There are men too gentle...

I am trying hard to remember a book of poetry I read many, many years ago. I don't recall the name of the poet, but I do recall, at least in part, the name of the book of poetry: "There Are Men Too Gentle to Live Among Wolves." I am not one of them; I cannot turn the other cheek, look for the good in bad people, or "forgive them, for they know not what they do." I'm not a good Christian. I'd make a great lion though, at least sometimes I would. Such is life.

But, on occasion, I read something that touches me, for reasons unknown, and I want to share it. I encourage you to read a post on A Curmudgeonly Crab's blog. The blogger, a woman, could be my twin...except that she has at least one child (a daughter), which does not...could not...will never...describe me. Some people shouldn't have children. MOST people shouldn't have children. I'm one of them. At any rate, the Curmudgeonly Crab posted something I found quite moving...just don't know why. The fact that she hates Bush is a positive thing, but there's more. Look at the post in question at http://crabbiness.blogspot.com/2005/10/musings.html.

So, who IS the poet who wrote There Are Men Too Gentle to Live Among Wolves? I'm sure I can find out quickly if I just do a Google search. Why do I remember it just now? Perhaps it's because I am thinking of George Bush and his repetitive claim that he is a "compassionate conservative." He is a lying piece of shit. I would like very much to broil his liver and do a taste test, complete with onions...is beef or Bush better?

It's late...I should go to bed...but I'm awake, aware, and angry that my country is being destroyed by a man who deserves nothing better than a bath in boiling oil. It's getting worse by the day. Either we will have a real revolution, a concept which I increasingly support, or we will be a purely fascist state before Bush's term ends. I am ready for revolution. I really do like the Constitution and its acknowledgement that we, the People, have a right to protect ourselves against George Bush and his cronies. Let's use that right!

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After posting my vitriolic message, I looked for the poem that I remembered. Somehow, my diatribe seems unconnected, irrelevant. What could possess me to remember this gentle poem, recognizing the gentler ones among us, yet be so violent and angry? I'm feeling, tonight, like I am very, very confused about who I am, what I want, what I need from life. These are the feelings of a teenager...these are feelings that don't belong to a geezer. Oh well, I'll get through them again.

Here is the poem:

"There are men too gentle to live among wolves
Who prey upon them with IBM eyes
And sell their hearts and guts for martinis at noon.
There are men to gentle for a savage world
Who dream instead of snow and children and Halloween
And wonder if the leaves will change their color soon.

There are men too gentle to live among wolves
Who anoint them for burial with greedy claws
And murder them for a merchant's profit and gain.
There are men too gentle for a corporate world
Who dream instead of Easter eggs and fragrant grass
And pause to hear the distant whistle of a train.

There are men too gentle too live amoung wolves
Who devour them with appetite and search
For other men to prey upon and suck their childhood dry.
There are men too gentle for an accountant's world
Who dream instead of Easter eggs and fragrant grass
And search for beauty in the mystery of the sky.
o
There are men too gentle to live among wolves
Who toss them like a lost and wounded dove
Such gentle men are lonely in a merchant's world
Unless they have a gentle one to love."

James Kavanaugh

And, finally...I am awfully tired. This blog is so rarely read, I wonder why I'm writing anything. Very rare that any comments are left, and I've been able to get a count of visitors, which is very, very low. But what the hell...I'm writing this for me, much more for me than for anyone else. I may, one day, pull lots of this crap off the blog and use it to form the skeleton of a book...or something.