[A child of indeterminate ***--either a delicate-featured boy or a tomboy-ish girl--, 9 or 10 years old, enters the chamber where the United States Council of Artists is meeting.]

"Is this the United States Council of Artists?"

[The Chairman of the Council responds:] "Yes. Who are you?"

"That doesn't matter. Are all the high arts present? Poetry, Music, the Visual Arts?"

"Yes. . . . There are people from all the various arts here. . . ."

"The Hour of your Doom is upon you."

"What do you mean?"

"You've failed to create with feeling.
Nuclear angst no longer excuses you.
Moral uncertainty, the dissolution of society,
no longer excuses you.
The 'Death of God' no longer excuses you.
Human beings have not changed.
We are not the hollow men.
Great art
comes from the heart;
your superfluities will now depart.

"Painter! Isn't it true that the same day you started work on this [holding up a reproduction of the painting "Incongruities: White Lines, Pink Lines"] you visited a hardware store with a middle-aged clerk whose face was wonderfully sad and quizzical? That as you walked home the pattern of the sun shining through the trees onto the sidewalk was marvelously variegated?


"Composer! Tell me honestly [playing a cassette recording of "Duet in F-Minor for Flute and Woodblock"] that these rhythmless sounds move you. . . . It's made with the head, completely with the head.

"Poet! Isn't it true that you've never written any poems expressing your deepest feelings: your love of your older sister; the painful growing-apart of you and your wife leading up to your divorce; your hatred of the stuffy academics who denied you tenure; the passion you felt for that Australian ******* Corfu last summer. . . . Instead you've written these [holding up a book entitled Root Crops, No Metaphors and reading from it:]

     translucent, magenta-veined root-tips
     push, cell by cell, into humid grit;
     dark green, dark-red-veined crowns
     expand profligately sunward. . . .

"Great art
speaks to the heart;
your superfluities will now depart."

[Another Council member:] "Mr. Chairman, with all due respect to this --surprisingly eloquent-- young person, I suggest that we return to the business at hand which is" [consulting his agenda] "the allocation this fiscal year for haiku in South Dakota."

How many more unarmed people need to get shot by cops with no repercussion?...

How many more times will a cop get 1-4 years for involuntary manslaughter instead of second or first degree ****** when the prerequisites for "duty" directly contradict the plausible notions of involuntary manslaughter?...

How many more times will chiefs of police feed you the story that they were unaware of internal corruption which took place on a wide scale for decades?...

How many more times will a cop's ****** case get thrown out in the name of 'self-defense' when there are a dozen or more bullet wounds in the deceased victim?...

How many videos need to be released of cops tasering or pepper spraying people who are already face-down on the ground, handcuffed, with no ramifications?...

How many more times will witnesses to police brutality and police ****** (or murders conducted by politicians) 'disappear,' or 'die in an accident' before the trail?...

How many more cops will **** women with no charges before the American public cares?...

How many "internal police investigations" or internal government investigations" need to be conducted with no result before the American public realizes that police and politicians get special treatment or exemptions from the law which they create and "uphold"?...

In antithesis, how much longer will someone get life in prison or the death penalty for killing a cop when that same cop would get ten years if the tables were turned (Given that the policeman or policewoman is even convicted)?...

A new Renaissance
has started,
they one we made
through conversation and fate.

My masculinity mixes
with your femininity,

and just for a little bit,
we forget
that the world was built
to destroy people like us.

Pathological Liars, support buyers
Worthless medals on their chests
JP Morgan's Hand-puppet speaks:

They have you screaming, yea or nay
With their hands making your heart strings dance
As you throw your soul at the Golden Calf

Your fingers are on your phone screen
While their fingers are on the trigger
Trusting in your pin-pointed amnesia

Twenty-five times that badge takes your life
While you get 25-to-life for vending plants
Have you seen this backwards plan?

The Government among us is as skewed
As the lines in
this
poem...

On this front there are many different views,
And when they are disputed sometimes they're ignited like a fuse.
Fire is thrown everywhere just like the propellant from a flamethrower Sides are taken and walls are built similar to Trump and a SpanishVoter.
Then there are the ones who choose no side
They believe that one person doesn't make a difference
But in the end, it is all of those single people who make up the world
They make up society, laws, government, and schools.
Now think to yourself and ask, "What if they're all corrupt?"
If they are, we are being slowly but surely poisoned with no hope to reconstruct.

- Just some food for thought.

A Baltic atoll nigh
I am but a giant
of enlightenment
as I've been both years
here yet develop
strep in tears despair
days that might
stay when I came to
love our being still
mystery now season
in newly gotten wiles
only there to impress
a red rover machine
and target afresh
dreamscape by canal.

How did we get here?
Where we hide our thoughts,
And only speak in fear,
Just so we don't get caught,
So we keep to ourselves our opinions and ideas,
How did we get here?

How did we get to this?
Where we have a limit of a way to think,
And we limit our right to freedom of speech,
All just so we don't offend thee,
How did we get to this?

The men who are meant to serve,
Can't handle the truth,
So we don't tell it as it is,
Coz we know what they'll do,
From courts to jail and at times beating,
Yes that's true!,
So it all comes down to what they'll choose,
And they smile like its all good,

So we have to hold on to our dictionary for a consult,
Just so when we speak we don't accidentally insult,
'cause you know the big men can't take a joke,
Or a poke and what not,

And its not that we can fight,
We can't take them up in a round with all their might,
They'd squash us down like a bug,
And then just shrug,

How did we get here?,
Its not like they need it to earn our respect,
We've already voted for them,
How do they not get it?,
We did it with clear mind,
And know that they ain't perfect,
Why do we have to regret?

So I sit here just asking,
How did we get here,
I thought things would be better,
Instead we all now have to look over our shoulder,
How did we get here