[Newspoetry] From PW Newsline:

[Donald L Emerick]

Prelude's Reaction Logic
Well, now, fellow theatrical thaumaturgs:
this tells us who is in and out of power --
a reigning poet laureate has endorsed it --
so it can not possibly be wrong to think --
that being an American writer is distinctively
neither unAmerican nor underwritten noises

you could be an American and not be a writer
you could be a writer and not be an American
but you could never be an American writer
unless you fit the mold of what officials say

surely, any state-sponsored writer who says
an American can be a writer, too, is wrong --
as every newspoet knows this to be otherwise


NewsPoem's Proper Body of Action
a writer has no nation, no people, nothing
that belongs to him nor do they own him
they can only disown and disavow him
they do this when he writes against them
against grains in their gringo characters,
and grunts, groans, grinds, grins grandly
and says wipe that smile off your face
it's not that funny; it's not funny at all
and your laughing doesn't make it better
your laughing is indecorous, not solemn
it shows contempt for contemptible states
it shows no respect; it is insubordination
mutiny, rebellion, revolution, newspoetry.

we don't let your kind be served here
we only want brown-lipped ass-kissers here
psychophants, we adore you in your writings
when you tell us how marvelous it is to be us

the unamerican writer can't be written about
not by any of those who sell sex and power
to people with too much money to use wisely
they restlessly seek ultimate sadistic pleasures
of domination by forcing all others to submit,
conquest becomes a jaded imperial appetite
hunger gnaws at its own empty conscience
it bites hands that feed clothe shelter nurture it
it chews and swallows its victim whole in meals

tale of Stalin well describes imperial mindsets:
he feted guests with honor at his banquets,
and, sometimes, when the feast was done,
the doors to the party room would open up
to admit guards rushing in to seize said guest
to haul him out roughly and unceremoniously
and to stand him before a convenient wall
shoot him full of butter-ball bullets for dessert.
it is said, by those who survived such dinners,
that enormous laughter, surely nervous laughter,
exploded in the festive banquet feasting hall
as happy bullets ripped a useless life away.

You couldn't say any of this in Stalinastan
not if you wanted to live a Russian writer
which let you be neither writer nor Russian.

We are designing great neural networks,
here in America, to find anyone inclined
to disagree with the state's point of view
as to how glorious it is to be an American,
and how precarious any writer has to be --
and we have already written the laws
to let you be feted, seized, arrested, shot
on the mere whim of the ones in power;
this, too, shall be enormously amusing,
more entertaining than cop-prop shows
which American writers write americanly
who'd have nothing to do with humanity.


Postludicrous Abreaction
Well, now, no hyperbolization is needed,
problems we face are not as bad as all that,
we'll do things the american way to writers,
we'll starve them to death, disemploy them,
document their nonconformative tendencies,
let them be discriminated against lawfully,
the way we did it under McCarthy's laws:
we make no one publicly wear yellow stars,
here in America: we make them wear red stars,
red badges of courage, scarlet red letters read.

Enlightened people live in enchanted worlds.

Thanks for listening,
Donald L Emerick