7.11.09
DISEASE and WISDOM
"One of the companions of Imam fell ill. Imam Ali called upon him and thus advised him: "Be thankful to Allah. He has made this illness a thing to atone your sins because a disease in itself has nothing to bring reward to anyone, it merely expiates one's sins and so far as reward is concerned, one has to earn it with his good words and good deeds. The Almighty Lord grants Paradise to his creatures on account of their piety and noble thoughts". "
"The sin which makes you sad and repentant is more liked by Allah than the good deed which turns you arrogant."
-Ali ibn Abi Taleb, Lion of Allah, Commander of the Faithful. May Allah be pleased with him and his heirs.
"One of the companions of Imam fell ill. Imam Ali called upon him and thus advised him: "Be thankful to Allah. He has made this illness a thing to atone your sins because a disease in itself has nothing to bring reward to anyone, it merely expiates one's sins and so far as reward is concerned, one has to earn it with his good words and good deeds. The Almighty Lord grants Paradise to his creatures on account of their piety and noble thoughts". "
"The sin which makes you sad and repentant is more liked by Allah than the good deed which turns you arrogant."
-Ali ibn Abi Taleb, Lion of Allah, Commander of the Faithful. May Allah be pleased with him and his heirs.
5.11.09
How Herpes Simplex Virus creates the Perfect Storm for HIV infection
The entire article here:
http://www.fhcrc.org/about/pubs/center_news/online/2009/08/Corey_herpes_study.html
The entire article here:
http://www.fhcrc.org/about/pubs/center_news/online/2009/08/Corey_herpes_study.html
4.11.09
Catholic Relief Services Attacks HIV/AIDS
Herpes....most of us have some type. HIV + Herpes = a three to five fold increase in rate of HIV transmission. TB...remember the Alamo! TB used to be not only stigmatized but incurable. Will HIV follow the same path and pattern as TB?
I certainly think so. No...I know so. It is obvious. Unlike TB however, HIV isn't spread through casual contact or any type of ordinary just "minding my business" type of way like the way TB is spread. This, we know for certain.
And because of the prevalence of Herpes I and II (eighty percent of people have oral Herpes, twenty percent have genital and oral herpes can manifest as genital outbreaks) in the general population....the perfect storm is brewing.
Herpes....most of us have some type. HIV + Herpes = a three to five fold increase in rate of HIV transmission. TB...remember the Alamo! TB used to be not only stigmatized but incurable. Will HIV follow the same path and pattern as TB?
I certainly think so. No...I know so. It is obvious. Unlike TB however, HIV isn't spread through casual contact or any type of ordinary just "minding my business" type of way like the way TB is spread. This, we know for certain.
And because of the prevalence of Herpes I and II (eighty percent of people have oral Herpes, twenty percent have genital and oral herpes can manifest as genital outbreaks) in the general population....the perfect storm is brewing.
1.11.09
30.10.09
School Scene
Plays well with others it says
hair pulling and teeth smashing
out the window replaced
downwind for annotation
we have to do this before eight
but the tables and chairs
do not carry themselves home
just visit us there in the headlight
before the press stopped coming
after the first day no one combed
their hair or chewed slowly
if they chewed at all but tonight.
Who will remember our birthday
out back on the launch pad
before it was over and the school
opened its mighty doors and corridors
to the sniffling congregation that chants
one two three and again.
Plays well with others it says
hair pulling and teeth smashing
out the window replaced
downwind for annotation
we have to do this before eight
but the tables and chairs
do not carry themselves home
just visit us there in the headlight
before the press stopped coming
after the first day no one combed
their hair or chewed slowly
if they chewed at all but tonight.
Who will remember our birthday
out back on the launch pad
before it was over and the school
opened its mighty doors and corridors
to the sniffling congregation that chants
one two three and again.
28.10.09
Advice On Graveyard Snakes
On this day the snow drops in
before we are ready to let it win,
not to be too specific
even though it would be quite
terrific, the way the faces
might begin to scowl
as truth tromps on the magnificent
jowl of those who thought
the few of us mad become
the tragic stars of a music sad.
All of life is tonic clonic up and down
sleep and wake smile and frown
dreadful blind and unwholesome kind
that mock and will be mocked for ages
during time that doesn't move an hour
forward or backward then turns it sour
for those to drink their own dark pus
the type that manufactures us
an old protection from bitter swell
of cancer or infection within the cell.
With this in mind and new precision
let us now pretend our decision
wasn't meant at all for ever
act like we were not that clever
when in fact the devil did walk
the precious path and made small talk
with wise old fools used to books
and friends of friends of small time crooks,
let them pretend to mock instead of mock
before they are handed an old stopped clock
with which they will be keeping time
inside their graves without a voice
with which to rhyme.
How goes it there with you we'll say
how goes it inside the ground with you?
Doing fine just doing fine but tell us
if in fact we will wake up soon?
Tell us news about our mothers
are they too in dirt that smothers
or have they yet ascended to heaven
before we made it here at eleven?
Salaams to you and all the others
but in our den the light's quite good
the odor a bit like fragrant wood,
there is no news yet and all we know
is our fingers cannot ammend
the pages and our shabby hair
does not grow but a bit an hour.
Do not panic and just sit tight
in there with so little light
an hour to enjoy this brief respite.
Like the life which you wasted
the truth of this you never tasted
cannot be savored here
without the sugar and saliva
that made your webs so tangled there.
At least take heart a little
your nerves are brittle
this group of yours isn't small
you aren't alone, not at all,
the vermin arrive before the fall.
On this day the snow drops in
before we are ready to let it win,
not to be too specific
even though it would be quite
terrific, the way the faces
might begin to scowl
as truth tromps on the magnificent
jowl of those who thought
the few of us mad become
the tragic stars of a music sad.
All of life is tonic clonic up and down
sleep and wake smile and frown
dreadful blind and unwholesome kind
that mock and will be mocked for ages
during time that doesn't move an hour
forward or backward then turns it sour
for those to drink their own dark pus
the type that manufactures us
an old protection from bitter swell
of cancer or infection within the cell.
With this in mind and new precision
let us now pretend our decision
wasn't meant at all for ever
act like we were not that clever
when in fact the devil did walk
the precious path and made small talk
with wise old fools used to books
and friends of friends of small time crooks,
let them pretend to mock instead of mock
before they are handed an old stopped clock
with which they will be keeping time
inside their graves without a voice
with which to rhyme.
How goes it there with you we'll say
how goes it inside the ground with you?
Doing fine just doing fine but tell us
if in fact we will wake up soon?
Tell us news about our mothers
are they too in dirt that smothers
or have they yet ascended to heaven
before we made it here at eleven?
Salaams to you and all the others
but in our den the light's quite good
the odor a bit like fragrant wood,
there is no news yet and all we know
is our fingers cannot ammend
the pages and our shabby hair
does not grow but a bit an hour.
Do not panic and just sit tight
in there with so little light
an hour to enjoy this brief respite.
Like the life which you wasted
the truth of this you never tasted
cannot be savored here
without the sugar and saliva
that made your webs so tangled there.
At least take heart a little
your nerves are brittle
this group of yours isn't small
you aren't alone, not at all,
the vermin arrive before the fall.
