The ordered and disordered thoughts of D. George. A collection of things that amuse, move, inspire and irritate, and of course a number that manage to infuriate. All writings and poetry on this blog are mine, except where credit is given to someone else. I do not own the pictures on this blog except those that look profoundly amateurish and/or contain descriptions pointing to my taking them (such as location and time).
But there was much for me to pour
A mind exhausted to unburden,
Strains too heavy to bear
A rage too consuming, I had to free,
I threw paint against a canvas
Drained too many pens of their ink,
Burned the pages with the force of hands
My keyboards pressed to a wear,
Even my mouth bore this duty
With teeth and tongue that spat too much,
What things had I gathered from the world
That needed to return from whence they came?
Green fields of slaughter
Where men once staged massacres
Now turn the dead flowers.
"It is imperative that you never let anything supersede a good joke."
We held sticks aflame beneath
A West African night
Running through fields our
Screams a flush of laughter,
The dust rose amidst our
Fires sparked and hovered
Atop our hands,
And through the light grass
Nestled on black soil
We imagined our ancestors
Asleep beneath the ground,
As somewhere beyond the
A tune drifted, sounding
Nkosi Sikelel’ iAfrika.
We ran through abandoned tunnels-
Train tracks turned bed frames-
Mothers and fathers gone far-
We were all we had-
Prowled the city for life-
May the dead take us-
Our voices echo against the walls-
As we call on all angels-
The portraits gathered
Our many faces
Showing with some distinction
Our varied graces,
Some were pretty, delicate
Others were hardened, eyes
Tired and puffed,
Lips thin, mouths plush
Cheeks pale, blood-rush,
Some smiled, few frowned
Many bore thick hair for a crown,
A baby yawned, a girl posed,
An old man crinkled his aged nose,
I had a glimpse of lives lost.
In the study of the nation-state, one quickly learns that one privilege a government enjoys is the legitimate use of force. This might seem not at all special, but it is quite extraordinary when one spends a moment pondering it. The legitimate use of force offers an entity the right to use violence, and to be free from the consequences of adequate redress. This is why a government can unleash its police forces to do violence against a crowd, and those officers will not be brought to justice. No other institution or group in human civilization is offered this privilege.
South Africa during the decades of apartheid offers a rather stark and clear portrait of this. The white minority government was the internationally recognized political structure, its gross exercise of violence against a largely unarmed populace not withstanding. This is why its use of brutal force against civilians was not of much concern to Ronald Reagan and some members of the U.S. Congress who opposed sanctions against the apartheid regime. Indeed, their frequent refrain against calls for punitive measures against the abominable South African government was that the country was a sovereign nation, and could therefore not be told what to do. This of course being patently ridiculous.
On the other hand, the black response to this violence was frequently termed terrorist by the Thatcher cabinet in Britain, and even the government of the United States. This is where matters become rather obvious. The state’s use of violence is considered the prerogative of a sovereign nation, but a people’s response to that violence is deemed terrorism. This same absurd call has resurrected these past few days, with some bearing no notion of history repeating the accusation. Well, to them I say, one has the right to guard himself against violence. The use of violence in this protection is not criminal, but the noble and critical act of self-defense.
Frequently, the people dusting the cob-webs off this accusation in order to recycle it are the same who shout about a government stripping the masses of their freedom by being too big and engaging in the business of healthcare. If they do indeed believe this to be true, Nelson Mandela and the A.N.C. of old should be their heroes. After all, their struggle in South Africa was against one of the worst excesses and crimes of government; but of course theirs is not an argument of principle or coherence in this regard, and so one should not expect it.
Loud moans, growls, groans
Fill the night with love’s song,
Call names, all tamed
Beasts within have dwelt long,
Sun sank, rum drank
Then fade to moods of paradise,
Sweet cry, nectared sigh,
Come the morrow we’ll sacrifice.