The Korean Peninsula

I had a thought today, perhaps not a good thought, but a thought none the less.  What if the Russian Federation under the leadership of Vladimir Putin has designs on North Korea for himself.  With the election of Donald Trump with Federation help, and Putin’s supposed leverage on the now president, he has the tools to make Russia look great by solving the Korean Peninsula problem of nuclear weapons expansion for the world and for American and European interests.  With the help of China, the two major players in the old world could invade and replace the current government with a relieved American population under Donald Trump feeling that they had just dodged a bullet.

America, under Trump, would then maintain their presence on the South Korean border for a short time to maintain the illusion that it still maintained a powerful economic, military, and political position in that part of Asia, when in reality it has just folded on a very large game of Risk.  Russia would then have gained a major economic trading influence it had begun to loose with the Russo-Japanese war of 1805.  The loss of Northern Pacific leverage ceded to the US with the acquisition of Alaska in 1867 would take on a lesser role in the Pacific for Russia, and through the course of the next 100 years with global warming opening up the Arctic to shipping, Asia, already an economic power house, would lead the world in a far more independent fashion from European and American influence than any other time in the twentieth century.

This is just a mental wander on my part, a sci-fi parallel universe kind of thing, but it is not out of the realm of political events that I was taught in school.  To quote the kleptocrat currently in the cat-bird seat, “people are just saying, I don’t remember what people or where, just something I saw on the TV-news.”

A Note

 

We have nothing

in common, but for some reason

I wish we did.

It is just desire,

just my balls talking to me again,

stupid biology that causes my brain

to trigger all those responses

of home, hearth, and caring:

love if you will.

Yet I know it’s just

an illusion.  Something someone put

in my mind when I grew

up.  It has always been

wrong before.  And I’m tired.

I am tired.

If I could rest

beside you, inside you

for a time or two;

the fire that is behind

my eyes, the lust to do

might consume itself,

crumbling into ashes, coals.

The heat that was left

would be for you.  Your body

could give me rest, perhaps

even clear the cobwebs in my head.

Though you’re right about avoiding

touching.  Next thing you know

someone cares and convinces

themselves that they love.

And someone gets burned

by the flames that are kicked up with

a passionate grasp of life.

Or the heat grows cold

without fuel.  Tears can

put out flame, and rain in winter

pounds the ashes of an old camp

into the dust.  You’re right,

we have nothing in common.

Still, I am so tired,

so terribly, terribly tired.

 

first published in Living With a Stranger: self portrait, 1993.  Also published in Love is Just Lust Misspelled, 1994.