Continuing the expeditions of Jeff MacNelly, James Kilpatrick, and Eugene McCarthy, with apologies.

The Dark Presence

Long elusive and unspoken about, but lately a visible void and a subject of wide discourse, the Dark Presence rocketed into public view during the beginning of the endless wars of the 21st Century. Often taking the form of a featureless and shrouded bureaucrat, the DP can mix with the general population when it senses the time is right to maximize its influence on a wavering head of state. Through whisper-like voicings of some depth, the DP can turn the searching head and command the listening ear. This underestimated entity is rumored to be the Iago de facto to some of history’s most tragic figures. It may have brought down more politicians than junket mixers and video evidence.

In repose, as is its habit during times of general consensus, the Dark Presence provides little evidence of its impressive CV, instead biding its time in corners, spinning webs and deepening its opacity. Its incarnations over the years have progressively grown in stature, and it is said the the DP harbors a secret ambition to become a black hole that swallows up the entire government.

 

-Danny Grosso

Continuing the expeditions of Jeff MacNelly, James Kilpatrick, and Eugene McCarthy, with apologies.

The Compromise

Thought to be extinct for at least two election cycles, the Compromise has become the Capitol’s UFO – rarely seen but always fleeting.  Forever enigmatic, even in its heyday among back-slapping country club pols, the long-armed Compromise of late became more the spectre or puff of smoke, a trail leading to nowhere, a closing door. Once the aspirational ideal of the ambitious, the creature is now a discarded relic of bygone age. However, it has long been thought that the Compromise had, in opportune times, rooted itself into the Constitutional system.  If true, this forecasts the possible return of the species under proper conditions.

 

-Danny Grosso

Continuing the expeditions of Jeff MacNelly, James Kilpatrick, and Eugene McCarthy, with apologies.

The Gerrymander

Part fanciful artistry and part killer calculation, the Gerrymander is a fluid, long-tailed and hump-backed beast, sometimes horned and toothsome, borne of the angry coupling of partisan victory and mercilessness. It fashions its lair by stealing away bits and pieces of its neighbors’ holdings until it has assembled a safe, homogeneous district to call home. It then sets about making rules for the manse designed to convince those unlikely to conform that they should remove themselves from the district. The ensuing exodus ingeniously insures the survival of the new rules by purging dissenting voices, thereby also guaranteeing the safety of the Gerrymander itself.

The Gerrymander is content to lie quietly in its misshapen habitat, and await its eventual demise that will come with a change of legislative majority. The lifespan of the species was once thought to be short, but is now clearly increasing. This is likely due to a recent change of climate that provides for the growth of a sheltering political canopy – one that may protect the Gerrymander from its traditional enemies, reform and sunlight.

 

-Danny Grosso 

 

 

 

Continuing the expeditions of Jeff MacNelly, James Kilpatrick, and Eugene McCarthy, with apologies.

The Climber

Drawn to power, Climbers are rumored to have been present, in immaculately powdered wigs, at the opening of the very first Capitol chambers in D.C. The species has changed its appearance over time through the use of a chameleon-like talent for mirroring the prevailing sartorial and social trends of the era. Its intellectual ambivalence and moral flexibility allows it to use its greatest tool, the ability to ingratiate, with aplomb. Ever eager to please, the Climber portrays itself as selfless, perhaps to disguise the fact that it seeks only to further its own selfish agenda. Its life is a ceaseless effort to push itself up the political, social, or professional ladder on which it resides. Climbers have no sense of personal space or decorum, and can often be seen at the heels, or in the side offices, of some of the town’s most disreputable, yet powerful, people. They are so plentiful and adaptive that they, at times, may seem indistinguishable from their powerful superiors. However, around holidays, a strange penchant for costumes is often the trait that betrays the Climber and its well-known obsession for blending in. One easy tip for those interested in further study: find the staffer in the bunny costume at the White House Easter Egg Roll.

 

-Danny Grosso

Continuing the expeditions of Jeff MacNelly, James Kilpatrick, and Eugene McCarthy, with apologies.

The Stubborn Base

The Stubborn Base is an infectious, multi-entity organism that harnesses its throngs of moving parts for the converse purpose of denying movement. It is often grouped in boisterous regional colonies that seem desirable to otherwise unindoctrinated outsiders looking for a place to belong. Perceived desirability is the ruse by which the SB spreads its contagion – for it is often predation, not accommodation, that guides this organism’s behavior. Once the colony peaks the interest of its prey, the SB then momentarily distracts it by offering the illusion of fealty in great numbers. It then unleashes its pestilence. Neophytes and second-tier candidates are seduced by overtures in chorus from the SB, only to find out later, sadly, that the organism is tone deaf. Alas, by then it is too late; the SB has already infected the unsuspecting victim, depriving it of any capacity for original thought. Moreover, the contagion leaves any associated campaign paralyzed by outdated dogmas, polarizing rhetoric, and web-like infra-alliances that weigh down, slow, and eventually halt any vital momentum.

The SB can take many forms, but may sometimes be identified by blocky growths on the feet of its sub-entity members, the presence of wall-like physical and rhetorical structures around the colony, and the tacky habit of members wearing similar headgear.

-Danny Grosso

Continuing the expeditions of Jeff MacNelly, James Kilpatrick, and Eugene McCarthy, with apologies.

The Unindicted Co-conspirator

Outside of its shadowy normal habitat, the Unindicted Co-conspirator may resemble many other denizens of the marshy District of Columbia.  However, the UC is rather easily distinguishable from its neighbors in that, out of evolutionary necessity, it has developed a third eye. Swiveling around on the back of its head, the tertiary oculus allows the UC to be alert for the impending danger it always senses, especially from its traditional enemies, the Previously Undisclosed Witness, the Surprise Courtroom Testimony, and of course, the Special Counsel.

