Sons, made of happy flesh but the spirals were broken.
Some part of the helix unwound with a bitter twist.
The oldest cannot meet your eye
and flaps his arms when there is too much anything
Too much joy, too much sound, too much sad.
The youngest bites and I have held him
On concrete, snarling
He tried to bite out my throat
Both cry when they see themselves.
All I have for them are happy kisses
and love, unstoppered and poured from me
I end up empty. Drained.
The daily swing between darkness and light
The constant journey
Unbroken rhythm and daily curse
But they put their hands in mine
We walk on together, fearing my personal sunset.
Some part of the helix unwound with a bitter twist.
The oldest cannot meet your eye
and flaps his arms when there is too much anything
Too much joy, too much sound, too much sad.
The youngest bites and I have held him
On concrete, snarling
He tried to bite out my throat
Both cry when they see themselves.
All I have for them are happy kisses
and love, unstoppered and poured from me
I end up empty. Drained.
The daily swing between darkness and light
The constant journey
Unbroken rhythm and daily curse
But they put their hands in mine
We walk on together, fearing my personal sunset.
Frida & Diego at The High
Mrs. tadkil and I are still processing this exhibit. Prior to seeing Frida with Salma Hayek, I had not been exposed to her work at all, or Diego's. I think this was clearly the Anglo bias of the instruction I received. The movie opened up this work for me and led me to Neruda and others really wonderful artists I was blind to.
The exhibit at The High in Atlanta runs through May 12. If you can go, you should. Here are some images. I apologize for quality.
Mrs. tadkil and I are still processing this exhibit. Prior to seeing Frida with Salma Hayek, I had not been exposed to her work at all, or Diego's. I think this was clearly the Anglo bias of the instruction I received. The movie opened up this work for me and led me to Neruda and others really wonderful artists I was blind to.
The exhibit at The High in Atlanta runs through May 12. If you can go, you should. Here are some images. I apologize for quality.
Doctor, my eyes have seen the years
And the slow parade of fears without crying
Now I want to understand
I have done all that I could
To see the evil and the good without hiding
You must help me if you can
Doctor, my eyes
Tell me what is wrong
Was I unwise to leave them open for so long
'Cause I have wandered through this world
And as each moment has unfurled
I've been waiting to awaken from these dreams
People go just where there will
I never noticed them until I got this feeling
That it's later than it seems
Doctor, my eyes
Tell me what you see
I hear their cries
Just say if it's too late for me
Doctor, my eyes
Cannot see the sky
Is this the prize for having learned how not to cry
Hudson: Look, let’s just bug out and call it even, okay? What are we talkin’ about his for?
Ripley: I say we take off and nuke the entire sight from orbit. It’s the only way to be sure.
Burke: H-h-h-hold one second. This installation has a *substantial* dollar value attached to it.
Ripley: They can bill me!
Burke: Okay look, this is an emotional moment for all of us. Okay, I know that. But let’s not make snap judgements, please. This is clearly an important species and I don’t think you or I or *anybody* has the right to arbitrarily exterminate them.
Ripley: Wrong!
Vasquez: Yeah, watch us.
Hudson: Hey, maybe you haven’t been keeping up on current events, but we just got our a**es kicked pal!
Burke: Look, I’m not blind to what’s going on, but I *cannot authorize* that kind of action. I’m sorry.
Ripley: Well I believe Corporal *Hicks* has has authority here.
Burke: *Corporal* Hicks has...
Ripley: This operation is under military jurisdiction, and Hicks is next in chain of command. Am I right corporal?
Hicks: Yeah. Yeah, that’s right.
Burke: Yeah. Look, Ripley, this is a multi-million dollar installation, okay? He can’t make that kind of decision. He’s just a grunt. <to Hicks> No offense.
Hicks: <to Burke> None taken. <into headset> Ferro, do you copy?
Ferro: Standing by.
Hicks: Prep for dust off. We’re gonna need immediate evac.
Ferro: Roger. On our way.
Hicks: <to everyone> I say we take off, nuke the site from orbit. It’s the only way to be sure.
A Brave and Startling Truth
We, this people, on a small and lonely planet
Traveling through casual space
Past aloof stars, across the way of indifferent suns
To a destination where all signs tell us
It is possible and imperative that we learn
A brave and startling truth
And when we come to it
To the day of peacemaking
When we release our fingers
From fists of hostility
And allow the pure air to cool our palms
When we come to it
When the curtain falls on the minstrel show of hate
And faces sooted with scorn are scrubbed clean
When battlefields and coliseum
No longer rake our unique and particular sons and daughters
Up with the bruised and bloody grass
To lie in identical plots in foreign soil
When the rapacious storming of the churches
The screaming racket in the temples have ceased
When the pennants are waving gaily
When the banners of the world tremble
Stoutly in the good, clean breeze
When we come to it
When we let the rifles fall from our shoulders
And children dress their dolls in flags of truce
When land mines of death have been removed
And the aged can walk into evenings of peace
When religious ritual is not perfumed
By the incense of burning flesh
And childhood dreams are not kicked awake
By nightmares of abuse
When we come to it
Then we will confess that not the Pyramids
With their stones set in mysterious perfection
Nor the Gardens of Babylon
Hanging as eternal beauty
In our collective memory
Not the Grand Canyon
Kindled into delicious color
By Western sunsets
Nor the Danube, flowing its blue soul into Europe
Not the sacred peak of Mount Fuji
Stretching to the Rising Sun
Neither Father Amazon nor Mother Mississippi who, without favor,
Nurture all creatures in the depths and on the shores
These are not the only wonders of the world
When we come to it
We, this people, on this minuscule and kithless globe
Who reach daily for the bomb, the blade and the dagger
Yet who petition in the dark for tokens of peace
We, this people on this mote of matter
In whose mouths abide cankerous words
Which challenge our very existence
Yet out of those same mouths
Come songs of such exquisite sweetness
That the heart falters in its labor
And the body is quieted into awe
We, this people, on this small and drifting planet
Whose hands can strike with such abandon
That in a twinkling, life is sapped from the living
Yet those same hands can touch with such healing, irresistible tenderness
That the haughty neck is happy to bow
And the proud back is glad to bend
Out of such chaos, of such contradiction
We learn that we are neither devils nor divines
When we come to it
We, this people, on this wayward, floating body
Created on this earth, of this earth
Have the power to fashion for this earth
A climate where every man and every woman
Can live freely without sanctimonious piety
Without crippling fear
When we come to it
We must confess that we are the possible
We are the miraculous, the true wonder of this world
That is when, and only when
We come to it.
