho or Iran)

that left off bullying
nigh on centuries past
or,

secured by the
hundredth monkey
of
universe quilted,
astonished maturity,

never sought to subjugate
the children of earth's
mirth embarked,
malarkey quarked playground;

that somehow manage

to get along,
levelling with their neighbors

without ever attacking
any of those other
ailing simian societies
afflicted with
seaming
nationhooded parasites;

without once stringing up
Bill Clinton's
skull and crossbones,

claiming now and forever
the right to weaponize
their adhering interference
in other peoples' pocket books;

that somehow failed to build

comparable parables
to the capital of capitals'

flanked, embanked cathedrals,

enshrining the consigned,
lucre lording shining sees
ruthlessly canonized
by never sated
emptiness,

erected with the most

inhuman form of slavery
despise ever devised

on those freedom zoned,

unmarked mass graves
of their
"decorous and praiseworthy"


welcoming hosts?

*



resigning ourselves
to a mandatory
early retirement
of
America's
greatest degeneration
in that Bonnie and Clyde
sidewinding Century
of internationally organised,
staggering, flagrant crime;

resolving to not merely
stand by and watch
its inevitable collapse
in a karma coalesced,
stone age cratering,
unprovoked transgression
upon itself

but to actively abet
a final calling off
of the relentlessly revolving,
remorselessly absolving
freeing of conscience
spreeing of mass murder;

dissolving the appalling
grim reign of terror
of what our holy soulful
dream caller called

"the greatest purveyor
of violence in the world"

(just before the CIA
arranged his crucifixion)

sounds like an
 untrammelling;

a celestial unravelling;

like a manna from some
undisclosed heaven,

ineffably leavening idea to me.

it would open the floodgates,
diverging the splurging coffers
from the devil's hymnalled anvil

of Congressional relishing,
Commonwealth impoverishing,
coveted conqueror's playthings,

and pay all the bills
barring our future;

resetting the end times energy grid,

cascading over the firewalls
turreting health care,

weighing anchor to sever
that clever insurance
of the sinked in sync
rusted links

yoking knowledge
to servitude's vassalage

thrice times over

as
rebellious winged angels
desert their
angry jealous god,

laying down their mufflers,
their buffers
and their arms

to suffer the study

(and rote moated vote)

of war no more.

it would leave us all free
to discover how democracy
might actually function


(if it had aught to do
with meaning or context
and wasn't just a matter
of affirming or denying

the hard wired casting
of fandom's tandem,
augmenting
and lamenting,
laminated roles.)

it would mean
stepping out
of the shadows

of

exception's
cruel winter
of blinds drawn,
self focus cloaked,


insecurity stoking,
independence bejoked,

tender mercy shied,
sided pride deified,

gun slinging
and
freedom wringing,

unconscionable

national insanity

for
multitudes
of par for the voiceless
(per force of course)

recourseless,

uncounted,
unentitled
and
unrecognised

human 
brothers and sisters

all around a profit searing,
insect clearing,
conquest weary world.

that same oarless ark
the elephants and asses

joined lockstep 
trunks and hooves

(like an unhinged pair
of palm rubbing,
pussy stroking,
chortling Bond villains)

to maniacally expropriate
as their
"eternal global battlefield";

that same fragile

nurturing orb
an arch, rogue,

brazenly lawless,
presumptive paranoiac,
self appointed "policeman"

has run roughshod over
for scored and increasingly

tearful fear fulfilling years,

deciding 
who can do
what where when;

sanctifying the gangland
lingering starvation
of our mother's other children
with a Herod embarrassing
venomous aplomb

until whatever representative
of whichever monied gaggle
currently pulling the strings
of their struggling parents'
nationhooded
stretched neck of the woods

knuckles under,
forks over,
or falls in line;

until the CIA contrives
a convincing way
to con the consumers
of the 
grand white sway

that it's time for yet another

security fomented,
media stabled,
benevolent freedom round
of
dead in the womb spreading,
despair embedding,

independence shredding,

dropping of bombs
on

factories and weddings,

on playgrounds and schools,


in bloodspilling pools
of depleted uranium
and bystanding animals,

on those imaginary battlefields
heliotropic goldfish
and
patriotic people
persist in pretending still exist,

all crowning

that railed and sainted
deranged manger
of compartmentalised,
euthanised,
brotherhooding good.

