He’s been feeling
Those things with
Which he thought
He had come to
Terms Long ago –
Regrets,
Recriminations,
Not much elation,
More trepidations,
Past humiliations,
Not many “good, good,
Good, good,
Vibrations,” just
Negative “excitations.”
Then he wondered
The source
Of those agitations
And concluded
It was the current
Political situation
Which was the
Causation of
His consternation.
So, he started to pray,
“You’re okay, you’re,
Okay and have a
Nice day today.
Put on your new
Running shoes
And go out and
Play. Work up
A sweat on
The trail.
Inhale, exhale.
Get out of jail,
free. Amen.”

A thoughtful, reflective, insightful friend sent me a note with a quote pertaining to the political predicament in which we find ourselves:

Bob,

The following is from an article in Harper’s Magazine by Justin E.H. Smith, “Blood and Soil: The Rise of Vindictive Nationalism.”

The excerpt is very provocative, maybe extremely prescient, especially the very last phrase.

“…It seems that every earnest attempt to rationally rebuild society at some point crosses over, as if by natural law, into irrational violence. At present, we may be witnessing the beginning of an irreversible breakdown of American democracy. A form of authoritarian demagoguery is in the course of replacing the old hard-won system, and it is coming as an expression of the popular will of people who do not think of themselves as enemies of American political tradition – on the contrary, they wish to restore its greatness. It is a movement that gleefully rejects facts and arguments in favor of feeling, passionate group identification, and the titillating prospect of violence.”

He wondered what I thought of the quote. Here is my response:

Thanks for the note.

Just a few thoughts off the top of my head:

That certainly is a sobering and chilling paragraph. I’m hoping this time in American democracy is an aberration but human nature being what it is and our fascination with violence being what it is….I will read the article hoping the author gives a dystopian vision as a warning which all societies must heed and to which we must stay alert.

By way of comparison with a Western nation in recent human history, Nazi Germany was unique: Germany had suffered humiliation in WWI, it had tarnished its image of itself as the superior Western nation, its economy was in a shambles and it found a ready-made scapegoat — Jewish business leaders and bankers.

We don’t easily fit into those circumstances. On the other hand, we tend to be smug, entitled and arrogant and yes, I’m talking about upper-lower and lower-middle class Christian whites, too, who because they are afraid and resentful are being handed the scapegoats of Washington, blacks, browns and Muslims.

Also, I think we middle-class, educated, progressive Americans had become complacent, enjoying the seeming fruit of hard-won efforts at human rights for women, blacks, Hispanics, LGBTs, etc. and thinking that things would only continue to get better and better. Afterall, we had elected the first black president and next we would elect the first female president.

The thing that bothers me most is the class warfare between the richest and the rest of us. We’ve got capitalism gone crazy. I don’t think we middle-class feel the pinch like the lower-middle does. (The middle class lives like the rich to a certain extent and we have decent salaries, drive nice cars, take vacations, all of which might be a way to keep us quiet in our imagined comfort. We go our merry way consuming, consuming, consuming. Maybe we are too sated with stuff to figure out what is going on.)

The ideological and fanatically religious economic elites push their worldviews through purchasing the Republican politicians who just want to stay in power. The Democrats sit around with their thumbs up their butts and the political establishment at the bidding of the rich and powerful (who mostly are white) point fingers away from themselves appealing to the racism that runs deep in the American soul and trumpeting (no pun intended) jingoism and xenophobia.

I have cited this many times, but I do believe it is critical to understanding our country’s economic conundrum: a Canadian socialist and professor of economics (falsely attributed to John Steinbeck) said that socialism was found wanting because the poor believe they are a mere one misfortune away from being millionaires. Is that the way the Trump voters see it? “If Donald could do it, so can I”?

I’m hoping someone will come along with a Bernie Sanders’s type message and appeal to our better angels. Such a message might be able to help the poor to cross racial lines and join forces for peaceful, political change. The vast majority of the American public, I believe, would work toward that goal.

But then again, I may be just an old, retired, myopic minister unable to see the forest for the trees.

There is plenty of historical evidence to suggest that we are “on the eve of destruction.”

Oh, my…. Well, wife Chris and I will keep going to protest rallies in peaceful protest hoping we don’t get our heads bashed in.

I’m going back to reading my daily meditations and poems.

See you this summer, Lord willin’ and the creek don’t rise.

Dare I venture an “All the best,” ?

Bob

His late wife’s ashes
were scattered in a
great, inland sea.
He then married again
and they vowed
faithful they would be.
They found their joy
together hiking and
jogging in the sand-
dunes along that very
sea
and thought of
their wonderful
life and their plans
to be
and pledged in deep
love, harmony and
fidelity
that their ashes would
be scattered in the
sands along that sea.
Her late husband
would have loved
rising from the
Missouri dirt
and joining the rest
of the family
in spite of any hurt
this kinfolk might
have felt,
but those folks were
long gone to the
soil eliminating
any conflict they
may have felt,
so his spirit joined
the throng along
the inland sea
and all rejoiced
in the earth, fire,
wind and sea
of God’s great,
eternal creativity.

