Thursday, October 31, 2013

Reworked Prose: I Blame Herzl

In January 2009, I wrote a prose post entitled "I blame Herzl." It was a lame attempt to engage.  I decided that I ought to do the same, having advanced so much these past four years, but now in poetry.  Pristine logic, plus, this time, there's food. The remarkable painting is by Erez Vaxman.

Sunday Chowder: I Blame Herzl
I made fish chowder
and then we said
these things:
"Do the right wing bigots
really think that leftist assholes
cannot distinguish between Hamas
and the deserving
-- overarching --
Question of Palestine?"
I wouldn't deign to waste
time proposing an inanity
such as Israel
not having the right
to self-determination,
or to exist.

Israel is the King
of de facto
of annexation,
so what would be
the point?
Haddock and cod.
Five Idaho potatoes.
Four celery stalks.
Israel is,
de facto.
May Palestine eventually be,
de jure.
I blame those peacenik
Ottomans, those opium-toking
he-went-that-a-way Turks.
And the oh-so-benign,
not-to-mention secret
I blame the Lame League.
A nutty garlic butter roux.
Six carrots.
One huge onion.
I would link up 
with some of these right
wing bigoted commentaries,
but then I would have to pretend
to want
to debate. 
("Typical left-wing amour propre!"
"Yeah, well, still better
than their queer robes
of purple armor.")
Beware such winning
and unconsidered repartee!
I gotta stop smoking
that wacky tobacky.
Corn, golden, sweet.
Okra, properly done.
Dried slices of poblano peppers.
These are tragic times.
Those of us not being bombed
or doing the bombing,
let's not subvert the causes
of deserving peoples
because we lack the mental
agility to dissect the issues,
that is, if we even understand them.
I sure don't.
Kosher salt.                 (Taste, taste, taste!)
Huge amounts of fresh ground pepper.
I am swayed by the passions
of individual Israelis and Palestinians
and want to planify discrepancy.
I belong in a home for the feeble-mindedly optimistic.
It should be my job to wash and dress the dead,
then bury them -- in accordance to the prevailing customs.
Winds. Incoming missiles. Available space, and clergy.
Fresh dill.
Cream (not much).
Obviously, competing intransigence
is a waste of the world's time --
backing one or the other
purely smacks.
We all know the answer lies
in the two-state solution --
in which Hamas can play no role.
So am I to support the occupation
of Gaza in the hopes that when the bullets cease,
Hamas will {poof} be gone?
If not Hamas, who will see
to the trapped 1.5 million Gazans? 
Your knife skills are key:
Small, even dices.
Be more generous when cubing the fish.
The desperation of the Gazans does not resonate in the breast of Mahmoud Abbas.
When the League of Nations
had the brilliant idea to divide
and to screw the Palestinians
by means of that ever-buggering British Rule
-- the Mandatory Power that was to be
provisory, transitory,
and every other meaningful -ory --
the world chose not to take notice.
When we deigned to glance        
we saw Arafat in fatigues,
sporting a weapon
before the United
It was all rather confusing.
A light fish stock.
Thai fish sauce (but don't tell anyone).
Organic bitter baby greens at the last minute.
And so we have see-sawed back 
and forth through the decades.
The one thing that I have learned
in my in-depth, spirited
study of world
There has to be someone to blame.
As always, the mise en place is key.
Build the flavors; Do not forget to taste, taste, taste.
Finish with one tablespoon of butter.
I blame Theodor Herzl for not having settled on Brazil.

© 2013 L. Ryan

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