YouLoveMe

To Our Future Sinead, I'm sorry that I wasn't there! I wanted to hear all about your move, Russell, I was hoping that I could share, The deets on my niece's library groove. We had a surprise party in Scotch Plains, The plan was to go from there to Philly, The storm was coming, there were cancelled trains, To stick to our plan seemed to us silly. So is it the end of the four of us? Are we a foursome that will never be? Should I delete these lines, not make a fuss? From our potentialities be free? I say no!  We might all have a future, My words are stitching, a hopeful suture.

A business is a kind of arena, It's a non-violent venue for struggle, You tussle with mayors like Dwayne and Sheena, You have to be both wizard and muggle. The grumpy people, they criticize you, "You're out for money!  You're acting unfair!" They act superior, they don't realize you    are making much less than they, they don't care. I was grumpy to you, and I was wrong, I benefited greatly from your works, From your conjoining business with art's song, From your fusing commerce with social perks. Marcia, you are a true benefactor, You are the best kind of social actor.

ABCDEF FAEBDC CFDABE ECFABD DEACFB BDFECA ECA I Others embellish, I tell the truth. I will relate the facts of the affair, Of the trip to Ireland, of the comet's flash, Of the captive princess escorted by the knight,  Of the misdrunk potion that made  drank their fates twinned, And led them after many mishaps to a shared vine-entwined grave.

I was flying away from doom to doom, From Joe Biden's rot to Ind'ia's issues. It's a whole year later, let's make some room, Let's stop crying.  Throw away the tissues. I was preoccupied with guilt and shame, Now I would like to try a new approach, Let me give up my thoughts of Hell and fame. I want to ride in Emma's enclosed coach. Let me be validly good and bad, I want to create a happy road home, Yes, ecstasy is outweighed by the sad, New York is truly no better than Rome. I now have an optimistic line, Please feel free to say no--that's just fine.

Gayle Sayres was third, all of those years ago, I am an even less glorious fourth, A loser in the Boswash to and fro, Behind D.C 's south and Cambridge's north. I believe New York's best in biz and arts, While Boston excels in science and zeal, D.C.'s best in vying for people's hearts, Philly trails--that's truth, not just my own feel. But Philly is the place that draws me in, It's like my much-loved Jersey, but urban, A repository of city sin, A purple state, rural and suburban. You Northeast leaders--you are truly great, I prefer Philly and my fourth-rate fate.

How does privilege work?  Let me show you how, From my park bench in Upper Montclair, I saw how its reproduction works now, With a mom and a daughter with blonde hair. Daughter is four or five with a frilled skirt, Mom lifts her into, I think, a child seat, Underneath, shorts--she's no Lolita flirt, She's too young to grasp her erotic heat. But in her later years, she'll understand, She'll wear the same outfit, but now she'll know, That for her body, there is a demand,  That she'll do well to conceal, and to show. She may decide that her privilege is wrong, Or she may use it to sing a sweet song.

                   Krishna  I wish I could write to you, Mirabai, I wish I could at last let my hair down, But mine is the fate of one who can't die,  Who must always wear a heavenly crown. Do not be attached to petty result, Arjuna.  I said that--and I believe, But I--with Lord Vishnu I must consult, If my avatar rankings fall, I grieve. My frolicking gopi days are long gone, I'm chained to the star-maker machine'ry, My sun-dark complexion grows pale and wan, I can no longer enjoy the scene'ry. A rule-following agent--that's my type. Do you want to be me?  Don't buy the hype.

Can governance of the globe become lib? I wrote about one path in my last book, Of voting growing from the U.N.'s rib, Of ballots cast from every global nook, Of an elected Gen Sec, weak yet strong. Nehru or Nixon?  That's just a detail, Lib rules win even when lib pols are wrong. Lib-con global parties grow and prevail. On this both of our countries can agree, Gandhi and Jefferson are of one mind, Cali and Delhi both want to be free, Let's devise liberal global ties that bind. An end to parties?  That's an illusion, Biz eth for nine billion is delusion,  

Biz Eth Can Unite the World (Thesis) Biz eth permissions and prohibitions, Accord with Manu and the CCP, Likewise with the Islamic traditions, With Buddhism and the land of the free. Lib pol by contrast is highly partial, Not all the world is adversarial, Drawn to a politics quasi-martial, To harmony's official burial. Biz eth corps will bring us all together, We'll choose to be ruled by Pulte or Rouse, We'll vote with our feet, with foam and leather, We'll live in this or that globe-spanning house. For lands that want to stick with lib pol, fine, For the globe, let's forget the U.S. line.

Biz eth is conducive to growth and scale, High eth self-subverts with size, becomes fake, Big state, global high eth is doomed to fail, Done right, universal biz eth can take. Biz eth is not for Himalayan heights, High eth is made for the ethical peak, Biz eth does better in countering blights, It's not best for the saintly, the unique. High eth is part of our evolution, It's baked into us, just as biz eth is, We need both for a global solution, Otherwise the world is flat, without fizz. Let biz eth keep us from ethical doom, Let many lotuses of high eth bloom.

Acknowledge Your Own Contradictions (Synthesis) Ambivalence kills--but sometimes it should, You are now religiously conflicted, Perhaps you should stay so, that might be good, Perhaps you should stay self-contradicted. My advice to you now entails a risk, Unknotting yourself creates real danger, So prepare yourself for my stop and frisk, Pretend it comes from a helpful stranger. Here it is: In religion, you are torn, Part of you wants stardom, as in biz eth, Part of you wants to walk a path unworn, Believes that stardom is ethical death. To find roots, you need to make up your mind, If you don't, your home you will never find.