The Unindicted Co-conspirator prefers the protection of shadows in dark corners of Capitol buildings, where it can wait out its life span as that span comes to be determined by judicial proceedings or statutes of limitation. However, sometimes a UC is forced by circumstances of its own position to hide in plain sight – attending committee or cabinet meetings, or making grandiose speeches out on the hustings, all in broad daylight, where it dons the camouflage of its societal rank and makes like a regular VIP. Under these conditions, if combined with with a strategic comb-over to disguise its distinguishing feature, a UC is hard for the layman to spot. Yet, there are reliable, identifying traits that transcend costumery. Look for a paranoiac, defensive posture on social media, a hyper-anxiety regarding breaking news TV banners, and an open and obvious avoidance of any contact with a related species – Indicted Co-conspirators, (IC’s).

 

-Danny Grosso

 

 

My heel flashes in the

dark side of twilight but

I imagine myself

invisible tonight.

The call of the wolf and

a trick of the light will

lead me to running

the alleys tonight.

It’s a scent in the air and

a thing in my blood that

leads me over the levee in

a runaway flood.

The art of my darkness can

deepen the swell in

a country where no one

cares if you’re well.

My first failure and

my last goodbye

set me adrift with

compass awry.

The misty moonlight in

the month of May when

the missiles of Moscow

were pointing this way.

Don’t forget how far we’ve come

just the same it’s time to go

why labor to find the sum

when the last war

may have just begun.

Your face is the

quietest blue in the night and

you’re pretending that

all we are saying is right

this dream approaches the

shores of delight

until you begin to

fade from my sight.

My first failure and

my last goodbye

set me adrift with

compass awry.

The misty moonlight in

the month of May when

the missiles of Moscow

were pointing this way.

-Danny Grosso 

Instagram @artispolitics

Buy books! My Amazon author’s page: amazon.com/author/dannygrosso

The Last Confederate State

 

Beginning again…

 

By some treachery

early assassination

military fumble or act of Providence

the war was abated just after it began

and the free and slave states

coexisted for a century and more

until the tenuous status quo

lashed together by the horror

of those first few days after Antietam

when the ledger of principle was displayed

in red with green fields tred to black

and no one sought to dare anymore

the wielder of the scythe

who takes equal relish in mowing down

one’s brother and other

until the industrial power of the north

and the riches it produces

became the glitter that

arouses the kindle in the cold of the soul.

 

The border states were first

for they could lay blame

on the proximity of a commercially thriving neighbor

eager to trade

but soon others joined in

voting themselves into the fold

as they did then

until the ninth year of the new century

when the last confederate state

prepared to rejoin the union.

 

The Secretary of State of Alabama

had to certify the referendum to

make the tally official but

he suffered threats from those on the right

incensed at the prospect of losing a war fought

for a hundred and fifty years

and pressure from those on the left

impatient after waiting on affirmation

for a hundred and fifty years

and distance from his family of nostalgic Alabamans

and the ire of Governor Roy Moore

elected in a last flush of fury

over the impending capitulation

and holding power in a broken place

where the power was about to go out

and Governor Moore was furious.

The north had just elected a half-black president.

So Moore takes his Secretary of State to court

to enjoin the certification of the referendum

and loses enough times to extinguish venues judicial

but wins more political support with each battle

reviving the last days of a war that wasn’t fought

where serial retreats belie a certain swagger

that seeds legend, sympathy, fealty, and resentment

so that when the deed is finally done

and the state at last rejoins the union

a movement is sprouted

with most of its activity extending underground

where it threatens for a century

all that might blossom in the south.

 

–Danny Grosso

 

 

In the golden age of our aspiration, the one just beyond our reach, where what is new and what is just are one and the same, children, all children, dream big, love freely, and live long, happy, and healthy lives.

We are a people too large and diverse to govern, yet persevere we must. There are children here whom,  through separation, or despair, or violence, are in danger of entering a cycle of tragedy  – and the government is a party to this.

No child should be made to believe that that he or she has no place in this world.

There is reason to think we can do better, to build a world where children may walk among the nations unfettered,  where these angels shall have no reason to envy the heavens.

–Danny Grosso

The Slip Kid is late but

I’ve got the cash

to buy cigarettes and gas.

The Greek at the counter

says he’ll take a pass

on tomorrow’s race

he’s betting too fast.

Change in the pay phone

sounds like the Clash

but it’s her voice I hear

and I’m past it.

The neon bleeds on the window pane in

the middle of a starry sea and

into the phone she sings

La dee deeee dee dee dee –

come play on the corner with me.

Driving slow on streets aglow

boat on illuminated sea

port on a curb

more than I deserve

‘cause they’re always there waiting for me.

We’re nine tonight, more boys than girls

but double as the night unfurls and

when the Mars Lights appear

like a movie premiere

they make the blight disappear.

It’s not easy in this time of change

this American morning’s so strange

the flags returned but the jobs went away

and pushed us into the fray.

And now we run or stay and pray.

The neon bleeds on the window pane

in the middle of a starry sea

as a siren of the alleys she sings

La dee deeee dee dee dee –

come play on the corner with me.

Those days are like dreams

that the lights chased away

while alone in a shadow I stayed.

Still it’s real that I feel

your voice’s constant appeal

to never abide my dismay.

Step into my shadow I say;

you say come out and play.

-Danny Grosso 

Instagram @artispolitics

Buy books! My Amazon author’s page: amazon.com/author/dannygrosso