Saturday, February 01, 2025

The Scream 2025


 

This Generative AI design is meant to represent an army of silent billionaires. I tried to get as close to Charlie Chaplin’s “Little Tramp” as possible. Well, I’m still tweaking it. All of Chaplin’s films were silent and heavily body-centered, absurdist, and patho-visual. I wanted the tux-wearing army to represent the ruling class. The billionaires running/ruining the world, the planet, the working classes, the voices of minorities and diverse groups of marginalized people. The child, deliberately androgynous and ethnically ambiguous, is screaming to be heard, to stop the privatisation of healthcare, education, incarceration, big-pharma, big-agra, big oil, big billionaires buying elections and completely undermining privacy and originality via (the irony is not lost) the very tools I used to create this image: AI. Replacing artists, writers, actors, and journalists who strive to report real information that is fact-based, first person, and primary-sourced. 

The child is screaming because Earth is being provoked to the point that the pollution of big oil energy will destroy humanity and cause incalculable suffering, displacement, and death to all forms of life. The billionaire’s have their compounds, their bunkers, safe rooms, mega-yachts, and each other. They are brazenly and openly disdainful of democratic values. And they don’t give a flying fuck about the common man. They’re snickering at the people who voted Trump in. Trump is their puppet and apparently almost half the country are Trump’s puppets. It’s a super-feeder benefitting the top 1%. 

This child stands for all of us, whether we know it or not. Elon Musk wasn’t always a gregarious monster with a mohawk. Jeff Bezos wasn’t always a corrupt Washington Post owner not thinking twice about manipulating politics, and bleeding ethical & moral journalists. He wasn’t always ego-driven, and a brazen destroyer of the proletariat. Mark Zuckerberg wasn’t always a Zionist, suppressing or oppressing the viewpoints of Palestinians working for him at META, and Palestinian/pro-Palestinian users. He is among a group supporting the “conflation of  anti-Zionism with antisemitism,” https://novaramedia.com/2024/07/09/meta-extends-ban-on-the-term-zionist/  .

These men weren’t always elitist, aloof billionaires undoing all the safeguards for truth, transparency, and justice on the biggest, most famous social platforms and presses in the world. You know the saying…power corrupts. Well, it’s about to get a lot more wild out there, as an Earthling trying to survive climate change, pollution, and man-made environmental disasters; as a citizen of the country - and the world, we should all be screaming. 

We are such a young, formerly promising, Democratic experiment of what could be in a just world where equality was valued, and the quality of life for all being’s was primary. I am sad. I am screaming sad.    

PS: and for all the hate-filled trolls trying to friend me on Facebook— my maternal grandfather was a Russian Jew whose family fled during the Revolution, and my daughter’s paternal great grandmother was 100% Jewish, and my husband has Ashkenazi Jewish ancestry. No Hate. Peace.

Saturday, January 25, 2025

A Sparrow Girdled within 
a winter garden I stop. 
An enmeshment of baby bats. 
As flight struggles in the scene where 
A calico eye’s found bounty. 

I didn’t realize how many 
times I need to wash my hands. 
In life, I am failing at hygiene. 
A plastic toothpick does more 
harm than good, 
second person, 
glaring up at me. Why you 
glaring up at me? 

I’m a ripe egg, feathered,
vulnerable as a blind mouse. So shoot, 
burn, throw your throwing knives. I am 
stronger than, at least, calving glaciers,
I am rising from a deep 
rich brown ground. A darkness falls away. 

Friday, January 24, 2025

Diane Seuss’s “Pentralium” from Modern Poetry

PENETRALIUM 

I wish I could tell you how deep 
the suck goes,
how dark it is and holy, 
it's tragedies siloed. They dot 
the landscape, with oxen, mud hooved, 

and crows. 
Shakespearean but boiled-down, 
a thick gravy, oversalted, 
served on white bread, day-old, 
sold cheap at the bakery outlet. 

It broods on the windland edge,
morbidly forested and bottle green, 
fermented in swamp, dung, skunk, 
and bridled by sorcery, potions, 
bible school puppetry, ogres, faries, 

poorly tendered papier-mache 
good and bad Samaritans. 
Kept awake by good, honest terrors, 
eviction dreams, half-conscious 
fantasies of terrible mothers wielding 

hatchets, but oddly 
free, like a free lunch is free, 
or a vacant lot, or a stinkweed 
bouquet. Just sit with it as you'd sit 
with a legless drunk
 
who wont shut up about the bygone. 
Don't bring your sobriety narratives 
to this bedside, Diane.
Be drunk...it's the only way, raved 
Baudelaire, corkscrewed
through and through with syphilis. 
How artless, this source 
of art, this shit show where 
the greenest 
watercress grows.

Soap Bubbles by Jean Siméon Chardin

We had all the woe on tap.

The Scream 2025

  This Generative AI design is meant to represent an army of silent billionaires. I tried to get as close to Charlie Chaplin’s “Little Tramp...