Evan Hawthorn's Blog

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

Wednesday, October 26, 2016

the prospect of persecuted protectors



all over this hemisphere,
the very people who've suffered the most
from our uncivilizing denial of our sacred nature
are putting their lives on the line
to protect our future,
while we allow ourselves to be
deluded and distracted
over which devious and grasping,
lavishly remunerated representative
should be the figure head of the
not even cloaked coterie
of obscenely self-focused,
empathy deficient,
irremediably arrogant,
incorporated psychopaths
who profit from destruction
and guarantee death.

Tuesday, October 25, 2016

it takes a village in Seattle

imagine how it feels to be a child in Seattle,
seeing your teachers stand up for you,
making the unequivocal statement that they define you
as part of "US",
one of those un-hyphenated someones
the institutions in our (continually misfiring)
Democracy are designed for;
one of those someones the media
automatically assumes its talking to
when it casts aspersions on "them";
someone whose life matters so much
that these intelligent adults,
who recognise you as a member of the village
they're trying to raise,
would put their lives on the line to protect you;
in short, an actual HUMAN BEING,
carrying OUR DREAMS into OUR FUTURE.

Saturday, October 15, 2016

on clinching inroads

when you grasp that the leading lights of the Democrats,
going back to Bill Clinton, have been constantly unleashing
battalions of bureaucratic swindlers to propagate "trade deals"
that are in fact a new form of colonization, that mint new
"legally" enforceable inroads into the meager resources
that protect the public commons in "developing" nations,
you realize just how evil the Democrats actually are.
yes, of course, the Republicans are always evil, too.
but the "choice" can never be allowed
to stray from the sway of evil,
more than the spectacularized squashed spectrum the media airs.

when you're insatiably greedy and are
saddled with the apparency of Democracy,
it pays to be clever when constructing the menu.

Thursday, October 13, 2016

that one thing

ye shall know them by the mass murderers they idolize.
for verily i say unto thee:
if she wasn't such a rapt enabler of apartheid,
or the veiled gallant of Wall Street;
if her "Democrat" apparatchiks hadn't
mocked Democracy;
if she didn't profit with her husband
from snatching that very dream
from the first nation of former slaves,
and her minions hadn't arranged
the Nazi revival in the Ukraine;
if a sizable portion of the billions
Obama gave the banks
wasn't gaining interest in her war chest,
and she hadn't been paid several fortunes
just to privately assure
her supporters of her support;
if she didn't refer to industrial mass murder
as "taking civilians",
or see whistleblowers as traitors;
and if her legacy as Secretary of the Imperialist State
wasn't strewn with all those
uncounted and "dispensable"
dead brown bodies;
there'd still be the hero worship of Henry Kissinger.
and that one thing would surely tell me
that there's psychopathic grasping
where i'd hoped to find a soul.

Sunday, October 2, 2016

the realized vision (the latest chapter in my novella-poem in progress, 'Sludge White and the Seven Curmudgeons")

bidden by his vision back to the grotto
Sappy all atremble trampled Rashful's heels,
his burden giving off reverberations
the way bells siphon shock with resounding peels.
though able to summon but scant attention
Sylvana collected the tide's blurted gist,
enough to rekindle the seams of a dream
with a sun-drenched missive spilling in its midst.

but chilling her veins and snatching her focus
a sudden barrage uprooted the bower,
ensnaring the bier and flower-strewn mound
in a crashing, splintering, guttering shower.
with swift and heedless, selfless abandon
Sylvana lost herself in scrawling abrasions.
for naught could surpass the soul-rending rift
of clearing that path of clinging lacerations.
  
and finding the princess reposed and unscathed
the levee ruptured that had bridled her fears
birthing a free-falling river of diamonds,
conducting redemption in glimmering tears.
making its way to the wounds of the willow,
ceaselessly seeking its recollected place
it grazed a forehead and trickled down a cheek
tracing the contours of unrequited grace.

and the bloom reawakened in stages,
in the steady advance of congenital blush;
gushing the generous, luminous perspectives
of a singular, corporeal brush.
by the time Sylvana had seen the eyes open
they were clasping hers in an ardent gaze.
for hitching one's wagon to a beacon
eclipses other methods for lighting the days.

she lifted Sludge White from her bed of roses
while Nate backed into the trail of a boulder.
he swayed through the lesions, recoiling in shock.
the sparrow rode a rod propped on his shoulder.
and from there the tourmaline was winking
in its fluted setting of riddled, knotted pine.
"what's happening here?" Nate managed to inquire.
then he stumbled on a sly, slinking vine.

