Poet's Korner

on my daily stroll I remained
detached but made keen aesthetic
observations of the pulsating
urban ecosystem          then I went
to the country and was
struck suddenly and violently
by a stark epiphany
of spiritual immediacy

--Flâneur O'Connor

Konsolation Korner

Hiya, Kornheads. Your faithful Kreation Korner staff returned this morning from a much-needed retreat in South Beach to unplug and recharge. That may be a paradox but it worked--one of those mysteries of life we guess. Anyways, only moments after we'd shuffled our mentally, emotionally, and physically refreshed selves into the HQ and reconnected to the interworld, we were shocked (on the inside, but remained serene on the outside) that Gabe Gabriel II, whom we'd left behind to helm the Korner in our stead, had deleted precious kontent which had been posted by Hadley Daughterson just before we exited our offices en masse to board a chartered omnibus for SoBea. The younger Gabe's reasoning behind this kardinal infraction was that the post purported to be satire, which as he dubiously indicates is impossible in a "post-satire age." Many of us saw the kontent in kwestion before our departure and can assure you that it was very satirical indeed. It was a piece of graphic art konsisting of three panels, each a mock periodical-style advertisement for a politician, the konceit being that, in late kapitalism, democracy is a farce and the elected official is just another silly product for us to konsume. We felt this kontent was sufficiently satirical and we will not subscribe to Gabriel II's rather bleak and defeatist worldview that satire is dead. We must kontinue to act as a check on would-be tyrants. If we were to simply give up, we would be komplicit in the normalization of their chikanery. To hop down from the soapbox for a moment, let us not forget who was really hurt in all this--Hadley Daughterson, who was so incensed by this unfortunate affair that she, in protest, released a potent hacking tool created by our own government into the kloud, expunging any and all rekoverable ghosts of the removed work. Sadly, her inspired (and inspiring) triptych will never again be beheld by human eyes, or those of any species. Although rekompense in this matter is impossible as all acts of kreation are irreplaceable, we have authorized Hadley to jump to the front of the production queue and publish two (instead of the usual allotment of one) new komiks. We know it's only modest succor but hope it will serve as a salve for everyone affected during this hopefully short-lived dark chapter for Kreationism. In the meantime, we've sent young Gabe to South Beach for an intensive three-day refresher kourse on our standards and practices. Take and eat:

Satire Korner

"What's Your Brand?"

--Hadley Daughterson

Kandor Korner

"I often tell myself, 'listen more, talk less.' Other times I'm like, 'fuck listening!'" --P. Michael Watson

Poethead's Korner

Apropos of nothing, we bring you today a work from our newest kontributor -- the self-proclaimed heavy-handed stoner poet Known Universe. Expand your konsciousness:

I think I get power -- why

would you give
up power
when you think you
feel you
need
that power
to survive?

How
could you be made
to see to spread
your power
around
would in fact
maximize
your survival?

How?
Could you?
Would I?

Komik Korner

--Hadley Daughterson

Poet's Korner

In the following piece, though purportedly an exercise in poetics, Korner kontributor Fig Nugent deals in the hermeneutic qualities of language in a starkly direct way. We're unclear if his source of dismay is the American experiment, The Kreation Korner itself, some other apparatus, or all of the above. In any case, although we aspire to be a purely egalitarian and communal enterprise, we acknowledge that we currently operate as a limited hierarchy out of necessity in our reality. In light of that, we welcome opportunities to check in with ourselves and make sure we're not straying too far off the path of righteousness. We strongly encourage all those in positions of power the world over to solicit and take to heart input from your thoughtful, knowledgable, creative subordinates, especially when making decisions that affect their livelihoods and happiness. Take seriously:

"Sadly, The Only Outlets I See Are For Electrical Power And Discount Dungarees"
By Fig Nugent

I need an outlet
I have given a great deal
to this organization, this
agency, this institution
I have compromised much
and retained few, mostly
superficial, remnants of
my individuality and convictions

I have done this willingly
I have chosen to not cling
unwaveringly to doctrine
for practical purposes, for
comfort and stability, for
psychological and emotional ease
I have accepted such concessions
as necessary to survive, as
compulsory in my circumstances

But I have moments of exhaustion
in the ceaseless morass
of ethical gray areas
I'm often disillusioned by decisions
made to serve the politics of
the moment rather than reasoned
long-term core values and vision

I tell myself this is just what life
is and employ petty, ephemeral
acts of rebellion only I really notice
to restore order for my
psyche in the meantime
I commiserate with likeminded
peers but those in power
seem ignorant and indifferent

I'm told implicitly and sometimes
explicitly to be happy, to be
grateful, that this is just
a job, to get along but
I can't shake the feeling
that's just some insidious means
to silence dissent, to compromise
what remaining shreds of
ideals I have

I can "toe the line" most days,
shake off of the sneaking
feelings of anxiety and guilt
But lately the weight is persistent
I can't laugh it off or shrug or move
on but there's no chance for catharsis,
no suggestion box, no arena for debate,
no outlet to be heard out, no quarter
for whistleblowers who demand one

The atmosphere is one of imposed
consensus, of forced harmony, of
"business as usual"
And so I trudge on with a heavy
burden on my conscience in this
organization, this agency, this
institution, hoping, probably
in vain, for one measly, hell,
even a token outlet