Tag Archives covid-19

A Memoir from the Unclean

https://youtu.be/W8pyOPR2Ntw
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so the arsonists want to be remembered as the firefighters

what I remember was
that you lied
and said it was okay
because these were noble lies
lies for my own good
you just wanted me to do what you wanted me to do
so the end justifies the means and all that
I call that misinformation
you called it benevolence

I mean, free doughnuts, burgers, and beer
how could I resist

you relentlessly repeated
that it was highly effective and safe
but only allowed the dissemination of evidence
that properly corroborated your case

you said one size fits all
despite the tremendous discrepancy
between a healthy 19 year old
and an elderly 91 year old

to coerce me into conforming
you made my risk calculation for me

you browbeat me with heuristics
and manipulated statistics
on a normal mortal day what was a tragic accident
was now reported to say – a Covid death
so the hospital could score a more bloated check
you abandoned the maxims of medicine
and the principles of its people
you wouldn’t let doctors be doctors
or let patients be informed of options
no, you prescribed the cure
the only acceptable cure
that just happened to be the product
of big government, big pharma
and the mainstream media conglomerate
I know-
I’m just supposed to go along with it
supply and demand
you supply it
and you demand it

if only that was all you did

you bulldozed skateparks
and arrested mothers for playing at the park
with their children
meanwhile millions marched
in “mostly peaceful” protests
parading arm in arm, row by row through the streets
wading through a cloud of viral vapor you said was so deadly
that I couldn’t stand by myself at the beach

you were so wise for
closing churches – those were unessential
you were so wise for
destroying anyone’s business that wasn’t Walmart or Amazon
or Pfizer

you taught children to fear faces
you masked them while maskless politicians pranced through their classrooms
confounding them
you masked cheerleaders
while twenty thousand maskless people cheered around them
you locked us down then
wined and dined with your lobbyists
I get it – how could you possibly be expected to launder if
you had to follow the same rules that you made for the commoners
it’s obvious
I’m the villain here

you promised that shots would stop the spread
you snarled and vilified the unclean
and when proven wrong
you conveniently forgot what you said

you painted circles in the grass
partitioned us by papers and glass
as if our politics weren’t enough
you herded us onto meticulously distanced platforms of pittance

you said there would be no Christmas for the plebes
you partied at Martha’s Vineyard
and pardoned it
because the pandemic didn’t target sophisticated elites

you stripped us of dignity, and liberty
except for those you would vigorously anoint
you told us not to worry
for freedom would soon be restored… at syringe point

you adorned your doors with signs like whites only-
I mean “vaxxed only”

you perpetuated witch hunts
you berated people on planes
you put people in camps
you made contradictory claims
you seized bank accounts
you fired anyone that wouldn’t comply
you tore apart families
you wouldn’t even let them say goodbye

you craved power
so instead of educating the public
and advocating critical thinking
you did anything you could to make their fear greater
you deleted people from social media for saying the same things
the corporate media finally endorsed a year later

you scorned and warned and deplatformed
you said you were the only source of truth
you blatantly branded any objectors
as fools with unacceptable views
derelict heretics and hoodlums
you propped up dehumanization as the proper moral posture
you laughed and sneered when people died,
then told me that you’re the good ones

that seems like a lot
well, it was

and now come the retrofitted headlines
the revisionist history
and all the gaslighting on top of it

taking away mandates does not take away your culpability
I am not impressed with you retracting the plank after you’ve made me walk off of it

I am not impressed when you constrain your whips
I am not impressed when you lift the boot from my esophagus
because you need to change your socks

I am not impressed with your concern for humanity
when your real concern
was obviously how much you profited

I know you’ve already forgotten
and you want me to just forget it all too

well I’m penning these words
and speaking them
against the ominous odds that
some modicum of this survives the memory purge

if it does, let memory serve
let memories be stirred
let us remember
what we all knew

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The Garden Where Good Things Grew

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There was a garden where good things grew
carrots and lettuce and sunflowers to name a few
the sun would shine and the breeze would blow
the best thing was, they were free to grow

at the head of each row stood a cactus
those were good for keeping invaders away
as long they keep their distance
and kept their thorns at bay

about the same time every year
the garden was afflicted
pestilence would pervade
and many of the gardenites became sickened

one year the bugs brought a new virus
that was particularly petulant
and even more noxious
was the onslaught of the many conflicting messages

they must go to great lengths to stop the spread
most all of the gardenites agreed
yet some wondered about the cost
of the freedoms that they would cede

the cactuses took charge
and ordered a tarp to be pulled over the garden
to some, this was reassuring
to some, this was alarming

it kept out some of the bugs
but also blocked all the sunshine
they were told it was temporary
they could survive until… sometime

a few weeks turned into a few months
curves and flowers were flattened
while the gardenites quarreled about graphs and statistics
their stalks and their stems became blackened

strife and suspicion grew wild
branches of truth became twisted
they lost track of time and dignity
until one day the tarp was finally lifted

the garden looked quite different
it was not a pretty sight
countenances were darkened
without nutrients, without light

many were found infected and many had died
some from the bugs that still got in
but many more from the thorns
that were found in their sides

they were shriveled and gaunt
sure signs of famine
wilted and wanting and wishing
that ramifications had been fully examined

was it always for their own good
or more for the good of the whole
was the whole thing good
if it robbed so many of their soul

those that were left
might well have perished too
because growth was no longer a value
under the new form of garden rule

they would no longer debate
the graphs and best practices
because all that was left
were the commands of the cactuses

