Poets are the unacknowledged legislators of the world
~Percy Bysshe Shelley
Managing The Other Self
I cupped my hands and held them over my eyes to shield their sensitivity to the fake sunlight on your empty horizon
After squinting for several lifetimes, I beheld the significance of the activity in the sky above
Tears and drops of rage fell like a million acrid bombs, sizzling on the apathetic landscape all around me
Just then I heard the Siren song of the liars on the drunken waves of remorse calling to you to remain with them
“Stay” they wailed, keep company with the eternal miseries and their whores of defeat
But all you could manage was to remain remote until the weight of all you’ve been, done, seen and felt, made you buckle at the knees with your fragile heart in your hand
A glad hand with no fingers left to count the wasted days but a palm to contain the hours left for thinking and regret
Stuff To Tell You About And…
A poem from moi.
First: My friend Amy Sue Nathan has some fiction up at: http://www.jscribes.com/bubbe-and-the-iphone/
Second: D has written a thinker of a poem here: http://utopianfragments.wordpress.com/
Now, for my poem, which was actually inspired by D’s poem
Reflections
When I smile and look in the mirror I see every person I love
When I laugh and look in the mirror I see every person who appreciates fun
When I look in the mirror with a frown I see every bitter person I’ve ever met
When I look in the mirror when I’m crying, I see every person who has hurt me or who I have hurt
When I look into the mirror blankly, I see every missed opportunity I had to make peace with another
The only mirror that really matters to me, and the only mirror that tells me the true condition of my soul, are the eyes of my daughter. So far, the reflection is pretty good.
A quote from Jacqueline Kennedy Onasis:
“If you bungle raising your children, I don’t think whatever else you do matters very much.”
Down an endless road
There is a cave
In that cave there lives a dark heart
In that dark heart there is a spark
In that spark there is a hope
In that hope there is a truth
In that truth there is a meaning
In that meaning there is reason
In that reason there is a plan
In that plan there is purpose
In that purpose there is a perfection
In that perfection there is a love
In that love there is a god
In that god there is a person
In that person there are other people
In the other people there is a flame
In that flame there is a name
In that name is the name of the god
The name of the god
Is
Humanity
In that humanity there was a thinking
In that thinking there was a making
In that making there was a world
In that world there was another world
In those worlds there was an ending
In that ending there was a beginning
In that beginning is life
In that life there is no death
In that death there is a relentless search underway for knowledge
In that knowledge is completion
In the completion is stillness
And I know you want that don’t you? You know you do. You want this damn verse to end. There, stillness and completion. What can I tell ya? I’m writing some heavy shit and this is all I had to say. ;) Be good, be happy and at some point I’ll be back with something better.
Right Before I Go Back To Writing…
How about a little of how I’m feeling courtesy of Los Lonely Boys…
I’m out doing some garbage picking. I’ll sift through it, write a bestseller and then come back. See ya when I wash my brain, hands and soul clean after this heart rending event. It shouldn’t take too long because I’m familiar with every filthy item. Be good to each other and send out the good vibes.
Remembering…
He was 21, she was nearly 16. They grew up in the same small Canadian mining town and had known one another since childhood. They lit a spark at a dance, while jitterbugging the night away. They grew that spark into a raging fire on their third date and were inseparable afterward. He loved her china blue eyes and she loved his dimples. Together they made plans to marry and start a family. Then it happened. The war. He had to make a choice. He was a pacifist and didn’t want to go but the the thought of being called a coward was a far worse fate to him than going overseas. He volunteered and later, they both cried. Within two weeks he was called up and the realization of his possible mortality could no longer be ignored. They danced that last night, until their time together ran out. She went to the station with him and she had on the raincoat she was wearing the first night they danced. As they kissed and held each other, he slid the belt off this coat and tucked it into his pocket. He said he wanted to take something with him that had touched her body. She cried and told him he would be back soon. He looked her straight in the eyes and said ” I won’t be back Molly. I’m not going to kill anyone and that means I won’t make it.” A shout came for him to board and after one last kiss, he stepped up on the train and eventually, into her past. He was on a troop ship and after they were ordered into the sea to swim to the beach head, he was shot dead in the water just as he approached land. He is buried far from home now, in France and every year he crosses my mind and my heart. A man I never knew. Know why? Because She was my ma and He was Lorne Brown, the love of her life. Today, think of all the veterans who shed their blood to liberate the camps and defend liberty. The very liberty that allows me to say whatever I please on this box. Thank you Lorne Brown, I remember you. You also mattered deeply.
Lorne Brown
Molly 'Ma'
Wednesday Is Remembrance Day…
and I’m going to post something today, tomorrow and of course Wednesday about it. Today you get one of the best songs I’ve ever heard about war, because it’s the truth for veterans and their families. Get out the tissue, it’s a hurter.
For one who never did belong to another soul
There is freedom in loneliness
For one who was never given much
There is wealth in small things like a warm bed or a cold glass of water
For one who was never told the truth
The honesty between the lines of every lie is sacred
For one who never had support
There is security in the shifting of each day and the turning of every tide
For one who was ignored
The attention to detail is proof of life
For one who was injured deeply
The world will always provide the person to reopen the wound just as it starts to heal
For one who was discarded like trash
There is a need to hoard everything of value
For one who was persecuted
There is never enough justice to balance the scales
For one who was imprisoned
There are no bars but those in the mind that are without a key
For one who was never loved
There is nothing else that matters, not breath, food, money, shelter or success. Just a constant quest to fill the lack
