United States of Polytheism
America is not a Christian country nor was it ever really a Monotheistic one. It is decidedly Polytheistic.
So why don't you ever hear it mentioned? There are athiests and monotheists. Catholics and Mormons. Jews and Muslims.
Not a single damn organization decries the rights of Polytheists.
Where there is smoke there's fire and/or smokescreens.
In one article the author suggests that the Pantheon of saints in this Polytheistic society are celebrities who champion various causes which are usually considered 'virtuous' i.e. Farm Aid, Jerry Lewis for MD, etc.
http://www.bettnet.com/blog/index.php/weblog/the_polytheism_of_american_celebrity_culture/
By definition the word 'pluralism' reflects in a rather disengenuous way the fact of the state religion which is and ought to be acknowledged as, Polytheism.
http://www.reformedonline.com/view/reformedonline/polytheism.htm
"The Bible teaches that every nation has a moral obligation to submit to the authority of Jesus Christ and His law. An examination of God’s law, the prophets, the Psalms and the New Testament will prove that political polytheism is immoral. It is an idea that Christians must reject."
Problem is, how about the fact that Christianity itself is polytheistic in nature? How can a polytheist comment on the role of other polytheists? With a few exceptions like the Coptic Christians who are actually Monotheists, Christianity itself admits to the equivocation of Allah with another God head, that of Jesus Christ, peace be upon him. How on earth can anyone accept one polytheistic viewpoint over another then? The answer is, they cannot and the result is polytheism in which there is no authority, no guidance and certainly, no laws that can effectively be upheld and protected. Obviously, in the United States, we are in the midst of that situation and as Ali ibn Abi Taleb once said, "countless victims are crying out against" such an overwhelming travesty in which we literally begin to uphold laws of Polytheism i.e. all things being equal and no one really in the drivers seat either morally or legalistically.
Actually, it is the case that pure pluralism and unadulterated polytheism is the rule of law in the United States but you never hear anyone arguing the case for calling America what it actually is and that would be Polytheistic. The reason being, no one wants to be considered a Polytheist in reality because naturally the connotation of that is one of ignorance in which a Creator becomes redundant. And where does one hide something as big as all of that?
In the open of course. It just isn't mentioned in hopes no one notices the elephant right next to the Lazy Boy recliner.
http://www.credenda.org/index.php?option=com_content&view=article&id=75:polytheism-and-polysexuality&catid=48&Itemid=111
"Those Christians who want to allow for “pluralism” in our society, while at the same time rejecting the sexual fruit of all pluralism, are setting themselves up for a long and frustrating task. Pluralism is simply the civic name for polytheism, and once you have polytheism, you don’t have any way to herd the gods together and make them say the same thing. We cannot tell all the gods to strive for likemindedness, like they were good little Christians."
"The right of freedom of speech consists in speaking the truth."
7.5.10
28.4.10
18.4.10
The New World Order at Sabra and ShatillaLebanese Prime Minister Saad Hariri, center, kicks the ball as Hezbollah lawmaker Ali Mokdad, right, blocks the road along with opposition lawmaker Ibrahim Kenaan, left, during a friendly soccer match played by lawmakers from the Shiite Muslim Hezbollah group and their allies alongside politicians in the Western-backed parliamentary majority at Beirut's Sports City, Lebanon, Tuesday, April 13, 2010. Rival Lebanese politicians took their battles to the playground Tuesday with a friendly soccer match to mark the 35th anniversary of the outbreak of the country's 1975-90 civil war. (AP Photo/Hussein Malla)
17.4.10
The Lote TreeAnd still there is more
Saintpaulia
how tiny you are
the smallest
flower or you are
a dangerous mind
boggling dragon to
pursue us dragging
mysterious around
the dusty old cosmos
how your petals
sparkle and those too
are small and creep
into the outraged eye
like criminals
bright dainty sparkles
the sun comes up
glistening now
in the window
which is also
dangerously small
particularly thin
between the wind
that might have
touched the fragrant
Bouillon of stars
and the air inside
of this cozy container.
How many stars
would it take
to put out
your nuptial glitter?
In comparison
how trite
to see you there
and wonder.
15.4.10
The Discharge
Alright so tomorrow
the plan is capillary
refill, premixed solutions,
answers and denials.
We spoke briefly on the phone
today, left on Patagonia,
hard to bring
it home without
tubes and wires, the bright
lights and clean
dressings, lost socks.
Up and down the halls,
back and forth the elevators,
in and out so many
electronic doors,
might be false morning
but soon we'll know
how long the night
really is, we might
just turn black watching.
Alright so tomorrow
the plan is capillary
refill, premixed solutions,
answers and denials.
We spoke briefly on the phone
today, left on Patagonia,
hard to bring
it home without
tubes and wires, the bright
lights and clean
dressings, lost socks.
Up and down the halls,
back and forth the elevators,
in and out so many
electronic doors,
might be false morning
but soon we'll know
how long the night
really is, we might
just turn black watching.
18.3.10
See Ralph Cry
generous to the dictionary
marble games
oh these days beetle
pets open up
their own doors
and receive alms,
hard fleas, desperate.
Breathtaking snow
these young damned
read the wrong movies
drive in get their boxes
upside down change,
you the summer
balk at all
his wife's new flowers,
preparations are being made.
On my way
the same school bus twice,
a slightly different sun
kindles.
Kind of labile but
wake up with
new tubes and tapes
dangerous walls
hold the packages in.
He cried his chest,
all our injuries
feel tremendously warm,
don't look until it's over.
Small drowner
who are you?
generous to the dictionary
marble games
oh these days beetle
pets open up
their own doors
and receive alms,
hard fleas, desperate.
Breathtaking snow
these young damned
read the wrong movies
drive in get their boxes
upside down change,
you the summer
balk at all
his wife's new flowers,
preparations are being made.
On my way
the same school bus twice,
a slightly different sun
kindles.
Kind of labile but
wake up with
new tubes and tapes
dangerous walls
hold the packages in.
He cried his chest,
all our injuries
feel tremendously warm,
don't look until it's over.
Small drowner
who are you?
12.3.10
Time as Vehicle, anonymous aphorism from the text found at the Thrift Store a few days ago:
For us in the present we utilize time travel in movies for good reason. We seek knowledge by inventing a means to traverse that which is not traversible. In that, our best hopes are dashed and lighted, lies are told and dangers invented inside of plots that twist and turn upon something which is hidden to the mind of the watcher but not to the doer of such un-doable things like Time travel.
Is it knowledge of the past we hope for or explanation of the present? Certainly it couldn't be prediction of the future because to suggest such a thing as travel into the future is far more ridiculous than travel into the past which actually is possible through the documents of history. Therefore, fables are invented so that predictions can be made. Mythological heresies exist in the tame form of maxims such as "To not know history is to repeat it," when in fact, to not know history is the crux of successful false prediction and prophecy. For it is upon this travesty of mythmaking that the tellers of lies find a means of travel into the future and establishing truths before their followers get there (as it is in Time Travel movies themselves). Without one false premise, the whole house of cards falls apart and to obscure this obvious flaw an actual flaw is built into the story.
A perfect example is the movie in which a boy rides in a vehicle (skateboard and DeLorean)toward the future but when he meets himself he discovers that if he knows about it, the whole plot of history will be torn apart. Sadly, it is true that upon this fallacious premise, nations wage war via suggestions about events unknowable not only to the general public but just as unknowable to the priveledged private few who write the scripts, predict the outcomes and manage to make fortunes from those as gullible as us who cry when a protagonist in an MGM production dies of a terminal disease.
For us in the present we utilize time travel in movies for good reason. We seek knowledge by inventing a means to traverse that which is not traversible. In that, our best hopes are dashed and lighted, lies are told and dangers invented inside of plots that twist and turn upon something which is hidden to the mind of the watcher but not to the doer of such un-doable things like Time travel.
Is it knowledge of the past we hope for or explanation of the present? Certainly it couldn't be prediction of the future because to suggest such a thing as travel into the future is far more ridiculous than travel into the past which actually is possible through the documents of history. Therefore, fables are invented so that predictions can be made. Mythological heresies exist in the tame form of maxims such as "To not know history is to repeat it," when in fact, to not know history is the crux of successful false prediction and prophecy. For it is upon this travesty of mythmaking that the tellers of lies find a means of travel into the future and establishing truths before their followers get there (as it is in Time Travel movies themselves). Without one false premise, the whole house of cards falls apart and to obscure this obvious flaw an actual flaw is built into the story.
A perfect example is the movie in which a boy rides in a vehicle (skateboard and DeLorean)toward the future but when he meets himself he discovers that if he knows about it, the whole plot of history will be torn apart. Sadly, it is true that upon this fallacious premise, nations wage war via suggestions about events unknowable not only to the general public but just as unknowable to the priveledged private few who write the scripts, predict the outcomes and manage to make fortunes from those as gullible as us who cry when a protagonist in an MGM production dies of a terminal disease.
Creation, Anonymous Aphorism
The creation is with truth created and created it is by the Creator who is known by many other names including the Originator because in essence that is the definition of creation.
Without signs in the creation there is no knowledge of the creation and therefore, signs are manifest as a gift from the Creator along with the tools to recognize the signs themselves and their inherent, obvious and unobvious meanings.
If we are to recognize these signs there must be a means for translating existence into context and for that reason Allah must have established Time as a resting place for both the signs and their hidden and unhidden congruent and incongruent meanings.
