POEM: Where The Win Blows

He axed me
What are your demands
Other than justice
Or saving life?
Claiming that
We must shed light
On just said
Shady distinctions
I mirrorly pronounced
That the win blows
And we no knot wear
Such goest
In this Ruth-less whirled
Whither fallowing
Long the weigh
In grave deliverance
Or
Idol metings
And hollowed turning
Led to goaled
As wee are ruled out
In is capable
Voiding this cryptic rout
Wear even
The wise crack
Quipping us
Beyond what said
As inevitable
Ran some
Never the less
A firm
I no people
Who are experts
In every thing for sail
Filling the echo chamber
With rounds and rounds
And shots for the hole shebang
Who wouldn’t know just us
If it
Peered before them
Un-less
Creating an impression
As passing wind
A harness for the people
Those political wins
Properly rigged
As canvassing
In every dialection
That exclusive rationale
Making everyone wont to yacht
Just saying
Utterly finished
With such stale heir
And wads of dollareds
For which the winds of change blow
Only wanting to go somewhere
Wear I can
Breathe
Just as
The win

This poem is about means and ends, and the dangerous complications of focusing so much on methods and techniques that the intended ends are no longer produced by the means.  For example, much ado about the Occupy movement focused on the perplexity about the apparent lack of specific demands.  Nevertheless, if you asked most any American what the movement was demanding, most of what they perceived was accurate.  Fix Wall Street; resist injustices with your whole body and soul — this might be one fair interpretation.  However, the distractive powers of the concrete are usually sufficient to keep one’s feet from hitting the concrete.  Getting caught up in the details can allow us to quiet effectively bend those details to our own privilege and self-interests.  If we keep our eyes on the prize, details will remain details, and how we get there becomes, well, details.  Still, even Wall Street, in its seeming Teflon vacancy, may appear immune to hanging the big picture upon.  You have to bring your own faith, they are sold out.  There is little argument that the Occupy movement has changed the political winds.  Who doesn’t immediately recognize and resonate with the framework of the 99% versus the 1%, and what justice demands?

The pragmatism of the world usually carries the day.  Courageous idealism, breeding hope and sacrificial solidarity, carries generations.  For the pregnancy of ideals to be borne into the world, they need to be carried to term, long-term.  The political riggings of short-term wins offers tempting short-term relief and the lure of incremental change.  Still, the winds of change will carry any riggings as it will; the pragmatism of politicians will follow any political wind.  Such is God’s genius, that even the most conniving politician will eventually, even dutifully, follow the political winds. The purpose of the citizen is to be the wind.  The patience, passion, and wisdom necessary for the good life can never be nailed down by technocratic solutions.  Whether the most “civilized” political compromise or outright crucifixion, a vital human heart cannot be built or destroyed by the best and brightest minds machinations nor the most-well-trained minions.  The spirit enlivening humanity comes and goes freely as the win.  Our way of life is literally a way of life, not an end to be achieved.  In the inescapable and quite capable dynamism of life, the means and the ends are, in fact, the same.  Daily living in a courageous and just fashion, no matter how unfashionable, is the truest currency of democracy; the rest is derivative, that is, follows.

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