Isn’t it interesting when someone who says something hateful follows it up after criticism by saying that they have a “right to free speech,” as if that gives them a blanket right to be ugly.
I’d respond that just because you have the right to speak doesn’t mean you have to nor does it make your nastiness right. Being free to do something doesn’t suddenly exonerate yourself from being truthful or decent.
Here again, my annual posting of the sonnet I wrote in college about turkey murder on our holiday. I’ve gone back and tried again and again to get the exact syllabic format for a completely proper sonnet, but could not find words to replace those here that would maintain the imagery and metaphoric content that I want, and so it stays the same.
Turgid turkeys, strained into rickety wooden coffins, exit four-by-four from a ten-ton hearse. Into the turkey mill: mutilation, holocaust.
Perspiring hormones, Tom Turkey stares with one cold eye at a crumbling chimney tower belching death in putrid smoke, blackening holiday skies. Annihilating light.
Bodies, bones. None remain unfrozen. With elaborate precision he’s taken apart; neck, gizzards tied in a bag between his ribs, head ground neatly into pink hot dog slabs.
Holiday skies are crowded with turkey souls, ascending to heaven like deflated balloons.
A lovely film that all should watch is My Life as a Turkey. Watch it online here.
“There was only one time in US history when refugees actually did wipe everyone out—and we’ll be celebrating it on Thursday.” — John Oliver
My crises are always internal. I doubt most who see me would notice the turmoil in my own head. I look like I’m just there, but I am an illusion. My own illusion. We are all our own illusions. Some of us are maintaining our crises internally, while others’ are out like sheets on a line flapping in the wind.
Just because someone can’t imagine that so much of creation is random doesn’t mean that it isn’t random. One’s lack of imagination doesn’t change how it is.
Let it go. Let it go, let it go, let it go. Let it go.
I am a flawed human being. Perhaps any efforts to mold myself to the contrary are pointless; it isn’t possible to exist without flaw. The question is how much effort I should continue to expend or if I should just accept this level of flaw and leave it at that. Sometimes I feel worn out with the effort and not much in the way of reward.
I don’t know.