*

or maybe i've misread
the springing forward
of
bejesus's daylights clock

and it's only time
to jump the gun,

for a splinter of discontent
competition scolding,
silk road trolling,
flinging of Asian "pivots";

or a golden oldie stroll
through an eerily similar
simmering
of indian summer,

those flogging dog days
rolling round again,

bludgeoning
and
dungeoning


a nightly raided,
crusade waded
"interest"
laden Middle East

or a self reliance styled,
diplomacy reviled,
law and liberty exiled,
Wild Wild West

what could possibly be the difference?

and yet, mayhaps,
on the other fist,
impatience is a' wastin'
for a fly by night
fortnight

of the always in season
though never advertised,
elemental "developing"
of mined and d
ejewelled,
betrayed and raped Africa;

or departing that station,

an exporting distortion
field day
holiday from geography
in
auld lang syne's
entrenched fencing pageant
with that entire hemisphere
stylishly beliberalled
Camelot itself

was convinced
must be somewhere
in its stoned
and boned
backyard.

but most likely, though,


(least like like of all),

they'll stumble into
the next rescheduled
routine observance
of those timed, warned,
horned and scorned
"threatening" places

where brave "protection"
bristles its progressively

suicidal troops
in comparative worth dangling,
smartly strangling nooses

strung along other peoples'
disrespected borders

(which telling projection,


bracketed in distraction,

given Hollywood's
entertaining containments
of munificent confection,

blithely, good guyly,
red hate and blue plate,
morally divided subjects
are apparently
incapable of noticing.)



*


and lo!

all these ritually ignored,
religiously abhorred,
collaterally stored

fellow human beings
in the 
SuperPower's
colonial courted,
NATO bowered,
right indicted
hunting grounds

afraid to seek out
their own forms
of government;

afraid not to trickle
their profits to that sickle;

afraid to not obey
the "consensus" dictates
of freedom's 
celebrated owners;

and even the people
of colour amoungst us,
forced to subsist

as hyphenated
(almost)-Americans
in their own home

(the same defaming,

tamed for framing,
limited edition "homeland"
that refuses to

recognise them);

terrified lest 
a tail light go out,
bringing on their children's
law abided murder,

knowing, after all this time,

there's still no proven way
to defend their darlings'
precious life

from America's

beknighted,
incited freedomed rites.

and yet, presumably,
in that Caesar rendering
rugged and tugged party line
unacquaintance with irony,

the wall street
regime exchange
less is more practical
democracy sabbatical
assassin and spy
faith based fretwork

with its manacled press
of "liberal Americans"

find time to peer
under wiretapped rocks
for
disruptive lurking
"foreigners",

apparently jealous
of the versified rivalries
serving the establishments'
competing ministries
of exclusive intrusive
of thee we sing truth;

exponentially fanning
the censor's aimed flames
of a Freudian and Faustian
McCarthy revival
and zombie clambake,

Super Power
and
Super Suspicious,

ravenously attritious,

angst over undo influence.

*


and then commenced
plume grooming,
flea exhuming,
ponderously
gossamer pause

in that diaphanous
and timeless,
place without space

the graces always fill
with
reflective silence.

then
the rare bird
bespoke
me again,

in James the Queenly
King's English,

(for,
as he patiently
explained

from that unflinching,
beseeching,
tree clinging perch

betwixt the barked
and creaking leaks
of a crook
benooked rookery;

a crowded shroudery
of breached birches,
preaching larches
and
scorched and torturous,
swinging doored porches,

fixing me all the while
with a cocked and quirky tilt
to his light glanced eye,

confidingly sliding
his grasp

for a clasp of the conscience
proffered on my shoulder,

he's quite gone off
his erstwhile repertoire;
that sharp
and then melodious,
delicate shuffling
of intuitive and rasping
enigmatic tweets

since the advent
of a stage strutting,
consummate incarnate
manifestly destined
profit driven Frankenstein

slurped up the chirping airwaves

in a spired, conspired,
breathlessly attended,
lurching besmirching,

wham damned,
slammed
and trunked,

looming curtained
and oligarch starched

fixed bid to redefine them.)