Religion is the Most Suffocating Domain (Antithesis) Religion puts us in a cosmic box, No one is really good in each domain, Muhammad--an eth, biz, pol, and art fox, Science?   I don't think so.  You have to strain. My gifts are a tall mountain less than his, But that's not really the issue I have, Of course I'm not a universal wiz, But I may be a universal mav. Do I want meaning wrapped up in a bow, Attached to a partial, doubtful story? For me, I suspect the answer is no, For me there may not be a greater glory. It may be my fate forever to roam, I may never find a religious home.

I'm OK, You're OK (Synthesis) The voices in my head are who I am, Superego's "share!", id's "dare!"--you're both there, Voices of blood, sad bile, mad bile, and phlegm, A Lib voice of flair, a Con voice of care. Sometimes I'm sick of Me who talks and writes, I want more Me who never says a word, Mostly, I don't think my master's voice blights, Mostly, I think my servant's voice is heard. I'm OK, you're OK, my mother's book said, Toff Me says, "Bosh, that's pop psychology," Pop Me says, "Toff, we're inside the same head, Pop is good, no need for apology." Toff Me says, I agree with You, full stop, If You can, please switch around Toff and Pop.

My Overweening Ethical Ambition is Wrong (Antithesis) You're a practical ethics fanatic, You think that biz eth should rule everywhere, You are impractical and dramatic, You want to sit in the high prophet's chair. Sadly, your prophetic line is folly, You've made the same error as William James, He confused truth with what works, what feels jolly, You confuse good with competitive games. Nobody's going to listen to you, You're attired in the emperor's new clothes, Your words like your body will soon be through, Sorry!  The truth hurts, as the saying goes. Please know what I say, I say out of love, I'm you, you're me, I'm your tool, you're my Gov.

My Lack of Ethical Ambition Is Wrong (Thesis) In politics and arts, I'm ambitious, In business and ethics, I'm not at all, I don't want to do a deed pernicious, I don't dream of heights, I don't want to fall. I'm preaching a biz eth gospel that's dull, For most, I think it's safer and sounder, Don't let a storm wave tear open your hull, On the rocks of evil do not founder. But all the identities yearn for more, My lib and con souls both want to be saints, Ruled and rulers dream of a divine shore, Of perfection that transcends earthly taints. In ethics not just arts may I aim high'er, Run the risk of be'ing burned by sacred fire.

This bus it carries all comers, this bus, On this bus you follow the rules, this bus, This bus, it's cool in the summers, this bus, This bus goes to excellent schools, this bus. This bus, it is bound for glory, this bus, Its last stop is for the holy, this bus, Its top deck's a golden story, this bus, In its long bar, some drink Stoli, this bus. We ride all our lives on this bus, this bus, Inside are forests, parks, and homes, this bus, On it we feel joy and we fuss, this bus, On it we write poems and read tomes, this bus. I believe in biz eth, and this vision, Can both be true?  Must there be excision? This bus, it is bound for glory, this bus.

God and SIRU are Dead (Antithesis) I get on the bus at the charter school, The 6 is full of Newark's brightest and best, In the aisle there is an obstinate fool, Who won't move back, who with tact is not blessed. The driver should do his job, he does not, A rider near me asks the fool to move, The fool says you're lucky not to get shot, This space belongs to me, it is my groove. The fool's from Africa, fresh off the boat, The asker, too, but many years ago, The charter kids, too.  They are taking note, Me, too.  But how long back?  I do not know. Can we make America great again? All of us African women and men.     

God and SIRU are on the Bus (Thesis) A 9 a.m. drunk reels on to the 6, He falls, hits his head, it's an act, it's real, He's got a sippy cup with beer--new tricks! The driver does his job, stony, like steel. The opposite lady chats up the drunk, They know each other from the neighborhood, I'm back a few seats, in a White guy funk, I have a funky thought, this scene is good. A very big lady in a wheelchair, Gets lifted up into the waiting bus, The driver does his job with precise care, Soon we're on our way without too much fuss. What if God is a stranger on the bus? God is real in each of the five of us.

I'm Riding the Wave, I'm Fine if You're Not (Synthesis) I choose to go with Peter, Will, and Scott, For me, their line cashes out morally, You may think that I am falling for rot, I'm with them in writing and orally. I think ethics should be like other fields, Where some try to be stars and most do not, Where calc is one tool an ethicist wields, Where good can come from a hedge fund hot-shot. I've grown to respect business ambition, Though in myself it's always been lacking, I'm old and deep-set in my condition, Ethical ambition deserves backing. Will I excel at ethics in old age? I'm ready to enter a diff'rent stage.

The New Wave is a Pitiful Ripple (Antithesis) Yes, biz eth is linked to Peter Singer, Objectivity is a goal of both, But they differ; Singer is a ringer, To his calc line on good, let's, please, be loath. Money with consent is a good measure, A philosopher's util dreams are not, Capitalism has unlocked treasure, Singer-ism is biased tommy-rot. MacAskill tries to correct Singer's flaws, But falls into his own dark rabbit holes, Consequentialism breaks moral laws, Opt for virtues, identities, and roles. It is all just a new panopti-con, Just tell its sellers, I'm not buying, mon.