PHILOMENA CUNK
George Orwell's classic One Nine Eight Four.
In the book, using nothing but words, Orwell depicts a world in which people are manipulated by screens. Manipulated by the media.
Manipulated by the government. Something that fortunately didn't and couldn't happen.
In fact, almost the only thing he got right was that there would be something on the screens called Big Brother. And even then he didn't predict that it would be on Channel Five.
W. S. MERWIN
“To the Unlikely Event”
You have been evoked so often
like some relative in office
whom we have heard of by name
all these years but have never met
you inhabit a kind of fame
a void without time or senses
beyond anything said of you
so that doubtless you do not hear
the recurring inadequate
references to you that rise
from another age rehearsing
wrong images or none at all
and whenever you may arrive
at last for a visit you come
in pure innocence and too late
to be recognized once you are
here sudden drop in the dials
in the light or the affections
windfall or surprise legacy
but once you come you do not go
how can we ever address you
in your unlikelihood boundless
indifference abroad in your
uncharted self to which only
random syllables find the way
and to what words can we entrust
our groundless hope saying there there
to them how unlikely you sound
already as though this might be
the mission you were conceived for
it could be what you always meant
and the hope itself when we turn
at the last minute to put it
into words what is there to say
that seems even possible
may
it go on just as it is may
that day never come may it be
spring in the morning together
and without end
how unlikely
it sounds when we come to say it
it does not help much to recall
how unlikely it is that we
turned up here with the beginning
strewn around us of which we know
nothing hear nothing remember
only the moment before us
which we believe as it happens
when it appears to be likely
oh be unlikely forever
DANIEL ZHU
"Trust" (Inspired by "Harlem" by Langston Hughes)
What happens to trust vanished?
Does it reappear
Out of thin air?
Does it painfully regrow
like a half-alive tree?
Does it haunt you-
A ghost in your dreams?
Does it leave you as empty-
nothing but a shell?
Does it destroy you and
Crush you underfoot?
Or does it leave you wondering
If trust
Can be attained
At all?
WILLIAM S. BURROUGHS
I am not one of those weak-spirited, sappy Americans who want to be liked by all the people around them. I don’t care if people hate my guts; I assume most of them do. The important question is whether they are in a position to do anything about it. My affections, being concentrated over a few people, are not spread all over Hell in a vile attempt to placate sulky, worthless shits.
EMILY DICKINSON
“Hope”
Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul,
And sings the tune without the words,
And never stops at all,
And sweetest in the gale is heard;
And sore must be the storm
That could abash the little bird
That kept so many warm.
I’ve heard it in the chillest land,
And on the strangest sea;
Yet, never, in extremity,
It asked a crumb of me.
To all of the twits who ignored every red flag, caved to your worst selves, and bought into all of the most obvious of Trump's insane lies:
Everything that happens from here on out - the family members you lose, the suffering, the confiscation of your freedoms at the whim of your god king - is all on you.
Especially the Christians who knowingly and enthusiastically rejected everything their original lord and savior ever said and taught in favor of Jesus 2.0.
You can no longer falsely blame dems, antifa, LGBTQ people, or immigrants for everything that you've set into motion with your prejudice and cowardice. You made your filthy bed, and now you're going to lie in it - still sick, still poor, and still stupid.
All to feed your desperate hunger to hurt people who never did anything to you your childish, hate -fueled decision will not make us disappear. It will not magically give you cheap gas and groceries, and it most certainly is not going to bring about world peace or otherwise make anything "great.”
Your one success was to hand the nation's most powerful seat to a career criminal whose only goals are to evade prison force everyone to worship his worthless ass. And use our country as a piggybank to fund his coke parties.
Hope it was all worth it, you hateful fuckwits.
Enjoy the ride.
CHRISTIAN MIMAN
“This Inwardness, This Ice”
This inwardness, this ice,
this wide boreal whiteness
into which he’s come
with a crawling sort of care
for the sky’s severer blue,
the edge on the air,
trusting his own lightness
and the feel as feeling goes;
this discipline, this glaze,
this cold opacity of days
begins to crack.
No marks, not one scar,
no sign of where they are,
these weaknesses rumoring through,
growing loud if he stays,
louder if he turns back.
Nothing to do but move.
Nowhere to go but on,
to creep, and breathe, and learn
a blue beyond belief,
an air too sharp to pause,
this distance, this burn,
this element of flaws
that winces as it gives.
Nothing to do but live.
Nowhere to be but gone.
CHRISTOPHER HITCHENS
There are, after all, atheists who say they wish the fable were true but are unable to suspend the requisite disbelief, or who have relinquished belief only with regret. To this I reply: who wishes that there was a permanent, unalterable celestial despotism that subjected us to continual surveillance and could convict us of thought-crime, and who regarded us as its private property even after we died? How happy we ought to be, at the reflection that there exists not a shred of respectable evidence to support such a horrible hypothesis.
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