{1_01} AL GORE SHOUTS: "No more BULLSHIT from now on!"

{1_02} That's what Gore meant endorsing Dr. Dean

{1_03} on Tuesday morning not long after dawn

{1_04} in Harlem with a force we'd never seen ...

 
{1_05} ... when Gore was being careful and polite.

{1_06} Too nice to shout "That's BULLSHIT!" and prevail

{1_07} against the half-truth tellers. NOW HE'LL FIGHT

{1_08} THE TIDE OF BULLSHIT that we'll now detail...

 
{1_09} BEGINNING when Americans allowed

{1_10} their nation to be grabbed by Satan's goons

{1_11} who screamed their bullshit 'till the law was cowed,

{1_12} and jumpin' journalists re-spread their tunes.

 
{1_13} As this last stretch of BULLSHIT SONNETS ends

{1_14} the Anti-BULLSHIT candidate ascends.

{2_01} OLD NEWS: Bush did not win 2000 fair.

{2_02} [Thank you, MoveOn!] BUSH: GUILTY of each death

{2_03} as Satan's rep ensconced in White House lair

{2_04} blaspheming Christ with every BULLSHIT breath.

 
{2_05} "We did not lie! We can't help if you got

{2_06} the wrong impression from our choice of words."

{2_07} The worldly prince's BULLSHIT TEAM gets hot

{2_08} when branded "lying liars," when their turds ...

 
{2_09} ... are carefully arrayed along a line

{2_10} a razor blade away from the abyss.

{2_11} NO PROBLEM IF the press were not "supine."

{2_12} (Bill Clinton's choice of word. He did not miss.

 
{2_13} SUPINE: on back, inactive, passive, slack

{2_14} both mentally and morally. News? Claque!

{3_01} A college education in our day

{3_02} is not sufficient, clearly, to prepare

{3_03} newsfolk to MEDIATE the way words play

{3_04} or prey on minds in ways that keep it "fair."

 
{3_05} A word already rhymed, but I'll repeat

{3_06} it many times throughout the lines ahead --

{3_07} at least in my own thoughts -- as I re-heat

{3_08} the long-cold past of how we were MISLED.

 
{3_09} A pathologic even-handedness

{3_10} instead of balance of the truest kind.

{3_11} The reason Bush is King, Iraq a mess,

{3_12} is journalists' incompetence. Fast, blind ...

 
{3_13} ... and arrogant, mis-educated bunch.

{3_14} Misframing ev'rything by cliched hunch.

{4_01} A whipping boy! We need one! Look right there

{4_02} in Iowa at center stage to stick

{4_03} his well-respected nose and Koppel hair

{4_04} at presidential level... "help us" pick ...

 
{4_05} ... the Democratic candidate. He'll bound

{4_06} the situation. Lord, thank God we're "blessed"

{4_07} with journalists to bark and gen'r'lly hound

{4_08} the conversation off the cliff. You've guessed ...

 
{4_09} ... this won't be Mr. Koppel's fav'rite verse

{4_10} of Big Bad Boke's. BUT THIS IS WHAT HE GETS

{4_11} for demonstrating, NOW, the fatal curse

{4_12} bad journalism is -- when it forgets ...

 
{4_13} ... (or maybe never knew) its vital role

{4_14} which cannot be described as poke and poll.

{5_01} TED KOPPEL cannot help he has no skill

{5_02} in orchestrating conversation flows.

{5_03} A few times watching Nightline's lightless hill

{5_04} of Koppel-verb'age sounding like he knows ...

 
{5_05} ... a lot more than he does (if you're not fooled)

{5_06} will make you click on by. You will not gain

{5_07} one useful insight. Why? He was mis-schooled

{5_08} to simulate a guy with half a brain.

 
{5_09} Articulate is not the same as wise.

{5_10} Aggressive-asking of wrong-questions keens

{5_11} the journalistic law for all these guys

{5_12} and gals who land their face on TV screens ...

