Fresh Poetry ~ “Pseudo Grandmother Moon”

Max Ernst…for the love of B-sides, obscure sequels
& failed enlightenments.

A strange shadow runs
through the randomness of
instinct; an assumptive layer
of interpretation—a ghostly image
pulled through prophetic channels
by
reflection & contemplation,
driven wild from instinct by
an inexorable drive
to barter for secrets of the Labyrinth,
to take it all back into
the seething clay;
a quest to avoid disaster;
a purified tapestry blessed with the art
of detecting divinity & demonstrating
a bias for
pure sacrament.

Fragmentation is epidemic—who’s mind
is reading
who’s?
Repentance is fear & hope
combined with
any form of goodness becoming
unbalanced
when carried into extremes.
Can nemesis be blocked?
Myth equals oral tradition;
keep all truth for yourself,
those joys of hazing blind faith,
the interior scenes focused on symbolic intervention
but
offer sacrifice to repair the
lonely damage—fakirs, monks & nuns
alike, those conscious souls
programmed by faith—sanctuary
for all who
without admixture of matter,
don’t make it past the state
of modern theology,
perfidious & cruel.

Are you the one who named it,
you ugly believer?
Then you get nothing—ask for
an autograph. You lose
the most infamous instance,
hence the chipped crown,
that symptom of the Apocalypse
dark & impure, wise beyond what is
practical, doubt-addicted
in a place of honour,
full of obligation & renunciations—the secret delights
of calling
the shots.

Who among us doesn’t have
a secret?

Given supernatural abilities,
after weighing the risk/reward ratio,
this world is more eerie
than before.
Think of the many
hundreds & thousands
who
remain anonymous along the trail
of altruistic action;
chivalry of the West
joining philosophy of the East,
fuelling dense Ætheric mental vehicles,
corrupted beyond hope,
knowing
truth only through metaphor, hidden
within
archetype & symbol.

In trying to make sense of
the story,
signs of preservation emerge:
the currency of this empathy is
blue, the colour of Isis
underneath a blazing star—
lascivious scenes spinning concepts
of cohesion,
from control to surrender;
manifestations of will inclined to separate
death from the web
of life,
from a centre pin initiated by the force
of Ancient wills weaving shadow
into armour;
from a thick dark bubble critical
for remedy.

*Enable comments*

The revolution will be looped.

{Artwork by Max Ernst}

Quotation from Chogyam Trungpa

Khenpo_gangshar2“If you must begin then go all the way, because if you begin & quit, the unfinished business you have left behind begins to haunt you all the time.”

~ Chogyam Trungpa

 

 

 

{Photograph by Kengpo_Gangsgar2}

 

Arleta Blue ~ Part Two of Three

woman_depressed - www.alternet.org(Arleta pulls out the Blackberry & sends a text message.)

Sometimes? I can get as hot as a Texas pistol when I’m angry but that day—at that particular moment when my world had been so completely rocked—I didn’t get upset. ‘You’re having an affair,’ I said quite plainly, considering the shock I was in. Naturally, he played dumb. ‘I went into your email, Daryl. I read the letters you sent to her.’ ‘Who?’ he says, still pretending not to follow. ‘Stormy Weather?’ I enjoyed the look of guilt that spread across his face. ‘Now Arleta,’ he pleaded weakly. ‘It’s just electric masturbation.’ He threw me a real line about how he had never met her in person and it was just an Internet-thing & you know what happened? I decided to believe him.

(Arleta inhales deeply, smoothing back shiny hair.)

It all kind of made sense: If he hadn’t actually touched this ‘Stormy Weather’ how could it be considered a real affair? Besides, if a former first lady of our country could overlook a little sexual indiscretion on her husband’s part, then I should be able too, right? He is a man after all, & every woman in this world has to wrestle her worry about whether the dog is going to stray, so I backed off. I decided to turn a blind eye & let him have his fun.

(Smirking to herself, Arleta slams the phone open & shut.)

