Tuesday, January 30, 2024

Regarding the Poems

 

Now that the University has reduced my classes to almost zero, I have, for the first time in decades, found an opening that has fostered a renaissance.  I find myself with many hours in which to go back through the poems on this blog and edit them.  As a result, they are taking more fluent and evocative shapes.  Then again, I could be like Sisyphus with his stone.  Who knows.  

 So far, I’ve edited back to July ’23.  But I intend to keep going.  I intend to leave these poems as my legacy, as well as the novel I have finished, and the one I am working on now.  Finally, I hope to write a nonfiction book, based on the concept of ‘the Good’ expressed in this blog.

Of course, I am in poverty and have mediocre health, still mostly on crutches.  But through poetry, literary prose and philosophy, I strive to make a higher statement, one that transcends my mortal miseries and speaks to the universe.

As far as my longevity, I find life on this Earth to be cruel, unjust and demanding, the price of its miracles, not only suffering and death, but the sadism and narcissism that are so successful at taking power and immersing everyone and everything else in misery.  I myself was born with privilege and was able to get highly educated, which allowed me to develop psychological strategies for survival and meaning.  I can find ecstasy simply by meditating or staring at a leaf, or writing a poem.  But the large majority of people never get the unfair advantages I had.  Many, for instance, are born into poverty or even slavery.  Many are born into dictatorships overlorded by de facto kings who demand to be worshipped, on pain of torturous incarceration.  And let us remember, too, that there are animals on this planet that are not human, animals that feel pain and emotion, and they are all hostage to our selfishness, greed, fear, and ignorance.  We harness other animals to our needs, or destroy their environments and extinct species for even a meager gain.

It's an incredibly barbaric world, and humanity is probably about to blow it all up with nuclear weapons.  Making it worse, in my mind, this armageddon is not fated.  It is possible for humans to evolve ethically and live in beauty, decency and love.  But this is not going to happen, because we are trapped by fear.  This goes back to our primal needs--to eat, to have stable shelter, to feel safe.  And here I also blame nature, because if we don't eat, our own bodies torture us.  If we don't have stable shelter, our bodies, again, torture us with inflictions of cold and heat that can lead to disease.  Our bodies have elaborate nervous system, including pain mechanims, that can be  exploited by our fellow humans to coerce us into slavery and other degradations.  This is the 'fault' of nature itself, which has made us vulnerable to extremes both physical and mental, delightful extremes, yes, but also the opposite.

So, it's a very brutal planet, the price of its beauties.  Evolution has been as vicious as it has been kind.  I think the best we humans can do is to seek the Good with an open-mind and promote it through ethical acts.  I say 'open mind' because too often people fanatically embrace religion, for it helps them to pretend that that the misery and injustice they suffer will someday be compensated for by an all-Good God in heaven.  They do this because facing the truth is too painful.  Reality induces such intense fear that they cannot handle it any other way.  

Such fanaticism, of course, breeds ignorance--such as racism, sexism and anti-LGBTQ--and leads to war, which increases suffering.  It also makes one susceptible to the command of theocratic tyrants, and in that aspect fanatic people do horrific things, such as participate in inquisitions and crusades.  It's a grand irony that fanatics who claim to follow an All-Loving God inflict so much cruelty, suffering and oppression, making life far worse for everyone. 

As far as my own longevity, half of me wants to quote Herodotus, "This life is so sorry a thing ... that death is a delightful refuge for the weary."  The other half of me finds rapture and wonder in the beauty of the universe, nature, and many aspects of human expression.  Whenever anyone does something good, it is a gift to all of us.  It is a seed.


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Monday, January 22, 2024

Poem: Serenade

 

Serenade

 

troubadour tucked

in fingerbones of sorrel,

a single cricket,

chirrs gnawing on the quiet,

urgent of humid flame

to thaw the blindness

and prick the moonless night,

distant ephemera

of gulls and coyotes.

 

a single cricket,

substitute for my breath,

heart liquid in its chant,

as a key might be forged,

charmed by the soft trebles,

radiant of exhale, warmth unlocked,

unfathomable and keen,

fluent with stars.



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1/28/24 .... changed last line 


1/23/24   removed "its" before " distant ephemera ..." 

