francofinally

out this window i see

curtains shading november's

drizzle. it looks cold but it's

still warm as paris in april but

how would i know, i've been there

 only in movies

she's never meant as much to me

as when troops run along her legs

searching for rats with weapons

i can call her "her", feel protective

toward her pretty streets, iconic symbols.

how fitting jihad begins in earnest at her

maypole dancing, octoberfest, futbol.

i wish those war hogs would have taken up

pigskin instead of heavy metals

been looking for the answer, as if there's only one

the answer to me is we are the football for the next level.

we, you know, the people and civilizations of this world. 

had a bf once who was a real gamer, early type OG. 

he loved him some civilization 2. the manipulation of bits

to bytes to tactical strategy proved that while weaponry

was pretty damn strong, cultural openness was essential

for a lasting empire. otherwise, it just ended

in total nuclear annihilation. i think we have a match, jim.

so when i'm stoned like this i appreciate the insight 

into the different levels of this simulacrum. it's more

 layered than second life, with hidden bubbles 

monitored by systems admins. sometimes, lives

slip through the splices. i can not comprehend

the slipstream multiplexed in the godhead

coalescing into any kind of ultimate story, 

yet  every belief system assures

ourselves that god knows. 

i think god's as clueless

as the rest of we. 

sure, there's this archetypical story

a metaphor, a poem carried

through this round of history and if pre historic

cultural ruins are deciphered properly

- scientists think they are, if that's any comfort-

it's a spin off the most popular story of man and our god. 

so of course we are doomed to apocalypse

it is written. 

i want to find that gene and decode it

find the antonym and write it

splice some compassion into it

just to see how that bit of tinkering

would play out. 

instead of whips and chains, feathers

for the pain pleasure interstice. but then

how to go exploring or walk on

grit and grass. oh this is a hard puzzle.

i think i gave you all the tools you need

but i see that repetition breeds addiction.

is there any way to separate the two?

mystics have always tried, ask jesus.

ask mohammed. i wonder how he justified

keeping the female part of god out of his 

revelations. did he hate his mommy so much?

she is lithe and strongly supple. lights

and tunnels, for love, for sleep, for play.

she may have neglected you for a moment

but she is your blanket, your first love

she returns because she has been fairly treated

by life.

well, that went totally the wrong way.

i don't know paris. i've seen her photographs

remote and intimate. stipples, watercolor,

gaouche, neon. the collagen fails beneath

her bright paint but she's still beautiful.

even the jumpers have halos. 

even the shooters, even the bombers, even 

the soldiers on the streets. you can't help

but notice what the fires have wrought

you can't help but want to choke her rapists.

but we have to forgive, she says, we must

oh mother. how can i bandage the split bones

mop up the blood, bury the parts 

without demanding retribution?

and she answers because i love them

i raised them as i raised you but the fathers

want to use me as their pawn. 

if you play, then i am no more than object

in their game. they have forgotten

who fed them, what shelter there was

came from me. so, will you do the same?

leave me gaping and torn, abandoned 

and you, refugee of the world.

forgive, move on. 

but there is, in this belief

no room for apostasy. 

i do not know how to deal 

with that. you say change 

but what is written cannot be undone.

  tattooed with fire 

from the cradle

rewards that have never been disputed

yet unprovable make sacrifices

things of value. when life itself is nothing 

more than begging and lack

this is the logical choice. 

except for the women.

whose opinions on the matter

are not solicited but inculcated. 

as it always is. i wonder what 

fairy tales are told in harems.