Riots in Philadelphia.‘The Violence in Philadelphia’ and Other Poetry by Bruce Dale Wise The Society November 19, 2020 Culture, Deconstructing Communism, Human Rights in China, Poetry 7 Comments . The Violence in Philadelphia “Par le regne des maleureux chetis“ —Eustache Deschamps by Urbawel Cidese Say first what caused the violence in Philadelphia; a man named Walter Wallace, Junior, with a knife in hand, advanced upon police, who ordered him to drop the knife. But he would not, and so two shot. Alas, he lost his life. Protesters started forming, foaming, turning violent, across the city’s neighbourhoods; all brotherly love spent. At first, the target was police, wherever they might be. Protesters fought with bricks, paint buckets, pallets and debris. Stirred up with envy and revenge, the looting then began, store windows smashed and portals crashed; they rolled, they stole, they ran. The Pennsylvania National Guard then was mobilized, To help the local agencies, protecting goods and lives. Some dozens were arrested; many cops were injured too; Eternal justice had prepared a battleground anew. The BLM, the Socialists, and Black Bloc Anarchists, had argued who should lead and where they should proceed in this. They pressed the press back actively; they didn’t want it filmed, a tactic common to prevent bad-optic, melt-down spilled. A newsman by the BLM was bloodied up a bit, but strangely Corp’rate Media refused to cover it. The widespread rioting continued on through Tuesday night, as vandals loaded up on big-screen TVs and the like. Store after store was left in shambles, making spirits bright. How would this help to rectify the death and urban blight? . . How Strange It Is by Brice U. Lawseed How strange it is the media attempts to hide the news; The mainstream presses do not want to look at varied views. It would be one thing if they thought that it was too uncouth, but oddly they are doing what they can to hide the truth. They’re partisans for Pravda, propaganda is their game. Controlled by high-tech oligarchs they really have no shame. They’re happy to dispense half-truths if it supports their cause. Bald-faced they lie between the pages covered up with gauze. The New York Times, WaPo, and television companies, like ABC and NBC, as well as CBS. How strange it is to grow up in a land where truth was king to find that later on that very thought’s diminishing. . . The Communists Are Killing Hong Kong’s Democracy by Lu “Reed ABCs” Wei Hong Kong lawmakers quit en masses; democracy’s been rent. The Chinese Communist jackboots are stomping out dissent. The people have been beaten and arrested there in droves, and now the Communists demand a loyal test imposed. They targeted four on the Legislative Council floor; so all the members of the council have walked out the door. In one fell swoop, the Communists have killed democracy. here in the bastion of Hong Kong, once home of liberty, Who will remember them? Free speech is dying rapidly. Ken Yeung, Alvin Yeung, Dennis Kwok and Kwok Ka-ki. . . NOTE TO READERS: If you enjoyed this poem or other content, please consider making a donation to the Society of Classical Poets. The Society of Classical Poets does not endorse any views expressed in individual poems or commentary. Trending now: 7 Responses Julian D. Woodruff November 19, 2020 Well observed, well rhymed, Mr. Wise. Thank you. Three short concurrences: 1 Philadelphia, city renowned As dear liberty’s hallowed-most ground, In whose name peace was meant to be crowned— Now in blood and election fraud drowned. 2 The media the press Under no duress Have made a thorough mess Of the USA. What comes in the next day No one can surely say. The press, though, may well pay For its faithlessness. 3 Hong Kong free? Ha! For liberty It’s now more Hell than Heaven. And one could see the writing On the wall in ’97. Reply BDW November 19, 2020 It is amazing how fast things are happening on the ground. The poem “Violence in Philadelphia” is a pre-election poem; and yet so much has happened, I may have written over two dozen poems since then, my last poems on releasing the Kraken and a poem for L. L. Wood and Sidney Powell. I am happy with the ease of the composition, the tag of Eustache Deschamps inspired by Ms. Coats, the ballad form, and the Miltonic opening; but the typo, To, should have been to, and “making spirits bright” was an inappropriate phrase. I liked the last question, but there was little insight. Mr. Woodruff