LOOSELY SPEAKING...

The Crow

How do I know me?
Can I count the ways?
No, really,

Can I?

Ups and downs
and ins and outs…
so many of me
there seem to be
I can hardly
sort them all
keep them straight
give time
attention
energy
in fair divide…

Who speaks?
Which one of me
today
is most distraught
determined
driven by a feeling,
by a cause…?

Who of myselves
chooses
what look to wear today,
what colors
style
fabrics and designs?

Am we bold today?
Or only in the morning–
shy by afternoon
and angry
with the setting sun?

Talk-radio
or jazz or pop
or Beethoven
as I drive…
Unless I stay at home
fixed to the screen–
the one I fill
with word and image,
or mezzed by
the one that simply
spews at me,
to its own ends
of greed and need
and all the habits of
established memes…

Biography
is just the facts,
events recalled,
commented on,
considered,
from a distant place
and through
the smoke of time.

Poetry
is the soul
enmeshed in
brain both right and left,
struggling to bridge
the gap between
the wordless senses
and the linear mind:
to wrap in words
persistant need
of the self
desiring deeply
the intimacy
of being
really known
and thereby loved…

Revealing that which intellect
can only analyze
or wit contrive
or nagging voice belabor,
“See
me
please!”

Crying out in image,
tone and timbre,
broadcasting
pieces of the puzzle
to a world
of readers
players
dancers
do-ers…
but few,
I fear,
inclining
to be
puzzle-piecers.

I am one,
puzzled by the pieces–
my own
as much as any–
who works a little
on this patch
of color or design
that seems to match…
then wanders off
to puzzle out
this other batch of pieces…
or another,
or this other one…

like a crow
distracted by each gleam
of every thing
that turns into the light
and for an instant shines…

2008

Bitter Grapes

Wine was once upon a time divine
but now, somehow,
the elegance is soured
as it’s taken and devoured
what I knew of you
and thought was fine.

You sleep it off,
unconscious
that the sabotage is done,
today, tonight are gone,
tomorrow spoken for
with stumbling tongue
and eyes that will not wake
to see the morning sun
and all its brightness shines upon.

And do you miss me, in your sleep?
Or miss the time together
when we keep each other warm and close–
the time we shelter here together
in the center of the storm?
It’s not the love that’s lacking,
only care;
It’s me out here
and you asleep in there;
It’s walls and hedges,
thorns and stones and chasms
holding us apart.

Your choice is always yours
and this among your choices
is the one you always choose.
I wonder what it is you think you gain
that’s worth every thing you lose.

It doesn’t matter that you cannot lose my love–
You can, in fact, lose me:
My best, and worst;
the games we play;
Companionship and passion;
Laughter; Challenge, too…
I cannot say for sure I’m such a prize,
but I know the look of sunlight in your eyes…

To cherish what you have to lose,
whether to reality or to booze,
could be considered foolish so–
perhaps you’re wise
compared to me
remembering the sunlight in your eyes.

Caught in the Act

(I heard the crunching of cat food in the night that did not sound quite right, got up and found a very small, very young possum raiding the cat’s dish.)

I am small I am fierce I will bite
if you poke at me
again!

I will gnash hiss snarl bite
if you bother me,
you Big!

Snap hiss See my teeth? See my teeth?!
keep back or I’ll
bite! bite!

And turn off that bloody light!
I’m a Creature of
the Night!
Small, and fierce and
I
will
bite!

1990

Mystic Whispers: Labyrinth

In the half-lit
twistings, turnings…
Stink of bull shit…
Heaven’s burnings
in the gut, the very soul…

What is this, that
you are seeking,
Hero,
here among the reeking
passages
that twist around,
and lead you into
cul-de-sacs,
hemmed in by walls
marked with the axe,
double-headed and
two-faced…?

Once upon a time you raced–
in sunlight gleaming off the sea
you sweated in your lissome grace,
by the age-twisted cypress tree,
stood tall and young and full of years
and watched the galleys tribute-full–
of youths, of maids, of parting tears
and carrying a nation’s fears–
with black sheets sail
to serve the Bull…

Turn and twist,
and shy
and hold…
hide in shadow…
leap out bold–!
sword swings…
sings out
to strike–
just air…

You hunt a thing
you know is there…
deep-descending
to its lair…
Moving canny,
grip the thread
that guides you out
if you’re not dead…

a distant hostile
rumbling
and cries of woe,
and grumbling
of monster
finding frightened meat…

The Beast would rather
waving wheat,
and basking in
the radiant heat
of white ground
tossing back the sun…

But that is not how this is done…

This labyrinth
pleases no one here,
it twists with pain,
it reeks of fear,
and no one,
so it would appear,
does what he will…

But–
there’s this Destiny
to fulfill…

No need to say, it won’t end well

Thank you…

..to everyone who is visiting, viewing and liking my new blog here on WordPress! It is always a bit of a thrill to see places light up on the map and know that my words and ideas are traveling the globe. I have been enjoying visiting your blogs, too: Kindred spirits are everywhere, whether of the close sibling or distant cousin variety.