24.10.09
Ask the Sun
This isn't mentioned and therefore
the body is time, the soul occupies it
as memory and prophecy distributed
throughout the contiguous and eternal
past and future. They are too
as the heart is as the fat of the eye is
the bone of the ear is
where all life taking is taken
by one and the same, the taker,
even the precious lonely ones
who lie undiscovered and sought
after for years by cadaver dogs
and new methodologies.
This the body is only for proof
but is not the proof where proof
exists only to extinguish the doubt.
In what you say?
Alas, it cannot be written down
with so little ink and in the sea
are not enough drops.
This isn't mentioned and therefore
the body is time, the soul occupies it
as memory and prophecy distributed
throughout the contiguous and eternal
past and future. They are too
as the heart is as the fat of the eye is
the bone of the ear is
where all life taking is taken
by one and the same, the taker,
even the precious lonely ones
who lie undiscovered and sought
after for years by cadaver dogs
and new methodologies.
This the body is only for proof
but is not the proof where proof
exists only to extinguish the doubt.
In what you say?
Alas, it cannot be written down
with so little ink and in the sea
are not enough drops.
18.10.09
the paradise
I
Made two photographs of the same thing and managed in my mind to block out of one, all the unnecessary objects. I left alone the trees, the sky, the hilltops. This included the stars that could not be seen because the sun, our star, had risen and brightened. I realized that the universe is soft and conforms to whatever is placed up against it. In the other photo, I excluded all things that were not man made and therefore, the photo cannot exist in reality and is being reproduced for the pleasure of many and my own convenience. There was a gate, the shower doors that had swans etched into them, a fence post that is propped to keep the gate closed, telephone wires, rooftops-two of which were long and large and horizontal and one in between that formed an upside down triangle. An insect was dead on the sidewalk upon which my own feet rested as I looked out, but I could not exclude this animal and realized, the universe is soft and conforms to whatever is placed up against it. This could have been terrifying but now that the piece exists here, it has been tamed and untangled. The work begins now to organize this pleasure from the night that covered and the moon that reflected and the patience that withered while waiting.
I
Made two photographs of the same thing and managed in my mind to block out of one, all the unnecessary objects. I left alone the trees, the sky, the hilltops. This included the stars that could not be seen because the sun, our star, had risen and brightened. I realized that the universe is soft and conforms to whatever is placed up against it. In the other photo, I excluded all things that were not man made and therefore, the photo cannot exist in reality and is being reproduced for the pleasure of many and my own convenience. There was a gate, the shower doors that had swans etched into them, a fence post that is propped to keep the gate closed, telephone wires, rooftops-two of which were long and large and horizontal and one in between that formed an upside down triangle. An insect was dead on the sidewalk upon which my own feet rested as I looked out, but I could not exclude this animal and realized, the universe is soft and conforms to whatever is placed up against it. This could have been terrifying but now that the piece exists here, it has been tamed and untangled. The work begins now to organize this pleasure from the night that covered and the moon that reflected and the patience that withered while waiting.
II
two of the same to block out one, all the unnecessary alone . This included could not be seen. that the soft conforms is placed against . In the other excluded man made , the photo cannot exist reproduced for pleasure and convenience. swans propped closed, long large horizontal between that formed . dead rested exclude and realized,
is soft and conforms against it.
terrifying exists tamed and untangled. The work begins to organize pleasure withered while waiting.
Back In The Day
knew don't, just participate.
season isn't great
though it starts with the snow.
History can explain this?
sure commemoration of
the Ages. It began begetting.
foretold of the thirties, and so on, so forth.
Think who looks the age and comes back.
Music is sign, bring it back,
package and prevent the symptom.
Used the chill
of Nam, the hearings.
a kid and remember the day
colorful in the drain.
that rain and all the rains since.
Harbinger sometimes, blind
prediction brought on My hands
smell of jasmine. the vaccine
will be tables and a bed,
oxygen and hand alone
drive to the towns, the bottom of Dos Cabezas.
fourth will interpret
sound of the first
morning the others.
sentence heart full of not hope,
to replace with love.
to fool all lies, to be them
blissfully This heart though
is a bag of letters,
she reads her vampire alone here.
the cleanest ever
device
sign
disguised as pattern.
take less meaningful and
sense from and bone of work,
there a case for this type
were that had to leave
the future would be this
comedy of danger.
devil up again but we hope not.
Nostalgia is the last future.
people so known to them,
record contains the terrible.
strange about this the fact
does begin but only
frustrated?
Is it the know
and cover it up?
on purpose
or give them the full heart?
began the picture wasn't a picture
anything that was shuttered
window in Colorado. where really
taken or created.
maybe that the truth
filtered through a comb,
a sieve and the oversight committee
wall street wants
this way. a picture
of objects and the light placed there
or turned on. All the rains since
one thing but only the first
thing and then forever
to escape the flaw that defined it.
The rain and the rain-truth
is filtered and attached by coincidence
only the first rain that ever matters
and matters most of all.
knew don't, just participate.
season isn't great
though it starts with the snow.
History can explain this?
sure commemoration of
the Ages. It began begetting.
foretold of the thirties, and so on, so forth.
Think who looks the age and comes back.
Music is sign, bring it back,
package and prevent the symptom.
Used the chill
of Nam, the hearings.
a kid and remember the day
colorful in the drain.
that rain and all the rains since.
Harbinger sometimes, blind
prediction brought on My hands
smell of jasmine. the vaccine
will be tables and a bed,
oxygen and hand alone
drive to the towns, the bottom of Dos Cabezas.
fourth will interpret
sound of the first
morning the others.
sentence heart full of not hope,
to replace with love.
to fool all lies, to be them
blissfully This heart though
is a bag of letters,
she reads her vampire alone here.
the cleanest ever
device
sign
disguised as pattern.
take less meaningful and
sense from and bone of work,
there a case for this type
were that had to leave
the future would be this
comedy of danger.
devil up again but we hope not.
Nostalgia is the last future.
people so known to them,
record contains the terrible.
strange about this the fact
does begin but only
frustrated?
Is it the know
and cover it up?
on purpose
or give them the full heart?
began the picture wasn't a picture
anything that was shuttered
window in Colorado. where really
taken or created.
maybe that the truth
filtered through a comb,
a sieve and the oversight committee
wall street wants
this way. a picture
of objects and the light placed there
or turned on. All the rains since
one thing but only the first
thing and then forever
to escape the flaw that defined it.
The rain and the rain-truth
is filtered and attached by coincidence
only the first rain that ever matters
and matters most of all.
17.10.09
America to become Hispanic and as it goes, Islamic. Returning to Islam will be many of African American origin. How can it be otherwise and how can anyone deny that this is the truth? Many who embrace Islam are returning from the prisons, mostly Latinos and Blacks. And then, there's the disoriented Catholics who really...exist in a state of religiousity in name only, their practices have become meaningless and by rote only. When they begin to think however, they inevitably have to choose one thing or the other. The same thing happens within Islam itself and when a muslim is faced with what the second video explains...maybe not so easy for non muslims to comprehend until "they get there" i.e. the basic Islam, they also have to choose between the proper Shia orientation and the improper Sunni one.
