My Writing and Art lives here….
‘Barry the Worm’ was sad & lonely.
He had burrowed three perfect clockwise circuits of the red delicious apple & had still not met a lady worm.
‘Sue the Worm’ was also lonely & had done the same thing anticlockwise on the lower hemisphere of the Apple.
Sometimes you need to zig-zag.
By Martin Anton Smith 2022
They worked at the foundry.
She had started her first day of work – he had been there for 7 years & was a journeyman.
As the HR lady showed her the Iron Pouring Shed, she saw him & he saw her.
Their eyes locked as they both looked through the gap between the two giant slag piles.
By Martin Anton Smith 2022
by Martin Anton Smith 2022
The 2020- 2021 World has taught us this: All Advanced Business Products & Finance rest on the bedrock of
1. Food & Food Availability
2. Energy & Energy Availability
3. Political Stability
4. General Good Health Conditions For Workers
5. Robust Systems & Astute use of Technology
The 2022 – Present World Changed to a WAR ECONOMY
A War Economy requires:
1. Maximise all of the above for yourself & your business Allies & Minimise those same factors for the Enemy & Their Allies.
2. Reduce Your Businesses Output to Core ‘War Items Of Production’
3. Weaponize All Your Key Assets Human & Non-Human
4. Realise You Are AT WAR & In A WAR ECONOMY
5. Know That The Official War Is A Diversion Tactic, In Itself – & Expect The Real Clandestine War to Become Visible. At this point you will be asked to ‘Choose a Side’.
The Question: Do you know yourself well enough to make the right choice?
If You go to War & Proceed Blow a Guy’s head off with a machine gun thinking you are ‘doing the right thing’ – You have chosen the wrong choice!
If You Think Trump/President X Will save you – You are Wrong!
If You think staying masked & indoors will save you – You are Eff’d IN THE SWEED!
If You Think ‘The News’ will tell you what to do – You are deeply mistaken!
If You think you must avoid MOB RULE & FEAR TACTICS – You Are Right!
If You Think you must choose COURAGE, LOVE & DECENCY – You Are Righteous!
To Have Courage Or Build A ‘City Of Sheeple’ – That Is the Question!
But Can You Answer Correctly?
99% Of You If You Don’t Change Your Ways Will Fail this Exam.
Mr Geodee – The Great ‘Ultimate Cosmic Professor’, of course hopes that you all PASS, & he wishes you well.
I Would Like To Inform You May Begin The Exam on hearing The First Trumpet Sound.
I Regret To Inform You That This Was 6 Trumpet Sounds Ago.
I Would Like To Inform The Exam Will be Over As The 7th Trumpet Sounds
I Regret To Inform You that the 7th Trumpet Sounds in 15 Minutes time!
15
14
13
12
11
10
9
8
7
6
5
4
3
2
1
EXAM OVER!
Please Place your Pens Quills or Pencils down!
That Includes you Nancy!
You Too Joe!
You Too Hillary!
Joe!! Don’t put that pen up there!
Hillary!! Don’t Stab Donald!
Donald! Don’t Tell Hillary You’ll Put Her In Jail!
Nancy!! Don’t try To Sell Your Paper to Mr Xi!
Mr Xi!! Don’t screw your face up like Winnie The Poo?
Those Of you who have Not been incinerated & have thus PASSED the Exam, please form an orderly line & present your exam papers to the large old man with – The one with brilliant shining eyes – who sitting in the cloud at the front of the room holding a thunderbolt.
Those Of you who have failed the exam – yes all you piles of ash – please combine yourselves into a singular pile & present yourselves to the man of fire – the one with the pointy ears & tail – who is standing at the side window holding a pitchfork in one hand and an oversize ash tray in the other.
Oh Wait! Hillary & Joe – how come you are not piles of ASH?
Oh, you cheated, of course you cheated…WELL I don’t need to see your Papers – please go straight to the window.
Joe – I told you, take that Pen out of that hole!
Good day & please don’t say I didn’t warn you all about all of this.
I say again!
Avoid the principles of the Judeo-Christian tradition & you will pay the ultimate price!
Don’t become a materialist fool & thus fail the exam!
Don’t be blown out the window of forever doom!
Pass the EXAM & be walked to the door of FOREVER DECENCY!
THE EXAM – Set By the ultimate examiner – “Mr Geodee” who is ALWAYS JUST and ALWAYS FAIR.
BEHOLD!: The First & The Last Man who says:
“But Sir – I Don’t Believe in Mr Geodee, or THE EXAM”
Is the First to say “MAY I RE-SIT THE EXAM”
ALAS!!
THERE ARE NO RE-SITS!
Believe in MR Geodee!
Don’t Be Like Old Joe & his Disappearing Pen!
Or You Too, Will End Up Where the Sun Don’t Shine!
a lonely gingernut biscuit
sitting in the corner of a creative’s desk
will almost certainly never be eaten
but it will be tested for flexibility in 6 months time
and be placed back upon stiffness failure
it will then sit quietly & observe madness
’til thrown out in 2037
by Martin Anton Smith martinantonsmith@gmail.com
Rudolf Hiedler iii Was about to Make a Speech – he felt he had been waiting for this moment all his life. He was an American, but hardly your typical one. He owed his existence to the vagaries of 20th Century warfare. His Great Grand Father, a atomic Physicist was captured under ‘Operation Paperclip’ by the allies in 1945. He Worked along Oppenheimer at Los Alamos New Mexico.
