Twentieth Century Fire-Sale

PARTS:

Raps in Half-time

solve and heal all evil sores

look sharp, see how, they're

always mirrors warping

eye-sick outrage

worsening warfare.

Crowds of haters

peopling overflows

mindless moguls

murderous minions

world-wide over-turn

well-wisher lonely

little leagues holding

special isolates

gooders-dooers

worsening worsening

days go years go

decades without hope

still no signs holding

promised once heavens

catastrophic skies

portend our end

placard doom-omen clouds.

the skies are fallen

the sun don't rise

the moonshine's gone

the girls and guys are sickly

hopeless, withdrawn, apart

go on, go on, get off the globe

depart.

child's belly swollen from the

water and weed, all he eats

since land gone to seed.

the mom's skin and bones

her tits all flat, the old man

don't know where he's at

could be Nyanda, Nygasa,

Georgia, Siborgia, or is it

Pango-Pango where's the

fruit, in the bellies of the rich

in the bellies of their cows,

in the walnut whip chestnut

coffee brown ice cream cool

there's the loot, on the ship

bound for dream drool honey land.

Go steal a teacup,

empty the pool,

give him lip, the fops

call the cops, give them the slip.

The end is near,

yet so far.

It may never happen.

The end is coming,

or is it going?

Or standing still.

Come what may,

stand your ground,

though dizzily steering

while you're hearing,

"Don't panic. Be calm."

Chernobyl

On April 26 something went wrong

with a Soviet nuclear reactor at Chernobyl.

Some say...Others say... Whatever

it was the accident got out of hand.

Like the insecticide gas that devastated Bhopal.

Like the Metamorphoses that Ovid claims came from the

passage of the son of Sun in his parent's chariot too close.

Like the acid rain from the sturdy chimneys

and snaking exhausts of our busy places

that eats to death our northern forests

clears our waters and kills its fish.

A touch of radioactivity. A whiff of Becquerel.

A bad wind over Europe, all governments

conspiring to denigrate the invisible cloud.

Unseen presence, unseen ingredient in

air, food, drink, clothing and skin.

Is the beauteous sunset a fake of radioactivity,

we ask, watching from our delightful patio in Naxos?

Is the dim nebulosity over Thera-Santorini

something more than its usual gaseous effusions?

Must our honey, our nuts, our olives be shunned

while we buy them in cans from California,

and what of our wine, buy only old wines.

Disenchantment -- the theme of modernity --

enhanced once again -- with the most

beautiful landscape, sky of blue, refreshing rain,

with governments one and all -- we cannot trust

in appearances, we always said so yet didn't

really believe what we were saying. But

now we do. Our perceptive apparatus is

quite distorted and disoriented. How long

will it take to reach us from Chernobyl by way of

Stockholm, Berlin, Antwerp, London, Lisbon, Madrid, Rome and Athens?

That's the way the winds blow.

We wish away the cooling northern breezes.

It's Mayday in the Soviet Union for a million souls.

We are healthy and thankful for nothing, thank you for inquiring.

We are eating more than our share of becquerels but

not enough to kill us except for the one in a million

chances of a collision inside us of a particle with a nucleus:

millions of people with billions of lottery tickets

everywhere the cloud of Chernobyl passes,

they should feel worried -- they expect to win

on much less a chance than their dying from Chernobyl.

We suffer only the faintest twinges, as our state of awareness

and our loss of life-love are twisting a bit in undesireable directions.

Wicked World

The world is so wicked

we cannot love

nor would be loved,

fittingly by technical

revolution transformed.

Soviets we would not be,

which more wicked than us,

a force of evil, expired, pouf!

They had no choice

hid behind vodka's blank wall;

we two-faced puritans watch

languid or terrified

as bad overtakes us.

Everybody's coming apart,

wives from husbands,

children from parents,

cooks from diners,

etc.,etc.,

teachers from pupils,

workers from bosses,

farmers from cows,

etc., etc.,

politicians and populace,

man from his gods.

But let us hope

not gods from man

or quite all asunder'll be.

Lucky Generation

You are lucky:

the first generation to be at hand to watch the Earth die.

you lucky fool you are the first of generations born,

who came on earth as earth was leaving bound for parts unknown

where no one lives but viruses, insectiforms, abyssaloids,

to be on hand as good earth dies,

the most incredible man-made bop since creation-time.

