Messy Medicine

Gate to Seoul

This poem needs a prologue. It almost isn’t a poem at all. It lacks a rhyme or meter. It comes out of a discussion we had early on with the starting of the Sangria Summit Society, and Poets to Save America. It tries to answer the question of how to bridge the divisions in the United States as they exist today. It is more a discourse between me, you, and our better selves. Despite its lack of form, it is still the song, groaning from my soul, inviting us all to get messy and take the actions needed to save a faltering patient, even if it makes us uncomfortable.

Messy Medicine

I can tell you how to save a person.
I’ve been trained to do it in the harshest of environments.
I can assess if the area they are in is secure and if they are responsive, breathing, or bleeding.
I know what to do in the cases of blunt force trauma, burn, gunshots, lacerations, or a wounded psyche.
I know how to approach a drowning victim, and how to stabilize the neck and spine after a crash or fall.
I can apply a pressure bandage, tourniquet, splint, or brace.
I know how to access risks and implement mitigation to prevent accidents before they happen.
Sometimes all that is needed is showing love and respect even when they don’t feel it for themselves.
Other times you must get your hands dirty in the blood, guts, gore, and shit of their life.

What I want to know is how to save a nation.
When the problem is toxicity in the body politic, the symptoms are plain but treatment is messy.
The factions are spewing vitriol, more concerned with the spoils of victory than the injuries that they cause.
We need charcoal in our bellies to sop up the venom, and a purgative to evacuate our systems.
The patients have to heal themselves, but it is so hard to do with minds clouded by political poison.
The treatment causes pain as we realize the mess we are in is a mess we made for ourselves.
Our addictions are killing us.
We are committing self-genocide.

The resulting infection is resistant to our normal arsenal of wonder drugs.
We over-used patriotism, nationalism, and exceptionalism in our heyday.
Our faith is shattered.
We stopped believing in the ethics that made us great and started arguing over the definition of “is”.
We legislated ourselves into a coma-
Allowed charlatans to convince us that their partisanship was as good as the time-tested remedies.
We started believing that parts of our society could win while others were losing-
That our kidneys meant more to us than our liver, our heart more than our brain.
In truth, the heart is fickle and the brain is confused.
In our gut we know we are filled with toxic shit,
And we just keep eating garbage.

The path to health for the nation starts in the individual.
We must reject partisanism and accept wholism.
We must first be good people, good neighbors, good stewards, and good planners.
The resiliency and vitality of the nation comes when we the people are healthy-
When we discipline ourselves to acting in ways that are healthy and wholesome for the nation,
When we put others first, do more good for more people,
And prepare for a better future by being better ourselves.
Classical humanism is what is needed to suppress the ill effects of willful ignorance.
Civility is the cure for political discord.
If we refuse to accept a discourse of division, we will begin to unite.
We get closer together when we stop walking farther apart.
The road to wellness starts with a single step, a single individual, repeated 330 million times.
When we reject the concept that one part of the body politic can survive while another falters,
We start our healing.
Our body has a lot of vomit and excrement that we have to purge and replace with something healthy.
The first step is simple and so very hard.
Love your fellow humans.
In spite of yourself.

Characters

National Cathedral

Heart of a farm boy
Strength of a bull
Mind of an academic
Nobody’s fool

Body of a soldier
Aged beyond his years
Marked by many battles
Victories and fears

Losses but not defeats
Play upon his mind
Memories of lost ones
Happens all the time

Love for his country
Servant of the state
Hates how politicians
Have led him to this fate

Love for his fellow man
And intelligent discourse
Hates that modern living
Place society and logic in divorce

Playing as the Harlequin
In life’s Comedy of Art
Changing all the scenery
As he plays his part

Wit, wisdom, and slapstick
Are all part of the job
Speaking truth to power
Entertaining the mob

Slave of past and futures
Whose life and daily chore
Is in the belly of the galley
Pulling on an oar

Coxswain of the vessel
Sets the course at sea
Determines for the oarsmen
The pace to victory

Runner on a winding route
Verdant lands, brilliant skies
On a course that’s never ending
At least not until he dies

Pilgrim on a journey
To an unknown place
Following his master’s footsteps
Trying to live in grace

Characters in the greatest play
That anyone will ever see
And every part is played by him
He is also playing me

Challenge Accepted

Gate to Seoul

Your analogy- though sublime,
Fails in standing the test of time.
For attitude is just a bluff,
That withers when the game gets tough.
The King and Queen who rule divine,
Only rule a like-suited mind.
The Jack seems a tedious thing,
But rules- syntax and meter king.
A sentence well-formed ends debate,
And shifts the suits like Crazy Eights.

Star Tripping

Someone thought it was a good idea
To send out into space,
A golden map of where to look
To find the human race.
On top of that it also told
In a hundred fifteen languages no less
That we are completely disunited-
A multicultural polyglot mess.
It told about our resources
In pictures, graphics, and sound.
The more I learn about this Voyager,
The more mysteries abound.
“Through adversity to the stars” it says
In Latin- English Morse code.
The adversity likely starts when THEY
Follow it back to our abode.
Sagan called this message in a bottle,
Our planet’s cosmic hope.
That in fact may well be true
Until our overlords say “Nope!”
History says that the ones who travel,
Be that upon waves or celestial seas,
Are the one who rules the others
In their colonies.
So please don’t think it an evil whim
When I say, though they may travel far,
I prefer that, rather than being found by Them,
Both Voyagers smash into a star.

Redonculous

National Cathedral

There was a young man from a farm,
Who saw the whole world filled with harm.
While people can be great, in groups they learn hate,
And resort to violence- Oh Darn!