Tuesday, January 16, 2024

Poem: Lament

 

 Lament

 

flat on my back,

a spread star fallen to its grave,

unknown to a wish,

i wonder

why watermarks on cotton fiber

and roses and wine

and charmed tears are a status most people

will never know,

i wonder

why i am so special

as Ethiopian ribs replace skin

while i whine about the best word for a poem

that ends up as hors d’oeuvres

for a few ruthless eyes.

 



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1/22/24 ... removed the second stanza of the poem, which appears below.  I was always on the fence about it, at best, as it doesn't fit the flow and is 'obvious.'


..

i wonder though it is useless to wonder,

i wonder because it is useless to wonder,

i wonder for i am forced,

and i am forced because i will not hide

from how much i hate god.



































Poems like this allow me to love god as much as I hate god.  Honesty is double-edged.

Saturday, January 13, 2024

Poem: Murmurous

 

Murmurous

 

in this maze of schedules and worries,

your murmurs soar with unsupervised wings.

you defy the glut of wheels

trapped at right angles,

to sing, the wind is still free to swoop with merlins.

 

call my heart.

eclipse the cube-crawled streets,

their honked, fake caterwauls.

hurdle wires, grids and volts.

skim over frozen facial waves,

those stressed pedestrian seas.

 

one murmur

exceeds the braggadocio of the city.

the arrogance of the limousine.

the vanity of a cathedral. 



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1/14/24  ...  removed some excess words for ease and cadence

Friday, January 12, 2024

Poem: Accusation

 

Accusation

 

pinecones bob in windy anger,

pointing every which way.

 

we know! we know! they accuse.

 

so many fingers

flipping off humanity.

 

isn’t it obvious? don’t you see?

 

we the people, though,

act as if the pines have no right to speak.

 

we go about the task

of punching the forest,

 

as if it were our duty  

to abuse nature.



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1/13/24 ... shortened the 3rd to last line


1/12/24 ... modding this all day after posting it...

Monday, January 8, 2024

Poem: Laden

 

Laden

 

a branching stampede of snowshoe hares

when gales whisk the hunched spruce,

a gravity of flight, fearful of a single daffodil paw,

the tiger in a young spring sun.

 

so pure in their wonderland, these hares,

poised to scamper and yet statuesque.

are they afraid or just playful,

lofty in their sway and airs,

reluctant to exit the exquisite stage,

its scepters of icicle and green quill?

 

they are playwrights, 

thaumaturgists these white rabbits,

pulled at dawn from moonshadow hats.

if they flee the carousel of wind and blizzard

what next?

 

what refuge

beyond sporadic dapples of bejeweled light?

what aid from an audience

so quiet and stark?




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1/28/24 ... major many changes


1/10/24 ... "a daffodil paw" replaces "daffodil paws"


the snowshoe hares symbolize the heavy snow hanging in bent trees

Thursday, January 4, 2024

Poem: Lone

 

Lone

 

day

of the organized screen-bred structure.

all is known.  

every fidget of muscle and thought in place.

 

night

of the chimerical panther,

loping free to shatter consequence,

hot on the tail of a moon-jeweled bird. 

 

day,

the screen reflects the head of a ghost,

who pretends to have empathy

as it speaks into a mic

over a grave-shaped chest.

 

night,

it cries the wettest of tears,

which leave no dampness,

waking to buck in the sudden rush hour.

 

across the room

in the patience of a lone mirror,

little to see.




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Monday, January 1, 2024

Poem: Break

 

Break

 

what god to praise,

each locked in our own skin-cage,

heart brewing its solitary cauldron?

 

why these racked spheres,

elongated on such frail necks?

 

and fated to hide

from the most simple truths,

which loathe the absurd rubber

of this slippery face?

 

we destroy to eat, impose to breed, degrade to exist,

tangled in the ivy of desires,

as we trip across a knotted landscape,

this strangle of our collective fears.

 

who rides the wings of courage to see?

even when we break and suffer,

all of us king and complicit,

all of us coin and queen.





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1/28/24 ... more mods


1/4/24  ... transposed "king" and "queen"


2024.  The year fascism could take over the USA and the world.  ... trying to deal with how powerful hate becomes so quickly, once it is lit in the masses.  How it then controls us all, forces us to bow down on pain of torture.  Ultimate loss.