A Rare Bird upon the Earth and Very Like a Black Swan


MAKE SURE YOU CIRCULATE THESE MATERIALS! BREAKING THE EMPIRE'S PROPAGANDA MACHINE DEPENDS ON YOU.

“I can’t tell you what art does and how it does it, but I know that often art has judged the judges, pleaded revenge to the innocent, and shown to the future what the past suffered, so that it has never been forgotten. Art, when it functions like this, becomes a meeting place of the invisible, the irreducible, the enduring, guts, and honor.”    John Berger

“Rara avis in terris nigroque similima cyno”
          —Juvenal

Rare bird of flamboyant plumage,
I picture you still in my mind’s eye,
Mutely sedated in that frozen nest
You never could leave, Ward 3194
Decatur Ave. Bronx Rome via Hollywood,
Twelve stories high over the city
    of your  birth,
Teetering atop Martha Washington on 29
th St,
Wife of the father of the country
    of lies.
But this, rare bird, is the truth.


Sister, your face I imagine twisted
With the question that always tormented
    you:
Why could you never fly your way
Away to the land of the living?
Woman without your own name,
Forever weighing your flesh for the secret
    judge
Who always told you to disappear,
The verdict rigged by you in advance,
You with your tinsel town ideals
Of passive slim starlets waiting to be
    discovered
By some fat mogul drooling dollar
    signs
As the birds prim and prance for him,
Woman without a way to work your way
through the world,
You who feared to appear that self
You always were you feared you learned
Fear that the big bad world would eat
    you
If you dared enter its mouth,
Cruel world, no place for a little girl,
Would devour you whole piecemeal
Eat you as you would not eat
The food you truly hungered for,
You called Sissy from a young age,
A sissy a timid a cowardly person,
Also an effeminate man or boy,
Sister, I see your face marked
With the pain of that twisted question:
Were you a sissy or not?


After the fact your act no one
Wanted to admit you were not
The name you were named so long
Which you hated till the bitter end.
The end the end to leap the question
The tension of being stretched taut
Between the first and last unknown
Was too much for you.  In this, Sis,
You were very much the child
You thought you had outgrown,
The heir of those infallible answers
from your Papa in Rome.
To live with the wrong questions
Means to die for answers
That only kill you anyway.
Better to assume there is no salvation
    outside the world
Than to leap into a promise made by those
Resigned to life as a lousy dead-end job,
A position to be endured until the final
promotion.


You shouldn’t have done it.
There is no way back now.
No one was calling you home.
How could he?  You never left
Home, you never flew your way away
And found yourself in the going.
Damn it, my anger burns with the urge
To pull you back from the edge
Of that ledge you left your mark upon.
Not the world, which was yours to eat,
A succulent fruit hanging on the tree
    of life,
This world you saw as just a way
To a home somewhere behind your eyes.


Sis, you shouldn’t have looked to the skies
And the man who would take you home with him.
No, he was not your kind of guy
That cop you placed by the scale
To say too much, she weighs too much,
She wants too much, let her reduce
The flesh that fans the flames of female
    lust,
Let her cut herself down to size,
No bigger than a happy housewife,
Eating her guts out before the empty
    screen,
Strangling the scream desperate to emerge
From behind the smile so well preserved,
A model actress in the wrong play,
Frozen in a frame from Silver Screen,
    dead
Before the tube flickering in her living
     room.
Let her above all never transgress the law
That says the timing’s never right
For living just for waiting always
For the day of death when living starts.


The judge the cop the father fix who art
    in heaven,
All the women waiting to be taken
    home
To rest in the mess of the family
    nest:
Sis, these are the images you took
    to heart,
The mad holy pictures you couldn’t destroy
but which
Turned back on you in holy rage
And eased you over the only hurdle
You ever really wanted to jump.


If someone said that life was too much
    for you,
He’d be right, wouldn’t he?  Too god-damned
    right,
Too much of everything that death denies
That dirty bastard death the creep
The shithead you made father lover savior.
Shit, Sis, you shouldn’t have done it.
There is absolutely no way back now.
You didn’t go home that Sunday morn
You dressed for church and left us
    in the lurch,
Jumped out of the life you never led
Twelve stories high over the city
    of your death.


Rare bird upon the earth and very like
    a black swan,
Rare bird of flamboyant plumage,
To die is not to fly.  Still,
Out of my heart bubbling with rage
I picture you in my mind’s eye, here
On the pulsing earth our only home
Flying soaring smiling through the daring
    painting
That could have been your life.
Sis, you shouldn’t have done it.
I wish I could draw you back to life.

