Impeach the Monsters is a searing and combustive poetic masterpiece exigently sewn unto paginated raiment. Walter Harris III, commonly referred to by his sobriquet, Mankh, is a missionary of sort—not in the classical religious sense. He is a messenger tolling the bell of universal redemption.
But redemption can be a painful mess demanding introspection. And Mankh is unafraid to adjudicate on matters of conscience. His political obsession is tempered with sensitivity, adroitly weaved into this unique body of work. His use of the word “impeach” should not be construed solely through a political prism. It is a more a battle cry for personal transformation at every level of personal expression. Only then can global change be realised, he offers.
His is a poetry that delicately hammers home an existential message.
But Mankh is edgy—impatient at times—injecting literalism when the reader is better left bewitched by the magic of poetry. He is a flawless exponent of verse relying little on structure and cadence even prosaic when so moved by spirit. Interestingly, he aptly adds a touch of haiku (a non-rhythmic form of Japanese poetry composed of three lines) for good measure. A dizzying showcase of his range.
Undoubtedly, Mankh’s strengths are rooted in his warm, sensitive, and differential display of the art form. His Ever For You Here Now We Are, is a spellbinding interplay of words that yearn connection to the reader: “Ever for you been here have I, Ever for you here now we are, Ever our words sometimes cloaked, bending, wrapped, around the curve of a pear, then again hidden, unbitten, yet sometimes biting reveals…Have you any dear friends that words or no words still friends?”
Nuanced, philosophical, and esoteric. Just brilliant!
But Mankh can be brash and crude. It is a compelling assemblage that can grip even those to whom poetry and banality are one and the same. It is this stark ambivalence that makes Mankh endearing to some and equally threatening to others. He is patriotic but does not embrace blind patriotism. He decries American jingoism and explores the Iraqi debacle as one example of its misplaced indulgence.
“No fireworks were delivered to Baghdad to deliver their Iraqi freedom...” he taunts the apologists of the war.
He calls out his nation on its deeds of yore, “By the way, your Indians are not your Indians, they were here so long before you,” while extolling the cosmology and soteriology of native peoples. Expectedly, his words tear down the parochialism of structured religion, ever attempting to decode the dictums of Zen Buddhism and Judeo-Christian Thought.
“Will there always be people awaiting the Second Coming of Christ, or Elijah’s arrival at the Passover Table? These must be logically be seen as temporary stories, training wheels for true independence—otherwise one is doomed to repeat the ritual endlessly,” he intones.
He later opts to abandon poetry, delivering a stirring sermon— reminiscent of a preacher before his congregation, or, as he would much prefer, the guru before his chelas: “In some form, small or large, impeach any monster that attempts to tie you down, shackle you, deceive you into thinking some institution or false idea or mass hysteria knows better than you what is good for you.”
In the end, Impeach the Monsters is evocative, blossoming into a breathing, living art form that is responsive to social, political, and spiritual issues. Surely, Mankh is no progenitor of this genre of poetry. I would have erred greatly to have uttered such. What is undeniable though is his uncanny ability to fuse the strengths of literary giants, such as American born singer Bob Dylan, and Caribbean literary giants—the likes of Willie Chen and CLR James into a single and all encompassing literary mosaic. Enough said!
Dr Glenville Ashby New York correspondent The Guardian Media Group
Impeach the Monsters: New Dawn by Mankh (Walter E. Harris 111)
ISB-0-9743603-84
Allbook Books, 2008, Selden, New York
www.allbook-books.com
mankh@allbook-books.com.
