Eye of the Holder

The Judge (copyright 2007, 2014. Poems by David Skerkowski.) The common folk were blessed To have justice administered By an extraordinary judge Whose penetrating perception Flew through ramparts of deceit The defendant stood before him Ragged and in bonds Accused of blasphemy Trembling before the austere countenance of authority And put up no defense Against the charge For all had heard him clearly And believed that it was just The defendant was a farmer Whose oxen had been stolen And had succumbed to a fit of rage The judge found no trace of the forbidden words In the heart of the accused But spied them at once As a nest of hissing vipers In the heart of the chief accuser Who turned out to be the thief The farmer was released And his accuser sentenced in his place I noticed a poster for the upcoming AC/DC concert this morning and I recalled with regret how I spoke of this monumental band in a previous post. Firstly, let me wish you all well with this show. I do not oppose the enterprise of any musicians who limit their sets to their own songs. Given the sharpness of my words against AC/DC, I should explain their source: violations against my copyrights and disrespectful treatment at the hands of industry workers. It is out of character for me to embark on aggressive attacks against bands who do not owe me money - though I can't be sure if that's the case with any other bands right now. I would ask AC/DC to see my behavior in the context of the above poem, which I first wrote to explain similar outbursts resulting from similar abuses of my copyrights in 2007. If I must stand in a soup line after stadiums were filled by violators of my music copyrights, the last thing I need is for their workers to rub my nose in it with excited chatter about a visiting band. Under the pressure of violations of my copyrights of which I was unaware at the time of this post, I quite simply succumbed to my dark side and lashed out blindly. But now that these crimes have been exposed and punished, I have been feeling more like myself and I know that I would not have shared these unhappy thoughts under normal conditions. It may be possible that the tooth marks in my hip from a recent pitbull attack are to show for the revenge of disgruntled AC/DC fans. I hope they, too, can forgive me for what I said about their beloved band. I must still leave my post online for its legal value as an indicator of psychological damage inflicted on me by the recent offenses against my life and work by copyright violators and their staff, but I will amend my statements index to help my readers see it in context and not hold it against AC/DC. As a child, I was a voracious reader. My eldest brothers were in university and let their text books accumulate in a musty room in the cellar. I think I read every one of them before I reached the age of ten. Among my favorites was a book of Teutonic myths, richly illustrated after the fashion of the immortal Albrecht Durer. Some of my earliest drawings were abstracted from the pages of that book. Of course, it was so long ago that I can no longer recall much of its content, only that I found the stories about Odin very appealing. Odin was the Teutonic god of creation and the chief god of the Teutons. His symbol was the all seeing eye. Our Wednesday, the day of my official entry into this world, way, way back in November, 1965, was named after him by the Angles and Saxons, who called him Wodin. Odin would often disguise himself as a mortal and dwell among us, on the lookout for corruptions and injustices. Once he had a clear picture of what was going on, he would reveal himself and use his power to set things right for his people. Some kings of England are recorded to have followed this strategy on behalf of their own subjects. Perhaps Jesus Christ, if you're Christian, was the ultimate example of a deity in disguise, who showed us humility's superiority over arrogance and the correct use of supernatural power. On a less philosophic note, what was this I heard about a broadcaster ending their segment with the 'pleasant voice' of a violator of my copyrights? Was this recent? Are my readers beginning to finally see why I so resent commercial broadcasters? What they find pleasant, I find utterly tortuous. You have no idea, unless you hold valuable or coveted copyrights, how much pain and stress can be inflicted on an author through criminal infringements of his work. Apparently, I tossed and turned in my bed all summer long this year, while sadistic broadcasters enjoyed these creeps in my place. They have managed to amass a whole crowd of people who now ask me: why does it have to be you? What am I supposed to say in response? Sorry? It has to be someone, doesn't it? Songs and 'laughs' don't appear out of thin air. I'm a little disappointed that no one flagged down any of this crime before it made it all the way to the corporate airwaves again. It's almost as if someone has taken away my Respect. It's as though someone else couldn't mind their own Business. When I started blogging in 1999, it was in response to the slogan express yourself. Perhaps what they really meant to say, at least to me, was kill yourself.
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