As a Boy Rudolf had loved the stories of his Great Grandfathers exploits at Los Alamos – especially the one whereby he had by chance avoided the mishap whereby a collogue had accidentally bumped the Uranium ‘half sphere’ core that was sitting dome upwards on its symmetrical bottom half. The wedged sliver between the two halves shook loose resulting the top Uranium hemisphere rim hitting the lower one resulting in a critical reaction of a huge flash of deadly gamma rays. His Great Grandfather (Rudolf the fist) had been in the room with 7 others but had left 30 seconds before to go to the bathroom.
Rudolf iii was in theory an American, but he had been raised to have a spiritual core a German national. His Mechanical Engineer father was a typical disciplinarian type, while his mother offset this with many showering’s of love and throughout her shortened life would hug “Rudi” like a bear and often declare sweetly “Rudi I am so lucky to have you – my only child”. His mother Tegan was of Irish American stock – interestingly her Great Grandfather had been in the regiment tasked with the ‘Operation Paperclip’ boots on ground task of capturing Nazi scientists & he had rounded up Rudolf iii the Physicist.
He had excelled at the subjects his family lineage had also excelled in – namely Physics Math’s & Entrepreneurial activities. Thanks to Operation Paperclip – his family had been saved, they had enjoyed a good middleclass upbringing. The only spanner in the works for Rudolf iii was that he had been bullied horrendously at the co-ed public school in small town America.
This fact had derailed Rudolf’s life trajectory – up until a strange moment where he had risen upwards dramatically in Politics. Up until his life suddenly bloomed, his career had been marked by underperformance. He had skirted around the technical professions, but found himself never progressing, being left behind and thus being seen as a ‘geriatric’ amongst his always younger peers.
His sudden rise upwards had come on the back of the 2020 Covid-19 Pandemic, coupled with his excellent physical health which he had maintained his entire adult life via hiking & biking in the wooded areas. His Company had been devastated by the Pandemic, while by 2022 Rudolf had never even had a sniffle. This allowed out of strict realpolitik necessity of the Business to move Rudolf right upwards – from Line Manager, to General Manager to Exec to Interim CEO & Fulltime CEO role by 2025.
His Tech company ‘Quarktech Horizons’ had flourished as it’s Robotic & AI wing had won a vital contract with the US military in 2016 supplying components to Stinger missiles & Drones used in the highly profitable and lasting Iraq War era. But the real cash made by Quarktech as well in the other Weapons stockpiles maintained in bunkers littered throughout the globe, just lying in wait for the next World or European war.
The Pandemic had threatened to derail all of Quarktech’s success when key personal were getting picked off one by one, especially in the 2023, which had the deadly Pi 1.127. variant – the one that knocked off 3% of the world population in 8 weeks then abruptly disappeared as quickly as it had murdered all & sundry.
During that phase Rudolf was the only highly ranked employee in Quarktech indeed the whole AI/Robotics industry that had shown such leadership to ensure all contracts were not only fulfilled, but also exceeded. He had worked around the clock for a critical 3 month period, sleeping on the factory & lab floors. All in the industry knew he had singlehandedly seen off the 2023 viral attack period that would have cascaded through the entire Military Industrial Complex.
By 2024 Rudolf was a revered public figure, he had been named Time magazines “person of the year”, received the Congressional Medal of Honor, he was the go-to Entrepreneur/management guru & was in hot constant interview demand across all the platforms. As an global sensation, he even took over the top-of-the-pole popularity of the Space-faring Billionaire Ely Munst.
By mid 2024 Rudolf was 45 years old, and had outgrown all his current positions and activities. He had grown quite bored. The Pandemic had now abated to almost nothing & QuarkTech, now thanks to Rudolf’s leadership was blessed with monopoly industry power in AI/Robotics. QuarkTech had to simply keep the machine ticking over.
With that Rudolf new what he had to do – resign from all prior activities and concentrate on the next big task – the one that had ruined the USA and its other Western vassal states – the blanketed societal decline in moral fabric which had increased dramatically from the last quarter of 2022 onwards, when USA & the world entered recession, and then the second Great Depression.
Under these conditions Rudolf knew he could become the single Supreme Leader in a parallel political system, which would be thrust into Power legitimately under the emergency situation and ‘fog of war effect’ of the new Great Depression. All he had to do was position himself well, so as to present himself to the public as “The Only Man Who Can Save Us”. He’d simply hit the campaign trail & go everywhere the official Primary & Presidential system went, and blow the other “official candidates” of the park. He would render the US political system defunct, & everyone would demand it. Every man woman and child in the USA would demand Rudolf iii, great grandson of a Nazi Scientist & current ‘Man of the 21sy Century’ be installed for all intents and purposes as the Supreme Commander of “US Emergency Great Depression Project” – a term that euphemistically obfuscated the truth of the position – He would be the USA’s first Dictator.