It is the biggest event since the Earth, the same, was created.

when it was born, it agglomerated

just like you and me

from particles, a few lumps, an accretion

and after awhile

with one thing and another

it grew, and became green and wet hear that --

green and wet and the sky was misty but all was sweet --

the sweet age where we were not

but a lot of animals and plants were there

some of them, the simplest are still here

the others disappeared, too bad for them.

crashing accidents drove a lot of them into

oblivion, not so sweet, because usually to kill a kind

it has to be blasted away or poisoned en masse.

all this is to say that we are in a different fix today.

we grew up fast, miserably, crazily,

rare flashes of wisdom piercing bedlam

in a matter of seconds -- why cavil about

millennnia, centuries-- we've not been around

long enough to draw a deep breath --

no growing pains

but dying pains, yes

already, hardly have we stopped killing

children for the fun of it, or because

we wanted to breed our own

with our own evil and ugliness,

we are readying to kill ourselves off

en masse before the mass swells, bubbles, bursts

every cry of a newborn child carries

a dying pain, no happy pang of life,

what a shame for those of us

who loved children, still do.

it's become treason against Earth

to love our new-born infants.

can one believe the anguish over sick babes

in the rushing to and fro to keep them alive?

it's become traitorous to heal the sick,

tend the old and feeble,

weep over young men lost in battle

people even speak of AIDS as a blessing in disguise--

veritably, hoping it will at least kill off Africans --

that noble set of people who were and

still are breeding faster than anybody and

promising -- were it not for AIDs --

to overrun their splendid continent and

kill off everything except themselves and

some tapioca in shorter time than it took us

to ruin the Americas, erase Asia,

scrape over the classical seashores,

deaden the rivers of the north and

acidify its trees.

nor is there anything to say, even

the holier than thou is silenced:

eskimo don't kill your seal,

let our machine sleds do it.

swedes don't worry about your birds

flying over the Italians and the Spanish hunters,

they are drenched in acid rain and taste bad.

how can one like everyone and

anyone in such a world, so

wish your neighbor ill:

a sleezy night slumps down upon dying species

a bird twitters between the eroded pillars of the Parthenon

fat women in pumps go to eat too much

while talking of how safe Athens is when

they might have been eating junk food

under the guns of Los Angeles,

but later going to a real big

twentieth century fire-sale.

Making Civic Cowards

Had there been no Amin of Uganda

I might have found out the destroyer

of the beautiful pool of Engares whose

deep water collected under lustrous steep rocks

before passing to the sea, that

engineer of roads who scratched it out on

his map where the countour allowed a 100m

piece of road to be straightened and a score

of vehicles a day to take a minute

less to go beyond.

Had there been no Adolf Hitler

I might have pursued the destroyer

who straightened the road in Habsheim

by removing the fountain of the 14th century

that had gushed exceptionally fine water

upon a tiny square

and he the electrician wiring oh so straightly

and mortally wounded the thousand-year-old tree

by cutting the greatest limb.

Had there been no Joseph Stalin

I might have confronted angrily the men

who in my plain sight shot the

fine geese out of season who were feeding

happily upon the lawns of the Textile Research

Institute by Lake Carnegie in Princeton.

Had there been no Borgia Pope, no Cromwell,

I might have claimed a right

against the Chicago School Board that

tore down the house of my birth in

Chicago to make way for

an unneeded school.

Had there been no Nasser breaking

up the cultural ethnic enclaves of

Alexandria I would perhaps have

come forward against the razers of the orchards of

Santa Clara County.

Had there been no persecutors and pirates

of the boat people from Vietnam, I

could more readily have fought the

tearing down of fine old Trenton to make roads

for those who wished to escape what

they themselves were wrecking.

The greater destroyers have made a coward of me,

to suffer the agonies brought on by lesser ones

and if I typify my fellow men,

we bring about an enormous compound evil

to compete with the greater ones

and make of our world a triumph

of destruction, greater and lesser,

while we become most annoyed

and chase a housefly around the

walls of our room in a climactic rage

that must and can be satisfied with a

swat that no government,

no engineer, no vulgar

thug has yet forbidden us to do.

Kalotic Peopling Man

At the World Summit for the Environment

Rio de Janeiro, 1992

I am concerned with the totality of the good life on earth

but today I am speaking only for the priority of peopling problems.

