Taken from my book-length poem, "Wounded Hands," written in 2006.
#65
I am blessed with choice.
I can go to the beach, play softball,
Or spend all day here placing words.
Thank the Dead of War
On this Memorial Day
For the grace of making everyday decisions.
#79
On this Memorial Day
I choose to sit on the beach
And stare west into the setting sun's reflection.
Conquistador's ghosts
Haunt every grain of sand.
#80
Tread of tank crushes bones,
Rifle blades extinguish heart,
The birds of my nightmare
Scream across sleepless night.
There is no day of dead
For our enemies.
Sunday, May 25, 2008
Entry 13- When things get so bad even the candidates won't take the elections seriously.
In a recent political debate at Balboa Park, candidates for mayor of San Diego took part in a vicious, go-for-the-throat stand-up comedy improvisation routine. Part of the problem with having a serious debate was that the current mayor, Jerry Sanders, did not show up. Steve Francis won the mirthful contest by recommending the city loan Eric Bidwell enough money to get a college education.
In an even more recent public mayoral forum, Jerry Sanders' campaign manager thought he had Steve Francis trumped by having Eric Bidwell read a prepared statement bashing Steve Francis. Bidwell turned the cards on them though, announced where the statement had come from, and refused to read it.
I guess you don't need a college degree to recognize flat out unethical political play.
Let's face it- Our local politicians know for a fact that a majority of people old enough to vote in this city are so apathetic that they do not have to take the upcoming election seriously. Even City Beat, our local "left-leaning" conformist rag, gives an assessment of the election that is less than self-flattering, and much less informative than many people would hope it to be.
The five or six people with real power here have spun us in a circle so confusing even if you pay attention to the issues, you may still be up in the air about who to vote for.
One thing I know- Next time I knock on the door of an elected officials house from my same registered party, in the act of representing said party, and his wife comes up and waves me away as if my presence is just a joke, I won't write a fictional account of the event. Remember me, Mrs. Aguirre? Wait a minute! How did she know who I was?
Oh, yeah. I forgot. They have cameras surrounding that neighborhood. And after 10pm they have sentry's guarding the gate.
The most interesting part of the debates about the future of our city, in my opinion, is the debate surrounding who controls our labor. God forbid, we give unions, that protect our worker rights, too much power. This is a consistent betrayal of the Republican Party, throughout history, of the rights and employment stability of the very same working class people they constantly hoodwink into voting for them.
At the end of last year, during a press conference, Mayor Jerry guffawed and boasted about how great San Diego's economy was going to be this year. Now that things still haven't gotten any better, his solution is to put on his flip flops, spread cruel rumors about his political adversaries, and have his recently resigned campaign manager try to trick a younger, less experienced candidate into reading a script about another candidate that has a good chance of beating him.
And is "what me worry?" Steve Francis any better? His campaign ads on television are beyond pretentious. Obviously, if he doesn't win, he can go back to running his multi-million dollar business, and for the rest of his life, as the city continues it's downhill slide into oblivion, he can walk around smirking and telling people, "I told you so."
The California state lottery is for sale, and so is this city. Go ahead; sell off the Chargers, the Padres, close half the colleges in the area, and tell the zonies to move back to the Ozarks. Maybe then we could go back to being a little town of half a million people, and the stooges we elect to run city hall would have an easier time running the city, and nursing their fragile egos when all of us refuse to lay down and kiss their asses every second of every day.
Quis custodiet ipsos custodes?
In an even more recent public mayoral forum, Jerry Sanders' campaign manager thought he had Steve Francis trumped by having Eric Bidwell read a prepared statement bashing Steve Francis. Bidwell turned the cards on them though, announced where the statement had come from, and refused to read it.
I guess you don't need a college degree to recognize flat out unethical political play.
Let's face it- Our local politicians know for a fact that a majority of people old enough to vote in this city are so apathetic that they do not have to take the upcoming election seriously. Even City Beat, our local "left-leaning" conformist rag, gives an assessment of the election that is less than self-flattering, and much less informative than many people would hope it to be.
The five or six people with real power here have spun us in a circle so confusing even if you pay attention to the issues, you may still be up in the air about who to vote for.
One thing I know- Next time I knock on the door of an elected officials house from my same registered party, in the act of representing said party, and his wife comes up and waves me away as if my presence is just a joke, I won't write a fictional account of the event. Remember me, Mrs. Aguirre? Wait a minute! How did she know who I was?
Oh, yeah. I forgot. They have cameras surrounding that neighborhood. And after 10pm they have sentry's guarding the gate.
The most interesting part of the debates about the future of our city, in my opinion, is the debate surrounding who controls our labor. God forbid, we give unions, that protect our worker rights, too much power. This is a consistent betrayal of the Republican Party, throughout history, of the rights and employment stability of the very same working class people they constantly hoodwink into voting for them.
At the end of last year, during a press conference, Mayor Jerry guffawed and boasted about how great San Diego's economy was going to be this year. Now that things still haven't gotten any better, his solution is to put on his flip flops, spread cruel rumors about his political adversaries, and have his recently resigned campaign manager try to trick a younger, less experienced candidate into reading a script about another candidate that has a good chance of beating him.
And is "what me worry?" Steve Francis any better? His campaign ads on television are beyond pretentious. Obviously, if he doesn't win, he can go back to running his multi-million dollar business, and for the rest of his life, as the city continues it's downhill slide into oblivion, he can walk around smirking and telling people, "I told you so."
The California state lottery is for sale, and so is this city. Go ahead; sell off the Chargers, the Padres, close half the colleges in the area, and tell the zonies to move back to the Ozarks. Maybe then we could go back to being a little town of half a million people, and the stooges we elect to run city hall would have an easier time running the city, and nursing their fragile egos when all of us refuse to lay down and kiss their asses every second of every day.
Quis custodiet ipsos custodes?
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