Seven lines for November 29th


to resist a cold wind, cooking over embers,
to the Admin annex, Casa Inglesa.
to set free the powers of resurrection
to make us need to buy
to our destination
to justify their crimes on humanity.
to work, it’s too much like


Author: Raymond Maxwell Librarian and archivist-in-training, retired foreign service officer and former naval officer.

One thought on “Seven lines for November 29th”

  1. just stashed here:


    “I knew too that through them I knew too that he was though, I knew too that he threw them. I knew too that they were through, I knew too I knew too, I knew I knew them.”
    “If you can see why she feel that she kneels if you can see why he knows that he shows what he bestows, if you can see why they share what they share, need we question that there is no doubt that by this time if they had intended to come they would have sent some note of such intention.”
    Many others did go and there was a sacrifice, of what shall we, a sheep, a hen, a cock, a village, a ruin, and all that and then that having been blessed let us bless it.” – Gertrude Stein, Idem the Same – Let Us Describe

    The Queen’s Henchmen
    request the pleasure of your company
    at a Lynching – to be held
    at 23rd and C Streets NW
    on Tuesday, December 18, 2012 –
    just past sunset.

    Dress: Formal, Masks and Hoods –
    the four being lynched
    must never know the identities
    of their executioners, or what/
    whose sin required their sacrifice.

    A blood sacrifice –
    to divert the hounds –
    to appease the gods –
    to cleanse our filth and
    satisfy our guilty consciences.

    Arrive promptly at sunset –
    injustice will be swift.
    There will be no trial,
    no review of evidence,
    no due process, and
    no accountability.

    Dress warmly –
    a chilling effect will instantly
    envelop Foggy Bottom.

    Total impunity at the top.
    A kangaroo court in
    a banana republic.

    Refreshments will not be served
    because of the continuing resolution.

    And the ones being lynched?
    Who cares?
    They are pawns in a game.
    Our game.
    All suckers, all fools,
    all knaves who volunteered to serve – us.
    And the truth? The truth?
    What difference at this point does it make?

    In case of inclement weather,
    or the Queen’s incapacitation,
    the Queen’s Henchmen will carry out
    this lynching – as ordered, as planned.

    March 8, 2013

    Monday, April 15, 2013

    The wicked witch of the East?
    The old, decrepit, ancient East?
    She dead.
    House fell on her ass during the storm.
    Feet all shriveled up.
    That witch ain’t going nowhere!
    Ain’t gon bother nobody!

    But the wicked witch of the West?
    The new, modern, amoral West?
    She’s alive and kicking.
    Causing all kinds of trouble.
    Done signed a deal with the Wizard –
    the lying Wizard.
    Dorothy has her hands full with those two.
    And the lion ain’t got no courage.

    Trapped in a purgatory…

    “The top of the pyramid – the organization is composed of Technologists who only pretend to have power, although they are only actors in the theater of mirrors. When the mirror is broken they die, because the internal drive of their actions vanishes.” – Svetislav Basara, The Cyclist Conspiracy

    Trapped in a purgatory
    of their own conceit…

    The web of lies they weave
    gets tighter and tighter
    in its deceit
    until it bottoms out –
    at a very low frequency –
    and implodes.

    It may be just a matter of perception –
    they can’t undo their wrongs
    for fear it’d undermine their
    perceived authority –
    an authority they think they require
    to stay in charge.

    Yet all the while,
    the more they talk,
    the more they lie,
    and the deeper down the hole they go.

    There’s nothing I need to go back to –
    nothing to re-litigate –
    nothing to defend –
    and certainly nothing to prove
    to the unworthy.

    Just wait…
    just wait and feed them rope.


    August 14, 2013 – Man and the expanding universe: art

    moral courage dies
    and corruption’s stench prevails –
    lies erase the truth

    my LinkedIn friends keep endorsing me
    for Government. But me and Uncle Sam

    are a shrinking universe. I’m leaving
    the troop that errs, the team that lies,

    leaders who destroy lives for sport, as art –
    themselves a crime, a sin, a plague. Farewell.


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