"we've been set upon" Rashful tersely explained,
dazedly gaping at the lover's embrace.
Sappy only nodded, bunching up his hood
dabbing at tears on his reverential face.
***** * ***** * ***** * ***** * *****
- Evan Hawthorn, the 2nd of October, 2016

the emperor's new veto

to our repetitively ironic president,
the "dangerous precedent"
of allowing US war criminals (er, citizens)
to be held accountable by persons in other countries
is something that must be avoided at all costs.
and he doesn't even bother to justify it.
he takes it as a given that Americans,
brainwashed since birth,
are so utterly convinced of their superiority
(despite the never ending litany of illegal imperial invasions)
that they do not believe that laws apply to them.
this is how so many
pale-persons-who've-no-doubt-their-lives-matter
fail to grasp even the fact of black lives,
let alone red or yellow ones,
or Afghans, Russians, or Iraqis, take your pick.
after all, Hollywood, newspapers, history books,
and virtually every Democrat and Republican candidate
pander to this warped, essential ingredient
in the enabling of empires.
just ask the Nazis.

Wednesday, September 14, 2016

the furtherest adventures (the latest excerpt from my novella-poem, "Sludge White and the Seven Curmudgeons")

** hear ye hear ye and ahead of the presses ** be the furtherest adventures of
Sludge White and the Seven Curmudgeons.  when we last left our intrepid heroes,
the spookhouse in the woods had been surrounded by their majesties' minions
and ghoulish goons.  Sappy had just shared his vision with Rashful, and they'd
only just grasped....
the conspicuous drift of the stiffening breeze.

and scouring the nearby undergrowth
it brushed against a cheek that blushed a bloodied glow
wakening Weepy in a patch of ferns
where consciousness had lapsed beneath a glancing blow.

for he littered the trail of dissonance
crushed in the bracken by implacable wheels,
like innocence lost or helplessness found
the collateral prey of heavy-handed heels.

assuming his tethers to bide in his body
he thoughtfully studied the troubled skies;
his throat forming clicks to call to the otter,
intention glinting in his watery eyes.
and hearing his familiar's timid approach
he leapt from the spot where they'd left him for dead,
already transported by the cadence
expressed in the lilt of his enigmatic tread.

the atmosphere quickened its attention.
the monkey scampered up and settled on a sill.
the curtains fluttered with anticipation
coming to meet her as the shutters went still.
intuiting this billowing ally
whether sheer apparition or wandering jinn
the mage of mercy pondered the perspective,
adjusting the tilt of her contrary chin.

behind them the mirror mapped out intruders
scrying position by reminiscent scars,
possessed of the imprint of parting particles;
a magic lantern channeling the stars.
for much like the dance of ponderous planets
a yearning revolves through subatomic pores
resolved by charting manifestation;
beholding quantum pilgrims sailing round their cores.

and Mary heeded the revealing reflections
patched in succession through the mirror's screen,
a conspiracy of steely visages
sheathed in a shelter of variegated green.
taking her cue from the skeleton's neurosis
she divined a disassembling scheme
for avian bandits swooping in squadrons
disarming assailants and stealing their steam.

