The Age Demanded: Political Poetry In Our Time

Oregon Magazine ^ | March 12, 2006 | Larry Leonard

[WaterDragon]

In Paris in 1925 Ernest Hemingway wrote my favorite political poem. Eighty years later, it is still relevant. Think of the mass mob reaction to the UAE Port fracas. Think of the UN’s internal corruption and inability to deal with the most egregious of international dangers – Iran’s nuclear program. Think of France. Somebody has to, I suppose.

But seriously, think of this Persian "civil war" for which the formerly relevant mass American media is strenuously lobbying. It is news to these people that the Baathists who ruled Iraq with an iron fist for many decades are by way of bombs and sniping trying to destroy the democratically chosen new authorities in that land. I am shocked, shocked to be informed of this. I was totally unaware that people in Iraq disagreed with each other. I thought all those mass executions ordered by Saddam Hussein for all those years were a clear indication that there was a perfect Arab unity, there. When, in recent years, bombs blew up at police recruiting stations, I thought that the bombers had mistaken Iraqi police stations for U.S. military facilities, or restaurants where the service was slow.

And, think back to the video footage of all those Kurds in the northern part of Iraq. Men, women and children plus dogs, goats and sheep, laying dead by their thousands after Hussein’s aircraft gassed them with weapons of mass destruction which as a result of the excellent journalism of Terry Moron and David Gregory we now know he didn’t have. We should ask why Terry and David didn't think that was civil war.

[x]

Hemingway got his starting point from Ezra Pound:

The age demanded an image
Of its accelerated grimace,
Something for the modern stage,
Not, at any rate, an Attic grace;
...

Larry sounds like a very angry or frustrated man. Of course the country has the problems he lists (though not enough money for highways may not be one of them), but on the whole, we could be in a lot worse shape. It's to be expected of an imperfect world that there will be things wrong.

[NicknamedBob]

John Kerry, Lost?

John Kerry, lost? His noble brow,
Perchance revert to wrinkles now?
The valiant warrior strode the world,
Retreating now, his banner furled.

To face the wrath, withheld til now,
Of bitter phrase from stifled frau.
To pace the hall with echo dread,
While might-have-beens sift through his head.

To see his minions, tears bedecked,
And watch his ship of state be wrecked.
To tally promises he has made,
And worry how they might be paid.

To look into the mirrored eye,
And sadly to inquire why?
What was the key that slipped away,
Or what the coin of devil pay?

“I’ve sold my soul to buy this prize,
That withers now before my eyes,
That slips now from my straining grasp,
Which once I held in firmest clasp.”

His turning mind brings forth a name,
The source from which the troubles came.
“In vanquished mourning I confess,
I am John Kerry, and I approve this mess.”

NicknamedBob . . . . . . November 3, 2004

[WaterDragon]

BTTT