I am waiting for my turn to speak on the population explosion

and I am waiting for others with their own good causes to finish their speeches.

they are showing the piles of junk and wastes

they chant about the rivers of toxic chemicals

of the birds hopelessly entrapped in tarred surfs

the seals flapping limply whose brothers shine as fur coats

drinking water withdrawing below desert sands out of human grasp

tse-tse flies buzzing around the leprous camps

I am, as I say, waiting my turn,

I am the peopling man

the guns and bullets disgorge from a thousand boats and trucks

the missiles

the spies

the sinister corrupters

the politicians

the bureaucrats

As I say, I am expert on peopling policy

not

the atmosphere

the gases

the acid rain

the ozone holes

the warming seas and CO-2

the dust of eroding soils

the death of the mountain villages

I am still here, ready to address the great Congress,

since I've been here waiting patiently, 546,452 babies have been born.

1374 people have starved to death

1541 have been killed in war or riots

1190 have died in accidents

while others have died of other causes

amounting in all to 269,219,

showing a net gain in population of 277,233,

looking at the list of speakers ahead of me,

there will be 1,780,659 more people in the world

than there were when I got in line to speak

Please note, we are not killing people fast enough by violence or disease,

all such events are insignificant

in the face of birthing women,

one Mexican city can outdistance all the world's murderers

what will they eat, 5,6,7,8,10, or 4,3, gigafolk

3 vitamin capsules 3 times daily in a single glass of water

etc.

what will they eat the Big Shots?, all 10 million of them

yes, Portugal you will have 102

yes, China you will have 3100

yes USA you will have 1 million,

yes, Spain, yes brazil, yes Ukraine, etc.

your small elites will also have something more to eat.

No one will know your names, you lucky few millions of the Dead Earth

until the smoke of holocaust lifts.

Ah, now is my turn!

Good Friends from All Over the World!!

The good earth needs

order

subsistence

freedom for all people for all time

to be achieved in the now generation, and

for this we need goals

we need specifications

we need skills

we need energies

where must we start?

I am the peopling man who hear you say

we must stop the slaughter of elephants, bears, and whales

but hear the animal assassins protest

and you'll catch on to the problem:

Animal Assassin speaks:

"Give me something better to do with my life, and I'll

stop killing flopping smooth-backed sea turtles.

I'll not trap the silver fox;

hire me at a living wage and I'll protect them all,

no one'll shoot the bull elephant for his tusks any more.

I've killed a rhino a year for ten years since I could shoot,

ten good years I've had, food, cloth and beer enough,

would you take care of me better than the rhino,

would you give me so much fun

would you feed me and fill the preserves for my hunting,

what kind of man do you want for the world,

a mouse, an insect, on my ass or my knees,

hoeing yams, stirring tapioca, watching tourists pass by,

amuse me, give me a story better than the one I tell

of the time my gun misfired and I climbed a tree,

while the rhino grumped angrily and butted the tree,

a story that I love to tell and others to hear.

The story will grow bigger when the last rhino dies.

What do you do for excitement in life,

besides wanting to chase me down and jail me,

and go home pleased, comfy, reading the Sunday papers?

You're a bigger animal killer than I am -- me, animal, dead!"

People have offered me their help

who wanted to kill, infect, starve

enough people until a population balance was obtained

and they masked this thoughtfully by cheering their Nation as they killed

hailing their Gods as they drove peoples to starve

praising Free Enterprise as they poisoned and cut down

shutting off the sights and sounds for the sake of Public Order.

-----------

It is nearly useless to speak

now that my turn has come.

for there will soon be no population problem

thanks to the population problem

what famine did ,

what water poisoning did

what skin cancer, lung cancer, blood cancer and AIDS,

floods, apathy,

guns, knives and clubs

cooperated to do

was to

balance the population equation

even to put death a little ahead or if not death then suffering

which is universal

because of all of the aforesaid events

A Woman’s Parable:

"I am a woman, you are a man, we make children, it is easy --

when the baby is born, it lives or dies, it is easy --

when the child is sick it lives or it dies, it is easy --

if we have food, the child eats, if not, sorry, it is easy --

when the child grows she goes to school or doesn't, it is easy --

when she meets a boy, they have sex, it is easy --

they sleep next to us or not, wherever it is easy --

they have a baby, too, it is easy unless it dies,

but there are many more where that one came from.

The only hard thing is to feel good about this rotten life."

****

The excoriation of the tribe of falseface anti-birthing-controllers

who make proposals known to be ruinous for population control:

Your absolute demand is absolute folly and

your absolute folly comes from an absolute character

that makes you make others suffer

because you suffer yourself

from your fixed glare, tunnel vision.

Where is your absolute position on peace,

or do you let hundreds of thousands

of young people and harmless civilians be killed

in your rigid nationalism, in your rigid religion.

