Friday, October 11, 2013
Jay Ramsay--"Diabolic" (poem)
from Wikipedia:
Falun Gong or Falun Dafa (literally means "Dharma Wheel Practice" or "Law Wheel Practice") is a spiritual discipline first introduced in China in 1992 through public lectures by its founder, Li Hongzhi. It combines the practice of meditation and slow-moving qigong exercises with a moral philosophy. Falun Gong emphasizes morality and the cultivation of virtue in its central tenets of Truthfulness, Compassion, and Forbearance (Chinese: 真、善、忍), and identifies as a qigong practice of the Buddhist school, though its teachings also incorporate elements drawn from Taoist traditions. Through moral rectitude and the practice of meditation, practitioners of Falun Gong aspire to better health and, ultimately, spiritual enlightenment....
On 20 July 1999, the Communist Party leadership initiated a nationwide crackdown and multifaceted propaganda campaign intended to eradicate the practice. In October 1999 it declared Falun Gong a "heretical organization" that threatened social stability, and blocked Internet access to websites that mention Falun Gong. Human rights groups report that Falun Gong practitioners in China are subject to a wide range of human rights abuses; hundreds of thousands are believed to have been imprisoned extrajudicially, and practitioners in detention are subject to forced labor, psychiatric abuse, torture, and other coercive methods of thought reform at the hands of Chinese authorities. In the years since the suppression campaign began, Falun Gong adherents have emerged as a prominent voice in the Chinese dissident community, advocating for greater human rights and an end to Communist Party rule.
DIABOLIC
by Jay Ramsay
pictures at an exhibition—for Tili
White stone Buddha stands statuesque,
against a gold curtain of light: one palm raised
heart-aligned, the other, releasing down…
Divine balance: a human raised to an angel
standing liberated on a cloud—
a stream of immortals walking on water
buddhas seated in spirit above the speaker,
a woman in meditation with her curious child
doubled then tripled above, in her Higher Self
set against the stars. We as we are.
Two children reading, an old woman sewing…
But what is that child doing behind bars
with blood on his little shirt, chained legs behind him ?
What are the Chinese police doing
crashing in on a woman’s family evening ?
And that man in prison pyjamas tied to a chair
leaning back towards the only shaft of light there is
penetrating his cell all day ?
A doctor lifting out the bloodied pumping heart,
the patient’s throat craned back in agony ?
Numb, she holds her parents’ ashes in a pathetic box.
Pieta cradles the lifeless body of her son.
A woman stands arms stretched back up behind her,
five bricks hanging on a chain around her neck.
What is their crime, exactly ? Terrorism ? Anarchy ?
Spiritual practice. Can you believe it ?
This is the gulag of Falun Gong.
Once they thronged the streets, squares, parks
peacefully greeting the morning or evening
too potent for their paranoid government.
Thou shalt not believe in cultivation
if it threatens our fascist state.
Diabolical intervention: first, the crackdowns
then arrest, detainment, torture, incarceration
secret transport by train…Nazi Germany again,
only worse. Concentration camps become hospitals
‘where live prisoners are quarried for their body parts’
sold on the internet medical market…
You need a fresh heart, or matching kidney, maybe ?
Today, tomorrow ? No problem—
this star-crossed Falun Jew will do nicely.
Public trance. Police trance. Media trance.
What does it take to awaken
to the rule of Satan ? Backwards mastering…
Illuminati aliens calling themselves communists
crucifying their own people because
they hate the light. They hate the spirit
because it’s greater than they are
or can ever be. They hate God, they have no progeny
but the obedient machine…that makes them serene.
These are the fallen, who have forgotten everything
but how to fill the void with themselves.
This is the race that wants to rule the world.
And they stamp on parade, they creep like ice
indifferent to the tide, glacial as chemicals,
these are the ghouls that feast on us, feeling nothing
this is the planet of No Heart our children will inherit,
until we break the trance.
St. John, burn them in your Revelation
raise their cries like labour pains of love;
where the guards scream and scatter sideways
she levitates in her unbroken dream, above.
Jay Ramsay
