My cat lays
incisors out
paw in fabric
It is a metaphor for my life now, incisors out, paw in fabric.
My incisors have always been out. I believe in universals. I believe in justice.
[Not the perverted crap we violate Athena with, i.e. that a 'criminal justice' system in which 'removal from society', and 'retribution' are the operative concepts, as opposed to an appeal to what 'justice', dike is in its idea, balance.]
But my paw is caught in the fabric because I am not willing to do, personally, what I believe needs to be done for the world.
I go to many protests. Hell, when there was a riot at city hall on the day of the verdict in the Diallo case, I was nearly arrested at city hall.
But I have not made that sacrifice. I have not tried to distance myself from the middle class. I have not acknowledged in the way I live my life, that everything that supports my own bullshit is nothing less than slavery.
The South won the civil war.
My cat lays
incisors out
paw in facric
I am of the stupid. I am of those whose self-worth is guided by those treacherous hands whose puppetry massages one into a world whose precepts divorce all reality.
I live in unreality.
I live in denial.
I live in a life
in which our predilections
for recognition
no longer harbor our expectation.
I live in a life
in which our expectations
of personal good
unveil lives as tempestuous as our own.
A moral quicksand.
All of us.
Whether we lift ourselves up, or have others lift us;
Whether we acknowlegde that the quicksand is there.
The World is pretty close to done.
All of us, including me, should stop hiding.
"Waves of fear,
Pulsing with death
I curse at my tremors
I jump at my own step
I cringe at my terror
I hate my own smell
I know where I must be
I must be in hell."