Since a flight across Europe ~17 years ago, as an American sitting beside a Libyan man and enjoying a cordial conversation with him, it has been clear to me that while our politicians and ‘leaders’ are duking it out in their various ideological arenas, we, the so-called ‘ordinary’ people, are not so contentious. We are mothers and fathers, we are daughters and sons. We have siblings we squabble with, but we mostly are simply trying to live our lives, and interact in peaceful, wholesome ways with other people, and we want our lives to be meaningful, even if only to ourselves. We are connected by the commonality of loving our families, and understanding that other people, different people, also love their families.

Sure, there are those that fill the news reports with their meanness, their bigotry, their noise, their fear dressed up as anger and resistance and violence… but most of us are just engaged in doing what we need to do for our families to thrive. For this, we also need our communities to thrive. And the more there are of us, the more we need civilization to thrive.

We, the ‘ordinary’ people, are more civilized-minded than tribal, by which I mean to say, we have our families, our clans, our tribes, but also acknowledge and even celebrate the rest that make up our whole community. We thrive together, we know, only through tolerance of difference, at the least. We don’t think, “It’s our tribe vs their tribe,” except at sports events. We squabble, but we make peace with our neighbors, because that is what is required of civilized people.

Most of us will help another person in distress, as most of us will, seeing a tortoise on its back, flip it over and smile to watch it trundle off into the world. Civilization, after all, can be measured by the way we regard the suffering of others.

There are still those who believe in their core, deep below the level of conscious awareness and critical thinking, that to join the civil community is to lose all the values and defining qualities of their own particular tribe, to be obliterated, to vanish from the world. To them, compromise is defeat. These people will never stop fighting for what they perceive as their survival as long as they are invested in the notion that they can win. It is only when warring factions come to the realization that they can’t win, that they come to negotiate in good faith, and will compromise. When they do, they will discover, very likely to their amazement, that compromise is the ultimately the only way to win: Only through civilization can all tribes find a safe place to thrive.

“Clear!”

“CLEAR!”

I want my heart to move,to stir–
to be touched
into excitement,
to pangs of poignancy…
I want the world
to thrill me, charm me,
make me laugh,
delight me,
inspire me to dance,
to sing aloud,
to share and give
from my own open heart…
and reach out,
touching other hearts
grown stiff and cold,
to bring them back
to life,to light–
where all our hearts began.

CL Redding 2003

Bad Dad

Imagine a family where the father corrals all the money that comes into the household and uses it for his own vacations, his own toys and projects. He also puts some aside for emergencies, like seeing a car he really wants, or he suddenly needs to take a trip somewhere. He enjoys taking his friends out to dinner. He gives expensive presents because he wants people bigger than himself to like him, to include him, to invite him to their parties.

Only when (if) his personal needs and wants are met, whatever money is left goes to support of the household: making sure everyone gets enough food; making sure medical care can be paid for; making sure school supplies can be purchased, and that there are funds for field trips and special opportunities, and tuition. But it is a small pie. He tells his wife that frugality is a virtue, and he can’t afford to waste money on frivolous things.

He gives carefully portioned allowances, but later, if he needs more money for his own opportunities, cuts back that allowance. He will sometimes withhold allowances as a punishment or to teach a lesson: The world is a hard place, and the children should be prepared for it. He charges rent for their bedrooms, for rides in the car–Nothing is granted for free, and they must learn fiscal responsibility. If they can’t manage with what they have, that’s their own fault.

If someone in the household has a special need and can justify to him that it is really necessary, he will shell out as little as possible for it. And it may have to be paid back with interest.

If the roof blows off the house, he will hire someone to repair it, but will delay paying them as long as he can.

This is not a happy household. This family will either fade away from neglect, or will get fed up with the father’s financial abuse and rebel against him. There are more of them than of him: They are likely to prevail. They will sell off all his stuff, they will drain all his accounts. Perhaps they will put him down in the basement and feed him scraps for the rest of his life.

This is of course, a metaphor for how authoritarian governments treat their citizens, and how it always turns out in the end.

Going Beyond Meat

Had a char-broiled Beyond-Meat burger yesterday. Not bad… Then read a review online that say what with all the not-meat but still saturated fat (like coconut oil), the lack of nutritious veg ingredient (in favor of more meat-like textures), and a lot of salt, it really isn’t all that much healthier than a regular ground beef burger.
Yeah, okay then… Except for the cow. It’s a LOT healthier for the cow.

And how about the recent legislation in America’s deep South where it is now illegal to call anything not actually real meat, a burger? Seriously, do they think that a) changing the word changes the reality, or that b) consumers are too stupid to understand that a label that says ‘vegetarian burger’ isn’t actually a meat burger?

In fact, we are living in an America right now that is run by people who do think that way: that changing a word changes reality; that saying a thing makes it true; that no one should question what Authority declares true.

They really think we are that stupid.

Mystic Whispers: Troy

ASHES IN THE ORACLE’S MOUTH

Helen, oh Helen!
You silly git!
You pretty face,
You great lack-wit!

Paris, perspective
was never your strength
Just please yourself
at any length!

Menelaus,
big as a bull
your heart pumps blood
and that is all.

Agamemnon,
greed for power
cuts at your life line
hour by hour.

Achilles,
as honest as killers come–
kill and be killed
is your personal sum.

Hector, oh Hector,
where else could you end
but dragged beyond death
your mouth full of sand.

Homer, great Homer,
Troy’s yours for the giving–
I know, I know, Poet–
writing– well, it’s a living…

CL Redding 2005