I haz a bad day. Just one of those days when everything is going wrong: photo by susan402, 27 May 2010
Today I went out and broke the sugar bowls
in the restaurants in the city. I moved
the furniture from one side of town
to the other, till all was to my liking.
I took all the overstuffed easy chairs
and put them out on the sidewalks
and on Tuesday they will be carted off
to the dump. In their place I put lovely
small green couches, enough for everyone.
I did all this because the migrants are
crawling under barbed wire, refugees are starving
in makeshift camps, the men who are forced to dig
the tunnels for the Sinaloa cartel are all
being murdered with their shovels in their
hands, and the woman
who hired a hitman
to kill her cousin in the park for the $100K
insurance policy she took out on him
was just found not guilty.
8/28/2015
8:46 PM
Migrants protest outside a train that they are refusing to leave for fear of being taken to a refugee camp from the train which has been held at Bicske station since yesterday in Bicske, near Budapest, Hungary. According to the Hungarian authorities a record number of migrants from many parts of the Middle East, Africa and Asia are crossing the border from Serbia. Since the beginning of 2015 the number of migrants using the so-called Balkans route has exploded with migrants arriving in Greece from Turkey and then travelling on through Macedonia and Serbia before entering the EU via Hungary. The massive increase, said to be the largest migration of people since World War II, led Hungarian Prime Minister Victor Orban to order Hungary’s army to build a steel and barbed wire security barrier along its entire border with Serbia, after more than 100,000 asylum seekers from a variety of countries and war zones entered the country so far this year: photo by Matt Cardy via FT Photo Diary, 4 September 2015
Herds of wildebeest cross the river in Masai Mara on Friday. Every year hundreds of thousands of wildebeest make the crossing from the Serengeti to Masai Mara game reserve to graze during the migration: Photo by Carl de Souza/AFP, 4 September 2015
Another perfect juxtaposition of poetry and politics or should I say art and reality...though it's all real and it's all politics...
ReplyDeleteOur sentiments exactly, Michael and we couldn't have said it better, nor half so well, in a hundred times as many words, though we might have tried, so thanks for sparing everyone that, and for being so right as always.
ReplyDeleteReal... really hurts, any more.
But as Terry gently reminds us, there's no definitely no way out of, up, over, under or around it, any more.
Thanks for this poem, TC and TPW. There's always a little bit of Irish magical realism in Mr. Winch's poetry, which is different from the magical realism of all other peoples. Call it "working class magical realism" if you must, but in this version, we are reminded that the symbols of basic hospitality so obviously contradict the militarized responses to -- what appears to be -- essential human migration. But I digress. Yrs, DG
ReplyDeleteTerrific poem
ReplyDeleteGracias Dan and Hilton, discerning gentlemen certainly.
ReplyDeleteAs everyone loves a command performance that turns out to be a magically realistic sequel if not also a surprising and mysterious culmination, much like the olive on the cake...
Terence Patrick Winch: Music for Earthlings