And the Shia will lead because it is said that all people will one day have to return to the Ahl Bayt for rehabilitation of their religion. I don't know why that should upset anyone really except that most do not understand the sectarian issue of Islam and most have accepted Sunni Islam rather than the proper orientation. By acceptance, I do not mean that they have embraced Islam for themselves. Not at all. Those who disbelieve in anything at all, disbelieve in it for a reason (usually a good one) and in the case of most people in the west, their concept of Islam has been one of Sunni orientation which is absolutely, completely misguided and therefore, the Western refusal is one based on common sense. Therefore, they are refusing the wrong thing for the right reasons and missing the right thing because of that.
In this, the speaker suggests that there is a historical perspective that must be addressed by muslims themselves. Unbeknownst to most Western observers, this is happening throughout the muslim world i.e. they are coming to their senses. As more and more muslims are being liberated from cruel dictators (yes, some by the efforts of America), they are allowed to move outside of the coercion that has been foisted on all of them by yes...the majority opinion of Sunni Islam that is only majority opinion by force.
And the Shia will lead because it is said that all people will one day have to return to the Ahl Bayt for rehabilitation of their religion. I don't know why that should upset anyone really except that most do not understand the sectarian issue of Islam and most have accepted Sunni Islam rather than the proper orientation. By acceptance, I do not mean that they have embraced Islam for themselves. Not at all. Those who disbelieve in anything at all, disbelieve in it for a reason (usually a good one) and in the case of most people in the west, their concept of Islam has been one of Sunni orientation which is absolutely, completely misguided and therefore, the Western refusal is one based on common sense. Therefore, they are refusing the wrong thing for the right reasons and missing the right thing because of that.
In this, the speaker suggests that there is a historical perspective that must be addressed by muslims themselves. Unbeknownst to most Western observers, this is happening throughout the muslim world i.e. they are coming to their senses. As more and more muslims are being liberated from cruel dictators (yes, some by the efforts of America), they are allowed to move outside of the coercion that has been foisted on all of them by yes...the majority opinion of Sunni Islam that is only majority opinion by force.
This is a concise explanation of the meaning of The Last Act of the Apostle Mohamed, SA. Jesus, SA also had a last act and it is detailed in the fifth Sura known as Al Maida (the Dinner Table) and is known to Christians as "The Last Supper". That actual event is clarified in the Quran..the truth revealed that no transfiguration of anything happened...merely...a meal was provided to the Companions of Jesus who were then charged that if they disbelieved after that moment in time, they would be damned for all eternity. It was Jesus last act as a prophet and messenger. All prophets and messengers had one...i.e. a "last act". This video explains the last act of Mohamed prior to his death at the place known as Ghadeer Khum in which he established a deputy who would be given Divine Knowledge and Right....in order to explain and clarify not only to muslims but to all people.
This last act of Mohamed, SA occurs at Ghadeer Khum where the Dinner Table is revealed. It is known as the completion of "the" religion(s). Not just Islam but the final chapter in the communications between Allah and mankind via special persons known as prophets and messengers. It is the whole crux of the issue and reflects on all the previous issues of Monotheism.
Some words especially toward the end might be foreign to non muslims. The speaker uses Muala which means helper and then proves a point about the notion that the prophet went to alot of trouble to announce something at Ghadeer and it certainly wasn't to introduce his "best friend/helper". Another word that is used toward the end is Mutawatir. Mutawatir is a principle in Islam that indicates that something is MANDATORY.
| The Daily Show With Jon Stewart | Mon - Thurs 11p / 10c | |||
| Afghanistan: The Graveyard of Empires Strikes Back | ||||
| ||||
16.10.09
"Hiatus is a naughty word." -Megan Porter
I was looking for something um yes. I was searching on my own name. I admit it. I found something really touching. Really sad. Beautiful young woman...known on Twitter...beautiful singing voice and seemed like a really nice young woman.
Dead in June. While we all were doing something else, this person died. That always gets me.
She left many things behind though.... these are a few of them:
Her obit:
http://www.legacy.com/obituaries/dfw/obituary.aspx?n=megan-elizabeth-porter&pid=128871645
Her Voice:
Her thoughts:
Her fears:
What I think is, a nice journalist should go to Texas and speak to her parents. Ask them about wind chimes, stars, crickets. All the places they must still hear their daughter's voice and see her face. Her mother misses mostly, her hair. Her mother does hair and her mother must miss the smell and feel of her daughter's beautiful hair. I feel so sorry for them. Really, really sorry. They might find this one day and I want to remind them, it is a hiatus. Remember that and be patient.
We say to our children in Arabic, Bury Me.
I was looking for something um yes. I was searching on my own name. I admit it. I found something really touching. Really sad. Beautiful young woman...known on Twitter...beautiful singing voice and seemed like a really nice young woman.
Dead in June. While we all were doing something else, this person died. That always gets me.
She left many things behind though.... these are a few of them:
Her blog:
Her photographs:
http://le-mags.deviantart.com/gallery/#_featuredHer obit:
http://www.legacy.com/obituaries/dfw/obituary.aspx?n=megan-elizabeth-porter&pid=128871645
Her Voice:
Her thoughts:
Her fears:
What I think is, a nice journalist should go to Texas and speak to her parents. Ask them about wind chimes, stars, crickets. All the places they must still hear their daughter's voice and see her face. Her mother misses mostly, her hair. Her mother does hair and her mother must miss the smell and feel of her daughter's beautiful hair. I feel so sorry for them. Really, really sorry. They might find this one day and I want to remind them, it is a hiatus. Remember that and be patient.
We say to our children in Arabic, Bury Me.
15.10.09
John Greenleaf, Our Precious Ants
This, the lawn chair out back
gazes all night and all day
upon the universe that it can
a small section of the sky,
three oleanders, dirt and fence,
a wall. Things come and go
when the wind slips through
then the stars as if on the end
of a kaleidiescope twist by.
A happy generation of ants trods over
wise to the hazards and the noise.
The armageddons of distant shapes
are gauged not in how long
or far but in juicy conversations
about the wealth of nations.
Remember when Solomon answered
is all they know while hoarding
grains and children, remember
the ancestors who died
an hour ago, over at the Alamo!
Recall the prophet who did nothing
more than coat our sores
with his sweet subliminal taste, who called the army
on his chimes then felled the forest with his touch
and left us quite the same, alone in Palestine
with our stars above and ground below,
the clothes upon our backs.
This, the lawn chair out back
gazes all night and all day
upon the universe that it can
a small section of the sky,
three oleanders, dirt and fence,
a wall. Things come and go
when the wind slips through
then the stars as if on the end
of a kaleidiescope twist by.
A happy generation of ants trods over
wise to the hazards and the noise.
The armageddons of distant shapes
are gauged not in how long
or far but in juicy conversations
about the wealth of nations.
Remember when Solomon answered
is all they know while hoarding
grains and children, remember
the ancestors who died
an hour ago, over at the Alamo!
Recall the prophet who did nothing
more than coat our sores
with his sweet subliminal taste, who called the army
on his chimes then felled the forest with his touch
and left us quite the same, alone in Palestine
with our stars above and ground below,
the clothes upon our backs.