makes a quick condensation of each of the poems, which is gratifying in and of itself; but I shall have to wait to make comments on those at a later date. Reply BDW November 21, 2020 Mr. Woodruff’s three short concurrences are straight to the point, the latter even dropping the writing on the wall. In these three pre-election tennos, other than the wretched topics themselves, I was interested in recording particulars lost in the datastorm, like the names of the brave Hong Kong councilmen, or the violent man, whose death spurred on the violent. The three tennos are basically sketches as opposed to polished poems, as, for example, a poem like the following: Anecdote of the Box by Waulice Sdreeb They placed a box in many states, including Michigan. They put it squarely where they said there’d be no glitch again. Upon their tables there it sat surrounded by a mount of wi-ld, slo-ven-ly believers in a rug-ged count. Though fraught with fraud, the tabulations rose from where they’d been, and sprawled, due to exchanges, drops, and bundles they brought in. They took Dominion everywhere they could across the land. The box was black with easy admin access, as they’d planned. The box was square and of importance far beyond the booth. It was like nothing else. It did not give of tree or truth. Reply Julian D. Woodruff November 21, 2020 15 minutes or 15 days, this is awfully good, Mr. Wise. Did you have help? Is it Conspiratorial, like its subject? Michigan / glitch again is especially rich, worthy of ou best lyricists. Congratulations. BDW November 21, 2020 Fifteen minutes shy of fifteen days, this poem of a fortnight ago has probably been rejected by more poetry sites than any previous poem. It had its first viewing only yesterday at another site. The most important help was from the great conservative Modernist poet Wallace Stevens, whose remarkable poem “Anecdote of the Jar” suggested the starting point of the poem. As a traditional poet striving for the new, older poets and their poems in the treasure chest of literature are constantly drawn and looked at from varying points. I do not regard the poem as conspiratorial at all, though those many poetry editors who rejected it may think so. In fact, I think it gives, in many of its facets, “of truth”. The rhyme Michigan/ glitch again is a purposeful, Byronic grace note. Here is the Wallace Stevens poem for those unfamiliar with it: I placed a jar in Tennessee And round it was upon a hill. It made the slovenly wilderness Surround that hill. The wilderness sprawled up to it And sprawled around, no longer wild. The jar was round, upon the ground And tall and of a port in air. It took dominion everywhere. The jar was gray and bare. It did not give of bird or bush, Like nothing else in Tennessee. Even as I utilize the poem, I am arguing with Stevens, in presentation, subject, and structure. Though our themes are not the same, nor our concepts of poetry, similarities include, diction, meter, and tone. Given the reception of the poem, and my own writing generally, I am surprised that somehow some part of the poem reached a contemporary. Margaret Coats November 19, 2020 Sad and strange indeed, Bruce, but the stories are more and more predictable. Nonetheless, as Julian says, well observed. And to Julian himself, well responded. Reply BDW November 19, 2020 Ms. Coats’ point about the predictability of these events is well taken. The inspiring tag of Eustache Deschamps that Ms. Coats brought to my attention is an excellent reminder of the historical continuity of horrible behavior. The following is a poem recently published elsewhere: The New York Times by Brice U. Lawseed O, woe is me. I have the vapours. I am suffering. The old, gray lady dolefully ain’t what she used to be, The New York Times has now become the paper of fake news. The only record they are keeping is one of abuse. They have become a propaganda broadsheet for the left. And knowledge of what is the right, of that they are bereft. Their banning of conservatives proves tautologic’lly, they’re really not recording anything for history. It is so strange to see them drop down to the level of South China Morning Post, Tass, Pravda and Izvestia. Again I am reminded how I think this is so strange, but Ms. Coats points out its predictability. Reply Leave a Reply Cancel ReplyYour email address will not be published.CommentName* Email* Website Δ This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.
