Herrington: Ode to Lenny

Lenny Bruce,
patron Saint
of those who bare their souls
naked on the linoleum floors of truth,
life spent in a rabid thrust to speak
from the heart of pain,
lonely his temptations:
seeing the light,
shining, and the distance
from the singing
to the troubadours
of soft-soaped sadness,
the eloquent mystery
of social control,
the elastic front, and distain
with a twisted mouth
as they say about him
behind his back
what he says aloud to them
to their faces,
the truth unrestricted
and the floor his only friend:
the one in front
of the audience,
his comfort and companion
acting as his accomplice and his documentation;
the one below him
as he gasps his last bit,
playing it out
like a Greek tragedy on fire
in the belly of peace
for the last time.

Lenny Bruce,
the Godfather
of the Content
of the Internet
and the public forum,
we neglect you,
and all of the sacrifices you made
to open the way.

The holier than thou’s
scarcely knowing his name
and yet defending free speech
with the righteousness
of honesty
filtered in the court
of public opinion
and stewed in juices
of performance and self-righteousness.

Naked and free,
living dead
on linoleum floor
deluxe-treated debasement,
this is the ground
upon which we stand aloft
in the heaven
of our self-righteousness.

This is the path
of all the prophets,
who, misunderstood, are first flattened
and then revered,
rejected, misunderstood, catalogued, digested,
and then given sainthood,
assimilated,
and boxed with Christ
alongside the treasures
of the antiquities:
Justice, Freedom,
Transparency,
and Brotherhood.

We salute you,
in your day
of having been forgotten
in a boxed set,
and sold on the open market,
a step along the road
to destruction,
that was paved
with good intentions.

runnigturtle87