After jibing the mainstream media & appealing and talking with the biggest Podcasters The time had come to begin the system wide assault – the first day of the Primary season had begun – as usual starting in Iowa. The speeches from the “official candidates” well over & done with, and a stock candidate had been declared the winner. The Zeitgeist of the Nation was one of indifference – they knew the official system was rotten to the core with corruption – they knew the primary election winners were all pre determined, & so would the eventual 2024 President ‘winner’ be. Democracy was in the eyes of the masses – now a dirty word.
Rudolf was backstage at the Iowa event, held at Kinnick Stadium – which had been expanded to hold 100,000 People, of course the event would be all over the internet with an estimated audience of 1 Billion across all platforms. the time had come – the first major thrust to put forward his doctrine to save the hearts & minds of the now downtrodden masses. He was waiting behind the curtained of Stadiums center stage, he arrived 90 minutes before the start, sitting on a simple table, with his favourite beverage- Australian family recipe made Ginger Beer – “Blundesstein” – open ready for him to drink straight from the bottle. Next to they open bottle was a simple tray of crackers and cheese slices. Rudolf read the whole speech first, then made a few final strategic changes with his red pen and the speech printed on paper & collated.
He could hear the voices and energy slowly ramp up, and by 20:55 the energy was electrified and the white noise was half deafening. Rudolf strode by, dressed resplendent in Olive drab, with a Heavy military style jacket & wearing a cap. He spent 7 minutes asking for the crowd to quiet, which was a failed task. He finally raised both hands upwards and shouted “SILENCE”. this worked a treat. He began slowly firmly and with confidence, his voice was perfect for public speaking – slightly gravelly, deep but with a good range that could rise to punctuate the emotive lines .
I have Come To You As Your New Leader Of The Now Long Overdue Rebellion.
A Just & Righteous Rebellion Against The The New Fascist State & Its Foot-Soldiers Which I Call the ‘Neo Noveau Riche’.
Yes Ladies & Gentlemen We Are In A War For Our Existence, & Have Been For 42 Years.
We Have Fallen Asleep At The Wheel, & I As Your Supreme Leader Will Rectify This & Lead You To Victory.
Yes Ladies & Gentleman We Are In A World War – The Biggest War Yet Seen In History.
Do Be Mistaken To Think Otherwise Based On The Current Somewhat Relative Peace – Just As Before The Flowers Bloom Always Comes The Bulb – World Events Are Now At The Bulb Stage – And Sure To Bloom.
The Repulsive New Global Neo Fascist State Was Born Some Time During The Year 1980 AD.
It Was Energized By Cabal Of Satanic Foot-Soldiers Known As Neo Noveau Riche.
This Is The Story Of What They Are, What They look Like & How To Beat Them.
The Story On What To Do With Their Rulers Is One For Another Day, But It Is Suffice To Say That A Ruler
Without An Army Of Foot-Soldiers Is Ineffectual & Poses Us No Harm.
The Neo Noveau Riche, The Bain Of The Last 42 Years.
aka ‘Neoliberalism Yes Men’
aka ‘Ardent Corporatists’
aka ‘Careerists’
Too Stupid To know They Are Stupid,
To Dumb To Know They Act As ‘Politicians’ Too.
Too Myopic To Know They Are the Fascist’s Foot-Soldiers.
They Are Without Knowing It – Fascist Supreme Commander’s, The General’s & Officer’s Garden Variety Foot-Soldiers.
These Enemy Neo Noveau Riche Foot-Soldiers Have Been Fooled By Their Otherworldly Satanic Rulers
Into To thinking They Are ‘The Elites’ Of Earth & They Have Been Fooled – Hook Line & Sinker.
They Have Been Duped Into Doing The Bidding Of Their Otherworldly Rulers – Who Have Successfully
Hacked Their Bodies & Minds via the “Back Door’ Of Their Too Large Ego’s.
Our War Is Against These Evil Infiltrated Zombified Foot-Soldiers – The Neo Noveau Riche – For We – The
Good & The Decent – Are their Natural Sworn Enemies.
To Win This Spiritual & Possibly Soon Physical War, We Must Abide By The Art Of War – To ‘Know Your Enemy’.
Let Me Begin This task Of Education Now.
Know them By Their Deeds, Know them By Their Appearances:
They Casually Denounce The Working Classes.
As They Build Their ‘Snobs Paradise’ On The Hill.
They Denounce the Poor & Downtrodden,
As they Forget Or Are Unaware Of Past Wars Won, Paid In The Needy’s Blood.
They Vilify Their Local Workers,
And Campaign To Import Third World Slave-Labour –
Which Is Always ‘Rubber Stamped’ By Their Colleagues & Mentors: The Corrupted Ex Lawyer Private Schooled Politician.
As Their Once Distant, Now Close Slave Worker Heard Flocks In,
They As Dickensian Factory Bosses – Swiftly Prosecute A Reign Of Terror,
Smiling As the ill begotten Cash Rolls In.
