Preface as of 2018

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If, so far, I have managed to change the world for the better, via my articulations, including these so-called poems, very little—it is because I could only develop my strategy on the fly, beginning as a child—rather than accept one of the algorithms to contributing to injustice & war.

It’s hard to change what is advantageous to those with the advantages.

I was appropriately overwhelmed by both the evil in the world & the normal adaptations to evil—thinking highly of oneself & of those who think highly of one, competition for acclamation, glory, metastatic wealth, & power over others, & the other usual consolation prizes—nice houses, cars, furniture, appliances, meals, clothes, insurance policies, etc.

I had no unusual advantages, & some unusual disadvantages—which is the case for the greatest proportion of humanity, & the other species, too.

I scarcely knew what I was doing.

Those who bothered to guide me, mostly were, themselves, misguided.

I wasn’t particularly courageous or wise.

When I was younger, & had far less understanding to offer, I attracted some support, but those who were attracted & supportive were themselves neither particularly courageous nor wise.

Those on the left considered me a right-winger. Those on the right considered me a left-winger.

Those who realized that political change for the better was damn near impossible imagined that I was content, with them, just to suffer & complain.

Those who imagined that they were good citizens, because they voted or even circulated petitions for some orthodox candidate or cause, or lifted their voices or even guns for zealots unwilling objectively to analyze the predictable consequences of their actions, found me an obstacle.

Those who had even less enthusiasm for communication via devices & programs others controlled considered me a techie. Techies, if they noticed my existence, found me a stick-in-the-mud.

Egotists took me for an egotist, competing with them for attention.

Those in positions of authority in print media—& recording, distribution, & broadcasting—required my submission to their authority. (But they weren’t achieving what needed achieving.) Otherwise, they withheld what they might have contributed, for their own benefit, mine, & my work’s audience.

Aesthetes imagined I was a rising aesthete star—& withdrew support when they realized I was trying to use words & ideas to effect change in the world, of which words & ideas are a significant but small part—rather than promoting how wonderful aesthetes were.

I wasn’t the greatest diplomat of all time—tho I managed to avoid being murdered or entirely starved to death—or the most audacious person.

None of us understood what our contemporaries would do with their lives—more often than not, other than what they claimed they were doing—or how to steer that doing toward a better result.

Wonderful people, occasionally, if rarely, helped me. Sometimes they realized more or less who I was & what I was doing. Sometimes they misunderstood, mainly. (What I’m doing is so uncommon—& very nearly everyone was so certain that I was doing something else—that it has taken me most of my life to realize what I’m doing.)

I couldn’t have survived without occasional help. I’m grateful.

It’s amazing that I’m still alive, & able to operate more effectively from here on out.

So far, so good.

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Many of these so-called poems have been posted or published, in the USA or elsewhere, 50, 40, 30, 20, 10 years ago, or more & more recently.

The publications & websites varied remarkably, from political to literary, pious to provocative.

I took what opportunities I could find to proclaim to humanity what I thought would improve the situation for the world, &, bit by bit, for myself, simultaneously.

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Below are artifacts from other efforts, none of which is dead yet, either:

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