14.10.09
I just really love this Marx in Jargon by Keston Sutherland. Fantastic trip through Glen Beck's worst nightmare. Lovable, darling, and actually, quite peachy keen if you ask me.
http://english.okstate.edu/worldpicture/WP_1.1/KSutherland.pdf
I would like to show something about the Legend of Sticky Beard as described by one of my favorite essentialists of human consciousness (oddly enough, non muslims think us (muslims) to be incapable of thinking outside of the box...only it is THEIR box they find us incapable of thinking outside of heh) but it is hard to find. A little bit of Joe though, goes a very long way even through the thoughtful consideration of a benefactor of such grossly underrated cultural mechanisms like Star Wars that inherently become as tangled in the beard (as anything else) of the five pointed sensorial monster who sports a beard as sticky and repulsive as anything any culture can imagine for itself as objectionable (like islam). Hmm. These cultural mechanisms although designed as commentary from above end up being matters for ethical regression themselves back into the myths that power um...most things non muslim like. Islam is truly different in that respect but most people do not know it. Luke relates one of the essential fallacies of all systems outside of Islam and that is this "underestimation" of the power of the dark side. It promotes a universal human beard trap in which "evil" is actually in competition with good when in fact, it (evil, the devil, etc) was created by the Creator of all things (Allah created the Shaitan and in no way is subject to any of the things most often associated "with" Allah/God regardless of the intention of the human mastermind behind such processes who knows the problem of it but still cannot extract the creative intellect from it long enough to overcome entrapment in the finer details). And then you get the cartoon generation specialists who promote sticky beard to very young children and teenagers who gobble up the gobbletygook of WarCraft and fight simulated battles with this hoary headed and sticky Luke Skywalker accomplice (read: money generators) and no one notices?
http://english.okstate.edu/worldpicture/WP_1.1/KSutherland.pdf
I would like to show something about the Legend of Sticky Beard as described by one of my favorite essentialists of human consciousness (oddly enough, non muslims think us (muslims) to be incapable of thinking outside of the box...only it is THEIR box they find us incapable of thinking outside of heh) but it is hard to find. A little bit of Joe though, goes a very long way even through the thoughtful consideration of a benefactor of such grossly underrated cultural mechanisms like Star Wars that inherently become as tangled in the beard (as anything else) of the five pointed sensorial monster who sports a beard as sticky and repulsive as anything any culture can imagine for itself as objectionable (like islam). Hmm. These cultural mechanisms although designed as commentary from above end up being matters for ethical regression themselves back into the myths that power um...most things non muslim like. Islam is truly different in that respect but most people do not know it. Luke relates one of the essential fallacies of all systems outside of Islam and that is this "underestimation" of the power of the dark side. It promotes a universal human beard trap in which "evil" is actually in competition with good when in fact, it (evil, the devil, etc) was created by the Creator of all things (Allah created the Shaitan and in no way is subject to any of the things most often associated "with" Allah/God regardless of the intention of the human mastermind behind such processes who knows the problem of it but still cannot extract the creative intellect from it long enough to overcome entrapment in the finer details). And then you get the cartoon generation specialists who promote sticky beard to very young children and teenagers who gobble up the gobbletygook of WarCraft and fight simulated battles with this hoary headed and sticky Luke Skywalker accomplice (read: money generators) and no one notices?
Ah, we do.
10.10.09
The Intifadah turns into Permanent Resistance
As we watch another episode of Dancing With the Stars with Senator Tom DeLay bowing out due to a bum foot (what a shame to lose that guy...)...a silent revolution is taking place in Palestine.
You aren't told about it. Last time you looked, Mahmoud Abbas (the new and improved ARAFAT) was doing just fine. His Palestinians in the West Bank were well behaved patrons of the Israeli state. Israel had built them a few malls, gave in to a few more porcelain toilets.....but wait!
Not anymore. You see, Mr. Abbas did what they all do...listened to the Zionist liars in the Israeli knesset and those little monsters in the settlements and said...poopoo on the GOLDSTONE report. Big mistake.
Did Mr. Abbas not understand the story of the third khalifa, Othman? You see...one of the three first khalifs who basically deceived alot of people into believing that the prophet Mohamed had delegated authority to...them....was named Othman. He was assassinated when he pulled exactly this same trick. He was pocketing valuables and cash while the poor did not only not remain indifferent but they marched on his palace in order to demand an explanation. Poor old Othman asked Emir Ali ibn Abi Taleb, pbuh, for some sage advice and it was given. Ali simply told him to "fess up" and don't do it (nepotism/misappropriation of charities, beating up dissenters and the like) anymore. Unfortunately for Othman however, after Ali left the building to return to his monastic set up elsewhere (where he pondered the condition of the new muslims day and night), a bad advisor came to his side. He told Othman...just tell these protesters that the Egyptians (who were also aiming at protest but hadn't reached the palace yet and were camped in a nearby valley)....were on their way home after having spoken to you (Othman). This advisor told Othman to: Tell these guys that everything is just fine and that even the Egyptian contingent are satisfied.
The palace was stormed as soon as Othman followed this worthless advice (ignoring Ali's sage advice). He was repeatedly stabbed by an unnamed protester...maybe several even. Later on, Ali was blamed for leaving Othman on his own. Of course that was ludicrous. Fact of the matter is, you cannot lie to a people who are experiencing first hand oppressions by telling them, "What Oppression?" It just doesn't work and for obvious reasons. Duh. And of course, this led to the battle of Jamal in which the young wife of the prophet, Aisha (the one people are always focusing on because of her age at the time of marriage rather than focusing on her inherent mischieviousness and downright disobedience to the prophet)....led an army against Ali ibn Abi Taleb, pbuh and not only lost but suffered the humiliation of having Aisha carted off and placed under house arrest. Her escort back to her prison was composed of women dressed as men in order to preserve any semblance of nobility she had remaining. Which was literally none and she then pretty much disappears from the pages of Islamic history. Well, not really. She is touted as heroine to this day by ignorant muslims of the Sunni sects. And there are a lot of those still hanging around but they are also fading into the past as we speak.
But here we are...another Israeli Othman in the making and his name is Mr. Mahmoud Abbas.
"As Prime Minster Benjamin Netanyahu's supporters were celebrating another "victory" in the political battle against the PA - after it retreated from its intent to bring the Goldstone Commission report on Israel's operation in Gaza to the Security Council, it appeared that Abbas' standing in the eyes of Palestinian public opinion has never been worse. Even Balad and northern branch members, who refrain from intervening in intra-Palestinian affairs, called upon the PA president to resign this week. Meanwhile, Al Jazeera TV has been conducting a campaign against him of a sort never before directed against an Arab leader. Prominent people in Fatah are calling upon him to draw the appropriate conclusions, and Abbas' closest advisors, like Yasser Abed Rabbo, are admitting he may have made an error of judgment. The peak came on Wednesday in Gaza, when Hamas organized a humiliating ceremony in which inhabitants of the Gaza Strip were invited to fling shoes at Abbas' picture in the city center."
The Mission found that the attack on the only remaining flour producing factory, the destruction of a large part of the Gaza egg production, the bulldozing of huge tracts of agricultural land, and the bombing of some two hundred industrial facilities, could not on any basis be justified on military grounds. Those attacks had nothing whatever to do with the firing of rockets and mortars at Israel.
The Mission was concerned at the use made by the Israeli army of certain munitions and especially white phosphorous, flechettes and certain heavy metals such as tungsten. Their use is not presently banned by international law.