They Love World Govt Institutions – For Their Trust Is Thrice Created, Delineated & Ratcheted By Perceived Status.
The Neo Noveau Rich Are Wedded To A False Maxim Of “That Who Has Wealth & Status Must Be Inherently High Minded & So Trustworthy”
Be It The UN, The IMF, The Fed, CDC, Gates Foundation, The G7, G20 Or The Most Despicable – Schwab’s W.E.F.
In Their Eyes These Hornets Nested Organizations Are As ‘Gentle As Lambs’ Vs the True Reality Of ‘Wolves In Sheep’s Clothing’.
Such Ill-Gotten Frankly ‘Braindead Beliefs’ Can Only Be Held By People Who Never Read History,
Luckily For Them the Neo Noveau Riche Never Read History – Mainly For Fear Of Exposing Themselves To Themselves As Obvious Frauds Charlatans & Dumbo’s.
For At Heart The Neo Noveau Riche’s Biggest Fear Is Not ‘The Other’ – Though They Still Hate Them, But Of Themselves.
They Mortally Fear That One Day They Will Be Forced To Acknowledge To Themselves What They Have Let Themselves Become.
Thus The Neo Noveau Riche Must Heavily Self Segregate & Fortify Themselves & Their Kind.
This Is To Be Immune From The Eyes & Questions That Expose The Fact That The ‘Tide Is Out & they Have Been Swimming Naked All Along.
The Neo Noveau Riche Are “Lovers of Exclusiveness” – For This Celebrates Excluding Others Based On Class & Money.
They Fake An Interest In High Art & Culture – And Only Ever Talk Of Two Names In Each Category.
They Go To Horse Racing Events & Casually Do Drugs, Alcohol & One Night Stands, Cheat On marriage Partners – Even As They Acutely Age.
Later They Throw Up On their Fine Garments – Then Just Like Clockwork – They Do The Same Deathly Immoral Debauchery Next Year.
They Love Speculating In Real Estate – Raising the Rents Of Families & Workers,
Making Good People Homeless & Destitute.
The ‘Neo Noveau Riche’ Have The Saddest Forced Smiles,
Sunken Lifeless Eyes And Leathered Wrinkled Faces By Age Thirty Five.
For Their Bodies At Heart Feel Their Own Deceptions & It Decays Accordingly.
They Love Their Dinner Parties With Duly Invited Clone Brethren.
These Parties Are Great Chances To Repeat Their Cultural Artifact Tired Slogans,
Which Are A Cacophony Of Mean Spirited Empty Platitudes.
They All Learn From Lessons Via Osmosis From Their Virtual ‘Spiritual Bible’,
Which Is Visually Hidden Yet Pervasive In The Ether That So Surrounds Them.
If This Book Was Ever Materialized In A Book It Would Be Titled:
“Clandestine Satanism For The Clueless” How To Build Back Better – Before You Get To Hell
Which Incidentally, Is Available At All Exclusive Bookstores,
In ‘All Good’ Gated Communities,
At An Exclusive Suburb Near You.
But The The Easiest Way To Spot The Neo Noveau Riche En-Masse
Is That The Wisest Ones Of Us, Both Rich & Poor Alike – Want Nothing To Do With Them At All.
They Are The Current Curse Of The Twenty Twenties – The Source Of Our Pain.
We Must Not Prosecute or Attack Them – For Historically This Method Backfires.
We The Good & Decent, Rich & Poor, Must Simply Totally Ignore The Neo Noveau Riche – .
In the Same Way One Does With A Benevolent Apparition Living In An Old House:
Go About Your Fine & Good Business Stoically & Do Not Engage With Or Play Their Silly Satanic Games.
Their Most Successful & Satanic Trick Was To make Us Think We The Ones Who Were Dependent On Them.
Yet The Reverse Is True, For The Neo Noveau Riche Needs Us Many Times & Us Not At All.
The Herculean Task Is To Actually Realise This Is the Prime Brute Fact.
We Must Acknowledge & Accept We Have Been Duped & We Have Enabled Them.
Yes We Have Indeed Empowered Them.
Knowing This Is The First Step Of Our Freedom From A Terminally Increasing Dystopian Tyranny.
In Short – We must Recognize Where the Power Lies – It Lies With Us – The Good & The Decent.
Once Done, The Neo Noveau Riche Doesn’t Just Disappear, But Fails to Exist Entirely.
Then The War Vs the New Fascists – The ‘Neo Noveau Riche’ – Will Be Won.
But Once The War Is Won – We Must Not Relax, For If We Do,
We Will Become The New Neo-Riche Ourselves – Becoming Our Own Worse Enemies.
And Thus Ensuring History Repeats Once Again – As It Always Has.
To Win this Second War Of History Repeating We Must Engage In The Ancient Custom Of Storytelling.
We Must Have Older Generations Tell Children About “The War Vs The Neo Noveau Riche”.
A Cautionary Tale Of Pre War, War, Victory & The High Cost Of Forgetting What You’ve Long Ago Achieved.
So Will Victory Be Ours?
Or Will The Neo Noveau Riche Continue To Destroy Us, Now & In The Future?
