120703
05:51
So
where are we?
I
wake up after an hour or two submerged, wherever I go in dreamland,
bright eyed and bushy tailed. Like I put my tongue into the electric
light socket. Big toe in the toilet. The best part, precious to me
still, in another light socket; on a radically modified Christmas
Tree cord with another appropriately sized socket and let it rip bro;
gone. . .
but
arising again
Thomas
Alva Edison (another non sleeper) did I tell you
why the Garden of Eden is in Ireland?
'no'
Seems
when Eve, given virgin birth from Adam, first saw him she said;
“Hello O'Toole!” to which he replied grinning now he had a friend
to play with replied; “Top o' the morning tee you Oh 'Hare!”
Then
God asked Adam, “Do want you want to pee standing up or sitting
down?” Adam being the first little boy who never grew up the
prototypical male chauvinist pig said, “Standing.”
God
turning to Eve, talking over His shoulder to Adam grinning
said,“Fine.”
“Eve
since Adam chose first I'll give you the prize, multiple Organisms!”
.
. . she's still smiling down on the Emerald Isle, the happiest female
in the cosmos.
Even
now . . . &
She
may have been insane. But I loved her so; then & more so now.
She's long gone. I buried her. Using at her internment; the last
sight of her, tightly sealed in an airline regulation Refrigerator
looking coffin, all glowing white with gold handles. . .
Reading
for her the Service for the Dead from the Episcopal Prayer Book,
licensed to do so in Rhode Island not Maysville, Kentucky where she
was born. With her mother and father and an empty grave for me. He
daddy blew his balls of with a shot gun taking 20 days to bleed out.
He a lay Methodist Circuit Riding Minister.
oh.
God!
Don't
ever tell me please.
. . .driving her to a point--the ferocity of my love seemed--to
escalate her rage higher giving her scaly wings, translucent, the Sun
shining through, the higher harder to plummet from into me harder
than a Peregrine my scales floating lazily to . . . no mist of blood
. . . no sign of me, no impact zone, no beak or teeth to place my dog
tags between, no place for toe tags. Yet I like the Phoenix
Thunderbird arose again again gaining strength again more nearly hers
terrified more violent each time beginning in that 58 hour dry birth
Christ Hospital like the undead come back again & again.
Resurrected reincarnated as some new threat fabricated for her to
become whatever she needed to be to feel safe, loved, whole a woman
tortured for being one. Me hermaphrodite balanced between passion and
cold analysis unblinking no tears no plea looking into the soul of
her.
.
. . her mother's remains beside her her father too she remains
waiting for me to
enter
the empty spot somewhere beside her to reside dead by smoldering to
strike not dragon dead body all I dared to worship ever otherwise;
The Fargo Shredder
120703
19:46 July 4th eve
The
poem does not end where I terminated it. I chose instead to truncate
my tapestry of concerns for those of us who are victimized by the
projected dysfunctions of authority. Essentially I fell asleep and
groggy attended a previously arranged obligation; and am buttoning up
this for publication, the salient parts of my intentions seen from a
different perspective analytically.
I
do after action/engagement reports on every encounter. What is
sometimes referred to as a postmortem or autopsy. The Buddhist call
this being mindful. The process implies no specific goal, it is a
process of self clarification, making corrections a person then is
able to fear nothing and no one. When attacked or challenged there
are three options. Stand still, step forward or step back: A
classic ode is structured in three major parts: the strophe, the
antistrophe, and the epode. Classical Greek Tragedy attempting to
define definitively the divine. Another way would be: adapt,
improvise, prevail. My favorite: John Dryden's “Beware
the fury of a patient man.”
To
love your enemy is to acknowledge their right to exist as they wish
to be with respect; acceptance and/or submission the inevitable. If
you have fully, mindfully, entered your soul/psyche/self consciously
without sentiment or wishful thinking you will then be able to love
your imperfect self perfectly. And your 'enemy' who is also a child
of God. I know God, by any name, is real. Odd those two words Israel
but that conceit started a very long time ago and is impractical on a
planet all ready 3 billion people over capacity to sustain. I know
were are not cancer were act by choice and fear to act as if were
are.
They
who slay you do so because they fear you.
I
purport not to explain for or against or about. My focus is on
enabling you to heal yourself. One of my favorite 'poems': Do no harm