The creation cannot be held in equivalence with the Creator for obvious reasons. The Creator does not demand the existence of the creation however the creation demands the existence of the Creator for its meaning, signs and presence. Without a Creator there ceases to be a need for the creation and this is where modernity fails to explain a variety of things about life all the while it tries desperately to do so through psychology, science, spirituality, athiesm, luck and logic to name a few. There is no end point to this affair until such a time that a person succumbs to the idea that their own existence depends on the creation itself which in turn depends on the role of the Creator.
Knowledge is finite (in Time) even when it is infinite (beyond Time) and even when it appears to have reached it’s endpoint because knowledge is a possession not a trait. It can only be awarded through seeking it honestly and can only be removed through disability of the seeker, mutilation of the information by others utilizing a type of magic which encourages the seeker to acquiesce to such trickery or denial of the existence of Truth. Therefore, knowledge depends on both Truth and Time but does not depend on the finitude or infinitude of itself but rather the other way around. Truth then does not depend on knowledge and it is exactly that measure of certitude in anything at all that leads a seeker forward or backward either toward the goal or away from it. The goal being Truth, the mechanism being Knowledge, the vehicle Time.
Seekers who follow the wrong paths on the way to knowledge will inevitably either go back to find out where they become lost, will give up and rest at the point where progress is no longer possible or will fall off the ledge completely to their own physical and/or spiritual death (by ‘going back’ on their initial promise to seek knowledge honestly). Knowledge does have an endpoint but it cannot be fathomed by human eyes because the trap of knowing enough is as bad as not knowing enough. Knowing too much (arrogance) for one’s own good is a false precaution in a world that has far more opportunities for learning that it has moments or mankind to find them. Knowledge and the extent of knowledge knows only one limitation and that would be where it meets with Truth and in essence, becomes Truth and no longer resembles mere knowledge (of which so much is made and rightly so). There has to be a limit upon knowledge then but only for the fact that it ceases to exist in the presence of Truth which for the purposes of defining it must either be infinitely large or infinitely small or both. It is the case obviously that Truth's border with Knowledge stands at the gates of Death because Death is by far the most known and unknown thing mankind understands.
Arrogance is linked to Ignorance in tune, tone and meaning for good reason.
The creation is with truth created and created it is by the Creator who is known by many other names including the Originator because in essence that is the definition of creation.
Without signs in the creation there is no knowledge of the creation and therefore, signs are manifest as a gift from the Creator along with the tools to recognize the signs themselves and their inherent, obvious and unobvious meanings.
If we are to recognize these signs there must be a means for translating existence into context and for that reason Allah must have established Time as a resting place for both the signs and their hidden and unhidden congruent and incongruent meanings.
The creation cannot be held in equivalence with the Creator for obvious reasons. The Creator does not demand the existence of the creation however the creation demands the existence of the Creator for its meaning, signs and presence. Without a Creator there ceases to be a need for the creation and this is where modernity fails to explain a variety of things about life all the while it tries desperately to do so through psychology, science, spirituality, athiesm, luck and logic to name a few. There is no end point to this affair until such a time that a person succumbs to the idea that their own existence depends on the creation itself which in turn depends on the role of the Creator.
Knowledge is finite (in Time) even when it is infinite (beyond Time) and even when it appears to have reached it’s endpoint because knowledge is a possession not a trait. It can only be awarded through seeking it honestly and can only be removed through disability of the seeker, mutilation of the information by others utilizing a type of magic which encourages the seeker to acquiesce to such trickery or denial of the existence of Truth. Therefore, knowledge depends on both Truth and Time but does not depend on the finitude or infinitude of itself but rather the other way around. Truth then does not depend on knowledge and it is exactly that measure of certitude in anything at all that leads a seeker forward or backward either toward the goal or away from it. The goal being Truth, the mechanism being Knowledge, the vehicle Time.
Seekers who follow the wrong paths on the way to knowledge will inevitably either go back to find out where they become lost, will give up and rest at the point where progress is no longer possible or will fall off the ledge completely to their own physical and/or spiritual death (by ‘going back’ on their initial promise to seek knowledge honestly). Knowledge does have an endpoint but it cannot be fathomed by human eyes because the trap of knowing enough is as bad as not knowing enough. Knowing too much (arrogance) for one’s own good is a false precaution in a world that has far more opportunities for learning that it has moments or mankind to find them. Knowledge and the extent of knowledge knows only one limitation and that would be where it meets with Truth and in essence, becomes Truth and no longer resembles mere knowledge (of which so much is made and rightly so). There has to be a limit upon knowledge then but only for the fact that it ceases to exist in the presence of Truth which for the purposes of defining it must either be infinitely large or infinitely small or both. It is the case obviously that Truth's border with Knowledge stands at the gates of Death because Death is by far the most known and unknown thing mankind understands.
So much must then depend on Time and the constraints of Time. As part of the creation, the Creator is not dependent upon Time nor subject to the willful nature of Time as a subtractive and subjective process, in other words, a continual process of loss. To lose time means to lose the chance to have knowledge and therefore Death intervenes and prevents and is feared.
Arrogance is linked to Ignorance in tune, tone and meaning for good reason.
He Pointed To Her Picture
Disease embellishes those with resignation
and poverty the garment upon which it is
worn or worn out even though there are ample
lesions into the body that the wondrous
bandages might destroy by filling
the measurements in as days go by,
no one can recover the last few pieces.
There are poems about birds and love,
poems about poems and even about words
but few indeed are the poems about
the unfortunate lot waiting in their rooms
for the caregivers to arrive with washclothes
who will try to remove the stink and prepare
the bedside tables for the long afternoons
in the prison of stroke and trouble.
Disease embellishes those with resignation
and poverty the garment upon which it is
worn or worn out even though there are ample
lesions into the body that the wondrous
bandages might destroy by filling
the measurements in as days go by,
no one can recover the last few pieces.
There are poems about birds and love,
poems about poems and even about words
but few indeed are the poems about
the unfortunate lot waiting in their rooms
for the caregivers to arrive with washclothes
who will try to remove the stink and prepare
the bedside tables for the long afternoons
in the prison of stroke and trouble.
10.3.10
Wrong
The mechanism is too big to manage,
to small to see, uncover
the wound it makes, wet
pulled together samples of
raw meat organized to crave,
to suckle and eliminate,
in other words, to coagulate.
However small, however light
such omnivores, the brilliant
conductors of search and rescue
chant their silent sermon
one crunch after another.
Take one or two, the pile
will continue and recover,
the legend will have
a share and though it is
dress rehearsal,
the remedial dose
given to the father
will hone in on the son
and make little difference.
Too late is afterall, too late.
Although sympathy is in order
repugnance shows up sooner
and with that confusing aroma,
the devil's name is despondence.
One nanosecond of hell is worse
than hell to the cautious
who remain wary and patient,
better yet than never.
what if?
rather than when.
The mechanism is too big to manage,
to small to see, uncover
the wound it makes, wet
pulled together samples of
raw meat organized to crave,
to suckle and eliminate,
in other words, to coagulate.
However small, however light
such omnivores, the brilliant
conductors of search and rescue
chant their silent sermon
one crunch after another.
Take one or two, the pile
will continue and recover,
the legend will have
a share and though it is
dress rehearsal,
the remedial dose
given to the father
will hone in on the son
and make little difference.
Too late is afterall, too late.
Although sympathy is in order
repugnance shows up sooner
and with that confusing aroma,
the devil's name is despondence.
One nanosecond of hell is worse
than hell to the cautious
who remain wary and patient,
better yet than never.
what if?
rather than when.
5.3.10
4.3.10
1.3.10
21.2.10
Rain
Yes I am
the
SC in the debut
promotional copy,
blonde yes, single
yes but
hooping
parrot
drivel dumping
the action
all vegan
contemporary
all virgin
patriotic like
vacation
empty
vineyard
like a vineyard
our bed
and breakfast
some of that
antichrist
going on
we there
yet?
consumer
survey
on the scanner
easy as 1-2-3
deregulated
exchanged
the empire
falls more
quietly
Yes I am
the
SC in the debut
promotional copy,
blonde yes, single
yes but
hooping
parrot
drivel dumping
the action
all vegan
contemporary
all virgin
patriotic like
vacation
empty
vineyard
like a vineyard
our bed
and breakfast
some of that
antichrist
going on
we there
yet?
consumer
survey
on the scanner
easy as 1-2-3
deregulated
exchanged
the empire
falls more
quietly
16.2.10
Review in Golden Handcuffs
Under the Dome, Walks with Paul Celan
And further into #12 we run across some silly poetry by Robin Blaser....language is love being one of the silliest poems I've ever seen.....while reading Buk of late, Slouching Towards Nirvana...wondering why in the hell is this meaningful...other than the fact that he notes how impertinent it is to guess about such things and by the end of that magnificent tome, he reveals the dangers of living dangerously and not dying soon enough i.e. prior to the perfunctory embarrassment of poets who have outlasted their shelf life and then some...there is this wonderful response to a libretto written by Blaser. The response no doubt is better than the libretto:
http://www.goldenhandcuffsreview.com/gh12content/24.html
FACING UP TO THE SUBTERRANEAN STREAM
the challenge of Robin Blaser’s libretto
by Patrick Wright
This matter concerns me deeply as it does Black Moses who lent to me his copy of Fear and Trembling written of course by Soren Kierkegaard (and whenever I read such things I remember Joseph Campbell's advice to seek one's bliss through the company of stranger's and their books.....which I intersperse with a Regency Romance just for kicks and to make other people wonder what is going on to do such a thing!). What gets me is the notion that throughout all of these notable articles on such theological cul de sacs, not any or many or even one mentions the missing pieces. No wonder they end up sad, frustrated and writing more of the same...about each other, through each other, over each other.
