ritual racket ears by norman douglas





ritual racket ears


ratatat-tat kapow kablooey
kablam a whambam sis
boombah
bwah-haha
clicketyclik creek clangalang
slam ka-lankity jank
kerplunk
palooka
pink-atink
ka-jungle
arooooooogaaahh...


there is a lot of noise,
bad talk going around,
accusation,
innuendo,
inculpation,
fear abounds,
wears many guises,
fills the air with screeches
lies
sacrifices
that scritch and scratch the inner ear
radios tuned to static between factions
busy squashing
interactions
drenched in squelches — loud
distractions,
egoistic sounds.


shhhh
listen


breathe


can you hear that hissin?
that’s the sound we all make every second.
in with the bad air out with the good
we’re making trees happy
trees make wood.
there’s a lot more to it than baseball bats
pick-up sticks and chopsticks
billy clubs and nightsticks
nicely-floored flats.


that ain’t all…


ask yourself
then listen
what does the simple wind answer
this blowing out and in?
is there a measured difference
in the quality of air
is there another person
you know who does not care
about the way we are livin
this biology, this life
someone who does not see an end
a peaceful day
emptied of our strife?


breathe out
then back in
where exactly is your enemy
maybe at work
maybe at home
maybe stuck in traffic
taking a picture on a phone
maybe on the tv news
shooting guns at the unarmed
who made these guns
who bleeds this blood
who really is alarmed
what can we do to bring them back
the dead who still are here
stuck deep in our minds
deep in shadowy
profound depths
we find
we rarely plumb
just under the so-called
unjust whose
unjustly wounded’s injuries
remind us
we have wounds right
here?


listen closely to the noise we make


can we find a way to echo
a simple breath
a food for life
can we not cry out for vengeance
must we rally other voices
demand a new tribunal
executions
incarcerations
punishments
aplenty
meted out
for our good
our peaceful
names?


what is the sound of healing
these injuries and slights
is it the bell that calls another round
at the mixed martial arts meet
where one and one makes a fight?
is peace so raucous
that it demands
protection
rackets?
circle up the wagons
load the rifles
hone the knives
sharpen the hatchets
batten down the hatches!
security
conspiracy
surveillance
laws and jails
armies
spies
and bulletproofs
and don’t forget
to ask for more
good and nicer cops


i’ll keep my blood inside my veins
i’ll let you hold onto yours
i’ll not join in any protests
i’ll not start shouting
get em
hang em
angry
hidden, lurking
in the midst of some vast crowd
not as long as it demands
we single out the culprits
beat em bloody
into a pulp,
bits.


we’re in this thing together
my evil twins,
my nasty sisters,
this thing that has no end
this eternity with no beginning
this infinite lesson
we are all
so slow at learning
each in our way
this healing hurt collective
this human organism
this blossom of a planted seed
this biocentric planet
this tiny creature
mote of dust
spinning
light speed
out in space
so dependent
on connections
never broken
never winning
what’s already won
a race
so invisible
and unseen
a genius in a genie
this music in the muse
an ontology in a being
seeking what is turning
these mistakes
into correction
like greatness built of atoms


like breath forged out of life.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

In the Company of Ghosts: interview with Dennis Dawson & Paul Paddock

Reflections on Kara Walker's "A Subtlety"