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pAGE ONE
 

Into the babble of lost souls

I was born

The year: 1959

Through basements of urban angst,

Labyrinths of malice,

Apocalypses of greed,

I have wandered.

Under lilacs I have languished.

Their sweet sent

Unable to penetrate my indolence.

I cannot imagine the latitude of my actions.

I am unable to conceive of what I construct.

I am only human.

And we humans are smaller than ourselves.

The raging schizophrenia of our day;

That is, the fact that our diverse faculties work

Independently of each other like isolated and

Uncoordinated beings who have lost all contact with each other.

Here is where we learned the habits of acrimony,

The culture of money,

The file cabinets, cubicles, stairwells, elevators, hallways of money.

The factories of money.

In the Universities and laboratories of money.

In the Theaters and Galleries of money.

In the Cathedrals of money.

On the Plazas and Blvds of money.

Money: An Ocean of syringes that light up the sky.

Money: the agenda of hidden libidos.

It is money that makes cowards of us all in that we

Haven’t the courage to be afraid; for fear belongs to those feelings

Which we are unwilling to realize.

That is we can only fear what we can imagine.

-         A fear commiserate with the threat-

The real spectra of violence

The unfathomable machinations of the apparatus of greed

This is the apocalypse, this is the thing.

This is the age of the inability to fear.

We are incapable of imagining the thing, the apparatus,

the apocalypse.

We are incapable of answering for the thing, the apparatus,        the apocalypse

And so we live in the age of the competence craze.

The age experts.

The age of Judges, Doctors, Politicians and Scientist. In them we invest our fear,

For they, we believe, see what we cannot imagine,                                                   

 they can answer questions that we cannot ask

and be responsible for the apparatus

but they are created by the apparatus

for the perpetuation of the apparatus

but the apparatus divest everybody, including those who decide upon its use of responsibility .

So much so that there is no one left to answer for its doing,

and far and near  there is nothing  to be seen but the charred lands of the miserable,                  and  the radiantly good conscience of the stupid.          

Henry Freean MacWilliams  c Oct. 2012