Can You Ever Understand, Sir?


Your mellifluous voice, sir,
             and equally mellifluous words
       (carefully knit into ever so meaningless slogans).

Your tumid tear-filled eyes,
       (denoting an allergic reaction
                to the true nature of our misery,
                    rather than an actual, though useless,
                               show of sympathy).

Your ever so lackadaisical gestures
                                                (camouflaging
                                          the vim
    with which you continuously
                oppress us.)

Your forever lactescent mouth,
            and penis,
             (constantly dripping
                                         upon
                                                us,
                   neither nourishing,
                                nor impregnating –
                     a flood of infertility in an ever expanding void,
                      a mere show of useless virility in an impotent world,
                            where only charlatans, and murderers,
                                                                                frolic
                                                                                     and
                                                                                          procreate.)

Your sententious speeches
               (filling
                      our ears,
                                 to the drums,
               with prolix pieces of degenerate wisdom -
                    amoral at best, when one reads between the lines).

Your flaring nostrils and stertorous rage,
         (announcing the coming of
                                        the venom-spitting lion
                      to replace the old
           fire-spitting dragon -
     after all, we have always had our own rather peculiar ways).

Your cantankerous fulminations against
                                                   our otiose,
                                        if not dormant,
               if not long dead and
        buried
    sense of
              patriotism
               (as if we ever really had it,
                           the whole of it, that is,
                                  sir,
                           the whole of it).

Your progressively sallowing complexion,
        and selfless sedulous
                                neglection
                        of your health,
                             (at our not so fortunate expense).

Your timidity.
Your temerity.
Your personal need.
Your personal greed.
   (All of which underlie
                      each and every of your
                                           well-thought-out
                                                                 actions.)

Your self-created dilemmas, and trilemmas.
Your Catch-22s, and MIG-29s.
Your unambitious nuclear program,  (and missile delivery system.)
Your corrupt inefficient army, (and sectarian politics.)
Your balance of internal power, (and your own personal calculations.)
Your inadequate infrastructure, (and collapsing economy.)
Your pride and joy, (and your agony and shame.)
Your failures turned successes
          (through stentorian pronouncements
                                                       and assertions.)
Your refuge
                  (legal,
                  physical,
                  psychological,
                  moral.)
And subterfuge, (rather large and expanding.)
Your refuse, sir, your very refuse.
         (and insouciance, if not downright carelessness.)
Your everything.
And your nothing.
Your existence, subsistence, insistence.
Your mere name.
Name, sir.
Name.
All…
   all these things, sir,
                        make me
         so totally insensate
                         and oblivious as to everything
                                    around me,
                        within me,
                                   outside of me.
                                                    But the in-
                                            digenous,
                                                in-
                                        sidious,
                                 male-
                         volent,
                    and
                      sur   rep  ti   tious
                                                  CrIcK-CrAcKiNg
                                     of the last
                                      WALLS
                           pro  tec ting
                                   the last relics of
                                      my long,
                                            too l o n g,
                                     vanished…
                                                     humanity.

Can you understand the meaning of all this, sir?

Can you ever, ever, understand?


May 1999