Since the issue of the advance copy of the Report it has been rejected in vehement terms by the Government of Israel. The call for transparent investigations has been rejected. The Government of Israel wishes to restrict its investigations to secret inquiries by the Military investigating itself. That would clearly not satisfy the legitimate expectations of the many victims of the Israeli military operations.
A culture of impunity in the region has existed for too long.
The lack of accountability for war crimes and possible crimes against humanity has reached a crisis point; the ongoing lack of justice is undermining any hope for a successful peace process and reinforcing an environment that fosters violence. Time and again, experience has taught us that overlooking justice only leads to increased conflict and violence.
As we watch another episode of Dancing With the Stars with Senator Tom DeLay bowing out due to a bum foot (what a shame to lose that guy...)...a silent revolution is taking place in Palestine.
You aren't told about it. Last time you looked, Mahmoud Abbas (the new and improved ARAFAT) was doing just fine. His Palestinians in the West Bank were well behaved patrons of the Israeli state. Israel had built them a few malls, gave in to a few more porcelain toilets.....but wait!
Not anymore. You see, Mr. Abbas did what they all do...listened to the Zionist liars in the Israeli knesset and those little monsters in the settlements and said...poopoo on the GOLDSTONE report. Big mistake.
Did Mr. Abbas not understand the story of the third khalifa, Othman? You see...one of the three first khalifs who basically deceived alot of people into believing that the prophet Mohamed had delegated authority to...them....was named Othman. He was assassinated when he pulled exactly this same trick. He was pocketing valuables and cash while the poor did not only not remain indifferent but they marched on his palace in order to demand an explanation. Poor old Othman asked Emir Ali ibn Abi Taleb, pbuh, for some sage advice and it was given. Ali simply told him to "fess up" and don't do it (nepotism/misappropriation of charities, beating up dissenters and the like) anymore. Unfortunately for Othman however, after Ali left the building to return to his monastic set up elsewhere (where he pondered the condition of the new muslims day and night), a bad advisor came to his side. He told Othman...just tell these protesters that the Egyptians (who were also aiming at protest but hadn't reached the palace yet and were camped in a nearby valley)....were on their way home after having spoken to you (Othman). This advisor told Othman to: Tell these guys that everything is just fine and that even the Egyptian contingent are satisfied.
The palace was stormed as soon as Othman followed this worthless advice (ignoring Ali's sage advice). He was repeatedly stabbed by an unnamed protester...maybe several even. Later on, Ali was blamed for leaving Othman on his own. Of course that was ludicrous. Fact of the matter is, you cannot lie to a people who are experiencing first hand oppressions by telling them, "What Oppression?" It just doesn't work and for obvious reasons. Duh. And of course, this led to the battle of Jamal in which the young wife of the prophet, Aisha (the one people are always focusing on because of her age at the time of marriage rather than focusing on her inherent mischieviousness and downright disobedience to the prophet)....led an army against Ali ibn Abi Taleb, pbuh and not only lost but suffered the humiliation of having Aisha carted off and placed under house arrest. Her escort back to her prison was composed of women dressed as men in order to preserve any semblance of nobility she had remaining. Which was literally none and she then pretty much disappears from the pages of Islamic history. Well, not really. She is touted as heroine to this day by ignorant muslims of the Sunni sects. And there are a lot of those still hanging around but they are also fading into the past as we speak.
But here we are...another Israeli Othman in the making and his name is Mr. Mahmoud Abbas.
"As Prime Minster Benjamin Netanyahu's supporters were celebrating another "victory" in the political battle against the PA - after it retreated from its intent to bring the Goldstone Commission report on Israel's operation in Gaza to the Security Council, it appeared that Abbas' standing in the eyes of Palestinian public opinion has never been worse. Even Balad and northern branch members, who refrain from intervening in intra-Palestinian affairs, called upon the PA president to resign this week. Meanwhile, Al Jazeera TV has been conducting a campaign against him of a sort never before directed against an Arab leader. Prominent people in Fatah are calling upon him to draw the appropriate conclusions, and Abbas' closest advisors, like Yasser Abed Rabbo, are admitting he may have made an error of judgment. The peak came on Wednesday in Gaza, when Hamas organized a humiliating ceremony in which inhabitants of the Gaza Strip were invited to fling shoes at Abbas' picture in the city center."
Some pertinent details of this thing known as The Goldstone Report:
Soon after its establishment the Mission was faced with one of its major challenges: the decision of the Government of Israel not to cooperate with it and its implicit refusal to give us access to Gaza, the West Bank and to southern Israel.The Mission found that the attack on the only remaining flour producing factory, the destruction of a large part of the Gaza egg production, the bulldozing of huge tracts of agricultural land, and the bombing of some two hundred industrial facilities, could not on any basis be justified on military grounds. Those attacks had nothing whatever to do with the firing of rockets and mortars at Israel.
The Mission was concerned at the use made by the Israeli army of certain munitions and especially white phosphorous, flechettes and certain heavy metals such as tungsten. Their use is not presently banned by international law.
Since the issue of the advance copy of the Report it has been rejected in vehement terms by the Government of Israel. The call for transparent investigations has been rejected. The Government of Israel wishes to restrict its investigations to secret inquiries by the Military investigating itself. That would clearly not satisfy the legitimate expectations of the many victims of the Israeli military operations.
A culture of impunity in the region has existed for too long.
The lack of accountability for war crimes and possible crimes against humanity has reached a crisis point; the ongoing lack of justice is undermining any hope for a successful peace process and reinforcing an environment that fosters violence. Time and again, experience has taught us that overlooking justice only leads to increased conflict and violence.
3.10.09
Maz or gracehoper as I usually refer to her is dead. Sad story actually. She was a real pain in the arse. Very opinionated, perhaps moreso than me. Hat's off to you Maz, the story's over.
Calling the Roll
As another full year ends,
let us salute our absent friends
Count Tosselkov who modelled pollen grains to scale in wax,
Whistle Murphy, who married seven women, each five years
younger than the one before, Cardinal Dab Brockney
who catalogued the thirty-nine sexes of angels,
the Michel-Burkiss twins who circumnavigated the globe
each year while they lived, and were scattered
on the trade winds when they died, Ram Shah Pann
who enamelled his virile member with turquoise and pearl,
Ishmael Serif who perfected pellucid dreaming, Colonel P.D.Beeds
who could see colour with his finger-tips, Pierre Chamberlait
who conversed with molluscs,the Whittaker cousins who sighted
the first green mammal before they were lost in Sumatra,
Sugarcane Smith who wrote a twenty-three volume Epic
of the Great Venusian Wars and burnt it immediately,
Red Haslam who bred flying saddlebacks, James Wade
who invented stained-glass bullets, Rabbi Hyram Hite
who proclaimed that Doubt is the true foundation
of Knowledge, Trapp von Cutler who abducted aliens,
and Sydney ‘Slim’ Milch who pioneered the No-Food Diet.
Please charge your glasses, gentlemen;
we shall not see their like again.
© M. A. Griffiths
The New White Wisdom
Old pentacostal poet, how do you do!
I wonder about the ghost vessels
in your eye, the leftover batch
of secrets you forgot to allow
into the ministry of tragedie
we go and go in again like lapses.
Tonight the stars travel along with us
as they always have but incognito
putting their merry making aside
for these awful years that just
continue as your commentary drones
and with such delightful phrases,
it's darling and easy, maybe even
evil or at least, quite selfish.
