This is the new blog...CONFESSION ZERO
Showing posts with label history. Show all posts
Showing posts with label history. Show all posts

TEMPEST

GOP considers delaying convention

Tropical Storm Gustav is forecast to hit U.S. next week as hurricane

Republican officials said yesterday that they are considering delaying the start of the GOP convention in Minneapolis-St. Paul because of Tropical Storm Gustav, which is on track to hit the Gulf Coast, and possibly New Orleans, as a full-force hurricane early next week.

The threat is serious enough that White House officials are also debating whether President Bush should cancel his scheduled convention appearance on Monday, the first day of the convention, according to administration officials and others familiar with the discussion.

For Bush and Republican presidential candidate John McCain, Gustav threatens to provide an untimely reminder of Hurricane Katrina. A new major storm along the Gulf Coast would renew memories of one (of many) of the low points of the Bush administration, while pulling public attention away from McCain's formal coronation as the GOP presidential nominee.


(Read the poem)

Devotion in the ever darkening climate. Our
Spirit. This time’s consideration. The will
Of the people. Love. Fairness. Choice. Tyranny.
Failure.
History.
This time’s reflection. History’s christening.
Now. This time. Now. At present,
Before us, in our ready throats, such standing courage.
High in the air and underneath the feet.
Our moment. Our time. Our history. Our
Occasion.
And the stroke of the clock and the quickening sea
And the pace and the face of our pale and dark occurrence
And the call of our mother’s and father’s
Mislaid chance.

Our backs must hold this up, haul it onward and set
This day on course. This time. This
Moment. Child. Renewal. Birth. Joy
Swimming near the frame.
Hope of victory. Grasp the radiance
In our hands; the clear glow of expectation.
Ready now, like a vast breath in our storm.


© 2008 mrp/tpm



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UNPRECEDENTED





It is of this moment that we will be remembered… In our lifetime we’ve neared several impossible dreams but none quite like this; the dream of one man, one nation rising up to heights that were once unheard of, seemingly insurmountable. Now a new struggle begins, the precedent’s been set, and it’s up to us and the nuance of history to construct an even greater one. Yes. Yes. The unprecedented height of Martin Luther King Junior’s dream wrapped in immense struggle, awash in the blood of the black man, is now so tangible and so very near; unparalleled in the history of these United States where men and women are “free”, where they have the vote, where freedoms ring, where- Wait!

Hold on one goddamned second!
Son of a bitch! I think the film is rolling backward?
Or maybe the script was written from the last act forward?
Where’s the writer? Get the goddamned writer in here pronto!
There’s more than one? Well get them all in here!
Most of them are dead? Dead?
Well get me a fucking writer that breathes goddamnit!
What the hell is that supposed to mean,
‘Those that are alive don’t even know they’re the authors’?
What the hell is that supposed to mean, huh?
Sounds stupid! You’re fired! What do you mean I can’t do that?
I’m the damned director of this film!
What do you mean I’m not the director?
If I’m not then why am I sitting in this chair? Huh?
Who, besides me, is this hard up for cash?
So strapped that they’ll direct a movie that even Cinemax wouldn’t touch?
Huh, shithead? Tell me who?

‘Them’? Who? 'Them'? Who the hell is 'them'?
The people? All of them?
Holy Christ…
Is the budget big enough to pay this many extras?
What do you mean they’re not extras?
Leads? You mean everyone has a leading role?!

Oh. Oh. I get it.
Yes. I see now. The people. We the people.
This- this is the unfinished script,
written backward by ‘we the people’
without a director…
Well this is a hell of a fine way to find out.
I do feel better now. Yes.
It makes a hell of a lot more sense.
I mean what the hell else could explain such an unprecedented undertaking?
Otherwise it would be impossible.
But still…

How is it possible-
that in an age of such a shredded foundation,
that in an age of such unprecedented warring,
that in an age of such unequaled corruption and
terrible sadness that a moment as this could come?

How is it possible-
that we now proceed with this stunning milestone,
that we march onward in the footprints of revolution
though the course is not curved of our choosing
and the strident shriek of the dying cover our skies?

How is it possible-
with the end written before the bright and new beginning,
with our expectations rutted in dishonest obligation,
with the world’s eyes peering down into our shame
that our pathway is not ruled by immeasurable detonation?

How is it possible-
that the air that we scorch doesn’t blink or make a sound
as we push and shove our burning way through it
with sorrow at our flank speaking of others as mere fodder
for our wholly unrestrained hubristic nourishment?

How is it possible-
That this plot has begun at the end of such torturous ire,
at the back of gloom instead of the heart of illumination?
That this story even has words like hope and change within it
is certainly the most astounding thing of all!