All Because We Foolishly Continued To Engaged With Them?
The Choice Is Ours.
I Repeat – The Choice Is Ours.
We Must Simply & Finally Decide To Choose The Right Choice.
Then We Will Finally Slay The Dragon By Way Of Defeating Its Foot-Soldiers – The Neo Noveau Riche.
Rudolf Raised his hands in Triumphant manor, feeling he had done a 9/10 job…..he always gave himself a snap ‘out of ten’ score. As the crowd roared, He wiped the pouring sweat from his brow and took the crowd in.
(TO BE CONTINUED……..)
Throughout the speech at Kinnick Stadium Iowa the 100,000+ in person crowd had showed an electric, unified yet dignified captivation. The white noise throughout the speech had beats of high volume as Rudolfs liberally seeded emotive speech points hit hard. This was no Nuremberg 1935 Crowd – they did not see a deity before them – they saw a wise and sensible man to be listened too.
The crowd in person & watching was like an army of the “common sensed” – even if this was in reality uncommon. Rudolf had over time & via astute technology used his mesmeric personality to educate those unhappy masses. He told them to simply concentrate on the obvious gigantic & cavernous reality in front of their bloodshot stressed eyes. He taught them that the poor societal & civic design they had been subjected to by their corrupt Govts was a crime against their collective humanity. They believed him.
At one point a small child had run on stage wanting to hug Rudolf – this was a major security failure – but he hid his displeasure with a wide smile. The child got his hug, and Rudolf got the benefit of looking ‘fatherly’. Now he went back to the room off stage – to celebrate the speech and spend some time with his inner sanctum of supporters & financiers.
He wiped the sweat off his brow and walked confidently off stage, his body moving in militaristic fashion but no so much that it made him look machine like. He opened the side door full of his supporters to rapturous applause. There was a mix of approx. 35 people, an eclectic looking lot with only the financier supporters sticking out like the highly manicured sore thumbs they were. The non-fanciers were his long-known supporters of his message – the most inner sanctum of which was just 3 strong – they were his operational cabinet.
He would now do his rounds around the room firstly with those who represent financial machinery of his organisation – those 2 key staff that handled the internet donations international & domestic and of course the 7 key donors that collectively funded hundreds of millions of dollars to Rudolf’s cause. Rudolf hated the necessary evil of these key donors – he’d rather just have had the diffuse internet doners who he didn’t need to court reiterate philosophical positions or allay fears with. But he knew to do without them would reduce his reach by 100-fold – which would render his project a total waste of vision. Besides these 7 Billionaires had proven so far to be trustworthy enough – after all they were international Pariahs of the status quo World – so he knew he could trust their judgement.
By Martin Anton Smith martinantonsmith@gmail.com
Listen to Audio here
His Name Was Ernie McGee
He Was Born Last Century
The Last Man To Know His Name
A Computer Became His Brain
—————————————-
Ernie Was Smart & Wise
For He Hid Amongst The Flies
Yes Ernie Stayed Free For A While
Thanks To His Strength & Guile
—————————————
Emotions Were Stolen from Men
Gone In The Stroke Of A Pen
He Had To Write It All Down
For The Future Was Still Around
————————————–
Ernie Had A Mad Plan
To End The Monsters Of Man
He’d Explode Its Electrodes
He’d Put It In ‘Sleep Mode’
———————————
Of Course Ernie Got Caught
The Computer Tracked His Thoughts
Ernie Was Being Digitized
When A Flash Flew Past His Eyes
——————————————-
When He Felt His Body Leave
Boy Did His Mind Grow Indeed!
An Inside Job To Beat The Beast?
All Is Revealed Next Week!
————————————-
Hello I’m Analog Ernie
Old Fashioned And Rare
You Can’t Find Me Yet
But Trust Me That I’m Here
by Martin Anton Smith martinantonsmith@gmail.com
His Name Was Ernie Mc Gee
He Was Born Last Century
The Last Man To Know His Name
A Computer Became His Brain
Ernie Was Smart & Wise
For He Hid Amongst The Flies
Yes Ernie Stayed Free For A While
Thanks To His Strength & Guile
“Emotions Were Stolen from Men”
Said The Strokes Of Ernie’s Pen
He Had To Write It All Down
For Those Future Men They Found
Ernie Had a Sure-Shot Plan
To Hack The Monsters Of Man
He’d Explode Its Electrodes
He’d Put It In ‘Sleep Mode’
Of Course Ernie Got Caught
By The Stormtroopers Of Thought
Ernie Was Being Digitized
When A Flash Flew Past His Eyes
When He Felt His Body Leave
His Mind Did Grow Indeed
Ernie Thought “This Aint So Bad”
So His Funeral Was Never Had
Poem by Martin Anton Smith martinantonsmith@gmail.com
Poets should be openly willing to explain their overly esoteric poetry.
Overly Esoteric poetry without an explanation is I believe, simply an act of anal retention, or of admission of guilt to the very serious charge of ‘literary onanism’.
Overly Esoteric Poetry is the willing literary creation of a ‘false god’ – The god of ‘stolen mystique’.
