POETRY APPLAUDS THE USA FOR NOT SUPPRESSING GEERT WILDERS

Click image to enlarge

"Whatever else, poetry is freedom."

. . . . . -- Irving Layton

"There is no force more subversive than poetry and that is why tyrants always feared it and sought to suppress it. But not only tyrants. Everyone who has a vested interest in preventing the individual from discovering the truth of his own self and his own capacities fears the liberating power that resides in poetry."

. . . . . -- Irving Layton

"In our age, the mere making of a work of art is itself a political act. So long as artists exist, making what they please and think they ought to make, even if it is not terribly good, even if it appeals to only a handful of people, they remind the Management of something managers need to be reminded of, namely, that the managed are people with faces, not anonymous members, that Homo Laborans is also Homo Ludens."
. . . . . -- W. H. Auden

Dogma Style & the Imagine Nation

Put your poem in its upright position, close your eyes and imagine a nation made entirely of imagination.

In the early years the Imagine Nation sent out beautiful angels with wings made entirely out of wonder. Some angels accumulated random breezes that were tangled in the drapery of weeping willows and wove them with the finest drafts freshly exiting waterfall froth. These exquisite wings produced Wingwind which was reputed to be as gentle as a sweet sigh after love and went on to became renown as a coolant for furrowed foreheads where sweat accumulates to nourish the growth of worry. Wingwind evaporated the sweat, rendering worry rootless.

Poets psalmed about these winged things and named them Wind Women. For none could they unveil her face, only give directions, where she came from, where she fled. Sometimes they revealed the shape of their hand as it stroked the tresses of young girls, or the curve of her hips as she skimmed over a blonde field of mature wheat.

Some angels ignited into religions and caused men to build outstanding buildings that produced nothing. They were built with the purpose of luring angel-swarms out of the Imagine Nation. One religion shaped their unproductive buildings into golden breasts to compel angels to suckle sacred scripts. Another group of holy men, embarrassed by their little haikus, built boners of epic propoetions and called them steeples, hoping their bloated intentions would con the angels to spire all around.

In the solitary confinement of their heads, the little portable Imagine Nations of religious leaders proselytized about an uncivil war that broke out after the seventh day of mass creativity and resulted in everything being divvied into yes-no, good-bad, on-off, in-out, 1-0. This unspired widespread judge mental disorder throughout the bland. Religion converted the Imagine Nation into a noun, imprisoned it in chapter and worse. This is how religious leaders developed perversonality and came to wear funny hats and to herd the flock into reproduction rites and flick shit off their tails.

Woe and beholden, the people were enthralled and fucked each other over dogma style.

Ilk People & the Imagine Nation

Put your poem in its upright position, close your eyes and imagine a nation made entirely of imagination.

Aside from the wilder mess of children, the only regular adult inhabitants of the Imagine Nation, that is to say, those with poemanent residency, are the Creative Class: poets, composers, choreographers, artists and their Ilk.

The Ilk are second cousins to the Creative Class. They have Ilky ways. There is a galaxy named after them. And worms also. The Ilk people dress in ambiguity and hold generic status. They are a notably unspecific people that get caboosed at the end of a sequence, all in accordance to grammarlaw (sect.13; sub.1). It is impossible to write about "choreographers, Ilk, composers and their poets." The Stupid Writes Commission will poetically correct this abuse of free speech, unless (1) the author is a valid holder of Poetic Licence and (2) the transgression achieves Poetic Justice.

Aside from poemanent residents, the Imagine Nation is cluttered with one-night stanza tourists who are ashamed &/or embarrassed about their brief visits, so they do it under cover of sleep and explain it away as “just a dream, that’s all it was, it didn’t mean anything to me.” If the dream happens to be a dangerous buckeroo, they call it a night mare. (Edgar Allan Poe was renown for stampedes of night stallions.) Some in&outers are troubled by the incoherency of these wild imaginings and seek out uncertified interpreters to explain them, to make the uncommon, common.

Actually, dreams are commercials from the tourism industry of the Imagine Nation. They can be playful as kites surfing with fairy somethings on the crest of random breezes. They like to tug, pull you up, encourage you to defy the flaw of gravitus. Dreams are umbilically tethered to your insensibilities to remind you of the motherland, the Imagine Nation.

