I don’t know if the words that follow can be called a “poem” by those who consider themselves “poets.” I consider myself a songwriter/folksinger who sometimes succeeds in his quest to call himself a poet. If YOU the reader of this blog consider it a poem, just tell me so in a few words for many. I’m not asking you to LIKE it in a comment here or via Facebook where I will share this post. I am confident many of you would not “LIKE” it for reasons of your own, and that’s okay with me.
I had been wrestling with indecision over whether or not to attend a poetry open mic downtown last night. I’ve become disenchanted with the event for reasons of my own. I hasten to add that the gatherings are competently emceed by a long-time friend and I encourage all central Illinois poets (friends and enemas) to attend them every third Wednesday of the month from 6 to 8 pm at Robbie’s Restaurant on Adams street on the south side of the Old State Capitol (Building) Mall in unrhymed downtown Springfield. In an earlier discussion with my friend, she wisely advised me that in the interest of improving my outlook on LIFE as a whole, I SHOULD CIRCULATE; get OUT more and SOCIALIZE. After all, I always find redemption and validation where I share my poetry and that outcome is the meat, potatoes, cauliflower with cheese sauce and tempered inebriation that I savor on my table when I am right with the world. But these days I am NOT right with the world for reasons of my own. STILL, I promised to attend the evening, told another friend I would be attending, and as a gesture of friendship confirmed, I attended; sat with a respected physician friend from Jacksonville and enjoyed the early part of the event.
When I was introduced, invited to the microphone, I asked the audience to choose my poem about MORALITY or my poem about REVERIE. I would read one of the two (along with two others) I intended to share. The response seemed 50/50, but in my state of mind, knowing (but not revealing to the audience) this would likely be my final appearance with them at a third Thursday gathering . . . . and knowing that a light-weight poem — one not likely to “weigh” heavily on the minds of those upon whom a poem is inflicted — is welcome anytime, is appropriate anytime, but the MORALITY poem was more important for me to unleash, I chose that poem last night, the second of the three I would share.
I wrote the poem August 17, 2005 when my mind was very occupied with Iraq and the president of the USA whose name I will never speak or write. When I wrote it, I wsa trying to understand the growing malaise that permeates our world; wanted to say, “This is how it looks to me.” I shared the poem one time with an internet poetry critiquing group (not connected to central Illinois) and it was incredibly well received. Last night — I believe — was the first time a read it aloud.
The Moral Way to Kill
by Job Conger
There was a lesson worth remembering
when Cain killed Abel.
If you believe that humanity
proved its imperfection
with a shared apple,
but still, you chasten our race
as though you are God
and not of the tarnished tribes,
you should understand
how the fallibility of the fallen
is not only my woeful shortcoming;
it is ours.
Every society has murdered,
raped, plundered, spoken unwholesome slang,
and made fun of other people.
It has been part of our humanity
since we walked out of Eden.
It isn’t right;
it is inevitable.
The self-sanctified pedants
who claim the higher moral ground
and consider their pee “perfume,”
wage a war against God’s own teaching.
From one side of their mouths, they say
“perfection in life leads to perfection in heaven,”
but the right kind of the right kind
should not worry
because their god forgives all sins.
From the other side of their mouths
they promise earnest seekers of truths —
seekers who don’t eat meat on Fridays,
who don’t use birth control,
who believe that planet Earth is the center of the universe
(Galileo took that one on the chin pretty hard.)
and consider immutable
the teachings of their church,
those special people will reap salvation for their sacrifice.
The knowing few
understand how
no matter what pain and injustice
we suffer in this life,
our souls will live forever,
with or without 100 temporary virgins
or without 100 clones of Omar Shariff.
Salvation will come not by deeds alone;
it will come by grace, the ultimate gift
which I cannot buy
with faith or murder.
God doesn’t promise that life will be easy.
He says life will be
and will not be.
We are taught that the right kind of the right kind —
mostly our kind
and a few of the other kinds
because the other kinds
are not as perfect as our kind, can say
“Whistle at my wife, and I will kill you.”
They also say
“It’s okay
to kill an innocent human being by lethal injection
because it’s more righteous to reap vengeance
for those left behind, even if an innocent
is swept into the hereafter with our vengeance.
Besides God will ultimately sort things out,
and there will be no blood on our hands.”
Christ said, “Turn the other cheek.”
Is that how the right kind
of the right kind
behaves?
No.
They fight as though they love to fight,
as though the aroma of the blood of their opposers
intoxicates them, redeems them.
It’s the incomparable turn-on of getting even.
Do not muddle their minds with Christ.
We have lost the moral imperative
to demonstrate our understanding
of the lessons
proven true
through the ages.
Even the gazelle puts up a fight
when tussling with a hungry lion.
Self-preservation matters
when reacting to a death threat
that is real, that is not bluster, not a lie.
I don’t understand why you want to kill me,
but I want to live,
and if you insist on trying to kill me,
I will try to kill you first.
As there is self-preservation for humans,
there is self-preservation for nations of humans as well.
Truth is the key.
Without truth,
the fabricators of lies
who drive nations to war
earn themselves
a special place in hell.
The threatened demise
of my family, or my neighbor
threatens me also
and I am bound
in the interest of self-preservation
to defend my neighbor, my family
and myself.
How do we know the truth when we hear it?
We know it because it stands alone
and doesn’t take sides,
not even when a side takes it.
Declaring, “Going to war with Iraq is wrong!”:
is as true from the mouth of a Republican,
as it is true from the mouth of a Democrat,
as it is true from the mouth of a Samoan,
as it is true from the mouth of a Belgian.
The Nazi soldier
was no guiltier
for killing an innocent
than the American or Brit
who did the same.
The Moslem who lies to his nation
is no more deserving of a hangman’s noose
than the right kind of the right kind
of Christian
who considers him
unworthy
of the privilege
of seeing tomorrow’s sun.
Truth is seldom considered
when politics signs the paychecks.
Pledge your allegiance to the truth
and you will learn you must starve
for your devotion.
If we, in our humanity,
banished from Eden,
have any attribute worthy
of God’s salvation
it is the consistence and sincerity
of our efforts
to know the truth,
unsullied by politics;
to know it uncut
and un-mutated
by passing circumstance
and to stand for it,
whether or not there is a virgin
or a sweet-talking, bridge-playing pirate of luv;
no matter what uncaring multitudes say.
This is the way
by which will may or may not find
Nirvana in this life
and beyond.
= = = = = = =
Live long . . . . . . . . . and proper.
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