"This need to go on is of ancient standing." -Kierkegaard
Under the Dome, Walks with Paul Celan
And further into #12 we run across some silly poetry by Robin Blaser....language is love being one of the silliest poems I've ever seen.....while reading Buk of late, Slouching Towards Nirvana...wondering why in the hell is this meaningful...other than the fact that he notes how impertinent it is to guess about such things and by the end of that magnificent tome, he reveals the dangers of living dangerously and not dying soon enough i.e. prior to the perfunctory embarrassment of poets who have outlasted their shelf life and then some...there is this wonderful response to a libretto written by Blaser. The response no doubt is better than the libretto:
http://www.goldenhandcuffsreview.com/gh12content/24.html
FACING UP TO THE SUBTERRANEAN STREAM
the challenge of Robin Blaser’s libretto
by Patrick Wright
This matter concerns me deeply as it does Black Moses who lent to me his copy of Fear and Trembling written of course by Soren Kierkegaard (and whenever I read such things I remember Joseph Campbell's advice to seek one's bliss through the company of stranger's and their books.....which I intersperse with a Regency Romance just for kicks and to make other people wonder what is going on to do such a thing!). What gets me is the notion that throughout all of these notable articles on such theological cul de sacs, not any or many or even one mentions the missing pieces. No wonder they end up sad, frustrated and writing more of the same...about each other, through each other, over each other.
"This need to go on is of ancient standing." -Kierkegaard
Miles and Miles
It would be impolite to be sick
right now, to run a fever
join the aches and pains
but if we did it together
at the same time, it might
just be a vacation.
Thirty hours is such a long
time to be apart
and that is what it is isn't it?
Riyadh-London-Chicago-Tucson
and then
you there, me here but at that
we are quite good.
Now you here (no snow or delay
beset you on your journey)
me, I am here, can touch you and if so,
then how about spending a day
sick in our bed, fever
running, clock ticking, the sun
shining together, all at once.
We might wake up.
It would be impolite to be sick
right now, to run a fever
join the aches and pains
but if we did it together
at the same time, it might
just be a vacation.
Thirty hours is such a long
time to be apart
and that is what it is isn't it?
Riyadh-London-Chicago-Tucson
and then
you there, me here but at that
we are quite good.
Now you here (no snow or delay
beset you on your journey)
me, I am here, can touch you and if so,
then how about spending a day
sick in our bed, fever
running, clock ticking, the sun
shining together, all at once.
We might wake up.
15.2.10
Glue Factory
It won't go well if the ink cannot
remember, something so small
it cannot be erased, so large
it will not be found. Nearly
there, it's almost Tucson
in really bad timing
to wear the best dress
and bring several
bad examples to the airport,
the birds drown us
with their courage
and what about bird?
It isn't the job nor the laundry,
it isn't even the degradation.
The neighbors don't know yet
do they? Has anyone counted
the fingerprints, aroused
any curiosity at all?
All the index does
it does again,
it is outrageous,
those bricks were
already broken and the sand
in the right places, the tablets
could not melt or reconoit,
until the map was a map
and the road a road,
no friend could assume
the lesson or that one
hoped to sell albumin
instead of roan-colored horses
amidst the semen and the sage.
It won't go well if the ink cannot
remember, something so small
it cannot be erased, so large
it will not be found. Nearly
there, it's almost Tucson
in really bad timing
to wear the best dress
and bring several
bad examples to the airport,
the birds drown us
with their courage
and what about bird?
It isn't the job nor the laundry,
it isn't even the degradation.
The neighbors don't know yet
do they? Has anyone counted
the fingerprints, aroused
any curiosity at all?
All the index does
it does again,
it is outrageous,
those bricks were
already broken and the sand
in the right places, the tablets
could not melt or reconoit,
until the map was a map
and the road a road,
no friend could assume
the lesson or that one
hoped to sell albumin
instead of roan-colored horses
amidst the semen and the sage.
12.2.10
To The Mideival World To Be
Not what you think after all
pours the juices
into the crucible of desires
with the accuracy of surgical
steel contemporary soul
might and wisdom vernaculars
distressed factory to you
barbarians fastidious codes
clip currencies alter gross
national products and proliferations
from Biblical whores to whores not
fiat emergency but handwashing
remains the most cost effective
way to prevent the outcome
deserve and demanded
subconsciously effecting whole
lifestyles rather than simplicity
craved after and caved into
upright then walk
into the abyss or shuffle
sky god(s) you dirty rat(s) and rascal(s)
come hither and smite
risk annunciation precipitate
the parable for which
we keep in touch with
polytheists scholars and handclappers
do not ask what is believed
for it is the case that is what
is believed not what is accurate
sentimentally logical compunction
of one supercedence gospel
(aptly, of the fittest)
the physiognomic cosmic threat
facing most people today
is hard to arrive at
and predestined to deploy
via sub-molecular bi-codon miraculology.
Not what you think after all
pours the juices
into the crucible of desires
with the accuracy of surgical
steel contemporary soul
might and wisdom vernaculars
distressed factory to you
barbarians fastidious codes
clip currencies alter gross
national products and proliferations
from Biblical whores to whores not
fiat emergency but handwashing
remains the most cost effective
way to prevent the outcome
deserve and demanded
subconsciously effecting whole
lifestyles rather than simplicity
craved after and caved into
upright then walk
into the abyss or shuffle
sky god(s) you dirty rat(s) and rascal(s)
come hither and smite
risk annunciation precipitate
the parable for which
we keep in touch with
polytheists scholars and handclappers
do not ask what is believed
for it is the case that is what
is believed not what is accurate
sentimentally logical compunction
of one supercedence gospel
(aptly, of the fittest)
the physiognomic cosmic threat
facing most people today
is hard to arrive at
and predestined to deploy
via sub-molecular bi-codon miraculology.
9.2.10
SLAM JOB
I received a poem from "Anonymous Poet" in response a poem recently cited that to me was particularly poignant...as a recluse, exiled poet who lives in her own home town, ironically. Who has lost another job due to my insistence on good behavior in light of such bad behavior from ...oh...a variety of characters in the plot. Ah, it's not so bad...I have a couple of houses and a piece of land somewhere else...I always have somewhere to go and poetry can sustain a soul through alot of irritable times. Not bad times because being jobless doesn't constitute a 'bad time' so much as it is an irritable time.
Anyway....here is what "Anonymous Poet" had to say:
The cloaked actor siphoned my soul in sand grain increments
The mono virgin pulse refracts the gonzo honesty of
the stereo master.
On chewing gum pavements Kneecap-begging beneath cupid for the bio-password - 'the flesh permit'.
Cliched lights humming cliched stories in the cliched moon hours.
The marathon atoms hurling towards the symbol
From kite perspectives they landscape sex-futures, the gust released her.
- Anonymous poet.
Now there are some interesting word choices in there....and it does boil down to word choices in poetry regardless of a poet's intentions, political stance or other sundry influences upon our delicate minds and bodies (as poets not to mention just as people).
GONZO is one. I am a real fan of Hunter, loved the movie and grew up on a diet of Fear and Loathing but from a perspective that I won't share here...too personal.
BIO-PASSWORD....don't you mean PISS word? That would be funnier.
MARATHON ATOMS.....now this is a cheap date. Dutch.
MOON.....well....in the history of Lilac's purpled prose, I have often cited the need to decrease the number of times a poet uses certain words in their entire canon and MOON is one of them. If this is your pick to use the fabled MOON word then so be it. It shouldn't be wasted on drivel however, if you ask me...which obviously you didn't.
SYMBOL....like, ok. Symbol. Personally I think it is best to invent one.
GUST...never end a poem with something that might reveal the hot-airedness of a piece. Poems ought not end with commands to the reader to do something rather, they best end by showing the reader how to feel something or remember something and maybe even, learn something or hey, laugh at something and in that case, you win. I laughed and perhaps I even farted.
Nice try but no cigar. Here, try this:
Anthropomorphisin for What Ails You
copyright 2010 patent pending, all rights reserved, etcetera
Supplied as effervescent tablets
developed by PaidWellConsulta
services at the institute of labcoats
which have been starched
under strict conditions
of conduct and reliability
by Smith-Hollenger dry cleaning, the blade
wiped and concluded that
postnatal demise is a feature
not a fate/fatal/nor fetal
subject to hormone DU casualty
intervention or swaddling
leeching disconjugate hydrogen
links saturated polysaccharide
in compound reduction chambers
of ass-grabbing tender photocopier
memories of such and same dependent
laws, regulations and so forth
clauses and so on complete adverse
reactions stated clearly
isotopy in the literature
plus company benefits package
her hair I remember
was done up in one of those
whirly kinds of pins
for safety and hygienic
exposure to radiological
serums and vaccins, Fr.
to control the spread of
variant wild type I and II
rather than the polka dot
derivative scale versus gender
age county ethnicity
diverse fecund correlative
specs of night vision goggles
in this series and as such
bona fide returns equal less deaths
market analysis suggests
in separate models proved
to be of use in clinical trials
trends microcosms of flesh and blood
one application tiny daggers of 10-20 microns length
which leave nothing at all
to collect or contain,
saving storage and disposal costs
in the dangerous mud
museum of post holocaustic war
after the international covenants
were broke, then hidden
and citizens stopped asking.