The Imagine Nation is made of vaporous verbs, insectular societies of clutter flies, phart faeries, mumble bees, always on the move, vvvVVvvVerbing from flower to flower, surfing thought waves, and tumbling into the turbulence of beginning things. Question marks are exclamation points in a foetal position. Question marks are said to be the shape of sleeping children who want to keep secrets. The Creative Class import question marks into the Imagine Nation where they are unfolded into exclamation points and exported as the first letter in the word !nspiration.

The Imagine Nation is a common sensory deprivation chamber, a portal to the ever expanding limitless unlimited. It is the unbridled wilder mess that swiddles children with fancy brilligs, slithy toves and the people of Ilk.

Children & the Imagine Nation

Put your poem in its upright position, close your eyes and imagine a nation made entirely ofimagination.

There is no speed limit in the Imagine Nation. Children come here to outrun the light that wants to attach shadows to their feet. Shadows are flairy somethings made of dark smatter. The Imagine Nation is a State of Mind where everyone makes up the law on the fly-by outings. There’s no grace like it on Earth. The Imagine Nation is completely unregulated, which explains why children make up the larger part of the population. Multiplication fables. This is the place where children become pick-poets and go on rhyme sprees, walk the talk of jabber wock with frollicle fun on their jibbyjibjib the slithy-tove-a-loo, work up a sweet and develop a healthy appetitious for Alligator Pi-in-the-sly.

And then...

Kids are napped from the Imagine Nation, brought down to earth and institutionalized inside learning strictures where they are edustraited by the bureau crazies who earn lucrative pensions to cover the cost of their pending dementia. The regulations are rigorous mortis and enforced by the ruling govern mental dystrophy called the House of Commons. (Common sense is just that -- common) Children caught attempting to emigrate to the Imagine Nation are displaced into detention and instructured to write on the classroom wall, “I will pay attention” until the bored-numb cows come home. No matter how much a child pays to attention, it is never enough. They just keep paying and paying and paying and attention keeps taking and taking and taking. Pay Attention! This tutorial torturial treatment goes on and on, day after day, year in and year out until they are completely sub-versed, in-versed, re-versed and per-versed. It all adds up one by one on queue and in formation for the ceremony where they receive the holy parchment certifying that they have acquired the perversonality of well-grounded adults with shadows permanently attached to their feet.

Last exit before entering the Imagine Nation of the Peoples Republic of Poetry

Click on image to enlarge

PROTOCOLS OF THE LEARNED ELDERS OF THE HUMAN W/RITES COMMISSION

Protocol XIII(I)

Poets and proseurs:
FEEL FREE
to wipe your boots on WELCOME
before entering this sanctimonium of society:

. . . . . Wiped your nose? . . . . . . Check.
. . . . . Wiped away the tears? . . .Check.
. . . . . Wiped your mouth? . . . . . Check.
. . . . . Wiped your ass? . . . . . . . Check.
. . . . . Cleaned up your act? . . . . Check.

Please line up on the left.

We are not neo-puritan police.
We are the politically correctional officers.
We disinfect discourse.
We continually upgrade nomenclature.
(negro => black => people-of-colour => African-American)
We prophylacticize bad words that hurt feel goods.
(DOWN WITH NO NO NO)
We heighten your social sensitivirtues
(UP WITH YES YES O YES)
We de-escalate discrimination and repair despair
We free your speech of contemptoxins.
We assist your desire for pure free speech
that uplifts the human spirit to soar with all the angels.

(REJECTIONISTAS, LINE UP ON THE RIGHT FOR RECTALFICATION PROTOCOLS)

Those with outstretched tongues
repeat after us:
. . . . . . . . . I swear to speak in n-words
. . . . . . . . . Wholly in n-words
. . . . . . . . . Nothing but n-words
. . . . . . . . . So help me NICE!

NB: NICE is a four letter n-word.
Free-speak is Nice-speak is the new speakeasy.
Spread the glorious massage of your sensitized tongues.
Watch your words work wonderfuls

Conform to the Code for grant continuity
Be nice or be iced
and remember
who has
the last
word.

MOHAMMED IS THE PRIMA DOGMA, SO START WORRYING

Click on image to enlarge

THE NEXT DEGENERATION

Curse the Human Rights Commissions with Textual Assault Placards