I am Canadian. Historically, I live in a country which has tried, as much as possible, to consider other governments, and vote in one that cares about our people, here. It has not always been formulaically perfect, but the checks and balances inherent in our current 3-party - and burgeoning - parliamentary system still allow for representation that embraces what is best about the best, a strong sense of identity - and room for growth and change. Despite the years of both taking it for granted, and abuse of it by other countries, our model of social concern and basic healthcare and "don't fall through the cracks" sustaining, "get back on your feet", social net is still envied, globally. Our sensibility is, like it or not, a part of that, and, thus......we are still different.
Different still means scary to some people. Although we like to include everyone in the fixes we find to problems, nationally, sometimes imported problems begin to erode the mosaic, still the progress, and - in the guise of "entitlements and inclusion" - slowly begin to erode basic freedoms and rights which we very quietly begin to take stock of.....before they are stripped from us by cultural confusion.
"Isms" in all of their denoted, noted, and stressed disdain, or frowned upon. We identify with the idea of a round table that has, at its heart, crucible ethic and personal responsibility....but we begin to be buffeted by those who come here, bereft, saddened, angered......and finally free. No one is free to take away someone else's free. We must be clear about that, within this "change in surroundings". Sometimes, we have to make people understand why we are beginning to be a little impolite about it, amidst the fears of its destruction.
Lately, the feminine perspective and progress we have made on the fronts of equality, representation, and the ability to formulate and pursue personal goals and aspirations have become confused with imported anger, cultural alienation....and a perception of entitlement which does nothing to further women being taken seriously in the world of politics, political scrum, and global progress, in a time of monumental leaps back, in the consideration of our own mortality as a species. In desperation, our neighbours to the south, confused by that same cultural animosity, both from within and without, look to us with mosaic hope, but with real, and valid, fear about what it might take to achieve and acquire sensibility that does not necessarily have to be inlaid with gold bullion, or a bewildering loss of basic rights and freedoms, as they understand them. We have forgotten that the peace and tranquility we seek, in our temples of contemplation, places of respite, and remembered home spaces, however humble....must begin with us, and towards each other.
And to make peace with one's self is to begin to take stock of one's flaws, desire, errors...and desire to still make life, and effort meaningful. This can be very difficult for some people. Why? Because it can only ever begin with one's self. You can NEVER change anyone else, no matter what programming, bullying, social denial, repression, or just plain cruelty is used to achieve the erasing of the human spirit. You can only kill it. And when you kill it.....you kill a part of yourself. It is the most idiotic, downright despicable act one human being can exhibit towards another, in a supposedly civil society, amongst a supposed progressive species, and between examples of a Creation modeled upon, arguably, the Intelligent Design of an otherworld sensibility - without dismissing the spiritual, in any dimension, of which we only have glimpses in the eyes, and minds, and recognized humility, of our brightest, and best. We are still, I believe, only a part of our part in this life: thus the brain capacity, the retention capacity - and the insistence we have on retarding each other as a result of jealousy, what and how we use the tools at hand, and the forgotten notion that we can achieve truly wonderful things in the garden that is this planet, if only we stop disrupting the balance of carbon, emotion and intellect that is our unique makeup.
Carbon makeup? These are physical appetites and sustenance needs.
Emotional capacity? This is comprised of compassion, sensibility and responsibility without a preponderance of unending cruelty and the erasing of hope and wonderment, coupled with the idea of real, sustained effort, a renewed sense of caring which INCLUDES ourselves and what we present to the world, and a genuine respect for loss, bewilderment, sadness, joy, and all the moments and hope we share as beings.
Intellect? This is the accumulated result, harboured in ourselves, of what we learn, continue to learn, understand, and, sometimes....DON'T do.
Einstein's warning to the creative mind of an age was always the consideration that the hopeful capacity for betterment must always be weighed against the dark reality of the exploited scientist, the abused and abused mind in a repressive, abusive society, and the knowledge that safeguards must always be a part of the deep understanding about the regressive aspects and proclivities of human nature and the quest for power and control. This is frustrating for the naturally ethical, creative, inventive mind...but necessary. It still makes them sad, sometimes, however, when what "could be" sometimes seems so very far removed from our daily lives, and what we hope for, for each other.