If we could only count backwards
instead of regress like this
from the hard wood podiums
evangelically all one syllable,
touting toadstool, beach goer, dance partner.
Let's get one word and describe it
in the elegant patois of the leech!
The way we used to mumble
before the advent
of time itself, such a mysterious eon
it was before the door slammed,
the coffin nailed, the arms of eternity
beckoned and the black distrusted
us with so many blank checks
and thus created the same old game.
Rewind us please for old times' sake
back to where we left off
not yet evolved and remembering
something else or nothing at all,
just pleased to be rid of the dragons
and very very white, not yet laughing.
Old pentacostal poet, how do you do!
I wonder about the ghost vessels
in your eye, the leftover batch
of secrets you forgot to allow
into the ministry of tragedie
we go and go in again like lapses.
Tonight the stars travel along with us
as they always have but incognito
putting their merry making aside
for these awful years that just
continue as your commentary drones
and with such delightful phrases,
it's darling and easy, maybe even
evil or at least, quite selfish.
If we could only count backwards
instead of regress like this
from the hard wood podiums
evangelically all one syllable,
touting toadstool, beach goer, dance partner.
Let's get one word and describe it
in the elegant patois of the leech!
The way we used to mumble
before the advent
of time itself, such a mysterious eon
it was before the door slammed,
the coffin nailed, the arms of eternity
beckoned and the black distrusted
us with so many blank checks
and thus created the same old game.
Rewind us please for old times' sake
back to where we left off
not yet evolved and remembering
something else or nothing at all,
just pleased to be rid of the dragons
and very very white, not yet laughing.
1.10.09
Presocratics and Speaking Truth to Power and not only to power, but to those of us who have been led to believe we are powerless. This is the poets job.
Joel Bettridge on the notion of neighborliness and how that changed when he visited Palestine earlier this year.
His new book, Presocratic Blues
30.9.09
25.9.09
Dirty Magazines
In praise of ekphrasis
how many posed for that one
ready to go on your honor?
The last laugh guilt by association
Michelangelo. WonderBra.
Isn't that strange?
National Geographic Kids
, streetlights at six.
But I like the Reader's Digest
rollingstone ringtone!
Jane's and Oprah.
Martha Stewart Living,
Cooking Light
how do you do that?
Better Homes and Gardens
, really now. I thought so.
In praise of ekphrasis
how many posed for that one
ready to go on your honor?
The last laugh guilt by association
Michelangelo. WonderBra.
Isn't that strange?
National Geographic Kids
, streetlights at six.
But I like the Reader's Digest
rollingstone ringtone!
Jane's and Oprah.
Martha Stewart Living,
Cooking Light
how do you do that?
Better Homes and Gardens
, really now. I thought so.
24.9.09
Doog's Masterpiece
(Riyadh, late entry 1999)
Not sure if you remember
but I keep going back to it
reminding everybody
of the goblets banging
the night before the war,
the method of my classical training.
At the embassy the food was good,
the cakes were fabulous
on theme nights we were
all interested in the next drink,
never left until the last bottle
was down to fill quotas
of the forbidden and girls
hauled in for the conversations.
The bar, Uncle Sam's, everyone
wanted to go, they'd follow her
around begging for tickets
her phone never stopped ringing
and the Chattanooga Choo Choo.
We would go up and down,
people would stop by,
all manner of friendliness
over those invitations.
During this time, the babies
took their last breaths,
some went home and others
just lay there carrying on,
it was our job to keep
them warm, quiet and clean
if we weren't on royal duty.
Our flat was well appointed
and part of the process,
most of the time
it was tidy and barren.
We waited a few months
before hanging up anything
that was ours
or might be sold
if the locals climbed in
after scaling the walls
to look for the money
and Raymond Weil's
we purchased through
someone we knew
or as one of us went home
to the old Indians.
Every day someone
would announce, get ready,
be alarmed and relax.
Servants had first names
only and peculiar tendencies
like the old days.
There were drivers and nannies,
cooks and seamstresses,
most of them Filipino and said
prease and madam and smiled.
No one worked very hard
yet they discussed all of it
with great precision, terrific grace.
I was not seeing him much
then but talking to him alot,
our letters never ended
and the paychecks were enormous.
The shine on the car was impossible
for an old guy with rags,
he held on and no one knew
how to drive, the maps
lied if they existed
at all and this is how that works.
On Sundays, the diplomats
attended church on campus,
the Germans and French held festive
get-downs in their digs,
hosting Jewish bellydancers
on the sabbath
and the crowd piled up
fascinated, almost tipped over.
The lean wife of the commercial
attaché and Charlie in a back corner
under ficus and palm
got soused so she kept it going.
Rumors thrived in the gardens
there were cells deep inside the earth
near the borders and dark
in the downtown
where they hung prisoners
and let vermin feast
on the feathers, their last drips.
Poor old Paul Johnson.
The guards outside knew
what went on,
stood at attention, fully formed,
evolved from their ancestors
and passed secrets without adjective.
There where the goblets did all the talking
and there are still things I cannot say
or was told, do not remember.
I get the shakes all over.
(Riyadh, late entry 1999)
Not sure if you remember
but I keep going back to it
reminding everybody
of the goblets banging
the night before the war,
the method of my classical training.
At the embassy the food was good,
the cakes were fabulous
on theme nights we were
all interested in the next drink,
never left until the last bottle
was down to fill quotas
of the forbidden and girls
hauled in for the conversations.
The bar, Uncle Sam's, everyone
wanted to go, they'd follow her
around begging for tickets
her phone never stopped ringing
and the Chattanooga Choo Choo.
We would go up and down,
people would stop by,
all manner of friendliness
over those invitations.
During this time, the babies
took their last breaths,
some went home and others
just lay there carrying on,
it was our job to keep
them warm, quiet and clean
if we weren't on royal duty.
Our flat was well appointed
and part of the process,
most of the time
it was tidy and barren.
We waited a few months
before hanging up anything
that was ours
or might be sold
if the locals climbed in
after scaling the walls
to look for the money
and Raymond Weil's
we purchased through
someone we knew
or as one of us went home
to the old Indians.
Every day someone
would announce, get ready,
be alarmed and relax.
Servants had first names
only and peculiar tendencies
like the old days.
There were drivers and nannies,
cooks and seamstresses,
most of them Filipino and said
prease and madam and smiled.
No one worked very hard
yet they discussed all of it
with great precision, terrific grace.
I was not seeing him much
then but talking to him alot,
our letters never ended
and the paychecks were enormous.
The shine on the car was impossible
for an old guy with rags,
he held on and no one knew
how to drive, the maps
lied if they existed
at all and this is how that works.
On Sundays, the diplomats
attended church on campus,
the Germans and French held festive
get-downs in their digs,
hosting Jewish bellydancers
on the sabbath
and the crowd piled up
fascinated, almost tipped over.
The lean wife of the commercial
attaché and Charlie in a back corner
under ficus and palm
got soused so she kept it going.
Rumors thrived in the gardens
there were cells deep inside the earth
near the borders and dark
in the downtown
where they hung prisoners
and let vermin feast
on the feathers, their last drips.
Poor old Paul Johnson.
The guards outside knew
what went on,
stood at attention, fully formed,
evolved from their ancestors
and passed secrets without adjective.