Call it a sense of adventure; call it stupid denial—I might even agree with you. I couldn’t get past it—how forbidding him was only going to make the matter worse—the irresistible lure of forbidden fruit. God alone knows how big a fool I’ve been in the past, trying to get blood from a stone. I watched my mama grind my daddy down into a stub, so I well understood that a big ‘ole hissy fit will only fan the fires of any curiosity. I didn’t want a divorce from him—I wanted the man I had pre-Internet. I always knew Daryl would stray one day; any woman who thinks her husband won’t is an old-fashioned idiot. It wasn’t like I’d caught them in bed together, for Jeepers sake. Besides, ‘Stormy Weather’ looked quite a bit like me, which was kind of flattering so why not let him have this harmless little fling in the non-physical world of cyber space.

(Arleta closes her eyes & sighs deeply.)

I had done everything I could to make my home proper & correct so I played along, turned that blind eye & allowed him to carry on with whatever he was doing in the spare bedroom. Yet rather than appreciate this noble understanding of the male psyche—none of my other friends would have ever dreamed to put up with that nonsense, believe you me—Daryl didn’t appreciate a thing I did for him. He just kept pushing it & pushing it further still, until one morning after he’d been on the frickin’ computer the whole night long, he comes down to the kitchen to say he’s decided this whole ‘family thing’—the very ‘thing’ we’d dreamt of & created together, at great sacrifice & effort—this whole ‘family thing’ was now ‘obsolete.’ Lord have mercy—that was when I lost my mind.

(Arleta pauses a moment in reflection.)

When I was a bartender, just before I met Daryl, I worked with this woman who had a nervous breakdown. She was a tad weird normally but one morning, she came into worked all dressed-up in her wedding dress. It was quite a pathetic site actually, because she had been married many years before or I should say many pounds before & she must have really fought her way into that old gown. It had ripped all along the sleeves & the zipper in the back was torn pretty much wide open—fat squeezing out everywhere—it wasn’t a pretty site, let me tell you. She came into the bar & acted as normal as she could. Like she wasn’t bursting out of her wedding dress, until someone went up & asked if everything was alright & then she burst into tears. Right in the middle of the room, bawling like a baby. Crying, sobbing—couldn’t seem to stop. People were laughing & I felt sorry for her at the time but I thought—come on! If you’re having that bad a day, maybe it’s best call in sick?

(She pauses for dramatic effect.)

I feel differently about that woman today.

(Arleta fights back a few tears.)

The truth—that’s what made my husband leave me & the boys for Miss Stormy Weather, a.k.a Beth Chapman. I was taught to chose your battles wisely in this world & there was no way I was taking this dirty shit lying down! If my family wasn’t worth fighting for, what the hell was? The problem remained: after Daryl left? I was lost at sea—broken & humiliated like a drowned surfer or a skier caught in an avalanche. I never in my wildest dreams saw this coming & didn’t know where to turn. I lay on the couch watching terrible television for weeks, the will to fight draining out of me, all the while looking for something on television to make sense of the endless chattering in my mind. Then suddenly—through all of that pain & confusion, mine as well as everyone else’s I was absorbing on the television, I suddenly remembered a piece of scripture from Sunday school. ‘Faith which may not be understood now might reveal itself tomorrow.’ I can’t recall if it was Jesus himself who said that but it got stuck in my head, that’s for damn sure. One morning, I woke up & instead of being angry & full of that terrible, burning shame for having lost my husband to another woman, I knew my next move.

(Arleta sends another text message while continuing the story)

Rage should not be wasted on revenge. It can serve as a rudder to navigate a course through rough waters—into some new frontier for adventure & excitement. I’d always secretly felt sorry for those Internet people, spending all their time in a phony electronic world but if that bastard Daryl insisted on eating, smelling, listening, watching, feeling, tasting & screwing anything he wanted—then why couldn’t I? According to him, there was a whole electronic frontier just waiting to be conquered so why the hell should I sit getting fat on the couch when I could be the creator of my own destiny? Let him walk in the sun with Stormy Weather—I went out & bought myself a laptop.

(Arleta snaps the phone closed.)

It was just the beginning of summer vacation for the boys & I decided to give them a break from their mother’s nervous breakdown. I’d tried to make it easy for them, to be strong when they were around & say it was all gonna be okay, but my boys are wise beyond their years. In a funny way, I think they felt responsible for what happened by insisting the computer be brought into the house in the first place. They noticed how their mother was really suffering & were so sweet but they needed a chance to get over what had happened too. I decided to send them to their grandparents for the summer—they couldn’t pack their bags fast enough & after tearful goodbyes at the airport, after I promised them a new mommy when they returned, I drove back home fixing to connect to this infamous world wide web.