The Teleology or Grand Aim of the OEP’ers is to garner ‘false praise’ and ‘unwarranted adulation’.
Some say OEP is a mental illness, but I beg to differ – I believe it to be a ‘serious character flaw’ only.
Many kind people have indeed become victims of the OEP’ers & this must be combatted ‘head on’.
Upon reading Overly Esoteric Poetry & its non-existent explanations, the reader should do one or all of the following:
Rip out & ‘bonfire’ the page immediately (with matches or a lighter), making sure any un-esoteric poems are retained (For best dramatic effect do this to your offending unbought book-store book while in front of a captive audience).
You can stamp on the Guilty Poet’s feet – Stamp twice if they added this comment: “but what does it mean to you – that’s what really counts”
You can write in the margins of the offending passage: “This is far too esoteric, to not have any explanation” (be sure to leave an unhappy face emoji)
You can either write-to or say-to the Poet an equally esoteric verse, explaining or in reality non-explaining, why you did one or all of the above treatments. e.g.
“Dear Un – Sir
Your perfidy-ness was dialectically imprecise. On top of this your topiary inelegance was sparce of any gnosis or incandescence. I can only hope that a kaleidoscopic entree of inexactitude will befall your double entendre of an ontologically reverse pathology, resulting in ‘babyloniously’ duplicitous & mixological results. As such I have had to punish you & don’t come crying to me now that it has rightly happened.”
I re-iterate, ‘Overly Esoteric Poetry’ -OEP must be regaled against in all its forms!
Poetry must be an egalitarian pursuit, where the idea is King – for ideas like all fair-minded Kings must exist in plain sight, for a King who is good to his subjects will not fear scrutiny.
The King should be clearly identifiable – be he fully naked, half clothed or pompously garbed.
There need not be any need to guess what the ‘King” is wearing in flip coin fashion, desperately hoping your audience neighbour agrees with your blind guess – that the King’s is ‘naked’ or ‘dressed’ or half-half.
Judicial Sentences for Poets who are creating careers from ‘false god sentences’, must be harsh & nearly immutable.
We must create a new penal colony island. As no untaken islands currently exist – It can be made in a fashion similar to how the Chinese create islands in the South China Seas, by hoovering up sand & redepositing it until it finally rises as a whale emerges from the ocean to draw breath.
Once The OEP Penal Island is constructed, we can build an adulation hermetically sealed dome, where each OEP can face only those of his OEP brethren – and here they will face the reality that they can no longer fool anyone at all – for a crook knows a crook.
Each OEP will swiftly go mad, as they will be deprived of their life-blood – faux adulation.
This is fair – for what they do is a crime against humanity – and this, oh listener is large understatement.
Once they achieve madness – they can be released, for a madman’s deception is obvious and see-able to the sane.
We can then simply re-christen them each as ‘A 21st Century MAN’.
i.e. Somewhat Mad But Does Not Know It.
Thus, proving the adage “a hardened criminal cannot truly be rehabilitated.”
Woe is the Overly Esoteric Poet, So Hated We Even Made Him Into A Typical 21st Century Man.
One Day We Onlooking & Interfering Overlords Of Justice Will Face Our Own Jailors.
And we surely will face the gallows, for the punishment we dished out, did not befit the crime.
We should have simply stopped at ‘shot over the bow tactics’ of the stamping on their feet or the esoterically veracious retort previously quoted.
We went too far with the Penal Island & the hermetically sealed, adulation-free dome.
We Poets & Poetry Critics – most of which are just ‘tryhards‘ – must know where the line is, and always remember:
A ’21st Century Man’ is infinitely worse than an ‘Overly Esoteric Poet’ will ever be.
So perhaps we should just let them OEP’s be.
And I say this not for a deep inbuilt need for social justice,
But for the very real concern – which of course, may really just be garden variety paranoia,
That I might actually be one of them.
But luckily this lack of confidence soon passes,
As I tell myself the very true fact, that I almost always offer explanations for any bouts of OEP.
Where I have failed in this honorable task, I am always willing to divulge my philosophy to anyone suffering my foolishness.
I vow to never just say to a confused reader or listener “But what does it mean to you – that’s all that really counts”.
To not do so would make me a flake & a hypocrite, which I would hate to be, and there certainly is no need to swell the ranks of the OEP.
Postscript: I Being born in 1978, regard myself essentially as a Late 20th Century Man, as I ‘came of age’ around the years surrounding the Millennium’s turn. I will continue to be fond for this 90’s era, as the 1990’s were a rare golden era in the West – an era we did not recognize as a good one until this dastardly 21st Century bed itself in, so allowing recent History to finally crystalize & be seen for what it was. There is of course one way the first quarter of the 21st Century could be one day also be seen as “a good one” – due to historical relativity – but what this implies is a terrible thought indeed, and I suppose involves a gigantic war, that perhaps we are already in. Now excuse me I must get some rest for my poor frazzled now ‘early middle aged’ brain, & I don’t want to end up like Nietzsche – railroaded by acute burn out in his mid forties.
by Martin Anton Smith.