There where the goblets did all the talking
and there are still things I cannot say
or was told, do not remember.
I get the shakes all over.
23.9.09
The Psychological Burka
(The psychological burka was mentioned on Nancy Grace by her stand in who was commenting on the murder of the Yale PhD candidate who was throttled and stuck into a wall to conceal her remains. The commentator said that American women have on this burka (or rather I think, they don't have on anything, not even a lowered glance) and because of it, are suffering through a tremendous outbreak of violence. Much of that violence, if not all, involves the sequestering of live women or dead in suitcases and spaces, under cloths and in the most recent abduction, in a man's back yard under the supervision of his own "elder" wife for nineteen unbelievable years!)
Everything that happens, before
the mirror happens
thus far will become
a natural self image.
The girl children who find
mirrors too soon
will be corrupted.
Damage the mirrors
if you know
what is good
for the people,
cover the faces
of the girls
with concealants
to ward off
the evils of never getting
out of here purified
of this ignorant contagion.
The windows shall be curtained,
and all fixated glass shall be
broken
if you know what is good for you.
Lights should be dimmed
only enough let in for the simplest tasks
which she can manage
if taught well
by her ancestors
and only the most important
visitors shall be allowed
to enter into the enormous
unknown of their eyes
that are preserved
as are the eggs
which these are given
to carry at birth, to protect
inside of the deep tissues
and thus far, cannot be replaced.
The Elizabeth Burqa Story
The Burqa morphs into the Elizabeth Smart story and a man with a Messianic Personality Disorder somehow gets equivocated with the average Afghani burqa owners of the world. We get analysis from the depths of the land of the free and home of the brave and contemplates the interior spaces of women.
The First Thing You Saw
What was it?
You saw yourself in the mirror and said something.
What was it?
I asked my husband this question this morning. Let me say, I wake up about a half hour before he leaves at four thirty a.m. to manage one of several convenience stores (typical foreigner that he is) and although another person might not comprehend this, it is an important thing to understand who he is. I've known him for more than half of my whole life. At this point in our marriage, it will now always be more than half of it. He is who he is and he suffers no illusions about that.
Charismatic and accepting of his own charismatic nature. People adore him even when he's mean and he often is but it is countered with the same devil may care caringness. He knows best and is always right about everything because he takes things simply as they are. He asked me several times when I explain to him what it is I attempt to do in poems, how could a person like you be with a person like me? Good question I think and every married couple should ask this of each other. How could you! There's a line in a movie that I never really finished and can't even remember the name of...Billy Crystal (I think) is speaking to Danny Davito and admits that men are so awful that even they wake up one day and look in the mirror and it's a wonder they don't vomit. But it isn't really about men in general, it's men in specific. People in specific.
I put my head on his back. He was making the coffee. Whereas I would drink whatever was left behind he has to have his fresh and will throw out enormous amounts of coffee whenever he wants a cup. Afrugal. Not just not frugal but afrugal. Not concerned with anything but his own cup.
As I leaned in he said that I didn't sleep well and that it applied to my beauty rest. I need some even though he knows I wake up every day too early in order to work on poetry. I won't have time when I come home and when I'm at work I am not the type to steal hours and work on poetry there even though I probably could.
I indicated that I am not concerned and the lost cause of my youth...is a lost cause. He said he wondered why people don't think they are good looking.
Why indeed. I asked him if he could remember the first time he ever looked in a mirror and contemplated himself, really contemplated or rather, really remembers having contemplated his good looks. Truth of the matter, he isn't all that good looking but he appears to be quite so. His teeth are deranged, his forehead too high, chin too round, in fact it is inherently doubled and has been so forever regardless of his weight. He couldn't ever be declared classically handsome but all the same, he appears to be good looking.
He said that it was in one of the shops and he remembers his uncle Abdullah and he looked into the mirror in one of the dressing rooms there (Liberia) and thought, I'm good looking.
I was surprised. High school? You were that old before you ever considered what Allah had given you i.e. your face?
I told him why this is an important thought and to all people it is so. Even if most people never get around to contemplating it, they will be contemplating it for the rest of their lives subconsiously.
My first memory was looking into the big round mirror in our bedroom (my sister Radiann and I shared a room at that time and the dresser was full of the glasses she had to wear since she was very young and I used to try them on and was jealous of her possession of so many wonderful ways of seeing the world). I was on my knees, about seven years old, nearly hiding from seeing my own self and I picked up a brush, smoothed my hair and said, you aren't that bad. My husband, when I recounted this, didn't get it right away. Because he is that way. Simple. Admits it. Not afraid of it nor ashamed of it and often we laugh at things other people take way too seriously. I laugh with him but am one of those who takes things way too seriously most of the time. Have to fight it really. But I understand his laughter completely. He isn't a poet and confesses that life for him is really easy. For me though, I still hide from my own self in mirrors..don't like them much at all unless I am completely alone and have only to do the necessities of hygeine and baseline acceptable presentation. I analyse everything that I see and sometimes, that is way too deeply. But that is where poems are.
This is a poem.
You don't get it I told him. I said, you are not that bad! In other words, the others in the world hadn't been so generous with me and I told them that I was not that bad. Not that ugly or unpleasant to look at. I also told him that adolescence seems a bit late to be considering one's looks. Had it not occurred to him to look sooner into his own reflection? I told him, even dolphins do better than that and we both laughed and held each other for a few minutes.
I explained to my husband that we all have first impressions of others but what about our first impression of ourself? How important is that! It is really hard to divorce ourselves from our first impressions, nearly impossible for some people it seems. Not everyone and I think that those of us who are able to combat negative first impressions by looking deeper....simply must be on the right track. For a person like him over confident to the point of carelessness even, he wouldn't understand nor would he have to understand in order to survive this life with an intact psychological framework. He simply doesn't bother and hence, he is seemingly good looking.
He has begun to change a bit though. Trying to retain his youth via beauty products for men. The Grecian Formulas and Minoxidil routines. I dab a bit of smooth hundred dollar a bottle serum on my face (my daughter bought it for me, I would never indulge in such excess on my own). When my serum is gone it won't be replaced and it has nothing to do with my comfort level about getting old. Nothing. I just know that it doesn't matter so much nor is it a redeemable quantity of something. Even if others keep trying to redeem it for me, that is just a hope that the past might come back by and remind us of something that we must have forgotten.
In Saudi Arabia once, I spoke to a woman who believed that the djinn live in the mirrors and when a person looks too often in there, the djinn will enchant the careless individual and they will become forgetful. They might even become senile.
For me, all that matters is that I can make him laugh about the dolphins and their self awareness. Making him laugh makes me laugh and that is what it is all about because smiles are a girl's best friend and the djinn's worst enemy and this I learned
from the Arab to whom I'd been given
through means I cannot quite explain.
What was it?
You saw yourself in the mirror and said something.
What was it?
I asked my husband this question this morning. Let me say, I wake up about a half hour before he leaves at four thirty a.m. to manage one of several convenience stores (typical foreigner that he is) and although another person might not comprehend this, it is an important thing to understand who he is. I've known him for more than half of my whole life. At this point in our marriage, it will now always be more than half of it. He is who he is and he suffers no illusions about that.