verily, verily,

(he suggested unto me)

for all of the myriad

connected, unprotected,

overlooked
and
uninspected

hopeful living things

that wouldst actually matter

hadst thy plundering ancestors
providentially pioneered
a benevolence seeking beacon

to shelter and husband
the faintest glint
of an unstintingly
cherished,

"civilised" world,

the falling of this
besting, vested,

racist, placist,
elitest,
indiscreetest,


(at its birth,
already
out of its tree)

forever preening
the teeming
of its meaning,

unheeding
the seeding
of its own
defeat,

utterly psychotic
 empire,

locked in its eternal
binary refinery
of a trillion dollar
identity politics


(policy off limits)

contest of polarity,
patriot belligerence,
popular impairity
and
privileged semantics

decanting antics
shell game;

drowning out

sane empathy's
last frantic chances

with an endless charade
of twenty four seven
blaring nonsense;

all that din
about winning,

about the 
tinned spin of sinning,

about nothing that feels,


or is actually real

on those left and right speakered,
choreographed and blinkered,
redacted or regurgitated
ghost ridden reels

save the slimly trimmed
tightly reined spectrum
of

emotionally baited,
loudly divisive
internal social issues

the powers that own
allow their hoard

of boarded broadcasters
to float on their
stolen from the Commons air

(tinselled and tarted out
as yet more competitive fare);


teaming into ferocious
taken sides
about
who left the oven on
down the street

whilst the rambling,

shambling,
cobbled and hobbled,
rammed and shackled,
primate house divided

burns down around them;

as whiling and 
fiddling
their bereft pinioned wing,
those lavishly funded,
liberal minded,
skillfully lightened,
tooth brightened heroes
pretend to "resist"

the unremitting evil

their dumbed and thumbed,
war drums

under the gums,
pandered and praised,
ante raised

unanimous animosity
perennially spews...


(at this point,
sputtering and croaking
with all his mighted sight,

fluttering my heart
with his
heart thumped breast,

preparing to return
to a context
still remembered,
disconnection
unencumbered,
blessed bliss caressing,

amber glazed
azure sky,

in a filiblustered
fluster,

determined to untether

all his ruffled
blocked flockings
of a druthered
whethered feather,

the wise old bird
delivered his
vexed summation.)

why,
the fall of the U.S Empire

would be a
 reason to ring
the practically atrophied,
cracked and rusted,
rarely dusted bells

of humanity's
long dreamed of
yet never expected,


disordered,
unbordered,

uplifted,
freely gifted,
and
radically drifted,

living blossomed spring.

it might even stop
the race to extinction
in the nick
of

humankind's

apparently random
yet

preternaturally lethal
for every other
species on the planet,

deftly shafting,
daftly wafting,

almost left
too late
to be rafting,


progressively receding,
rebel flower weeding,
separation creeding,

forever rebeading
the stringing
of its needing,

dandelion bleeding,

next door to fell abandonment,

sand branding time.

*
- Evan Hawthorn, the tithings of April, 2019

Saturday, April 6, 2019

spring dusting


so Tomb Sweeping Day in China came and went.

and there was me,
flitting betwixt
gleaned glimmers
of my muse

in the prose throes
of our latest creation.

so it slipped altogether
from the tethers of my minding.

and now all these
questionable,
indigestible,
archly contestable,
persuasively digressive,
obsessively possessive critters
from a spare Dickensian nightmare,

who waited all year
in a virtual vestibule
just for a chance
to adorn a spring clinging,

are ever so miffed at me.

*>sigh<*

such are the spirited exigencies
of the hapless crusty fluff
of restless,
rutless
dust to dust,

frequenting the ineffable margins
of timelessness unplaced,

attempting to tickle ones passing fancy.

*

- Evan Hawthorn, the 6th of April, 2019