The Death of A Child Needs No Description Of Tragedy,
For We Inherently Feel Of This Misfortune.
We’ve All Heard Of ‘Death’, & Some Of Us Have Heard Of “The 2nd Death”,
But No One Talks Of the ‘Zeroth Death’ – That Death That All Children ‘Must Do’.
This Is The ‘Maturation Death’,
As the Caterpillar ‘Dies’ To Become A New Being, So Do Humans.
That Of The Child Dying & Becoming An ‘Adult’.
For The Child Body & Spirit Mind Does Indeed Die,
But The Child Spirit Needn’t Die At All, Or Be On Life Support.
At Best The Child Spirit Morphs to a Quasi-Homogenous Child-Adult Amalgam.
But Our Puritanical Cultural Laws Discourage This.
But Spirituality & the Hidden Will Always Trump Surface Appearances,
Plato Was Indeed Right.
The Death Of The Child Body Is Not That Important.
But The Complete Death Of The Child Spirit Is A Unmatched Cataclysm.
Is Not This Spiritual Death Of the Childs Spirit, Not Worthy of A Shakespearian Tragedy?
The Result Being A So-Morphed Adult That Is a Bore, A Fool, A Materialist or a Scoundrel?
The Tragedy Also Amplifies If The Antecedent Child Ancestor, Was A Beam Of Joy & A Wonder To Behold.
Yet We ‘Hamster Wheel Westerners’ Especially Do Not Much Acknowledge This Truth,
This The Truth That All Parents Know So Well That It Brings Them To Tears.
We To Much Live The Calvinist Culture That a ‘Well-Done’ Adult Must Give Up the Child-Spirited Ghost.
But This Barren Short-Sighted Vacuousness Creates a Built-In ‘Banality Of Evil’.
It Is the Veil That Covers Our Terrestrial Sphere, With Precious Few Gaps.
This Evil Pervades Our Social Universe As The Cockroach Invades Warmer Climes.
It Becomes Normalised & Is Manifested As ‘The Daily World Wars’ –
Unpublished, Unacknowledged But More Real Than Real.
Now At Least, You Can ‘Read-All-About-it’.
These Social Cold-Wars Exist ‘Incendiarily’, Internationally, Anti-Vibrously & In Well Nourished Fashion.
Our Earth Is The Natural-Habitat Of The ‘Missing-Child-Spectre’ Inside.
Behind The Closed Doors, Curtains & Computer Terminals & Sometimes Even In Non-Western Mud Huts.
The Wars & Faces That Quietly & Clandestinely – Wound the World, Nay Rule The World.
We Must Fight a Revolutionary War – For The Return Of the Unknown & Still Missing Child Spectre.
For This Spectre Is Also the Soldier Of Our Spirits.
Once the War Is Won, We Must Avoid All Such Future Wars.
We Should Always Construct Our People As The Chef Prepares His Own Steak –
At Best Rare Or Medium-Rare.
Well-Done, Must Not Be Done, For Its Tenderness is Forever Lost.
Victory On Earth Will Be Ours When the Adult Looks Suitably Charred On The Outside,
But With a Child Remaining Present In The Middle.
For the Child’s Spirit & Mankind Were Made To Be Complementary & Not Substitutes.
By Martin Anton Smith martinantonsmith@gmail.com
He got up on the ‘wrong side of the bed’,
Which was odd as his bed was against the wall.
It was a daily occurrence that he could not explain.
And in the end, he just accepted it, and it never registered again in his mind.
He was a worry-wort and his mind now turned to a cacophony of negative past & present memories….
He was told on countless occasions in his life that he had his ‘head in the clouds’,
Which wasn’t logical as he lived in the Arizona Desert.
Secondly, he had always had lousy jobs – why couldn’t he dream?
His Boss always told him he was ‘penny wise & pound stupid’,
Which couldn’t happen as he used US Dollars.
And with his life being what it was – why couldn’t he escape a little at the track?
An old broken-down teacher used to embarrass him in class by singling him out saying he was as ‘mad as a hatter’,
Which didn’t make sense, as he despised hats.
When he came of age, he knocked on that teacher’s door.
When the door opened, he lunged forward and put Mr Turnbridge’s head right through an old hat – Laurie & Hardy style.
He then walked casually away from the doorstep of his startled & trembling ex tormentor.
As he left he casually said “It’s a perfect fit Mr Turnbridge – don’t you think?”.
Once a Strange New Zealand accented lady told him to ‘pull his finger out’,
Which confused him greatly as his fingers were all ‘dangling free’.
He yelled back at her “No one cares about the Lord if the Rings – You ugly rube!”
These ghost memories from the past were starting to get to him, and he now wore a quizzical frown.
An old man walked by and shouted “cheer up son – it may never happen”,
He was perplexed as he was not sure what the old man thought what was supposed to happen.
He probably shouldn’t have thrown his boot at that old fella. It hit him square in the back of the head and his false teeth fell out on the pavement – much to the horror of his now fear shaken wife.
He stopped and sat on the kerb by the train station as his emotions welled up from within him.
The ’emotional dam’ burst & he started to bawl his eyes out.