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ABOUT THE AUTHOR
 Educated in the classics, philosophy, literature, theology, and sociology, Ed Curtin teaches sociology at Massachusetts College of Liberal Arts. His writing on varied topics has appeared widely over many years. He states: “I write as a public intellectual for the general public, not as a specialist for a narrow readership. I believe a non-committal sociology is an impossibility and therefore see all my work as an effort to enhance human freedom through understanding.”   His website is http://edwardcurtin.com/ 

horiz-long grey

“I can’t tell you what art does and how it does it, but I know that often art has judged the judges, pleaded revenge to the innocent, and shown to the future what the past suffered, so that it has never been forgotten. Art, when it functions like this, becomes a meeting place of the invisible, the irreducible, the enduring, guts, and honor.”    John Berger

Think!

^0Americans are the most over-entertained, uninformed people on the planet.

Ignorant about domestic and geopolitical issues mattering most.

The most important act anyone can do is stop using all mainstream media.

No exceptions whatsoever. It’s brainwash propaganda.

Toxic sludge for the mind.

Voices like this are NEVER heard on the mainstream media.

The "1%" is the global plutocracy, the billionaires.

A sociopathic, puny segment of humanity.

These people pretend to honor and defend democracy.

But are its murderers and undertakers.

Gross injustice, war, grotesque inequality is their handiwork.

And the murder of the planet

Just 8 billionaires own as much wealth as HALF of all humanity.

That's 8 guys are richer than 4 billion people.

The corporate media is their main line of defense.

That's why the best way to break their hold on us...

Is to break their media.

The corporate chokehold on political information is killing us.

Save humanity, the planet and its innocent creatures.

Increase public distrust in the mainstream media.

Defeat their power to mislead.

They lie 24/7. They sell you war. Injustice. Death. Confusion.

And they never stop.

Some more obviously than others, but they all lie.

So trust no one on the Big Media.

And beware of "entertainment shows".

Most also carry highly toxic imperialist propaganda.

Like the fungal NCIS series. Or "24", glorifying DHS.

The police state.

Or CBS Madam Secretary.

A ridiculous show, like The West Wing.

Telling us the US government is good.

That the president is good...that its cabinet is good.

That the US establishment—which they represent...

has noble aims. Rubbish!

Get the healing truth from citizens' media.

Like The Greanville Post and similar free voices.

Do your part to break the power of the mainstream media.

Defeat the presstitutes. The media felons.

Become a soldier in the battle of communications.

Which we must win.

As the ruling cliques prepare the world for nuclear war...

now it's a matter of survival!

Start today! Share our articles on your social media.

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Sweet Irony…
Amazon will donate a commission for every purchase you make using this app

We all know that Amazon is an uber-capitalist octopus swallowing ever more industries and openly collaborating with the CIA. Amazon CEO Jeff Bezos, probably the #2 richest man on earth, is no friend of radicals, or socialist revolution, that’s for sure. But this app, ironically, promises to donate some money to whoever uses it to search and make a purchase on Amazon. Since many people will go on using Amazon due to habit or convenience, make it kick back a few dollars our way to continue our pro-peace and anti-imperialist work. Our financial situation leaves us no choice at this point. So consider it. A boycott of Amazon by lefties at this point is hardly going to register on their radar. But any funding we get, at our puny level, will keep us going. Simple as that.

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Parting shot—a word from the editors
The Best Definition of Donald Trump We Have Found

In his zeal to prove to his antagonists in the War Party that he is as bloodthirsty as their champion, Hillary Clinton, and more manly than Barack Obama, Trump seems to have gone “play-crazy” — acting like an unpredictable maniac in order to terrorize the Russians into forcing some kind of dramatic concessions from their Syrian allies, or risk Armageddon.However, the “play-crazy” gambit can only work when the leader is, in real life, a disciplined and intelligent actor, who knows precisely what actual boundaries must not be crossed. That ain’t Donald Trump — a pitifully shallow and ill-disciplined man, emotionally handicapped by obscene privilege and cognitively crippled by white American chauvinism. By pushing Trump into a corner and demanding that he display his most bellicose self, or be ceaselessly mocked as a “puppet” and minion of Russia, a lesser power, the War Party and its media and clandestine services have created a perfect storm of mayhem that may consume us all. Glen Ford, Editor in Chief, Black Agenda Report 

Make sure many more people see this. It's literally a matter of life an death. Imperial lies kill! Share widely.
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