Sable, her sisters, and a disheveled Elsbeth
each led detachments on lightening raids,
relying on the crows' infallible instincts
to pick out the shine of the glinting blades.

and Solomon waited in the shadows
assembling their bounty in ill-gotten piles,
a resurrected fence for slings and arrows;
Death's grinning comment on the war god's wiles.

a feisty gaggle of savvy appliances
had mounted a foray into the woods
spurred on by the broom and blustering battlerack,
all swishing bristles and overblown hoods.
the swashbuckling knives led off the procession
the crème de la crème of offensive defense,
inclined on even diplomatic days
to suggest spookhouse guests ought to get themselves hence.

the ousted swinging vines still mucked about
delving murky depths in the unsuspecting peat,
thickening their thorns and strangling entanglements
fortifying grips for iron clad feet.

the crawling enigma that haunted the pantry
that day when the borders first came undone
poked its proboscis out of the underbrush
to sniff a stray shaft of fragmentary sun.
five draggling ears made up for missing legs
as it squiggled about on a surplus of fuzz.
and though they'd finally proved it existed
they still couldn't say what it actually was.

the irritated bears prowled round the entry
while Gropey and Mock kept an eye on the rug.
despite its having to do without innards
it worried their heels like a spring-loaded pug.
Mortimer and Sleazy chased after Chester
lest peril befall him while they were apart,
for those who have melded with a glimrin
feel a loss of harmony chiming by their heart.

Trixie and Lumpy were funneling yearlings
up the sagging stairs to lessen sorrow's sway,
interfering with fear's its self-inflictions
by forestalling the trauma on which it can prey.
Sylvana attended the sleeping princess
like an angel of stone on a grief-soaked mound,
a standing Oglala before the directions
chanting her death song, staked to sacred ground.

escorting a fawn to lesser danger
phantom recognition froze Pally in his tracks
when blinking his eyes at the lowering sky
he beheld hell's nightmare, looming through its cracks.
obscured by the lofty interwoven awning
paralyzing shapes began to emerge.
a trio of fiendish metallic contraptions
tortured the air with their ominous dirge.

quite the same order of throbbing steel beast
that tore up the future in ByWater Landing,
they called into question compassion's chances
of basing a faith on man's understanding.
Pally's endeavor to raise the alarm
was instantly expanded into a chorus.
hence synchronous, sympathetic echoes
announced that his larynx had also gone porous.

one of the demons altered course to pursue him
flashing its sinister, pitiless glare,
while something like a wave of buoyant laughter
broached Pally and the fawn in the fractured air.
propelled by friction they coasted forward
till they hovered above the remains of the door.
and lurching into reach, Mock reeled them in,
slinging gentle tendrils across the battered floor.

standing behind her unflappable window
the unsighted seer sadly shook her head.
then she pulled on a string from the hem of her cloak
unravelling a many coloured thread.
extending itself like a conjurer's trick
it swelled into cords its frailty belied,
weaving queer patterns enfolding Guanyin;
a giant cat's cradle with a wizard inside.

diverging at intervals formulas took shape,
each distinct as an autograph or seal.
and those nearby could almost comprehend
the cryptic twined meanings that they seemed to reveal.
like a deep sea commune of linked up creatures
waiting for debris to descend and dissolve
this wreath of shivering, living mandalas
thrived on its host and continued to evolve.
  
the woven symbols sprouted bits of light
surrounding themselves with an effervescent froth
as if phosphorescence was an offshoot
of reducing threads from their elemental broth.
like called to like and burst through the window
in a blue-white radiance of shimmering sparks.
for the flaming intelligence alighted
downstream from one of his incandescent arcs.

everyone in earshot was quick to deduce
those whispers stirring that sea of rustling grass
meant the hedge witch must have been conferring
with this flickering entity of molten glass.
enveloping the esoteric emblems
in his floating crop of iridescent tears,
he imparted that same august impression
of wisdom predating the dawning of years.

and wafted by ungravitating currents
the strand bore its ciphers up to the ceiling
giving rise to elation in everyone nigh,
untrammeling the edges of feeling.
as the garland hung its loops around the rafters
the murmuring adepts both heaved a sigh.
then it squeezed itself into tightening knots
till the three flying beasts were parked in the sky.
**** ** **** ** **** *** **** ** **** ** ****
- Evan Hawthorn, the 14th of September, 2016