 
{5_13} ... palavering as if they knew the truth

{5_14} and all folks not their sources are uncouth.

{6_01} Ted Koppel got his Nightline when Iran

{6_02} took U.S. hostages. And Ted kept watch.

{6_03} Night after night he wore a groove that ran

{6_04} quite deep. But just because they grabbed our crotch ...

 
{6_05} ... and Ted was there to detail ev'ry squeeze.

{6_06} "America held hostage" gave him fame.

{6_07} Because most journalists have the disease

{6_08} of no imagination, Ted would claim ...

 
{6_09} ... that spot of time forever as his right.

{6_10} Remove him for bad ratings? Hear the screams

{6_11} of "quality!" And "history!" He'd fight

{6_12} before they'd take his cubby-hole and dreams ...

 
{6_13} ... of being "well respected" in his craft

{6_14} by those who don't know better when well staffed.

{7_01} But fear of cancellation's made Ted fear

{7_02} a boring situation. He has learned

{7_03} to be provoking, though you will not hear

{7_04} a thought that's more than one that should have burned ...

 
{7_05} ... with all the dead leaves off the living trees

{7_06} we should be looking at, but Ted re-aims

{7_07} all talk where he is sitting midst the fleas

{7_08} of newsy factoids linked with news-time games.

 
{7_09} Ted's pleased he's punched the moment just enough

{7_10} that watchers will stay tuned to hear Ted press

{7_11} his guest with Koppel gravity. Rebuff

{7_12} whatever path might lead beyond his guess ..

 
{7_13} ... of possibility. That's why he fucks-

{7_14} up visionary lines. Poor Ted just sucks.

{8_01} So it should not surprise a soul, Ted screwed

{8_02} the last Debate of Democrats: '03.

{8_03} Thank God for righteous Dennis -- not me-tooed

{8_04} into Ted's "Hey, y'all fight, but look at me!"

 
{8_05} Kucinich bapped Ted good. THEN CAME THE CHEERS

{8_06} OF CITIZENS fed up with journalists

{8_07} camped out right in the middle -- not the peers

{8_08} of candidates, but gods. The crowd was pissed.

 
{8_09} And Koppel understood and shushed awhile.

{8_10} He understands the audience is right.

{8_11} Well not quite that. But he knows if you rile

{8_12} that beast then you cannot stay in their sight.

 
{8_13} Ted wants to stay on TV. He's its knave.

{8_14} But "Journalists Gone Wild" have dug our grave.

{9_01} Don't care how many laurels weigh Ted's brow --

{9_02} Just cast him from the realm of candidate.

{9_03} Dear journalists with fewer laurels, bow

{9_04} as quickly and retreat -- 'till you UPDATE ...

 
{9_05} ... your education to transcend the crime

{9_06} that "modern" journalism somehow plants

{9_07} in your hard, thin-skinned noggins in our time.

{9_08} You've ruined democracy, and brought these rants ...

 
{9_09} ... constrained to sonnets or there'd be no end

{9_10} of anguished shrieking from my soul. Thank God

{9_11} for finding form to channel, shape, and send

{9_12} this message from my gut into a rod ...

 
{9_13} ... which gives me license. Boke says: "You must learn

{9_14} RHETORICAL facility ... Or burn!"

{10_01} Bad journalists! Bad Christians! Join the line

{10_02} to hell in a hand-basket that I'll weave

{10_03} from clever chunks of words while drinking wine

{10_04} of Jesus Christ's communion. I won't leave ...

 
{10_05} ... the Internet, the global knowledge sphere

{10_06} in your despoiling hands. Are you mad yet?

{10_07} Not half as mad as me. No mornful tear

{10_08} will you see streak my face. The sun "don't set" ...

 
{10_09} ... upon these words. In China someone's marked

{10_10} this page with Gates' Explorer as you read

{10_11} this interlude of tirade.... which was sparked

{10_12} by Koppel's stupid mangling how to lead ...