I received a poem from "Anonymous Poet" in response a poem recently cited that to me was particularly poignant...as a recluse, exiled poet who lives in her own home town, ironically. Who has lost another job due to my insistence on good behavior in light of such bad behavior from ...oh...a variety of characters in the plot. Ah, it's not so bad...I have a couple of houses and a piece of land somewhere else...I always have somewhere to go and poetry can sustain a soul through alot of irritable times. Not bad times because being jobless doesn't constitute a 'bad time' so much as it is an irritable time.
Anyway....here is what "Anonymous Poet" had to say:
The cloaked actor siphoned my soul in sand grain increments
The mono virgin pulse refracts the gonzo honesty of
the stereo master.
On chewing gum pavements Kneecap-begging beneath cupid for the bio-password - 'the flesh permit'.
Cliched lights humming cliched stories in the cliched moon hours.
The marathon atoms hurling towards the symbol
From kite perspectives they landscape sex-futures, the gust released her.
- Anonymous poet.
Now there are some interesting word choices in there....and it does boil down to word choices in poetry regardless of a poet's intentions, political stance or other sundry influences upon our delicate minds and bodies (as poets not to mention just as people).
GONZO is one. I am a real fan of Hunter, loved the movie and grew up on a diet of Fear and Loathing but from a perspective that I won't share here...too personal.
BIO-PASSWORD....don't you mean PISS word? That would be funnier.
MARATHON ATOMS.....now this is a cheap date. Dutch.
MOON.....well....in the history of Lilac's purpled prose, I have often cited the need to decrease the number of times a poet uses certain words in their entire canon and MOON is one of them. If this is your pick to use the fabled MOON word then so be it. It shouldn't be wasted on drivel however, if you ask me...which obviously you didn't.
SYMBOL....like, ok. Symbol. Personally I think it is best to invent one.
GUST...never end a poem with something that might reveal the hot-airedness of a piece. Poems ought not end with commands to the reader to do something rather, they best end by showing the reader how to feel something or remember something and maybe even, learn something or hey, laugh at something and in that case, you win. I laughed and perhaps I even farted.
Nice try but no cigar. Here, try this:
Anthropomorphisin for What Ails You
copyright 2010 patent pending, all rights reserved, etcetera
Supplied as effervescent tablets
developed by PaidWellConsulta
services at the institute of labcoats
which have been starched
under strict conditions
of conduct and reliability
by Smith-Hollenger dry cleaning, the blade
wiped and concluded that
postnatal demise is a feature
not a fate/fatal/nor fetal
subject to hormone DU casualty
intervention or swaddling
leeching disconjugate hydrogen
links saturated polysaccharide
in compound reduction chambers
of ass-grabbing tender photocopier
memories of such and same dependent
laws, regulations and so forth
clauses and so on complete adverse
reactions stated clearly
isotopy in the literature
plus company benefits package
her hair I remember
was done up in one of those
whirly kinds of pins
for safety and hygienic
exposure to radiological
serums and vaccins, Fr.
to control the spread of
variant wild type I and II
rather than the polka dot
derivative scale versus gender
age county ethnicity
diverse fecund correlative
specs of night vision goggles
in this series and as such
bona fide returns equal less deaths
market analysis suggests
in separate models proved
to be of use in clinical trials
trends microcosms of flesh and blood
one application tiny daggers of 10-20 microns length
which leave nothing at all
to collect or contain,
saving storage and disposal costs
in the dangerous mud
museum of post holocaustic war
after the international covenants
were broke, then hidden
and citizens stopped asking.
7.2.10
I found this poem particularly pleasing, astute. Just enough misery in there coupled with a touch of hope and caution, reality and soul. It is written by J. Allyn Rosser a teacher at Ohio University.
http://www.poetryfoundation.org/archive/poem.html?id=28098
have soured through bad alloys
of companionship, diet, occupation—"
Well said.
http://www.poetryfoundation.org/archive/poem.html?id=28098
From the poem, Coming Your Way
"And now this woman whose good intentionshave soured through bad alloys
of companionship, diet, occupation—"
Well said.
Body of Chemotonins from, The Body.doc, Specimen A
Near the bottom scrape
against it searching it-in vain
for the dreamy obturator past the wedding
no mere accident the accelerator
cut fibers that descend punch out
deep and superficial inguinal rings
Saturn and Jupiter plexus
in the antero-latero aspect
distal bifurcate which terminates
oblique contra iliopubic eminence
squeeze damn you squeeze
gray water the magic potion
of deliverance or creation
barstool onto, stirrup into
where she lay on the median
Drop by drop leaks the contagion
into the jejunum this biliary
chemotonin which hasn't been
thus far used to describe
any of the features
so it is trademarked here
first usage and so on.
Near the bottom scrape
against it searching it-in vain
for the dreamy obturator past the wedding
no mere accident the accelerator
cut fibers that descend punch out
deep and superficial inguinal rings
Saturn and Jupiter plexus
in the antero-latero aspect
distal bifurcate which terminates
oblique contra iliopubic eminence
squeeze damn you squeeze
gray water the magic potion
of deliverance or creation
barstool onto, stirrup into
where she lay on the median
Drop by drop leaks the contagion
into the jejunum this biliary
chemotonin which hasn't been
thus far used to describe
any of the features
so it is trademarked here
first usage and so on.
5.2.10
Shatter, February 5 2010
Look up there the car landed
in front of us and behind
the sign rewind to the tree
which upended
the roots savagely torn
teased bad hair or tangled
necklaces and then
this car landed
in the middle of the road
it teetered like a quarter
does before it ends the spin.
Inside were no bodies
no cries it turned
the color of a shipwreck
as it condensed.
My foot out of the door
cigarette flung dramatically
after one last puff to prepare
for that, ready to apply care
to caution, fate, prognosis
to cure, align, designate
pump, call, interupt
and drive over the shatter.
It is the case that there are no accidents
no trees suddenly uprooted or cars
burning or blocking the way.
It is the case that for each one
the vision made particular sense
that day but had it occurred
in two weeks (as it must,
somewhere else) the meaning
would be quite different.
II.
An owl was killed on this road,
I wrapped him, prayed, touched
his beautiful feathers, looked
into his eyes and his life
that I supposedly had taken away
then I laid him in the proper direction
under a mesquite and walked away.
A tree was uprooted in this place.
The wind had knocked it down
but ignored the others. I cut it
into several pieces and will wait
to burn it next year.
A car was flipped in front of us.
I stopped and looked at it,
tried to contain my pride,
the knowledge of witness
and I told the driver
to thank Allah before I left.
I met several people at the right time,
in the right place. Her Quincinera
will not proceed, her object
had been stolen or given away.
There was nothing but to grieve
with her, learn to live quietly,
to watch, to pay attention.
His glasses and her glasses
broke at the very
same hour, on the very same day
and at maghrib, the ability to see
is very important. Very important.
Two groups of birds came in
at dusk with a great noise.
Last year if you remember,
we were almost ready to leave
the pond in Elfrida, the birds
seemed to have gone away,
already performed their migration,
and then all of a sudden
a group flew directly over us,
over me and reminded us
to be patient, last year.
I informed you of this thing.
Yesterday at the pond
which had been refreshed
with winter rains, I knew to be patient,
I learned to wait, to walk slower.
I walked to the other side
of the pond so that I wouldn't
be tempted to leave before
they returned from their day's
journey, to witness their
beautiful return. I wasn't wrong
and not one but two very large groups
came in from two different directions,
aiming for the same reflection
on the water in the core
of this old desert.
Not just large groups, but really large.
The noise that they made
was enormous. They wrote
a verse on the sky
but I couldn't read it,
I could only hear
their recitation
at maghrib, after all
the watchers had abandoned
not just the banks of the pond
but the great colors
and great darkness
after the sun sheds
its light on the water,
the cranes, the maghrib, the peace,
the blessed events and reactions.
III.
The birds fight too
they don't remember
They do not write it down.
The Flock, February 28 2009
-we keep asking the dead
all the wrong questions. -Darla Whitehead, The Long Storm
Here the word ends,
End too to end tends,
At you no end bends. -Musavi Garmarudi
9:00 a.m.
The tumour showed up
on the way to Oklahoma
about four years ago,
I believe in Jesus
she said to me
we're on our way
and can't take it
haggling over the price
of like new glass end tables
or sins, I don't know-
it's a yard sale,
I believe in Jesus
beet red, I must have turned
to look at the knick-knacks.
Her husband wants to be
a mortician she says,
in Oklahoma I believe in Jesus,
as if belief in lymphoma
makes it right.
Her wig band clearly visible
the sallow blend of skin
she was always brown
always believed in Jesus
though, amen, amen, amen.
5:45 p.m.
at Whitewater Draw
where the Sandhill Cranes
come and go on a yearly basis,
water table drops and leaves
cracky mud and gnats, the flock
mostly on the far banks
unwilling to move in a little
closer so that we might
hear them or feel their
territorial bicker.
Oh, last October there were 15,000
that left in March.
It's only February now
and the sun is setting down,
real fast, it is hopeless.