Maya Angelou
We, this people, on a small and lonely planet
Traveling through casual space
Past aloof stars, across the way of indifferent suns
To a destination where all signs tell us
It is possible and imperative that we learn
A brave and startling truth
And when we come to it
To the day of peacemaking
When we release our fingers
From fists of hostility
And allow the pure air to cool our palms
When we come to it
When the curtain falls on the minstrel show of hate
And faces sooted with scorn are scrubbed clean
When battlefields and coliseum
No longer rake our unique and particular sons and daughters
Up with the bruised and bloody grass
To lie in identical plots in foreign soil
When the rapacious storming of the churches
The screaming racket in the temples have ceased
When the pennants are waving gaily
When the banners of the world tremble
Stoutly in the good, clean breeze
When we come to it
When we let the rifles fall from our shoulders
And children dress their dolls in flags of truce
When land mines of death have been removed
And the aged can walk into evenings of peace
When religious ritual is not perfumed
By the incense of burning flesh
And childhood dreams are not kicked awake
By nightmares of abuse
When we come to it
Then we will confess that not the Pyramids
With their stones set in mysterious perfection
Nor the Gardens of Babylon
Hanging as eternal beauty
In our collective memory
Not the Grand Canyon
Kindled into delicious color
By Western sunsets
Nor the Danube, flowing its blue soul into Europe
Not the sacred peak of Mount Fuji
Stretching to the Rising Sun
Neither Father Amazon nor Mother Mississippi who, without favor,
Nurture all creatures in the depths and on the shores
These are not the only wonders of the world
When we come to it
We, this people, on this minuscule and kithless globe
Who reach daily for the bomb, the blade and the dagger
Yet who petition in the dark for tokens of peace
We, this people on this mote of matter
In whose mouths abide cankerous words
Which challenge our very existence
Yet out of those same mouths
Come songs of such exquisite sweetness
That the heart falters in its labor
And the body is quieted into awe
We, this people, on this small and drifting planet
Whose hands can strike with such abandon
That in a twinkling, life is sapped from the living
Yet those same hands can touch with such healing, irresistible tenderness
That the haughty neck is happy to bow
And the proud back is glad to bend
Out of such chaos, of such contradiction
We learn that we are neither devils nor divines
When we come to it
We, this people, on this wayward, floating body
Created on this earth, of this earth
Have the power to fashion for this earth
A climate where every man and every woman
Can live freely without sanctimonious piety
Without crippling fear
When we come to it
We must confess that we are the possible
We are the miraculous, the true wonder of this world
That is when, and only when
We come to it.
Maya Angelou
So, I am on a six month blog cycle. T. S. Elliot said,"Through getting and spending we lay wate our power." I certainly have seen my writing time obliterated this year. My life is commerce and local industry.
I am so worried about this election and where we are headed as a nation, and as a world body. We've found ourselves right back where we were in 1910. The upper class has re-worked our institutions so their interests are protected. Journalism has become a commodity, packaged and sold to market segments as opposed to reported in our collective best interest.
In the states, the Citizens United ruling has made spending money a type of speech and I am so worried about what that means to us. If money determines the volume of your speech, then inequality of message is guaranteed. It's like Animal Farm. We're all equal. Some of us are more equal than others.
I think the most important book I have read this year is End This Depression Now by Paul Klugman. He lays out effectively and well why we are where we are economically, what it means and what political forces have brought us here.
Time to make breakfast for my wife and sons.
peace
I am so worried about this election and where we are headed as a nation, and as a world body. We've found ourselves right back where we were in 1910. The upper class has re-worked our institutions so their interests are protected. Journalism has become a commodity, packaged and sold to market segments as opposed to reported in our collective best interest.
In the states, the Citizens United ruling has made spending money a type of speech and I am so worried about what that means to us. If money determines the volume of your speech, then inequality of message is guaranteed. It's like Animal Farm. We're all equal. Some of us are more equal than others.
I think the most important book I have read this year is End This Depression Now by Paul Klugman. He lays out effectively and well why we are where we are economically, what it means and what political forces have brought us here.
Time to make breakfast for my wife and sons.
peace