 
{10_13} ... a public conversation that won't bore.

{10_14} BOKE SAYS: If there is voting, folks won't snore.

{11_01} While Ted's in purgatory, I'll address

{11_02} the rest of "so-called" journalists to teach

{11_03} a lesson that may help you fix the mess

{11_04} from BULLSHIT UNCONSTRAINED. As I impeach ...

 
{11_05} ... the guilty, let the willing lend their ears

{11_06} to one straightforward message: WRITE LIKE THIS.

{11_07} Write sonnets for awhile -- buy rounds of beers

{11_08} for all who write just one a week. "I'll kiss ...

 
{11_09} ... the girls who write the best and tilt their lips

{11_10} to indicate that kissing is their wish.

{11_11} No sexual harassment! Sonnet tips

{11_12} for everyone: Don't let sweet romance squish ...

 
{11_13} ... the purpose of your lines to getting laid.

{11_14} The time has come: Democracy Remade.

{12_01} Now, I'm from Tennessee. I twice met Gore

{12_02} in town hall meetings he made sure to work

{12_03} into his schedule. Effort he would pour

{12_04} into the feedback loop. His ears would perk ...

 
{12_05} ... up for each citizen who sought to ask

{12_06} or share or shout his thoughts or needs: transmit

{12_07} directly to the man who bore the task

{12_08} of "politician" -- framed so that word fit ...

 
{12_09} ... a man of honor. Honestly concerned

{12_10} with his hard job of balancing the needs

{12_11} of all ... with everything that he had learned

{12_12} about the bigger picture. All the seeds ...

 
{12_13} ... of big ideas as they impact each plot.

{12_14} Each farmer in the courthouse. None forgot.

{13_01} From Congress to the White House is a jump.

{13_02} And face to face back home is not the job,

{13_03} since ev'ry state is home. A broader stump

{13_04} to stand upon ... But quite more slipp'ry knob ...

 
{13_05} ... to grasp. So many hands you'll never touch

{13_06} directly. You must have a way to see

{13_07} the details of America. Too much

{13_08} for anyone. That's why democracy ...

 
{13_09} ... must find a way to let the knowledge flow

{13_10} from branches spread throughout our fertile land.

{13_11} Both news of sunshine and the storms. To know

{13_12} the consequence of choices. We demand: ...

 
{13_13} America and politics restore!

{13_14} In sonnets, if you please now, Mr. Gore. {smile}

{14_01} One night I helped someone and missed the chance

{14_02} to cross paths with Al Gore before that fall

{14_03} when ev'rything went wrong. Too late to dance

{14_04} through Secret Service checkpoints to the ball ...

 
{14_05} ... in 90210 land. Check in hand --

{14_06} one hundred dollars for one moment's time

{14_07} once free in Tennessee. Too late -- the band

{14_08} was playing, gate was locked. No talk of rhyme ...

 
{14_09} ... or rather "poetry" in broadest sense

{14_10} would I be whispering in Al Gore's ear

{14_11} amidst the lips of hundreds ... I'll dispense

{14_12} with that night's sad narration. No career ...

 
{14_13} ... of poet-to-the-candidate for Boke.

{14_14} I'm smiling, but that may not be a joke.

{15_01} Whatever I'd have told him, Gore now knows

{15_02} from losing -- that old lesson prophets fear.

{15_03} As I smile at the man unleashed who crows

{15_04} the words with power like an outside seer.

 
{15_05} Imagine if he'd exercise in verse

{15_06} his rhetoric? I'm smiling, but it's true.

{15_07} Perhaps he might teach Dean, so he'd rehearse

{15_08} a few of his quick lines some folks might boo.

 
{15_09} Not teaching. No. Suggesting he should try

{15_10} "that looney thing" that Boke said might inspire

{15_11} new lines of thought and words to say goodbye

{15_12} to all the BULLSHIT patterns. And refire ...

 
{15_13} .... the passion for a public life both kind

{15_14} and energized with hope. No longer blind.