But what of now? The immediate needs of a populace, the "jumpstart trigger" of a society insistent upon avoiding the study of historical power and the advent of "The New Hemp", is a testament to careful decisions made by a society determined to learn from itself, but not be swayed by arguments which experience, reality and education now determine to be weak defenses of power and control, at best. Again... power and control.
The acknowledgement of the caretaking aspect of our society need not exclude, by default, our very capacity to carry on with life, replacing it with an imposed sense and hysterical, typically characterized "tree hugger" sweeping assessment that never allows for the imperfect security decision in a moment of stress, the oil spill, the Deepwater Horizon catastrophe.......and the ensuing destruction of industries which depend upon our ability to stay alive - which is most of them.
This imposed and terrified stasis that ignores the reality of global warming and denies the necessity for nature to begin to heal its scars - while we examine and determine how we can stop creating them - is the result of the sudden shock of recognition, and the understanding that the same way we begin to twist our judicial systems, the corruption of its protectors for agenda, and the abuse of the creative spirit will truly mean our demise, if we allow it. It can be scary....but it doesn't need to be. We can always begin now. We can begin to be our best, creative, happier selves.
Right now, governments concerned about empowering people can consider what we can give back, and not what we can take away, BEFORE assessing taxation issues and imposing more of a tax burden. This, they demand of the payer....but when does it begin "at home, in The House?" Before we strangle new economic growth, entrepreneurial efforts, the newest new businesses, real efforts to "be the next Apple", and the start of service businesses and new ideas that creates jobs for the kids of tomorrow, by the imposition of an unreasonable minimum wage......we have to do the work required to take a different approach. We OWE that to effort.
How? Start with what we have, governmentally speaking. We have people who care. We have public facilities and services which are not SUPPOSED to make a profit; they are supposed to be selfsustaining, provide a service, and meet the needs of a populace. They should never have inherited debtloads, and "debt reduction" fees. No one should have received a bonus for ending a tenure with these things; private industry only did when they acquired public monies to do it, without first REMOVING the obscenity of million dollar bonuses to prop up industries that threatened societal implosion. With those monies, must come seats at the accountability boardroom tables and a public safeguard of public monies that comes with it in the guise of that new person at the board meeting - whether the bolstered industry likes it or not: and it goes without saying that that representation will, ideally, not be an industry patsy or a pushover. They will enforce accountability when there is a demand for public monies to bolster an industry. Period.
Originally, people supposedly became involved in this work because of an inherent sense of ethics and concern which extended to others. How do THEY get from A to B?
1. In a less ethereal, financial sense, the proverbial A to B is an actual, and physical one.
Therefore, Encourage the use of public transit in urban areas by reduced and or, severely discounted, passes for use OF public transit to government employees - FIRST. Keep track of increased usage, increased ridership, and the new needs, routes, and efforts of people who want to help, who want to work, and who are SICK of being referred to as THE WORKING POOR. People may already use these venues....and they now instantly have more money to spend. It will be immediate, and surprising, what should happen next: discount rates for high traffic times during the day for the general populace, after six months.
Why? Because it will begin to be the norm in cities again, to take public transit, as long as money is also spent on making sure it is SAFE. With a little extra effort, you can still get there, save money (for that new car, maybe...but maybe a hybrid), a vacation.....that mortgage you'd really like. The numbers guys will need to put their skills to use in order to watch it happen. And it will be a six month test project for a government sponsored thing (public transit) with encouragement via GIVING SOMETHING BACK to people, instead of taking more from them.
If you can afford to get there, it will STILL be worth making the effort to do so: the humble job, the morning class.....the part-time gig that offsets that fixed income, made possible by an allowance which allows for an instant, and immediate, ability to AUGMENT those fixed amounts - unemployment, training allowances, fixed pensions - by
2. INCREASING THE AMOUNT OF MONEY YOU ARE ABLE TO MAKE WITHOUT PENALTY BY WORKING by between five and ten percent while being empowered by these temporary, not cyclical, social safety nets which are the hallmarks of a civil society, not an indicator of its weaknesses - even twenty, thirty, or forty percent, in some cases, where age and increased medical expenses as a result of age or responsibility mean more of that fixed income is spoken for, or effort is made impossible or unreasonable, when coupled with child care expenses or unhelpful punishment of efforts to better oneself towards independence, without moral judgement about the reasons why family units are not the 1950's model. This is REAL and IMMEDIATE fiscal encouragement that REWARDS, but does not PUNISH, effort, at its most basic. This is an acknowledgement that ageism and youth and ageism and an older working force can help each other with renewed enthusiasm and a respect for a learned work ethic....and work together, with respect.