You want cannon-fodder,

you want holocausts,

so you need fuel to burn,

that's your reason for demanding more lambs to sacrifice

Do you believe people riot in genocides because they have a good life?

Do you oppose capital punishment as logically you should?

Will you sacrifice your car and house and education

to take care of the horde of poor sick infants and mothers?

Do you support higher taxes to take care of the birth load?

Do you want to give up the freedom of choice for all women?

Do you hate women and want them underfoot?

Then carry on, force them to suffer the pains of childbirth,

plus the agonies of unwanted motherhood,

plus the duties of motherhood that are

larger than any duties you take on,

and do it once, twice, three times, six, ten times

you are killing the society.

You want power at any and all costs.

Get off of the Earth,

go to Heaven where no children are ever born

because your God knows when enough is enough.

It was never part of his plan, he doesn't want heaven to be crowded.

You are actively responsible for the deaths of hundreds of millions.

You will not be the first to be cast out of Heaven unto Hell.

MAN OF THE FUTURE DECLAIMS:

"I am your man of the future.

I am born of a single girl of 15

whose rapist is uncertain but somewhere else now.

I am a statistic of illiteracy

The UN book says I can read and write but I cannot;

Not really.

Anyhow I have no pencil and pen for writing

The things to read are too difficult and make me worry.

I have no job so why be literate;

I have a job but need no reading or writing.

Your literacy is a luxury fantasy

From my hut I cannot become President

I have lived here and there, a village, a city,

I make cups from plastic remnants and sell them.

I fathered three children who call me uncle.

They help their mothers to pick cotton

and when cotton is all picked they look for rags.

I had measles, whooping cough, mumps, typhoid fever,

infections of every limb and digit, my eyes, too.

I put wet used tea leaves on sores.

I weigh 50 kilos on the cotton scale

My shack is of bamboo, my roof of metal,

hot but good against the rain and

when it blows down in the wind,

we pick up the pieces and put it up again.

It has two doors and I sit by one in the morning

and the other in the afternoon

to watch the passing crowd through the dust of the street

My wife cooks in the brass pot

with her baby hanging to her side. White beans today.

The problem is salt. We stand in line to dig it ten kilometers away,

It takes all day and they charge us to dig

I belong to the community movement;

A man tells us to meet.

We parade. We listen to a politician.

Sometimes we riot. We burn a car. Once we burned houses.

I can't remember why, but they were good causes.

It taught somebody a lesson, I don't recall who.

I would like to trade my daughter for a neighbor's daughter.

The widower would have a wife and I a servant,

But she wants to be paid because she is not my daughter,

and my daughter dislikes my neighbor, a nice man."

We here know all the answers, the goods and the bads

each one is a jump word, catchy phrase.

Name them and cheer. Name them and hiss:

Dear World Citizen jure sanguinis et jure solis,

One and all agree that our world is in a dreadful state.

But those brave souls who try to help it are usually too particular.

Such specialization can be most dangerous.

Have you noticed that:

In every case, the population virus worsens the condition that is being combatted. The population virus makes any solution to any problem more difficult in the long run, and unlikely to be solved before the problem runs its destructive course. And by itself it will bring crashing down any fantasticized set of special victories.

The Basic Solution: have every social interest group

give HALF of its energies and resources for five years

to the job of reducing by every means short of genocide

world population to zero growth,

and a cutback policy to 3 billions for the future.

We must agree or else it is every man for himself:

All of your causes are precious and good,

but they are all wrapped up together

and cannot be solved separately.

It is delusionary, foolish, or selfish

to believe that your cause can be won

separately from all the others, and

especially from the peopling problem.

Fighting for particular causes alone

will cause all to fail and

the world will sink with them.

A PEOPLING VICTORY IS THE ONLY POSSIBLE UNIVERSAL FACILITATING

VICTORY

A PEOPLING VICTORY WILL ENTRAIN EVERY SPECIAL WORLD NEED INCLUDING WORLD GOVERNMENT

***

Politists are needed, with two qualities to begin with:

dedication to world order, dedication to kalotic peopling policies.

One million pop-pols can do the job.

Since only 1 out of 100 people in the typical large democracy

lifts a hand or raises a voice on a public cause (rightly or wrongly), operating at or above the minimum level of influence,

And only fifty million over the whole world,

Out of this fifty million need to come the million pop-pols, the population politists.

This million men and women can win

an overwhelming peopling victory all over the world.