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There Will Be Heroes

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I guess we were pretty lucky to be arguing over bathrooms
four score ago it seems
that being stuck in our cars during rush hour
was the worst of our quarantines
when we washed our hands
when it was convenient
when we went outside for reasons
beyond just to see if we still can
when sitting next to each other staring at our phones
was the only social distancing we practiced
when bad calls against our teams
were the most egregious of our grievances

we forgot
there will be death

we’ve always been plagued by pestilence
the stench of tyranny
has always wafted through our consciences
the trenches of warfare
have always swallowed the bravest of us
hurricanes have always been chasing us
and where they can’t reach
the earth still shakes us

we are haunted by holocausts
and the ghosts of gulags and the killing fields
ravaged by cancers
and small poxes with large body counts
scarred by martyrs jabbing airplanes into our arteries
we are slaves and masters
sashaying amidst knaves and massacres
we are log cabins
charred by fires by foraged by floods

there will be blood

if you’re like me
you’ve had some spare time to mull your mortality
the scourge of our sentience
the curse of becoming literate of our livelihood
is learning
that every life story will end
with a death sentence
perhaps more perplexing
if we’re just random collections of cells
why do we even care if those cells become infected?

if we’re just passengers on a sinking ship
why does it matter when the torpedos come?

there will be ambushes

this is not what my 2020 vision looked like
this is not how I wanted to grace the pages of history
but the history of grace would say
the course might change
but the destination doesn’t
the diseases, the afflictions, and the wars might change
but the reclamation mustn’t

we remembered

we remembered the hiding places
the helping hands that surfaced when the waves abated
the shelters and shining faces
the donations
the rebuilding after the wind ran out of breath
the new gardens germinating in the wastelands the fires left
the sacrifices
the freedom those soldiers forged from their foxholes
the Clara Bartons
the Mother Theresas
the doctors the researchers
the Pasteurs and the Jenners that
vaccinated us from the fates that awaited us
the morning sunrises
the Florence Nightingales
the innovation
the Wilbers that Forced liberation
the Harriet Tubmans, the Bonhöffers
the angels that emerged from the ashes carrying our sons and daughters

there will be heroes

we don’t always get to choose our battles
but we always get to choose what side we’re on
we’re all the cough
and the cure
every body counts

I guess now we find out what happens
when the only thing emptier than the aisles
are the streets
and the only thing fuller than our feeds
are the hospital beds
we’re going to have to reach past these devices
we hold at arm’s distance
and reach for an armistice

we’re gonna have to spend our courage on something besides Twitter
we’re gonna have to retrofit our hearts
and start using them for what hearts are for
because beyond these backlit screens
is a world
that needs us more than ever
this is not just a live stream of data to agonize to
this is our occasion to rise to
this is our time to feed, to teach, to sew
to nurse, and cherish, and clothe
to get to know,
to give, to protect, to serve
to heal, and feel, and show

there will be heroes

and if death knocks on our door
let it find us
by the side of someone we would die for
in the depths of this disaster
or any that follow
let us not forget
and love and laughter
let us rejoice
for that death sentence
is only the end of a chapter

there will be more

there will be more

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Street Noise (a corona-poem)

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there’s a busy street behind my house
I can’t see it
the HOA built a wall just high enough
so that we can pretend it’s not there
but I can hear it

I’ve heard it every day I’ve lived here
as constant as the sunrise

the rumble of trucks hauling their precious cargo
the cry of sirens grieving over emergencies
the roar of motorcycles boasting about their horsepower
the familiar din of engines just… propelling people to work

radiating the steam of sweat
belting out songs in the key of stress
congregating errands into a concerto of vrooms
an auto-motopoeia

a perpetual auto-promenade between the lanes
painted on pavement
that plays out a lot like
starcrossed lovers
moving to and fro in the rhythm
of the stoplights

when we were considering buying this place
we listed “street noise” at the top of the “con” column
like babe “I’m not sure if I can bear to hear that every day”

but the property had a lot of pros too
so we chose to learn to deal with it

the noise is less these days
those poor vrooms
disassociated by social distancing
they sound a lot more like lonesome solos
than a symphony
I wake up every morning hoping I can still hear something

because if I don’t
if the engines run dry
if the mufflers become exhausted
if the batteries die and
the tires retire from the tango

if the whooshes can no longer as much as whisper

if that street succumbs to silence

I’m not sure if I can bear to hear what’s next

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