Day One

” Hello. Maybe this should have some stated vision or purpose. Like most living things it will be what it is, at this moment.”

There Is A Silver Lining In Everything

Something has to end this
Bury it so we can dig it up, again
Tonight we kill art

So that the message will be heard
We extricate the message from the corpse
Art is dead or soon will be
No one cares to listen
But everyone loves a good slaying
Tonight we torture, tease, prod, and probe art
Its screams lubricating ear canals
Easing insertion of the message
Art is twisting and turning, trying to escape
But there is no avoiding the disemboweling
Its innards splayed and labeled for open interpretation
We will call upon exorcists
To cast out political agendas hidden in the message
The art of rhetorical double speak
Where demons and devils reside
Cloaked in ritualist suits and ties
Masters of conniving, convincing, and message altering
Tricksters will be exposed with the death of art
The exhumation, purification
The message uncorrupted, devoid of art
Art is whimpering, pleading, lying
Promising to be true when promiscuity is its middle name
Fondled and swayed by corporate ad and pitch men
The message is embedded, no longer recognized
And costs too much
Tonight art pays the price and the message set loose
No pretense, no colorful adjectives, no puns, cliches, double entendres
No artsy-fartsy bullshit
Plain speak for plain times
These times

Now the truth

Not that art implies truthlessness
If anything is up for artful interpretation it’s the truth
So tonight we kill the truth
But how do you kill a vampiric zombie
The truth started teetering and sucking
With the raise of the first alter and the first sacrificial donation
Every shaman, cleric, pastor, priest, and prophet, knows the truth
And will deliver you to prove it
Hordes of righteous warriors dispense truth by the clip
A conversion no faith can reverse
Except for the truth
The truth is wavering down the street seeking blood and brains
Statisticians run and hide
Data and analysis hang limp from the canines of the truth
Only absolutes will survive the mauling
The truth has gone feral and must be put down
Rabid the beast can no longer be trusted
Eyewitness accounts are recanted
Blood offerings seed DNA re-growth
Feed new truths
New victims of old injustices upheld by old views
That reflect on review, old men suckled on old truth
We stalk the truth
Bright lights ferret it out of the crevices
Society’s dark avenues
Garlands of artifacts protect the innocent
Oaths uttered and good books touched the truth is revealed
Today’s truth, the new truth, tomorrow’s old truth
The truth is entangled in a web of deceit
Deceit spun from fragile lies
Lies anchored by belief in something no one can question
Belief with out doubt
Belief so enduring

It divines hope

Not that believing gives you hope
But many hope you believe
So tonight we kill hope
Hope is everywhere and hard to restrain
Riding in the vapors of countless vapid alcohol fueled hellos
Dissipates with positive clinical conclusions
Dampens the brow of birthing mothers
Evacuates cowering before gale tidal surges
Subjugated, now a ploy for government miscarriages
Expectations of lustful indulgences
Hope is in a foil packet
Withdraws in an ejaculatory flow when only the ring remains
Hope is naive and giggles in the mirror
Fogged, hope is encased
Finger drawn frowns tickle hope
Ghostly images of  hand me down enemies blur in the condensation
Prayers of forgiveness and retribution mingle, mangle
Blindfolded and duct tape silent, hope goes broad band
Its indifference encouraging, befriending
Hope is in the lobby wearing a suicide vest
Visions of virgins dance in its head, stirs a voluntary dissolution
A dignitary, an envoy, two clerks, an expectant mother, all abandoned
Fleeing the scene hope survives
Hope was spotted in a tiny grain at the desert’s edge
Gathered by weathered and hardened hands
Worshipped one at a time each a precious gift
With the risk of rape a meal is made, a child fed
And Janjaweed this night stayed
Survivors trek to tell the tale
Hope is in the message
A call to action
Best seller lists mined, commercial appetites whetted
Child soldiers now heros
Heros now artists

The message the art

Something has to end this
Bury it so we can dig it up, again
Tonight we kill art

© Ted Washington 2009