The self-loathing induced by these avalanche-like reflections always become far too much to handle stoically – especially now he was older.
He couldn’t handle the ‘Panzer Division’ of regretful thoughts that were increasingly invading & interrogating his soul.
Then some baby boomers walked by on the way to the train station.
He overheard the old man whisper to her:
“He doesn’t know whether he’s Arthur or Martha”
On hearing this he suddenly spring-leapt off the kerb, arms out.
Arthur had totally forgotten his wife Martha had instructed him to be home at 6pm sharp.
At 6pm Arthur & Martha would sit together & do the daily crossword.
Arthur didn’t think he could make it back in time,
After all it was 5.55pm & he was currently 5 blocks down, 3 across from home.
When he got back it was 6:07, he opened the door sheepishly & tip toed into the lounge.
Martha was on the mottled old couch with a crossword, staring at him as an angry schoolteacher would a problem-child.
She rose off the couch, standing militarily upright and shouted with hands-on-hips at him:
“Arthur! Your late! I’m stuck on 7 Up and 1 Across!”
“Sorry but it couldn’t be helped -What’s the Clue dear”?
Arthurs simple cheery reply had now halved Martha’s disappointment. She spoke:
“Two words 10 letters: to waste time, especially by being slow, or by not being able to make a decision”
“Oh, that’s easy – its ‘Dilly-dally'”, said Arthur wisely.
On hearing this Martha suddenly spring-leapt off the couch, arms out.
“Oh Arthur, you’re a real good-un, a ray of sunshine, a modern miracle!!”
Arthur simply smiled, as once again ‘domestic serendipity’ had shone its light upon him.
He made a pact to himself to never be on time again, not that it mattered – he never was anyway.
He resolved to continue to be a fool, a waster & a lolly gagger, but also always be kind to Martha.
After all – It was his destiny, and the proof was cryptically written in the funny pages.
And most importantly – his wife was happy, for now.
But Arthur knew his luck wouldn’t last – it never did.
For sooner or later Martha would tire of crosswords & pull out the Monopoly board.
Then he’d feel his anxiety rise & have to excuse himself & go for a walk,
For even the most confused Dilly-Dally-er’s grow tired of ‘landing on jail’, Sliding up & down snakes & ladders & Professor Plum’s silly murder plots.
As he walked along the pavement the ‘Panzer division’ of anxious thoughts re-entered the battlefield.
After 5 blocks Arthur about turned and frog-marched himself homewards.
“Martha likes to play Cluedo at 9” he told himself.
With each step closer to Martha & home, the ‘Panzer Division’ incrementally retreated, and disappeared entirely.
He opened the creaky door.
It was 9:09pm – which for him was right on time.
Martha was sitting at the dining room table with the Cluedo set unfurled.
She lit the candlesticks.
“About time Colonel Mustard”, she said dryly.
“How right she is” thought Arthur as he walked over to the lounge.
The next day it was all over the news, and police, media & detectives flooded the house.
Diana the quiet next door Neighbor who never talked to them since moving in 3 years ago, had raised the alarm after hearing her blood-curdling scream at 10pm.
She was not that surprised he had snapped so suddenly.
She has seem him walk by late so often and so strangely and always with great anxiety written on his face, & usually in tears.
‘Colonel Mustard’ had done it with the Candlestick in the Lounge in a psychotic rage.
In the trial he testified that he had become frustrated during the game with his wife, over a small matter of whose turn it was.
He said he believed he did it due to PTSD which he had suffered from since serving in Iraq.
The jury gave a reduced sentence of 2 years for Manslaughter, due to considerations of mental impairment caused from PTSD, and they allowed him to serve the sentence as home detention.
As George was being led away from the dock, he felt relieved.
His low-key reclusive lifestyle & a largely clueless small-town jury had swallowed his story hook line & sinker.
He had served in Iraq but on the day of the landmine attack on his unit’s convoy he had been transferred to another unit than morning.
George left in a Humvee in the opposite direction only 45 mins prior to the deadly & also PTSD inducing explosion.
The Army Paperwork of his transfer had the wrong date – the following day.
The jury had no reason to think he was not there on the day of the explosion, & his fellow Vets who were
there that day, or were members in his ‘transferred to’ unit were never going to rat him out.
He had ‘got lucky’ on account of sloppy paperwork and timing of the transfer.
But he knew he’d lied to society, ruined his life, taken a life and lost the only loved one he ever had.
He’d still have to live with himself, & he could not ever deceive himself as easily as he did the jury.
Later George would tell the truth, but only on his death bed only 18 months later.
Guilt is a powerful force, it riddled George’s body with Cancer with such swift force doctors could do nothing.
He died at home while still serving his sentence, in the same spot where he’d sit for so many hours and
play board games with Martha, and only a ‘board-games length’ distance from where he’d murdered her.
He’d finally got his comeuppance, as also shown by the frozen expression of a giant frown on his now dead body’s face.
The old man coroner had never seen one quite that big in all his career.
“you can’t cheat life” he muttered to himself, which was a favourite expression of his.
Anton Martin Smith Writer 