Category: The Canon (page 2 of 2)

Merkel:

It is with warmth and pride that I stand here before you today, my fellow citizens of poetry.

The past year has been one of triumph and tribulation. There have been unexpected events that have tested our national character to its limits and I acknowledge the intrepid boldness with which you have faced these difficult times.

We stand together against the forces of terror and ignorance which plagues those abroad and threatens our values at home. Alongside our allies, we must defend the free world. We are playing our part, because it is in our interests. But, one sad fact of the war against knowledge and literacy is the number of refugees who flee brainwashing itself, aggrieved by censorship and oppression. For those that may speak out loud, free from fiendom, we must lead these encumbered individuals into the safety of our great nation with our united cries.

Again, I thank you for your kindness and openhandedness. Together, we shall lead towards a better tomorrow!

Obama:

I stand here humbled by the great responsibility that each and every one of you has granted me here tonight.

That every word must have its place is now well understood. The poetic body faces outward against a great sea of chaotic thought, while our collective vision carries us safely towards the horizon. Ships have sunk in the past and salty tears have been swallowed by all. As our pain unites us in this interminable quest for hope, we must pray against the nightmares of violence and fear.

We stand upon the waters of doubt and uncertainty alike, and I have been trusted with the honourable task of steering at the helm of this ship. As I rise to take on this challenge, I am reminded of those who have come before me, and how they have remained resolute in the face of incredible danger because of the strength of our poetic body’s principles and beliefs.

We are the keepers of this legacy. Your will shall guide my hands as we sail onwards unto prosperity.

Putin:

I would like to, first and foremost, thank you all for your many votes of confidence.

Thank you to all who said “YES!” to poetry and dared to asked the question, “Will we prevail?”. I answer you tonight, “we HAVE prevailed!”. We won in a fair and open field, without the requirements of brute force or intimidation to elevate this humble servant onto this stage that floats above our great and unencompassable motherland.

This is not only a test of our will as a holy nation of writers and thinkers, it is a test for poetic ripeness, for independence and freedom of expression. We have shown that none may impose their will upon us. Nothing and no one.

And to all neutral observers, it was a clean victory, an honest submission of excellence. So, I thank you all for holding me to my promise – we HAVE succeeded. We WILL prevail.

Glory to Poetry!

What is poetry?
he asked aloud of
no one in particular
What is narrative?
he wondered
to himself with his mental voice that had grown
oh so old after a
long period of inchoate thought.
What matters is where a narrative goes,
he mused,
even if it never goes anywhere.
The man speaks aloud to hear himself think more clearly:

“Running in place is still a form of time travel.
A static motion of sorts.
But, what of those stories with no beginning?
How do they work?
How is it that I can be satisfied by a story
so old,
so re-told,
that the endings are withered, worn, and plain forgot,
but a story without a beginning unravels everything about myself?

I know I cannot cope with a story that has no beginning.

I cannot remember how or when or where I began but at least,
I can fabricate a narrative that reads like poetry
of how I was birthed
by my mother
who was birthed by her mother
and so on,
until I am satisfied by the fact that I belong to my species
just as any branch is a part of a tree.

I am safe between root and stem, so long as I do not pull on this thread
about my genetic origins too hard,
or else,
I may unravel the entire story of life itself
by asking the very same questions that I started with,
why this? and how that?
that got me into this mess of unspooled string,
wondering, how exactly did unorganized matter
ascend to the order of life?
With no answer, my questions die, alone and in the darkness.
And, as I have noted,
I do not like it when a story does not have a proper beginning.

But, we know no more than that. So, those who would claim this knowledge
are escaping from the uncomfortable feeling that some stories never begin –
they simply are from whence they weren’t.

That’s why the Big Bang is so overwhelming
for my simple Simian mind to digest
and understand so I argue with the Universe, yelling:
“Well, of course you have to obey the rules of time and space, you ARE time-space! You can’t not be and then just suddenly exist, creating the very essence of change itself and carrying along with you existence itself!”

But, of course, I know nothing of the inner workings of the Universe.
And, I know nothing of the inner workings of my own mind
for I do not know where I came from, really,
but, at least, I can leave you here, hanging on my words,
going nowhere in particular, coming from no place
miraculous or spectacular, and still end up,
with nothing more than a poem without a narrative,
and a narrative without a beginning…”