Charismatic and accepting of his own charismatic nature. People adore him even when he's mean and he often is but it is countered with the same devil may care caringness. He knows best and is always right about everything because he takes things simply as they are. He asked me several times when I explain to him what it is I attempt to do in poems, how could a person like you be with a person like me? Good question I think and every married couple should ask this of each other. How could you! There's a line in a movie that I never really finished and can't even remember the name of...Billy Crystal (I think) is speaking to Danny Davito and admits that men are so awful that even they wake up one day and look in the mirror and it's a wonder they don't vomit. But it isn't really about men in general, it's men in specific. People in specific.
I put my head on his back. He was making the coffee. Whereas I would drink whatever was left behind he has to have his fresh and will throw out enormous amounts of coffee whenever he wants a cup. Afrugal. Not just not frugal but afrugal. Not concerned with anything but his own cup.
As I leaned in he said that I didn't sleep well and that it applied to my beauty rest. I need some even though he knows I wake up every day too early in order to work on poetry. I won't have time when I come home and when I'm at work I am not the type to steal hours and work on poetry there even though I probably could.
I indicated that I am not concerned and the lost cause of my youth...is a lost cause. He said he wondered why people don't think they are good looking.
Why indeed. I asked him if he could remember the first time he ever looked in a mirror and contemplated himself, really contemplated or rather, really remembers having contemplated his good looks. Truth of the matter, he isn't all that good looking but he appears to be quite so. His teeth are deranged, his forehead too high, chin too round, in fact it is inherently doubled and has been so forever regardless of his weight. He couldn't ever be declared classically handsome but all the same, he appears to be good looking.
He said that it was in one of the shops and he remembers his uncle Abdullah and he looked into the mirror in one of the dressing rooms there (Liberia) and thought, I'm good looking.
I was surprised. High school? You were that old before you ever considered what Allah had given you i.e. your face?
I told him why this is an important thought and to all people it is so. Even if most people never get around to contemplating it, they will be contemplating it for the rest of their lives subconsiously.
My first memory was looking into the big round mirror in our bedroom (my sister Radiann and I shared a room at that time and the dresser was full of the glasses she had to wear since she was very young and I used to try them on and was jealous of her possession of so many wonderful ways of seeing the world). I was on my knees, about seven years old, nearly hiding from seeing my own self and I picked up a brush, smoothed my hair and said, you aren't that bad. My husband, when I recounted this, didn't get it right away. Because he is that way. Simple. Admits it. Not afraid of it nor ashamed of it and often we laugh at things other people take way too seriously. I laugh with him but am one of those who takes things way too seriously most of the time. Have to fight it really. But I understand his laughter completely. He isn't a poet and confesses that life for him is really easy. For me though, I still hide from my own self in mirrors..don't like them much at all unless I am completely alone and have only to do the necessities of hygeine and baseline acceptable presentation. I analyse everything that I see and sometimes, that is way too deeply. But that is where poems are.
This is a poem.
You don't get it I told him. I said, you are not that bad! In other words, the others in the world hadn't been so generous with me and I told them that I was not that bad. Not that ugly or unpleasant to look at. I also told him that adolescence seems a bit late to be considering one's looks. Had it not occurred to him to look sooner into his own reflection? I told him, even dolphins do better than that and we both laughed and held each other for a few minutes.
I explained to my husband that we all have first impressions of others but what about our first impression of ourself? How important is that! It is really hard to divorce ourselves from our first impressions, nearly impossible for some people it seems. Not everyone and I think that those of us who are able to combat negative first impressions by looking deeper....simply must be on the right track. For a person like him over confident to the point of carelessness even, he wouldn't understand nor would he have to understand in order to survive this life with an intact psychological framework. He simply doesn't bother and hence, he is seemingly good looking.
He has begun to change a bit though. Trying to retain his youth via beauty products for men. The Grecian Formulas and Minoxidil routines. I dab a bit of smooth hundred dollar a bottle serum on my face (my daughter bought it for me, I would never indulge in such excess on my own). When my serum is gone it won't be replaced and it has nothing to do with my comfort level about getting old. Nothing. I just know that it doesn't matter so much nor is it a redeemable quantity of something. Even if others keep trying to redeem it for me, that is just a hope that the past might come back by and remind us of something that we must have forgotten.
In Saudi Arabia once, I spoke to a woman who believed that the djinn live in the mirrors and when a person looks too often in there, the djinn will enchant the careless individual and they will become forgetful. They might even become senile.
For me, all that matters is that I can make him laugh about the dolphins and their self awareness. Making him laugh makes me laugh and that is what it is all about because smiles are a girl's best friend and the djinn's worst enemy and this I learned
from the Arab to whom I'd been given
through means I cannot quite explain.
No
Does it matter I'm up now
it doesn't I'm up now
we have the day
18
more times considered
mark that one
do not want
to read
this one no more
silly lunches we
sit hunched and munch
these packages
why not pickle
do not go away do not
pavement lawn porch door
the up on in
they grieve already
the heart is heavier
than all the rocks in the world.
Does it matter I'm up now
it doesn't I'm up now
we have the day
18
more times considered
mark that one
do not want
to read
this one no more
silly lunches we
sit hunched and munch
these packages
why not pickle
do not go away do not
pavement lawn porch door
the up on in
they grieve already
the heart is heavier
than all the rocks in the world.
22.9.09
21.9.09
Poets In Love
The Reason He Went To Hell
Then started he on an expedition
to find, start and end a great love affair
filial the heart hurt all along
before and after it drown
in it's own sweat
the first, second and third person poultice
lost in the lapel
dissimulating all the damn time
serial killer of comfort
with one goal in mind
to find, start and end a great love affair
the great stages of barbarism
tight in his tiny loins expressive
wanderers whose hopes
fall gently into well arranged lines
they must meet in a station
they will and forage for pleasure
as insects do at the body of another bug
not one at a time in stages
or two at a time in stages
or a simple process dragon lust
he began to write with great satisfaction:
crybabycrybabycrybabycry.
The Reason She Left Him
She tended to the chores
of love on a wintry day
mended the mishaps sewed
into little knapsacks of flour
twisted all the bottles
and set them in the fridge
nothing left to tidy up
in the kitchen where she wept
over someone else's misery
for the very last time
caught up in the deadly newspapers
identified only by the numbers
on a false breast, her last wish
in a suitcase, dis-remembered
and she wrote:
I'm just getting started.
The Reason He Went To Hell
Then started he on an expedition
to find, start and end a great love affair
filial the heart hurt all along
before and after it drown
in it's own sweat
the first, second and third person poultice
lost in the lapel
dissimulating all the damn time
serial killer of comfort
with one goal in mind
to find, start and end a great love affair
the great stages of barbarism
tight in his tiny loins expressive
wanderers whose hopes
fall gently into well arranged lines
they must meet in a station
they will and forage for pleasure
as insects do at the body of another bug
not one at a time in stages
or two at a time in stages
or a simple process dragon lust
he began to write with great satisfaction:
crybabycrybabycrybabycry.
The Reason She Left Him
She tended to the chores
of love on a wintry day
mended the mishaps sewed
into little knapsacks of flour
twisted all the bottles
and set them in the fridge
nothing left to tidy up
in the kitchen where she wept
over someone else's misery
for the very last time
caught up in the deadly newspapers
identified only by the numbers
on a false breast, her last wish
in a suitcase, dis-remembered
and she wrote:
I'm just getting started.
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