At the very last moment,
just like Firon when the sea
finally convinced him
one large group circled over
and the pattern
of wings as the sun
lit up the feathers
from underneath,
and the engine
of wings roaring
and the breeze
and yes,
the Good News
just before the Magrhib.
1:30 p.m.
The Jehovah's Witness
comes over about
once a month to bring
us the new Watchtower.
She is a real nice lady afterall.
I keep telling myself,
don't talk back, don't talk back.
Look up there the car landed
in front of us and behind
the sign rewind to the tree
which upended
the roots savagely torn
teased bad hair or tangled
necklaces and then
this car landed
in the middle of the road
it teetered like a quarter
does before it ends the spin.
Inside were no bodies
no cries it turned
the color of a shipwreck
as it condensed.
My foot out of the door
cigarette flung dramatically
after one last puff to prepare
for that, ready to apply care
to caution, fate, prognosis
to cure, align, designate
pump, call, interupt
and drive over the shatter.
It is the case that there are no accidents
no trees suddenly uprooted or cars
burning or blocking the way.
It is the case that for each one
the vision made particular sense
that day but had it occurred
in two weeks (as it must,
somewhere else) the meaning
would be quite different.
II.
An owl was killed on this road,
I wrapped him, prayed, touched
his beautiful feathers, looked
into his eyes and his life
that I supposedly had taken away
then I laid him in the proper direction
under a mesquite and walked away.
A tree was uprooted in this place.
The wind had knocked it down
but ignored the others. I cut it
into several pieces and will wait
to burn it next year.
A car was flipped in front of us.
I stopped and looked at it,
tried to contain my pride,
the knowledge of witness
and I told the driver
to thank Allah before I left.
I met several people at the right time,
in the right place. Her Quincinera
will not proceed, her object
had been stolen or given away.
There was nothing but to grieve
with her, learn to live quietly,
to watch, to pay attention.
His glasses and her glasses
broke at the very
same hour, on the very same day
and at maghrib, the ability to see
is very important. Very important.
Two groups of birds came in
at dusk with a great noise.
Last year if you remember,
we were almost ready to leave
the pond in Elfrida, the birds
seemed to have gone away,
already performed their migration,
and then all of a sudden
a group flew directly over us,
over me and reminded us
to be patient, last year.
I informed you of this thing.
Yesterday at the pond
which had been refreshed
with winter rains, I knew to be patient,
I learned to wait, to walk slower.
I walked to the other side
of the pond so that I wouldn't
be tempted to leave before
they returned from their day's
journey, to witness their
beautiful return. I wasn't wrong
and not one but two very large groups
came in from two different directions,
aiming for the same reflection
on the water in the core
of this old desert.
Not just large groups, but really large.
The noise that they made
was enormous. They wrote
a verse on the sky
but I couldn't read it,
I could only hear
their recitation
at maghrib, after all
the watchers had abandoned
not just the banks of the pond
but the great colors
and great darkness
after the sun sheds
its light on the water,
the cranes, the maghrib, the peace,
the blessed events and reactions.
III.
The birds fight too
they don't remember
They do not write it down.
The Flock, February 28 2009
-we keep asking the dead
all the wrong questions. -Darla Whitehead, The Long Storm
Here the word ends,
End too to end tends,
At you no end bends. -Musavi Garmarudi
9:00 a.m.
The tumour showed up
on the way to Oklahoma
about four years ago,
I believe in Jesus
she said to me
we're on our way
and can't take it
haggling over the price
of like new glass end tables
or sins, I don't know-
it's a yard sale,
I believe in Jesus
beet red, I must have turned
to look at the knick-knacks.
Her husband wants to be
a mortician she says,
in Oklahoma I believe in Jesus,
as if belief in lymphoma
makes it right.
Her wig band clearly visible
the sallow blend of skin
she was always brown
always believed in Jesus
though, amen, amen, amen.
5:45 p.m.
at Whitewater Draw
where the Sandhill Cranes
come and go on a yearly basis,
water table drops and leaves
cracky mud and gnats, the flock
mostly on the far banks
unwilling to move in a little
closer so that we might
hear them or feel their
territorial bicker.
Oh, last October there were 15,000
that left in March.
It's only February now
and the sun is setting down,
real fast, it is hopeless.
At the very last moment,
just like Firon when the sea
finally convinced him
one large group circled over
and the pattern
of wings as the sun
lit up the feathers
from underneath,
and the engine
of wings roaring
and the breeze
and yes,
the Good News
just before the Magrhib.
1:30 p.m.
The Jehovah's Witness
comes over about
once a month to bring
us the new Watchtower.
She is a real nice lady afterall.
I keep telling myself,
don't talk back, don't talk back.
4.2.10
1.2.10
On the Dole on the side
I was stunned to realize that barking meant so much more to us than to them.The natural signs in the upside down face of the sky, the part of it that exposed Itself to us, a membrane over the meniscus of the very life we saw to be reflected underneath it wasn’t gray or purple or sundried tomato coloredIts sides pinched between the horizon zippers and hems stitched together with darts trees bolts of lighten ing zen zen over zero nineteen perfect degrees between it all but those were not natural recollections how to how to see itSee it brother you are my brother if it happens you cripple about cling cling hard tight to roads worries examples everything you might have for one day one hour just a minute you just a minute you sixty separate examples on the film strip faster flying about over the screen three two one over and it startsAre you with me here or just with me. I said are you with me or not have you opened the package yet the one that sent itself to you with my address all over the left corner have you opened that package up yet or are you with me here looking in looking in and looking in and look looking looks like this you are not home yet this is the most alone part about it wondering about the reason the leaves have this fur on them what are they saying you know what are they doing all day alone remembering something or hiding the light inside of their microscopic chlorophylled filled hearts that beat without a beating this is the first time in my life you know the very first time and its like paradise walks on its own two feet from here to there you cannot come in just yet no you are not ready to see the roots of that tree she said it might happen to me but doesn’t just get it or doesn’t want to get all over it without without or rather with the same old excuses going on never been this alone before in an entire but not entire just a little bit of today life except in the womb except before it all started to happen with a one two three you are on now take it slowly take it it is yours this job ends and another begins but slow down a minute let us look at some examples first you don’t know what you are talking about buddy how to have stronger healthier bones it says and it says some other things too like dates and watches inside or outside this curtain hides the windows noises just look at their opinions judge not lest ye judge an old canard if there ever was one not sure who came up with that quasi wisdom wisdom but believe it those policies were written by policy makers not us folk who wish or try to help the old woman that he knew the one who couldn’t make any more bricks and they beat her soundly did you notice did you see the birds do it like that no you didn’t see the birds do it like that or the ants or the no don’t go there go here go here and investigate the documents for yourselves the key is still in the old drawer but no one is home to let you in just try to crawl through the old space that no one ever bothered to fix after the fire or even when the noises started upsetting the neighbors scaring the kids who ended up there with comic books with petulance and something resembling self esteem oh now that isn’t fair to say that self esteem business keeps throwing the weight of the argument back at these poor little harmless ax bearers no lets not do that again not not bet the only one to have done that yesterday in the entire room oh sure some of them may have believed they did it but honestly you can read the look in their eyes and know certainly none of them cleaned up a bit or managed one square thought about the real oh for goodness sakes madam do not look at me that way it isn’t my fault and might not be yours either except that you did take the time to buy our number one product so let the buyer beware as they say which isn’t a canard at all go check the other pocket
I was stunned to realize that barking meant so much more to us than to them.The natural signs in the upside down face of the sky, the part of it that exposed Itself to us, a membrane over the meniscus of the very life we saw to be reflected underneath it wasn’t gray or purple or sundried tomato coloredIts sides pinched between the horizon zippers and hems stitched together with darts trees bolts of lighten ing zen zen over zero nineteen perfect degrees between it all but those were not natural recollections how to how to see itSee it brother you are my brother if it happens you cripple about cling cling hard tight to roads worries examples everything you might have for one day one hour just a minute you just a minute you sixty separate examples on the film strip faster flying about over the screen three two one over and it startsAre you with me here or just with me. I said are you with me or not have you opened the package yet the one that sent itself to you with my address all over the left corner have you opened that package up yet or are you with me here looking in looking in and looking in and look looking looks like this you are not home yet this is the most alone part about it wondering about the reason the leaves have this fur on them what are they saying you know what are they doing all day alone remembering something or hiding the light inside of their microscopic chlorophylled filled hearts that beat without a beating this is the first time in my life you know the very first time and its like paradise walks on its own two feet from here to there you cannot come in just yet no you are not ready to see the roots of that tree she said it might happen to me but doesn’t just get it or doesn’t want to get all over it without without or rather with the same old excuses going on never been this alone before in an entire but not entire just a little bit of today life except in the womb except before it all started to happen with a one two three you are on now take it slowly take it it is yours this job ends and another begins but slow down a minute let us look at some examples first you don’t know what you are talking about buddy how to have stronger healthier bones it says and it says some other things too like dates and watches inside or outside this curtain hides the windows noises just look at their opinions judge not lest ye judge an old canard if there ever was one not sure who came up with that quasi wisdom wisdom but believe it those policies were written by policy makers not us folk who wish or try to help the old woman that he knew the one who couldn’t make any more bricks and they beat her soundly did you notice did you see the birds do it like that no you didn’t see the birds do it like that or the ants or the no don’t go there go here go here and investigate the documents for yourselves the key is still in the old drawer but no one is home to let you in just try to crawl through the old space that no one ever bothered to fix after the fire or even when the noises started upsetting the neighbors scaring the kids who ended up there with comic books with petulance and something resembling self esteem oh now that isn’t fair to say that self esteem business keeps throwing the weight of the argument back at these poor little harmless ax bearers no lets not do that again not not bet the only one to have done that yesterday in the entire room oh sure some of them may have believed they did it but honestly you can read the look in their eyes and know certainly none of them cleaned up a bit or managed one square thought about the real oh for goodness sakes madam do not look at me that way it isn’t my fault and might not be yours either except that you did take the time to buy our number one product so let the buyer beware as they say which isn’t a canard at all go check the other pocket
30.1.10
The Good Investment
First installment appeared in the afternoon
edition of the daily paper and was written
by Agnes Upchurch on her deathbed
or so it was thought before Miss Upchurch
showed up the very next day at the Post
Office to collect her mail and proceeded
to the newspaper office to receive the balance
of what she was due which amounted to
three dollars and ten cents. She clenched
the money in her left hand that was swaddled
in the left pocket of the coat which
belonged to a dead woman before her
and said to herself, this is for you Edna.
