Saturday, March 30, 2019

...One Of You...

Your silence, as it always is, 
is bodeful. Sad, and harsh!  
...Presume provoked? My outrage,
on this road that we must march. 
That point in graceless dissonance, though? 
John Ford is dissed—forgotten
His plight's ignored, dismissed, and damned— 
compassion's misbegotten.

...And he really could be one of you; 
you'd wish that you were missed. 
The measure I'm correct it's found... 
to match how much you're pissed.

...Too, you miss the point forgetting John... 
...too easily—you do
Not as pretty as Whit Streiber, 
lived with Mom, so what's construed
He picked up homeless strays, it's said—
...could shed a tear when they had suffered... 
like Ford enduring, sans surcease, 
the hell that he must suffer!

What is it with Ford 
the "authorities" know
Did he play "dirty" politics? 
Does he have "dirty" toes?
A serial killer, if artless and craftless?
...A conspiracy nut-ball? 
...A scapegoat t'was crafted?  

See? It's clear as glass and pealing bells... 
the inverse must be true?  
Ford's stellar reputation?  Well, near perfect!  
He's honest—yes, true blue!

It's because he's Republican 
(which is, yes, très odoriferous!)? 
It's his guns? Or his friends? 
...Assertions he contends... 
or, perhaps, just perhaps?! 
He's just way too obstreperous? 

...Maybe he's unpretty
an "embarrassment" to some? 
You ignore him 'cause he's "nerdy," 
somewhat "addled" or "un-fun"? 
He wore "survivor" cammies ... 
had—and used—*decoder* rings? 
He fell at last to 'Keystone Kops
in the stupidest of stings? 
It's his tin-foil saucer beanie? 
It's an image thing, you think? 
Perhaps plagued with body odor, 
he must reek some stench, but stinks?

...Then it's you not thinking clearly! 
Oh, it's you won't have dissolved... 
...the fabric of that tyranny 
from which you feel absolved!  

Well, you're not absolved or sheltered, 
and forget your "piece of mind"!  
You're next to feel the boot-heel... 
...that John Ford's felt, you'll find.

He's one of us well hoisted 
on petards of dangerous questions! 
A casualty in the search for "truth," 
when sought by Law's suggestion! 
He fought his battle, now lies wounded 
in a dungeon of his enemy— 
while we stand by, our eyes askance, 
ironic, his archenemy...

See, what's gravy for the gander—
and it's John Ford's bird who's steamed— 
will be gravy for your goose, mon frere, 
and it's THEN we'll hear your scream!

…like outraged, insulted, and newly minted Castrati, whining about your human rights, rights to free speech or some such—goose's gravy for the gander? ...A little late then, eh?
John Ford was an innocent—injudiciously perceived and then fulsomely characterized as a lunatic ... he was still only ever if earnestly "tilting at mere windmills."  Yeah, and he knew those windmills were dragons... all the time.
Suffolk County, restore John Ford!

Read on.