© 2008 mrp/tpm

ObamaRama - History in the Making via Stereohyped...

Unprecedented Moment via The Peace Tree...





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UNDISCLOSED HISTORY



The Cheese Stands Alone
By Dana Milbank - The Washington Post
Tuesday, June 26, 2007



We'll make statements only today," President Bush announced to reporters yesterday as he sat with the Estonian president in the Oval Office.

No surprise there. Vice President Cheney's recent declaration that he is not part of the executive branch has prompted hard questions, and nobody in the White House has a good answer for why Cheney -- who hovered near Bush's desk while the president spoke -- had turned himself into a fourth branch of government.
The explanatory task fell to White House spokeswoman Dana Perino, whose skin reddened around her neck and collar as she pleaded ignorance during the daily briefing: "I'm not a legal scholar. . . . I'm not opining on his argument that his office is making. . . . I don't know why he made the arguments that he did."
"It's a little surreal," remarked Keith Koffler of Congress Daily.
"You're telling me," Perino agreed.
"You can't give an opinion about whether the vice president is part of the executive branch or not?" Koffler pressed. "It's a little bit like somebody saying, 'I don't know if this is my wife or not.' "
Give the flushed and flustered Perino credit for trying. The vice president had put her in an impossible position. Already under fire for his secretive ways, Cheney has refused to comply with an order governing the care of classified documents; his office concluded that the order does not apply because he is not "an entity within the executive branch."
That's quite opposite the argument Cheney made in 2001, when he said that a congressional probe into the workings of his energy task force "would unconstitutionally interfere with the functioning of the executive branch." Cheney has, in effect, declared himself to be neither fish nor fowl but an exotic, extraconstitutional beast who answers to no one.
As if to demonstrate his status as the fourth branch, Cheney left the White House yesterday and made his way to the Capitol, escorted by eight police motorcycles, three police cruisers, two armored limousines, and five SUVs and minivans packed with aides and armed Secret Service agents. Cheney spent all of six minutes on the Senate floor, fulfilling his legislative obligations as president of the Senate.
His task was simple -- swearing in a newly appointed senator, Republican John Barrasso of Wyoming -- and was designed to be foolproof. He had a brief parliamentary script to read, and a laminated card printed with the oath of office. But the executive-branch refugee showed himself to be equally unimpressed with legislative custom. Instead of reading the oath of office and having the new senator merely say "I do" at the end, Cheney ordered Barrasso to "repeat after me."
Barrasso, unprepared to utter the entire oath, got tripped up on the line about "mental reservation or purpose of evasion" -- and asked Cheney to repeat it. The fourth branch of government, his duties thus completed, applauded, left the floor and returned downtown in his motorcade. (See link above to read full article.)

Washington Post Staff Writers
Monday, June 25, 2007

From that moment, well before previous accounts have suggested, Cheney turned his attention to the practical business of crushing a captive's will to resist. The vice president's office played a central role in shattering limits on coercion of prisoners in U.S. custody, commissioning and defending legal opinions that the Bush administration has since portrayed as the initiatives, months later, of lower-ranking officials. (See link above to read full article.)

UNDISCLOSED HISTORY

Deep beneath the aching ground of our state, writhing,
twisting in the blood soaked layer below the screams
of the tortured and weep-filled living flesh, subdued,
a powerful schemer hunkers down
within his coward’s cave,
cackling of the anguish wrought by his reign
and sneering unto himself and the fool.
Mountains majesty, amber waves of grain
Blown back of the voice of shackles
and ropes tightly bound to their pain…

O! The sand and dust walking over the sorrow-born, lifeless limbs
making chains with the wind around the hopeless, must weep…

Deep below, the schemer whispers, “I’m the king”
from out his sallow lips to messengers sworn to secrecy
while the bombs above fall void unto his ears.
Evoking now the quietude of tyranny’s frame
he brings, blaring, the monstrous memories of what men can do!
And as they each move within the spiritless cave
he bows unto them, knees bent in half worship
uttering “What fools these patriots be.”
And the bombs fall silent unto this horde
of deviant beasts hunkered with themselves
and the stench of wafting hell,
yet only one shadow is cast across the floor…

Deep thundering now rolls, callous and yellow
like unending parades of pride filled processions;
lockstep, closed mind, tight fisted, greedy and senseless;
marching in honor of tomorrow’s bereavement,
inventing a country’s God-spurned eternity
of falling, plummeting rockets red glare
tumbling down, down, down
to the echoes of the past…

O hubris fondling the earth,
filling placid waters and pawing the trees, come!
End this! Thrust thy spear through the breach,
surprise even the memory of monstrous history
that death has found them there…


© 2007 mrp/thepoetryman





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