He could not bear to
put his lifeless wife
in the cold, hard
unforgiving ground
away from all the
places she knew of
life and vitality.
She had been a water
person raised by
an inland sea,
and so when the dread
time approached, he
knew what place
it would have to be.
The boat sailed out
and the ashes were
scattered in the blue
waters of that sea.
Every time the children
gather looking out at
wave upon wave
and looking as far
as eye could see,
they think lovingly
of their mother frolicking
in the waters of the
inland sea.

Flipping channels, he came across
The local public television’s seemingly endless
Fund raising drive — week after week — and saw, for
The umpteenth time, folk singers
Grown as old as he had grown

(Including Sweet Baby James last night
On Austin City Limits.)

He listened to the anti-war songs
And recalled marching for civil
Rights and against the war in Viet
Nam on the campus of a huge
Midwestern university.

Then he thought back a month
To the Women’s March and the
March for Immigration Rights
And the march to the ICE office
Sponsored by his Sanctuary Church

And hearing men and women his age say,
“Who would have thought we
Would be at it again? Feels
Good, doesn’t it?” Then he
Flipped the channel impatient

For the spring fund-raiser
To be over so he could, once
Again, watch those great
British dramas on Sunday
Evening.

Then he thought about the
Proposed budget cuts, made
A mental note to call his
Representatives and pulled
Out his wallet, and as he did,

He caught himself singing pacifist
Pete’s take on Ecclesiastes,
“To everything, turn, turn,
Turn; there is a season, turn,
Turn, turn, and a time to every

Purpose under heaven.”

He flips his wrist
And down they go.
He jerks his wrist
And up they go
Just like a giant yo-yo.
He walks the dog
And twirls them
Around the world,
He goes whole hog.
The crowds cheer and cheer
And watch him
Pull a coin from behind
The crowd’s collective ear
And doesn’t give it back.
He puts it in his backpack
Filled with promises and
Taxpayers’ dough
While the unsuspecting
Crowd just calls for more
Of the celebrity’s show.
When, oh, when
Will they realize
He says he’s got a royal flush
But he’s just rolling snake eyes
While taking all the Native People’s
And Immigrants’ dough
From this venue and that?
He’s the exploiting fat-cat
Who wouldn’t know
Fiction from fact,
But he’s got them convinced
For now that he’s a class act.
He’s got all the attention
And his sleight-of-hand
Goes without mention.
He’s Robin Hood in reverse
Taking from the poor
And giving the rich the poor’s
Coins to disperse.
He’s got them where he wants them.
They are eating out of his hand.
He’s our duly elected flimflam man.

I am in heaven
posting mostly poetry –
two-thousand today.

The travel weary guy flew home
after six months in Scotland via
Edinburgh, Iceland into Los

Angeles. He left before the pres-
idential election and after the
election thought, facetiously,

of requesting permanent residency
in Great Britain, but who then
thought, seriously, that he had

better hightail it home before he
might be stopped at LAX which he,
a white, middle-age, heterosexual,

Christian male might be thinking
that one day they would come for
his demographic not even consider-

ing that it would be for, upon dis-
embarking, overhearing a snarky
remark about the new president

and responding by letting out a
little laugh, which is what happen-
ed. The White House press secret-

ary speaking to the fake news,
lying journalists denied any sur-
veillance of any demographic of

any Americans having a good
laugh at the new president’s ex-
pense saying the president had it

on good, reliable reports from
truth-telling right-wing media
that the white guy was, in all

actuality, a brown skin, Muslim
extremist terrorist in white
face. When said guy heard this,

he laughed again, thus sealing
his fate while wondering if they
had beach time so he could get

a little tan for his pale, white
face and happy hour with single
barrel, small batch rum and

Cuban cigars at Guantanamo.

The afternoon air hung heavy
In the desert
Like a mild haboob.
Morning relief
Was sought with
Doors and windows
Flung open and
Fans set counter-clockwise
To pull in the
Morning air like
A cool, cleansing mist
Dropping down on dry, dusty
heads.
They thought about
The suffocating, summer heat
To come and looked forward
To the road trip back East
And summer on the shore of
The Big Lake.
Four months ago, four more
Days on the road
Would have felt oppressive.
Now it seems a liberating
Ride to freedom — at least an
Escape of sorts from
Things as they are.
If only such were so
For the country enduring
The suffocating haboob
Of a presidency not
Quite two months into
What now feels like
An infinity of four years.

Wishful thinking?
Not a chance.
Stinkin’ thinkin’?
This ain’t no rain dance.
Looks like we’re headed
into plutocratic expanse.
Yes, that’s so dreaded,
but it’s now fire under their suited pants
of those spirited women.
They’re leaving nothin’ to chance.
They marched with an omen
taking a firm stance
against politicians with egos swollen
and those seeking riches to enhance.
Don’t give up on our democracy.
Strong women and men with integrity
Will step forward for our posterity.
Grab those signs
March in time.
Stay diligent.
Be peacefully militant.
We have a Constitution
And a Bill of Rights.
We will throw the kleptocrats out
and duly elect public servants
who will rain down justice
like fire and ice.