Ukrainian President Volodomyr Zelensky CBS 60 Minutes Interview (Photo: Eric Kerchner CBS)
Shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh……,
“If you don’t have a broken heart—
get one…”
—Poet Jack Hirschman
QUIET ON THE SET. ROLL SOUND. Sound Rolling. ROLL CAMERA. Camera Speed. MARKER. ACTION:
Shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh…Quiet on the set…
Quit crying… What, are you stupid? Haven’t you heard of
stuntmen—special effects? These are actors. Great actors!
Studied under Stanislavsky. This is staged. A cast of
thousands. Why, this mass evacuation’s straight outta
Eisenstein! Actors were instructed to flashback on family
photos in their back packs. Think about tricycles, toys, stuffed
animals left be hind with baby books, keepsakes, clothes and
favorite foods…
Shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh…Quiet on the set…
Quit crying…This ain’t no Amos & Andy operation
like Libya, Ethiopia, The Congo, or Aleppo. This is major—
Armorers; Grips; Gaffers; Casting Directors; Script Supervisors;
Catering Crew—special effects alone cost more than most films!
Surround sound’s realism’s off the chain… The bomb, huh? How
cool’s all the air conditioners hanging from blown out windows?
Almost got you believin’ the buildings are really damaged?
Almost got you believin' that’s really rubble, huh? Almost got
you believin’ rust’s real on those perforated cars; and crying and
moaning you’re hearing’s real? These are actors— Brilliant
actors—studied Shakespeare!
Shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh…Quiet on the set…
Quit crying… Your dogs ain’t dead. They trained with Cesar Millan.
They’ll rise up running like Lassie, barking like Toto—partying Spuds
McKenzie-style—at the stentorian command, “Cut!”
Your photographer friend and the young journalist who frequented
the coffee shop ain’t dead. They’ll rise, hearing, “Cut!” and shooting
will Stop… Your loved ones ain’t dead. They’re professional. They’ll leap up for
Lunch; stuff bloody brain tissue back into their skulls; stuff guts
back in their bodies, scurry over to the Catering Crew, grab bites
between
Lunch and dinner with cast and crew—when the Director shouts: “Cut!”
Wow, isn’t this staged shit cool?
Shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh…Quiet on the set…
Quit crying… Dig the dancing stormtroopers, the combat
Chippendales rootin’ rebels; dancin’ the De-nazify—must
be a musical? Springtime anyone?
Wait, watch Ringling Brothers of Rhetoric riding dragons, donkeys,
elephants, pandas and bears from history, while rattling off hat sizes of
czars and other minutiae! Watch Ringling Brothers of Rhetoric dangling
from dicks of dictators; sucking off oligarchs,strongmen, kleptocrats/state
capitalist clowns at the speed of sound— As a shirtless horseman gallops
into the sunset with bulging saddle bags for himself and The Nationalist
International…Shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh…
© 2022. Raymond Nat Turner, The Town Crier. All Rights Reserved
Former forklift driver/warehouse worker/janitor, Raymond Nat Turner is a NYC poet;
BAR's Poet-in-Residence; and founder/co-leader of the jazz-poetry ensemble UpSurge!NYC.
You can Vote for his work at: GoFundMe PayPal: paypal.me/towncrierRNT
for Aiyana, for Tommie, for Jordan.
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