The coat had been sold to the local thrift store
by the dead woman's ungrateful brood of children
who didn't appreciate that it was made
of herring bone tweed with a nice black collar
that could be turned up against the neck
during cold weather. Miss Upchurch
paid fifty cents for her old friend's coat
with the comfort that she
had been right all along and for this
she was paid well enough to purchase
a pound of coffee, loaf of bread
and half a dozen pencils with which to write
the second installment of the series
which she named The Red Herring.
First installment appeared in the afternoon
edition of the daily paper and was written
by Agnes Upchurch on her deathbed
or so it was thought before Miss Upchurch
showed up the very next day at the Post
Office to collect her mail and proceeded
to the newspaper office to receive the balance
of what she was due which amounted to
three dollars and ten cents. She clenched
the money in her left hand that was swaddled
in the left pocket of the coat which
belonged to a dead woman before her
and said to herself, this is for you Edna.
The coat had been sold to the local thrift store
by the dead woman's ungrateful brood of children
who didn't appreciate that it was made
of herring bone tweed with a nice black collar
that could be turned up against the neck
during cold weather. Miss Upchurch
paid fifty cents for her old friend's coat
with the comfort that she
had been right all along and for this
she was paid well enough to purchase
a pound of coffee, loaf of bread
and half a dozen pencils with which to write
the second installment of the series
which she named The Red Herring.
29.1.10
Ron Silliman and Marilyn Crispell
Live in Concert!
This is gonna be great. Although I have gone through some personal life difficulty (quit my damn job again) this past week, I am enthusiastic about this reading. I am hoping to see something quite wonderful, enlightening and mesmerizing. Anything less than that and I'll write to Mr. Silliman personally and request he get my money back from Chax Press who is sponsoring the event which will be at Pima Center for the Arts, Pima Community College West Campus on Saturday January 30, 2010 at 7 p.m..
I still have two tickets to give away but am having some difficulty finding the right recepients.
I wonder, do you think I could SCALP them?
The Sweetest Parking Lots in Town
Should we dye our hair or sharpen
the claws, tend the roots maybe
bring a gift, some kind of wrist watch?
Saw her in the store today
and her friend came up to us
and agreed that things tend
to change over here
but the same old secrets
that aren't even secrets anymore
except that they are spoken
about quietly in places like these
and tell each other,
we are the secrets
but no one tells you before
the ambush and then
it's all out in the open
and saying, didn't you know?
Knew she'd be there
knew alot of things
about the weather
over there, the last blowout.
Don't you just love how
some people don't let you down
by letting you down?
It's really great that way,
you can go on turning up
showing off or filtering,
sleeping with every darn thing
in town at least once.
My hands feel cold
the eyes say look out,
they are over there,
again.
Should we dye our hair or sharpen
the claws, tend the roots maybe
bring a gift, some kind of wrist watch?
Saw her in the store today
and her friend came up to us
and agreed that things tend
to change over here
but the same old secrets
that aren't even secrets anymore
except that they are spoken
about quietly in places like these
and tell each other,
we are the secrets
but no one tells you before
the ambush and then
it's all out in the open
and saying, didn't you know?
Knew she'd be there
knew alot of things
about the weather
over there, the last blowout.
Don't you just love how
some people don't let you down
by letting you down?
It's really great that way,
you can go on turning up
showing off or filtering,
sleeping with every darn thing
in town at least once.
My hands feel cold
the eyes say look out,
they are over there,
again.
23.1.10
The Tree Omen
Falls as if the wind
Took it down
In the night it lay
Dying, taking its last
Breath, wondering
How so many things
Go wrong, the roots
Hurt as they tear
Opening up the ground
Easily, how unbearable
The signs can be
Unwarranted dramatic
Dirty tragic
All those saplings
Between her fists
Under her arms.
Contagion the wind blows
Star weather and genius
Over the lawn
Past the mud ankles
The if and when pulse
Missing pecans dried
Canary cases
The drowning books
Our fixed up years
The ready pollution
Honors those the most.
Falls as if the wind
Took it down
In the night it lay
Dying, taking its last
Breath, wondering
How so many things
Go wrong, the roots
Hurt as they tear
Opening up the ground
Easily, how unbearable
The signs can be
Unwarranted dramatic
Dirty tragic
All those saplings
Between her fists
Under her arms.
Contagion the wind blows
Star weather and genius
Over the lawn
Past the mud ankles
The if and when pulse
Missing pecans dried
Canary cases
The drowning books
Our fixed up years
The ready pollution
Honors those the most.
NY dairy farmer kills 51 cows, commits suicide
COPAKE, N.Y. – State police in New York say an upstate dairy farmer shot and killed 51 of his milk cows in his barn before turning the rifle on himself.
State police found the body of 59-year-old Dean Pierson in his Copake barn on Thursday. A visitor found a note Pierson had left on the barn door that said not to come in and to call police.
State police would only say that Pierson was having personal issues.
The Columbia County hamlet of Copake is about 115 miles north of New York City.
Local farmers buried the cows outside the barn Friday. They would not discuss Pierson or what had happened, but one of the men said these are hard times to be a farmer.
LOS ANGELES – A firefighter splashed into a rain-swollen river Friday to rescue a German shepherd and managed to hang on safely, even after the dog furiously bit his arm and hand.
Joe St. Georges, a 25-year Los Angeles Fire Department veteran, said he received a "real bite in the thumb" but was otherwise feeling fine.
LONDON – A pair of British children who lured two other youngsters to a secluded area and subjected them to a horrifying catalog of near-fatal abuse were sentenced to at least five years in custody Friday.
The attackers, 10 and 11 at the time, were convicted of robbing, beating, and stabbing their victims with sticks and bricks. One child, 10, had a sink thrown onto his head, while his nephew, 9, was forced to eat nettles. The violence included sexual degradation, Justice Brian Keith said during the sentencing.
COPAKE, N.Y. – State police in New York say an upstate dairy farmer shot and killed 51 of his milk cows in his barn before turning the rifle on himself.
State police found the body of 59-year-old Dean Pierson in his Copake barn on Thursday. A visitor found a note Pierson had left on the barn door that said not to come in and to call police.
State police would only say that Pierson was having personal issues.
The Columbia County hamlet of Copake is about 115 miles north of New York City.
Local farmers buried the cows outside the barn Friday. They would not discuss Pierson or what had happened, but one of the men said these are hard times to be a farmer.
LOS ANGELES – A firefighter splashed into a rain-swollen river Friday to rescue a German shepherd and managed to hang on safely, even after the dog furiously bit his arm and hand.
Joe St. Georges, a 25-year Los Angeles Fire Department veteran, said he received a "real bite in the thumb" but was otherwise feeling fine.
LONDON – A pair of British children who lured two other youngsters to a secluded area and subjected them to a horrifying catalog of near-fatal abuse were sentenced to at least five years in custody Friday.
The attackers, 10 and 11 at the time, were convicted of robbing, beating, and stabbing their victims with sticks and bricks. One child, 10, had a sink thrown onto his head, while his nephew, 9, was forced to eat nettles. The violence included sexual degradation, Justice Brian Keith said during the sentencing.