(Arleta eyes the Blackberry.)

Now y’all need to understand— I knew absolutely nothing about computers. I’d been the stay-at-home, traditional kind of wife & the www-thing had taken place in a world far away from cleaning toilets & making brownies for a church bake sale. I marvelled at how it all so suddenly became completely accepted. Twenty years ago this thing would have sounded like science fiction & I was clueless about how to get in on it myself. To solve this predicament, I did what any smart American woman does when she needs help—I called customer service. There I found the good people at Dell support both courteous & patient. Soon I was all ready to log on.

(Arleta opens the phone & types something on the keypad.)

Being online felt like the first time I went water-skiing—shaky, exhilarating but completely out of control. It felt like trying to read your watch, in a tidal wave. There were a lot of re-starts & back tracking & a few tears of frustration. I hadn’t typed since high school & all of those confusing abbreviations in the chat rooms & those tedious registration screens— I tell you—but once I got used to the cyber world, I was clacking away at that gizmo like a guinea hen picking scratch.

(Arleta looks at her Blackberry, then laughs at something on the screen.)

The reward for my effort was the completion of a challenging task but I was still pretty angry with Daryl back then, so I happily chatted with other men. I got the feeling that anyone I’d meet online was either crazy or soon would be. After several missteps, I finally met someone who asked me out for a nice dinner instead of a naked picture & descriptions of what I wanted to do to him in bed.

(Arleta laughs to herself.)

The guy had said to me he had a ‘football players build’ & I have to admit, I was kind of excited by that. It had been a long while since I’d actually enjoyed sex & thinking about this guy really got my juices going. Well—after one big whoopty–doo buffet meal at ‘Foody Goody,’ I regretted not asking him which position he played on that football team because it definitely wasn’t the quarterback.

(Arleta adjusts her dress.)

So that was it for the romance idea. I started shopping online & it was like a big old tornado sucking that money up so I put away the credit card & rather than get discouraged, I decided to spread out into international waters, something outside my own backyard. Soon I was chatting with people I never knew existed: A person who explained how crop circles are actually made by a whole team of people, for instance & a nurse who had tragically applied the wrong medicine to a patient. All of these fascinating people online—a former member of some boy band I’d never heard of—there seemed to be a website for anything & everything.

(Arleta clutches the Blackberry to her breast.)

I discovered that being online was good for you, like daily aspirin. Everything we need to know about the modern world is right in here. So strange to say this now but it seemed like I’d been waiting, just passing time doing things that didn’t seem as vital as being online. I could not for the life of me understand why I hadn’t done this sooner. Finally, I was starting to enjoy the notion of being free.

(Arleta wipes the screen of the Blackberry with the sleeve.)

Those people who imagine themselves from a different time because they don’t understand technology? You know the types who wander around in historical garb, experiencing the excitement of life in another century? I was once like them but not any more. If the digital culture is like a wave, then I was riding the wave on a broken ironing board—a fierce, bright light shining from my eyes. I’m sure y’all realize that information carries fast in the undercurrents of that world—the speed of conception, plus & feeling like an ancient navigator, from a more luminous dimension, I flowed through the currents of the Internet, preparing for destiny.

(Arleta stares off into the distance.)

Being online had helped push back the walls that had closed in on me. Going from site to site, like some wet hen trying to find a place to roost—no story is too insignificant—a galaxy of voices out there to shine alongside but that turbo-speed, digital pace is draining. I didn’t feel like I had any opportunity to reflect on anything. It was just a constant stream of fresh material. From the millions of online possibilities, I knew there had to be a focus to my journey. I must have logged into countless databases to read what seemed like a million clever online suggestions. Everyone wants to somehow make a difference in this crazy world, but I was feeling overwhelmed by the sheer possibilities. I needed to make a statement about our broken home—that much was clear, but was still frustrated by the inability to come up with a good idea for a blog—until all suddenly, I got inspiration as clearly as if it had been a direct message. Something political in nature was required but something that would highlight the positive emotional aspects of a demoralizing situation. That was the original vision—build an integrated community for Internet widows. All those who have been abandoned because of online extracurriculars, both men & women, young or old—my website would be a refuge to those trying to recover from the selfish acts of others.

Brian Kerrigan
{Artwork: woman_depressed ~ www.alternet.org & Brian Kerrigan}