Chauntecleer of the Pricking Cock

Today in America we celebrate Thanksgiving. It's a time when we come together as families and give thanks for all that we have. It's a nice, wholesome, innocent holiday.

Well, tell that to the Turkeys, who are fattened year round just so they can be slaughtered, sold, and eaten by America wholesale for this very holiday. If I were a Turkey, that wouldn't sound like much of a holiday at all.

But enough about Turkeys. I am not going to rant about the slaughter of animals right now. I would be a hypocrite if I did (yes, I am aware that I AM a hypocrite anyways) because I will probably eat turkey today.

What I will suggest now, however, is that we rename Thanksgiving. Let's call it what it is. Let's vaporize old illusions about this holiday, and the holiday season in general.


We are really not celebrating Thanksgiving now, which would imply that we are thankful for what we already have. No, it's not that at all. I now dub this holiday Happy Consumerist Weekend.

This holiday is all about consuming on several levels; we shall consume Thanksgiving dinners until we are fat(ter). Furthermore, the real crux of Thanksgiving....the real reason our government wants many people to have the weekend off is this: the real function of Thanksgiving is not as a wholesome, innocent holiday (but it probably started out like that), but rather it is a catalyst to jump start the season of holiday shopping. The day after Thanksgiving is, according to all of my sources, the biggest shopping day of the year. It's the day that most of us have off of work (unless you work in retail, of course), and we are expected to utilize our off day by blowing all of our hard-earned money on stuff. Needless stuff. Useless stuff. But darn it, I'd look like a real down-and-out miser if I didn't buy Cousin Fred a Christmas gift! That would mean that I don't love him!

In America, love is not often measured by feelings of mutual camaraderie; no, it's measured by how much you open one's bank account for another.

That's what the news and the movies have told me, and who am I to question the values of the news and Hollywood? That would make me un-American, and as an insecure un-American, I'd better shut up and go with the masses if I wish to be accepted by my all-American family.

And so it is in most families, and that is why we, as America, and as Earthlings in general, are all in deep shit.





Illusion.





Our Society is a house of illusions where reality is indiscernible from make-believe. If someone buys us an expensive gift, we can make-believe that we are very much loved by this individual. Of course, it could be that we are loved by an individual that buys us expensive gifts, but in that case, why isn't love enough? Why must we put up with this consumerist bullcrap every year? What are we trying to prove?

But if we as Americans stopped believing in this House of Lies, it would mean that poor CEO Billy would be out of millions and billions of dollars, and as those "newspaper language factories" (if I may borrow a phrase from Allen Ginsberg) would leave us to believe, poor CEOs lead to a poor Economy. We need the super rich, those newspapers tell me, because it is the rich who spur the Economy. If we didn't have mega-billionaires, who would the capital belong to?

Gee, I'm really sounding communist now, but I'm not one. I just don't think that less than 1 percent of the population should own 80 percent of the wealth. That is a huge reason why this world is such a fucked up place.

So another Holiday Season is commencing. And those Highway Robber Barons (CEOs) would have us believe that the girth of their bank accounts is in direct correlation to how much we, as friends and families, love each other.


Happy Consumerist Weekend, everyone, and have a Merry Consumerist Holiday as well!

Here lies this poem. Be kind...it's only the thrid poem I've ever written. It's influenced by Gary Snyder's style. It was inspired by a chance occurance last night, and I wrote it as a way of capturing the moment in my memory.

Under the Stars

Stuck in Traffic one cold night

Wasting Time

I escaped the Trap

And walked into the Woods

Into the dark Woods.

Black night, cold night

Lonely Night.

Look.

Off in the distance, under the shadowy Pines

A mysterious ring of fire

And the thumping cadence of tribal drums

“Don’t be afraid, be warm by our Fire!”

A gypsy woman hollered.

The beating of drums carried the dance of half-naked women

‘round the fire, ‘round the fire.

Oh the dance of My Desire!

Bellies swiveling, breasts heaving in a seductive rhythm,

So goes the dance of the gypsy

Under the Moonlight

I played the pennywhistle in time with the drums,

women’s bodies swaying to the tune of my

improvised notes

And Drums

Spontaneous Dance.

Spontaneous Music.

Spontaneous Happenstance.

Spontaneous Beauty.

So goes the possibility of Life’s Joys

When one looks away

There’s Beauty to be discovered everywhere

In this case it was

In the Woods

‘Round the orange-glow of radiant Fire-circle

Under the celestial roof illuminated by white twinkling points of light

…………………………..

The Stars

Look not ahead with head screwed in a vice

Look for the Stars!

Beautiful Happens

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Under the Stars