14.1.10
HAITI RELIEF FUNDS
Please remind your friends and family to donate to at least one of the following organizations that are helping the people of Haiti. I have found that it is helpful to remind people who sometimes procrastinate over issues like this. You'd be surprised at how spreading the word can and does make a difference even ten bucks at a time.
http://www.cnn.com/SPECIALS/2007/impact/
How you can help:In addition to providing emergency relief, these organizations are providing the following aid to those in need:
Providing Basic Needs:• American Red Cross • CARE • World Vision • UNICEF USA • International Relief Teams • Save the Children • Catholic Relief Services • Samaritan's Purse • American Jewish World Services • Clinton Foundation • Yéle Haiti • World Concern • Mercy Corps • Operation Blessing International • UN Central Emegergency Response Fund (CERF) • Mercy & Sharing
Providing Shelter: • Shelterbox • Habitat for Humanity International
Providing Medical Aid: • Direct Relief International • International Medical Corps • Medical Teams International • Doctors Without Borders • Operation USA • MAP International • The International Committee of the Red Cross • World Health Organization • Americares • Project Medishare
Providing Food: • World Food Programme • The Salvation Army • Compassion International • Food for the Poor
Please remind your friends and family to donate to at least one of the following organizations that are helping the people of Haiti. I have found that it is helpful to remind people who sometimes procrastinate over issues like this. You'd be surprised at how spreading the word can and does make a difference even ten bucks at a time.
http://www.cnn.com/SPECIALS/2007/impact/
How you can help:In addition to providing emergency relief, these organizations are providing the following aid to those in need:
Providing Basic Needs:• American Red Cross • CARE • World Vision • UNICEF USA • International Relief Teams • Save the Children • Catholic Relief Services • Samaritan's Purse • American Jewish World Services • Clinton Foundation • Yéle Haiti • World Concern • Mercy Corps • Operation Blessing International • UN Central Emegergency Response Fund (CERF) • Mercy & Sharing
Providing Shelter: • Shelterbox • Habitat for Humanity International
Providing Medical Aid: • Direct Relief International • International Medical Corps • Medical Teams International • Doctors Without Borders • Operation USA • MAP International • The International Committee of the Red Cross • World Health Organization • Americares • Project Medishare
Providing Food: • World Food Programme • The Salvation Army • Compassion International • Food for the Poor
12.1.10
The University of Arizona Center for Middle Eastern Studies presents:
Inside Islam: What a Billion Muslims Really Think, a new documentary film from Unity Productions Foundation, explores the expertly gathered opinions of Muslims around the globe as revealed in the world’s first major opinion poll, conducted by Gallup, the preeminent polling organization.
Focused on the issues of Gender Justice, Terrorism, and Democracy – the film presents remarkable data deftly, showing how it challenges the popular notion that Muslims and the West are on a collision course. Like the research, the film highlights a shared relationship that is based on facts – not fear.
Experts Featured in the film: Dalia Mogahed, Executive Director of the Gallup Center for Muslim Studies, John Esposito, University Professor, Georgetown University, Rami Khoury, Editor of the Daily Star (Beirut), and Kenneth Pollack, Director of Research, Saban Center for Middle East Policy at the Brookings Institution, among others.
Inside Islam: What a Billion Muslims Really Think, a new documentary film from Unity Productions Foundation, explores the expertly gathered opinions of Muslims around the globe as revealed in the world’s first major opinion poll, conducted by Gallup, the preeminent polling organization.
Focused on the issues of Gender Justice, Terrorism, and Democracy – the film presents remarkable data deftly, showing how it challenges the popular notion that Muslims and the West are on a collision course. Like the research, the film highlights a shared relationship that is based on facts – not fear.
Experts Featured in the film: Dalia Mogahed, Executive Director of the Gallup Center for Muslim Studies, John Esposito, University Professor, Georgetown University, Rami Khoury, Editor of the Daily Star (Beirut), and Kenneth Pollack, Director of Research, Saban Center for Middle East Policy at the Brookings Institution, among others.
11.1.10
Saginaw
I have to say, we laughed hard
at the no pants romance stories
after Christmas dinner, the fire
roaring and Dick there with his
wooly layers. We just started
up about the no pants romance
and kept going. Now each of us
calls the other and asks
How'd we get started on that?
I think it was with the bright
idea I had at three in the afternoon
about a week before when I called
up Dick and said, what are you doing
for Christmas dinner and he told me
he'd be washing his socks. I was per-
plexed that a famous poet
would be washing his socks on Christmas
and anyway, delighted because
I wanted to invite my old friend
over for dinner. So that's the story
of the no pants romance
and you'd have to be there
to understand, you'd have to be
one of us or interested
in pants, in socks, in the hard
won loneliness of old poets.
I have to say, we laughed hard
at the no pants romance stories
after Christmas dinner, the fire
roaring and Dick there with his
wooly layers. We just started
up about the no pants romance
and kept going. Now each of us
calls the other and asks
How'd we get started on that?
I think it was with the bright
idea I had at three in the afternoon
about a week before when I called
up Dick and said, what are you doing
for Christmas dinner and he told me
he'd be washing his socks. I was per-
plexed that a famous poet
would be washing his socks on Christmas
and anyway, delighted because
I wanted to invite my old friend
over for dinner. So that's the story
of the no pants romance
and you'd have to be there
to understand, you'd have to be
one of us or interested
in pants, in socks, in the hard
won loneliness of old poets.
7.1.10
Marlene Dietrich - Lili Marleen
by Pigasus_Power
Glory by Nada Gordon
It is advised to find Lili in English because it is equally wunderbar to listen to. My father sang it in German usually. The following hadith apply (not Quran) but have numerous citations in Islamic history alongside Quranic ayat (proofs) from a Sunni website here:
http://qa.sunnipath.com/issue_view.asp?HD=1&ID=1786&CATE=142
“If a singer gathers people around him only to entertain them with his voice, then he will not be considered a upright person (a’dil), even though if he does not consume alcohol, as he will be considered the leader of sinners. If however, he only sings to himself in order to eradicate loneliness, then there is nothing wrong in doing so."
“Those who witness no falsehood, and if they pass by futility, they pass by it with honourable avoidance” (The Glorious Quran, Surah al-Furqan, V. 72)....in other words, keeping such things as music in perspective and tasteful...sometimes even motivational.
Abd Allah ibn Mas’ud (Allah be pleased with him) reports that the Messenger of Allah (Allah bless him & give him peace) said: “Song makes hypocrisy grow in the heart as water does herbage” (Sunan al-Bayhaqi).
Which is true and the reason some music is banned/censored/protested even in the United States where freedom rings to cop a phrase from a well known patriotic tune.
The Shariah has possibly been misconstrued and one thing that muslims ought to be told is that the same type of over-policing happened in the Christian culture leading to the monastacism of priests/celebacy and even to the crisis of the church who harbored criminal pedophilic priests in their midst and with their knowledge.
“Unlawful (haram) singing is when the theme of the song consists of unlawful things, such as the description of a particular living person’s beauty and features, the virtues of wine that provoke wine-drinking, the details and particulars of family affairs or those songs that mock and ridicule others."
Lili Marlene is a song about war-time sex and ergo-prostitution which, believe it or not, has some regulatory points in Islam i.e. allowances. Is it then haram? I certainly don't know but I listen to it when I feel lonely or remember the loneliness that war creates among a variety of people, cultures and ideologies. It is also a case of underestimating the genetics of fathering children with the daughters of one's enemies...powerful idea and not mine to go into here except to say that it is a common thread throughout history and particularly, Greek history which is foundational to so many things including Islam itself which had to respond to the status quo of Greek mythology as did Christianity have to...without er...absorbing it via innovation and integration of practice (as the Christians did).
Sunni muslims have created a conundrum for themselves however because a well known hadith from Sahih Buhkari indicates that the prophet listened to singers and watched some young girls dancing...the hadith was narrated by the infamous Aisha whom the Sunnis regard as one of the holiest of women and the Shia regard as a special enemy to Islam itself...perhaps even one whose sole purpose was to separate the wheat (Shia) from the chaff (Sunni). I doubt that the hadith is accurate and instead it is one of those created either deliberately by Aisha herself or by others who followed and noted a good opportunity to spread vicious gossip.
The Sunni justify this exception because if they don't it leads to the discrediting of Buhkari's collection of quotes en toto:
"Firstly, theses young girls were singing without any unlawful musical instruments and secondly, the content of the song was regarding war, thus perfectly lawful. Also, they were not professional singers as the words of the Hadith clearly indicate."
I've read that hadith and it absolutely does not mention war but actually alludes to something pernicious and evil toward the prophet as do many Sunni hadiths and this is the crux of contention between Shia and Sunni is that the Sunni exhibit no remorse in relating false hadith if it means their side of the story "sticks together" better.
I mention it after viewing Nada Gordon's very interesting multimedia poem on her site today and after having mentioned Lili (again) in one of my own poems. I find it significant that this generation probably has little memory for such things as Marlene and her turncoat ways, her ultimately successful 'late in life' ascent to stardom via pseudo-usurious means i.e. war song. Her music was generally metrical and the lyrics could be read as poems just as well as they took off with music.
Black Market is one of my favorite tunes.....incredibly profound especially if one has had the luxury of reading In Praise of Older Women (as Lanny called it, 'Fleeing Hungry' riddled with Feeling Hungary).
Illusions is also a beautiful war time poem....quite romantic.
See What the Boys in the Back Room Will Have is great war buff stuff and she says, "tell them my crime" which for those who have any knowledge of Marlene's refusal to serve the purposes of Hitler's Germany is staunch evidence about which side she was on and she knew it, communicated it in a widely known song as a type of war taunt.
A few samples from Amazon here.
2.1.10
The Boys Between Us
-Kiai o ka lewa (Guardians of the Upper Realms)
Would that this poem might submit
the wondrous headline there,
the problematic endings
and beginnings where
things go round and round
but who would believe
the announcement of sharp
air in the lungs below zero
tonight in North Dakota
and how that made my heart
begin to bleed and rejoice
as you drew your breath in
and stood up to walk
to where you are right now,
so far away from the past two
weeks, the first furlough
and this unorthodox,
sentimentally muslim Christmas.
I put that tree up for you
to make it seem more
like the movies and feel
more like a dream,
the real logistics
of history, ours and theirs.
There is fury in my heart
for you son
with whom no blankets
were sent, no glass tears
delivered and your friend
shows up to this house
a few hours after you left,
this house that feels like those first
few moments after a funeral.
He tried to hide
behind the pencil thin
brown-like-a-foreigner body
girlfriend of his, standing
at the door ringing the bell
thinking he could surprise me,
but I knew he'd come.