As this is done and once this is done,

all the other problem-pieces will fit and fall into place

including the guarantee of the Kalotic Governing Order

and the Good Earth

which amount to

tolerable

WORLD GOVERNMENT.

Kalotics of World Reconstitution

40 Stases & Theses

Please click here to view Kalotics

Weltschmerz Trauma

A dream of divine helpers

finding myself on the brink of death

from natural causes at the age of eighty

(that's why I know so much and

can deal with the gods).

I am dragged out of bed by the gods

who assume evanescent shapes

and modes of expression. They are mainly

getting through to me because they want

something of me. (They remind me of the

Greek gods or the Hindu gods or the Aztec

gods or the Shinto gods or the Dogon gods.

They are real though.)

I resurrect

my old manuscript from the attic

-- they have no trouble

reviving me to do their bid --

and I convince myself that they are real

by the infinite world formula, which says

so many worlds exist that there

must be not only intelligent beings

but so many more that there must be

super and super-super intelligent beings

approaching and surpassing the average

of man's family of gods. But who has

gotten them together, why, and for such

an insignificant purpose and through this old man?

Because they want a report from him and

he knows something about surveys and interviews

and peoples of the world, and they must be

fickle or efficient or not totally competent or lazy

or whatever -- else they would solve

their problem right away or is it that

they need a human to integrate the communication

flow from the object sought and because they are

so specially devised (no god is complete) that

they cannot do the job any one of them alone,

so they use me as their probe and

expect me back in due course to report.

I go around the world, interviewing one

or several people at each of a hundred points

where an indivdual major problem of the world

occurs conspicuously (where many points

would do, I seek a varied perspective instead of

interviewing on several problems at the same culture-spot.

I have a universal airline pass and go everywhere

I please like Rashmi Mayur) under auspices of

the Kalos Foundation (the gods have given me

the right to make & change money for necessary travel, etc.)

It comes from an Amazon gold mine that was

created by one of the gods who recalls

his having shat on the earth once in passing.

I have to go there to get it and feel like Dante

going through Hell except that I know I must

emerge, though no god helps me, I help myself

better even than Ulysses who believes a god helps him

-- I know better and will not give credit where not due.

I old man get myself out of scrapes

(gods are never around when you need them).

Then I fly from place to place interviewing people

of all types on the problems besetting them,

11 problems, and gradually I have knowledge

not only of the problems but of how they

interconnect and how to solve them all together.

I am increasingly happy at the thought that

all I have to do is report the conditions and

remedies to the gods and they will order them

to go into effect and mankind will be in a state of bliss.

I have many terrible and wretched and

heart-rending experiences as I visit the point

sources of the myriad world problems.

Only an old man-woman (unisexual with age)

could take them all, a young person

would go mad, be diverted, collapse.

After completing my many particular voyages,

I have to go about (with confidence in the gods)

preaching to the influential to band together

and save the world by unified government and

proper policies. It is exceedingly difficult.

All the incapacities, incompetences,

unwillingness, evils, internecine quarrels of

the powerful. Illustrated by flying hither and yon

visiting the various types of elite in the world,

finding none competent.

Finally it is time to report and

I repair to the gang of gods and

explain in a neat total summary

all that needs to be done and how to do it. I

tell them what 10,000 people should be

instructed to form the power network and receive

electrical or some such values and nerve and

science power from the gods.

The gods laugh

at me. This is enough. We have no need.

We were curious. They all have different motives.

One who has power as his motive asks

the others to delegate to him their powers

so he can execute my programmatic report.

They refuse. They quarrel. They actually begin to

aggress against each other. They disappear,

appear, create illusions, violate all my senses,

I am going mad. They remove themselves

in one way or another. I am sure that the

earthlings are seeing cosmic disturbances in

far off galaxies (time means nothing to the gods).

I am frustrated, outraged, hate the gods,

pity all humans, who at least are stuck with their

problems and cannot as creatures of nature

violate their own being. I end

on the edge of the cliff pouring my rage at

the gods and exclaiming to humanity to

outdo the gods. We are infinitesimally small.

we are still a spark of the gods. and

we are better than the gods, for us we are

better. There is nothing to fear from the

gods other than some careless catastrophe that will

annihilate us.

Meanwhile we have an earth, a

world that we can make and

remake and enjoy and it may be

centuries, millennia, aeons, practically never, when

we will have to consult the gods again and

when they will come enquiring of us.

[END of Twentieth Century Fire-Sale]