‘in banality the transcendent arises’
‘in banality the transcendent arises’
temporary departure
not having seen enough
by any means
what can I add?
except to
say that the
derelict mental
hospital
was always
and good place for a picnic
‘Mental’ that’s
what they say
as if that
was a condemnation
there are long
hallways filled
with broken chairs
the burnt remains
of former campsites
and the birds
are used
by now
to flying in
and out the windows
will this be made
into luxury flats?
or the whole site
a business park
an enclosure
for the supposedly
real business
of the world?
I’ll be back soon
I’ve just gone off
to oil a bicycle wheel
The bourgeoisie, wherever it has got the upper hand, has put an end to all feudal, patriarchal, idyllic relations. It has pitilessly torn asunder the motley feudal ties that bound man to his “natural superiors”, and has left remaining no other nexus between man and man than naked self-interest, than callous “cash payment”. It has drowned the most heavenly ecstasies of religious fervour, of chivalrous enthusiasm, of philistine sentimentalism, in the icy water of egotistical calculation. It has resolved personal worth into exchange value, and in place of the numberless indefeasible chartered freedoms, has set up that single, unconscionable freedom — Free Trade. In one word, for exploitation, veiled by religious and political illusions, it has substituted naked, shameless, direct, brutal exploitation.
The bourgeoisie has stripped of its halo every occupation hitherto honoured and looked up to with reverent awe. It has converted the physician, the lawyer, the priest, the poet, the man of science, into its paid wage labourers.
He hangs
From his own tree,
The negative version
The one
Without whom,
In whom.
His isolation
Is greater,
More forsaken.
Time moves round him,
A mythical figure
As he sways.
The money
Is pointless.
From here
To the terrible
Centuries, the ghettos
And the camps,
The children
Hushed into gas chambers.
On-going,
A kind of hero,
Reminding Jesus that he,
Too, betrays something.
The whole turning away.
Who was Judas’ mother?
Judas’ father?
It’s not recorded
How they felt
Taking him down,
The shameful suicide
Who nobody helped,
Nobody caught in mid-fall.