Julian D. Woodruff November 19, 2020 Well observed, well rhymed, Mr. Wise. Thank you. Three short concurrences: 1 Philadelphia, city renowned As dear liberty’s hallowed-most ground, In whose name peace was meant to be crowned— Now in blood and election fraud drowned. 2 The media the press Under no duress Have made a thorough mess Of the USA. What comes in the next day No one can surely say. The press, though, may well pay For its faithlessness. 3 Hong Kong free? Ha! For liberty It’s now more Hell than Heaven. And one could see the writing On the wall in ’97. Reply
BDW November 19, 2020 It is amazing how fast things are happening on the ground. The poem “Violence in Philadelphia” is a pre-election poem; and yet so much has happened, I may have written over two dozen poems since then, my last poems on releasing the Kraken and a poem for L. L. Wood and Sidney Powell. I am happy with the ease of the composition, the tag of Eustache Deschamps inspired by Ms. Coats, the ballad form, and the Miltonic opening; but the typo, To, should have been to, and “making spirits bright” was an inappropriate phrase. I liked the last question, but there was little insight. Mr. Woodruff makes a quick condensation of each of the poems, which is gratifying in and of itself; but I shall have to wait to make comments on those at a later date. Reply
BDW November 21, 2020 Mr. Woodruff’s three short concurrences are straight to the point, the latter even dropping the writing on the wall. In these three pre-election tennos, other than the wretched topics themselves, I was interested in recording particulars lost in the datastorm, like the names of the brave Hong Kong councilmen, or the violent man, whose death spurred on the violent. The three tennos are basically sketches as opposed to polished poems, as, for example, a poem like the following: Anecdote of the Box by Waulice Sdreeb They placed a box in many states, including Michigan. They put it squarely where they said there’d be no glitch again. Upon their tables there it sat surrounded by a mount of wi-ld, slo-ven-ly believers in a rug-ged count. Though fraught with fraud, the tabulations rose from where they’d been, and sprawled, due to exchanges, drops, and bundles they brought in. They took Dominion everywhere they could across the land. The box was black with easy admin access, as they’d planned. The box was square and of importance far beyond the booth. It was like nothing else. It did not give of tree or truth. Reply
Julian D. Woodruff November 21, 2020 15 minutes or 15 days, this is awfully good, Mr. Wise. Did you have help? Is it Conspiratorial, like its subject? Michigan / glitch again is especially rich, worthy of ou best lyricists. Congratulations.
BDW November 21, 2020 Fifteen minutes shy of fifteen days, this poem of a fortnight ago has probably been rejected by more poetry sites than any previous poem. It had its first viewing only yesterday at another site. The most important help was from the great conservative Modernist poet Wallace Stevens, whose remarkable poem “Anecdote of the Jar” suggested the starting point of the poem. As a traditional poet striving for the new, older poets and their poems in the treasure chest of literature are constantly drawn and looked at from varying points. I do not regard the poem as conspiratorial at all, though those many poetry editors who rejected it may think so. In fact, I think it gives, in many of its facets, “of truth”. The rhyme Michigan/ glitch again is a purposeful, Byronic grace note. Here is the Wallace Stevens poem for those unfamiliar with it: I placed a jar in Tennessee And round it was upon a hill. It made the slovenly wilderness Surround that hill. The wilderness sprawled up to it And sprawled around, no longer wild. The jar was round, upon the ground And tall and of a port in air. It took dominion everywhere. The jar was gray and bare. It did not give of bird or bush, Like nothing else in Tennessee. Even as I utilize the poem, I am arguing with Stevens, in presentation, subject, and structure. Though our themes are not the same, nor our concepts of poetry, similarities include, diction, meter, and tone. Given the reception of the poem, and my own writing generally, I am surprised that somehow some part of the poem reached a contemporary.
Margaret Coats November 19, 2020 Sad and strange indeed, Bruce, but the stories are more and more predictable. Nonetheless, as Julian says, well observed. And to Julian himself, well responded. Reply
BDW November 19, 2020 Ms. Coats’ point about the predictability of these events is well taken. The inspiring tag of Eustache Deschamps that Ms. Coats brought to my attention is an excellent reminder of the historical continuity of horrible behavior. The following is a poem recently published elsewhere: The New York Times by Brice U. Lawseed O, woe is me. I have the vapours. I am suffering. The old, gray lady dolefully ain’t what she used to be, The New York Times has now become the paper of fake news. The only record they are keeping is one of abuse. They have become a propaganda broadsheet for the left. And knowledge of what is the right, of that they are bereft. Their banning of conservatives proves tautologic’lly, they’re really not recording anything for history. It is so strange to see them drop down to the level of South China Morning Post, Tass, Pravda and Izvestia. Again I am reminded how I think this is so strange, but Ms. Coats points out its predictability. Reply