{16_01} We like our well-worn patterns. Well, that's life.

{16_02} A babe confronts a strange world. Baby screams.

{16_03} But soon some patterns form. Someday a wife

{16_04} or husband ... That same loving face that beams ...

 
{16_05} ... a smile we recognize down to our soul

{16_06} across a room or mountain. That's the one.

{16_07} Perhaps "old patterns" are part of the goal

{16_08} of life that make us happy and have fun...

 
{16_09} ... BUT in one corner of one eye still see

{16_10} some things we haven't thought of, and just reach

{16_11} out toward that strange new possibility.

{16_12} That isn't something that someone can teach ...

 
{16_13} ... except to say, just try a little verse

{16_14} to find strange paths you can't try in a hearse.

{17_01} At end of year the candidate who stands

{17_02} atop the ladder of both polls and cash

{17_03} is usually the candidate who lands

{17_04} the nomination ... Still, could Howard crash?

 
{17_05} I hadn't noticed Doctor Dean is short.

{17_06} I see why now his nose might often aim

{17_07} at inclinations assholes always sport:

{17_08} Not arrogance but altitude to blame.

 
{17_09} How wrong I was to judge him for a flaw

{17_10} of character, when it is only height

{17_11} that makes him lift his eyes and nose and jaw.

{17_12} He's closer to the ground than some think right ...

 
{17_13} ... for presidents, but that's why he's ahead:

{17_14} His ears are down where "all good dirt" gets spread.

{18_01} THROUGHOUT THE DAY, COMMERCIALS ... and we've skipped

{18_02} right over them, but it would not be fair

{18_03} to totally ignore all those who've slipped

{18_04} some money to the networks and with care ...

 
{18_05} ... transmitted messages of usefulness.

{18_06} IMAGINE AT A PARTY you approach

{18_07} a mucky-muck (or Koppel-in-distress) {smile}

{18_08} and they proceed to treat you like a roach.

 
{18_09} A human body has the code to fear

{18_10} displeasure of "your betters." In Japan

{18_11} a samurai could slice you ear to ear

{18_12} if you did not bow quickly. That's the plan ...

 
{18_13} ... of social power coded in each gene:

{18_14} The assholes rule the world by being mean.

{19_01} RELAX ... flow on ... reality ... romance --

{19_02} not power plays and rhetoric. Just love.

{19_03} SEE Trista and her Ryan -- their first dance

{19_04} at their reception. Playing just above, ...

 
{19_05} ... a solitary cowboy with guitar.

{19_06} A song built out of Ryan's sweet-poem lines

{19_07} by friend/composer. Now, friend/country star

{19_08} there, all alone, transfigures all the signs ...

 
{19_09} ... of old-hat patterns into something swell.

{19_10} When they were married, sonnet lines they shared --

{19_11} though Browning's aren't like Shakespeare's, Boke knows well

{19_12} -- but anyway, the point is, when compared ...

 
{19_13} ... to all the flashy drama on TV,

{19_14} a sonnet and guitar's just right for me.

{20_01} AMIDST SUBMISSION one face does not bow

{20_02} as samurai ride past. Too young to know

{20_03} the price of non-submission to "the-how-

{20_04} you-must-behave" amidst the normal flow ...

 
{20_05} ... of "how-things-are?" Or is it risky choice?

{20_06} Not standing in the road all full of spit,

{20_07} but strategizing on the edge a voice

{20_08} that might subvert the power of the shit ...

 
{20_09} ... that makes the others bow without a thought.

{20_10} Is this a girl or boy, I cannot tell

{20_11} in this finagled image somehow caught

{20_12} in my frame of attention at the bell ...

 
{20_13} CLANG! Boke is through with BULLSHIT! Now for tales

{20_14} about bold pudding girls unfurling sails. {smile}

BABELFISH HAIKU REVIEW

Afin de nettoyer

votre esprit et le monde, trop