They all belong to me son,
your friends, their lives
and their deaths.
Her little promise ring
was too big for her finger,
this great big love
you kids know so much about
running between them,
his head shaved and skateboard
literate bandana (paisley)
wrapped as he always did it
back when he fainted
and slumped to the floor
like some people do
when they see their own
blood. I asked him
what was next
and the new infantry
is all he understands
with the skate park fading,
his first pack of smokes
you bought him when
you turned eighteen,
that's Dustin for you,
he doesn't look too bad
without all that hair
and his neck is thick, muscular,
like yours and everyone else's,
you can tell what he's been thinking.
I'm glad I watched
All's Quiet but not really,
not when a dead boy's guitar
is slung over a handle in
your old room
and Mary's brother's coat is
tucked into your duffle
alongside your orders.
Her parent's honored you,
don't forget that,
John's been dead for five years now
but his coat, son. That
is their son's coat, the son
that they lost when he
careened his brand new car
into a rocky crag on his way
back from Rocky Point
just after he'd made pilot.
Not sure if they hoped
to curse or bless you buddy.
And Jeremy shot himself
just last year and we all know
it was drugs that got him,
same war, different strategy
in the disingenuous battle
for a person's soul and then, their body.
Your voice shook when you volunteered
a eulogy up at St. Pat's,
seventeen years old is too
young to offer such a speech
but you did great that day,
the whole parish sobbed
and we aren't even Catholic.
Neither of them perished
from an IED
neither of them is buried
where they died
but they are still gone
and as gone as you are right
now, that first call home
is the hardest because the story
keeps on going.
It is nightfall on New Year's Day
and I play Jeremy's guitar
to the tune
bury me son, t'abreneh in'sha'allah,
please bury me with your heart on fire,
just don't bury what I've said.
I'm just a woman you know
but I've seen war from
several of its infinite angles
and I want to tell you
it looks different from every
one so far but I know
the last look we take
might be the one
that lasts the longest.
The war, son, is in man's bones,
it troubles the arteries
and fills the heart with steam,
purples this mind with agony
and drags our legs
like a grizzly bear on a rampage
whether we go or not
we drink the elixir of Free Will.
It takes girls and makes
them women, adultresses and widows,
draws lines around our eyes
and mouths, leaves boys
without mothers, fathers,
sisters and cousins - it places
us in perspective, drives
certain people to drink
and others to flee,
or like Dustin's girl
she signs up too damn it
because times haven't changed
and my own mother
peeled and placed bandages
at Bethesda Naval hospital in 1943
because times were tough then too.
If you'd have asked her
it was her culminating factor,
the one that drew and colored
the rest of her life, some
sort of redemption and reminder
when my dad got liquored up
and sang Lili Marlene. Everyone
looks good in uniform mister,
just not all of the time.
They sat there on my couch
this afternoon, he took
his bandana off and twisted it
over and over and over,
his mom told me he's afraid
of both things: killing and killing.
We all are.
We made polite conversation
for three whole hours,
he leaves tomorrow,
to "Misery" as they say
and its cold there too
but by May he'll be
shipping out and we know where,
just don't know if or how or who.
I knocked him on the head
with my knuckles
as he left, the same way
I did the day he passed out
and I tried to wake him up
as I washed his little cut
a couple of years back
when all we cared about
was whether or not
I had enough stew
to feed them all, your friends,
all your precious friends
who to me were
chosen especially for you
and more precious than gold.
For old time's sake I rapped
him on his hard head, for you
and him and Jeremy and John,
for my father and my brother,
for my mother and my uncle,
for the citizens of the earth
and those that have died
or who are dying today
and those being born,
for the rabbit I ran over outside
Benson on the way up
to send you on your way,
you and your Mary snuggling
in the back seat and crying,
for Mary, poor Mary and your sisters,
for your father who has delegated
to me more than I am capable
of delivering,
and for the havelina I shot last
night on New Year's Eve with
the beebee gun I finally bought
you after all those years
I denied you one, and that impervious
beast looked at me as if to say
bug off and then sauntered away.
For our enemies and our friends.
For your cousin who thinks
the Marines will do for him
what my brother never could.
Yes, war puts us all into perspective
and it never stops and never will my little boy.
Strife is justice said Heraclitus
and I have to agree
but it depends on which side you are
and if you know you're on it.
Would that this poem might submit
the wondrous headline there,
the problematic endings
and beginnings where
things go round and round
but who would believe
the announcement of sharp
air in the lungs below zero
tonight in North Dakota
and how that made my heart
begin to bleed and rejoice
as you drew your breath in
and stood up to walk
to where you are right now,
so far away from the past two
weeks, the first furlough
and this unorthodox,
sentimentally muslim Christmas.
I put that tree up for you
to make it seem more
like the movies and feel
more like a dream,
the real logistics
of history, ours and theirs.
There is fury in my heart
for you son
with whom no blankets
were sent, no glass tears
delivered and your friend
shows up to this house
a few hours after you left,
this house that feels like those first
few moments after a funeral.
He tried to hide
behind the pencil thin
brown-like-a-foreigner body
girlfriend of his, standing
at the door ringing the bell
thinking he could surprise me,
but I knew he'd come.
They all belong to me son,
your friends, their lives
and their deaths.
Her little promise ring
was too big for her finger,
this great big love
you kids know so much about
running between them,
his head shaved and skateboard
literate bandana (paisley)
wrapped as he always did it
back when he fainted
and slumped to the floor
like some people do
when they see their own
blood. I asked him
what was next
and the new infantry
is all he understands
with the skate park fading,
his first pack of smokes
you bought him when
you turned eighteen,
that's Dustin for you,
he doesn't look too bad
without all that hair
and his neck is thick, muscular,
like yours and everyone else's,
you can tell what he's been thinking.
I'm glad I watched
All's Quiet but not really,
not when a dead boy's guitar
is slung over a handle in
your old room
and Mary's brother's coat is
tucked into your duffle
alongside your orders.
Her parent's honored you,
don't forget that,
John's been dead for five years now
but his coat, son. That
is their son's coat, the son
that they lost when he
careened his brand new car
into a rocky crag on his way
back from Rocky Point
just after he'd made pilot.
Not sure if they hoped
to curse or bless you buddy.
And Jeremy shot himself
just last year and we all know
it was drugs that got him,
same war, different strategy
in the disingenuous battle
for a person's soul and then, their body.
Your voice shook when you volunteered
a eulogy up at St. Pat's,
seventeen years old is too
young to offer such a speech
but you did great that day,
the whole parish sobbed
and we aren't even Catholic.
Neither of them perished
from an IED
neither of them is buried
where they died
but they are still gone
and as gone as you are right
now, that first call home
is the hardest because the story
keeps on going.
It is nightfall on New Year's Day
and I play Jeremy's guitar
to the tune
bury me son, t'abreneh in'sha'allah,
please bury me with your heart on fire,
just don't bury what I've said.
I'm just a woman you know
but I've seen war from
several of its infinite angles
and I want to tell you
it looks different from every
one so far but I know
the last look we take
might be the one
that lasts the longest.
The war, son, is in man's bones,
it troubles the arteries
and fills the heart with steam,
purples this mind with agony
and drags our legs
like a grizzly bear on a rampage
whether we go or not
we drink the elixir of Free Will.
It takes girls and makes
them women, adultresses and widows,
draws lines around our eyes
and mouths, leaves boys
without mothers, fathers,
sisters and cousins - it places
us in perspective, drives
certain people to drink
and others to flee,
or like Dustin's girl
she signs up too damn it
because times haven't changed
and my own mother
peeled and placed bandages
at Bethesda Naval hospital in 1943
because times were tough then too.
If you'd have asked her
it was her culminating factor,
the one that drew and colored
the rest of her life, some
sort of redemption and reminder
when my dad got liquored up
and sang Lili Marlene. Everyone
looks good in uniform mister,
just not all of the time.
They sat there on my couch
this afternoon, he took
his bandana off and twisted it
over and over and over,
his mom told me he's afraid
of both things: killing and killing.
We all are.
We made polite conversation
for three whole hours,
he leaves tomorrow,
to "Misery" as they say
and its cold there too
but by May he'll be
shipping out and we know where,
just don't know if or how or who.
I knocked him on the head
with my knuckles
as he left, the same way
I did the day he passed out
and I tried to wake him up
as I washed his little cut
a couple of years back
when all we cared about
was whether or not
I had enough stew
to feed them all, your friends,
all your precious friends
who to me were
chosen especially for you
and more precious than gold.
For old time's sake I rapped
him on his hard head, for you
and him and Jeremy and John,
for my father and my brother,
for my mother and my uncle,
for the citizens of the earth
and those that have died
or who are dying today
and those being born,
for the rabbit I ran over outside
Benson on the way up
to send you on your way,
you and your Mary snuggling
in the back seat and crying,
for Mary, poor Mary and your sisters,
for your father who has delegated
to me more than I am capable
of delivering,
and for the havelina I shot last
night on New Year's Eve with
the beebee gun I finally bought
you after all those years
I denied you one, and that impervious
beast looked at me as if to say
bug off and then sauntered away.
For our enemies and our friends.
For your cousin who thinks
the Marines will do for him
what my brother never could.
Yes, war puts us all into perspective
and it never stops and never will my little boy.
Strife is justice said Heraclitus
and I have to agree
but it depends on which side you are
and if you know you're on it.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)