At the very root, these two actions on the part of government - simple actions which strengthen other educational, social, health, and infrastructure responsibilities and programs - will INSTANTLY ENCOURAGE AND EMPOWER those who still hope and dream, and continue towards the dream Americans talk about when, in confusion, they vote in the selfmade man who now says he wants to extend the formula for success to the very people that made him financially able to hold that pen, and their fate, in a different kind of challenge. Whether he is interested in capacity and possibility, the New Deal or the Old Wheel remains to be seen, but in the midst of that learning curve, we CAN DO something NOW. What occurs almost immediately will surprise these powerful men, for, as Gino Vanelli said - and said well....."People gotta move."
Saturday, July 22, 2017
Saturday, June 24, 2017
A Simple Case of Symphony
Picture, if you will, two very different seekers of solace: one, a self-assured, independent, intelligent, deeply sad, upwardly mobile, academically accomplished, woman of colour.Used to, thankfully, and comfortable in, a Canada where both her own freedom and her own search for self-identity are both possible, (if admittedly imperfect) , possibilities, the simplicity and solace of a concert where one is simultaneously at one with, and yet apart from, others, is still a defiant miracle, despite difference.
She has still managed, despite her insane academic schedule, her absence of social life, and deep concern at an externally imploding world, to fit in a mentally self-stabilizing concert where LIVE musicians still exhibit skill, mete out meter in measured doses of self-imposed regimen, and remind her of how little she still knows, and will continue to know, as her time, age, and academic credentials increase. She hopes she always bemoans too little time and the absence of required knowledge in her continued attempts to make sane, impassioned, reasonable assessments of the collection of knowledge, hoping, in doing so, that the application of that same will mean the difference in an uncertain world. It is hard, sometimes, to imagine the instances where that is made real.
Picture, if you will, a traditional, deeply sad (although not outwardly so) older man; used to being presumed to be brave; used to being presumed to be capable, comfortable with, responsible for, and the reason for problems with and for, the aforementioned young woman. He, too, defiantly attends, surrounded by, apart from, and yet enclosed within, the cocoon of the love of the gift of music. He is troubled, hypersensitive, bothered by an absence of appreciation and opportunity for, this gift that has given him this balm. He stands guard as artist and hero, fierce in his appreciation for, recognition of, and thankfulness for, the health and safety and......a flash! My God...he prays he might sleep without thoughts of guns or bombs or dead young people. His music is now all the balm of seeking he made in all of the songs he sang loudly, yelled fiercely, played loudly....instead and in place of, Death. Music still helps him see his way through it.
Angry with himself for thinking it might be, he grows gruff in his speech; abrupt in his gestures....makes contact clumsily but without malice, aside from that which age and Death insist upon, as our movements falter, our hearts contemplate....and our minds give us three seconds to act upon, in a stadium full of people despite the seemingly insane possibility that snatching away a gun or a bomb might result in his own death. The expected bravado, turned inwards, made silly.....denied balm, with hanging head, inwardly weeping heart, the protective somewhat stern father having been denuded.......desparked.
Hypersensitive to the idea of bonking heads or making contact in a modern/ancient frustration made doubly frustrating by being misinterpreted or assimilated into excessive, somewhat combative, academic arrogance........the old hero is vanquished. The enemy is unclear, however.
Its name is Fear, and it has, for a time, destroyed them both, prevented them from speaking, made them both presume, caused them both to move uncharacteristically and suspiciously, and....denied them what they both loved, for a time: a shared Balm.
This is a tragedy. It is especially so, because it is in my country, and despite understanding every terrible thing, both unspoken, and spoken, instinctively, which leads two such different people to attend the same place, for the same reason.....
Alas....despite the beautiful accompaniment which neither was able to attend, together...
My voice is absent.
I am wearied, and ashamed, at having been too busy to get there in time to prevent it....the absence, I mean. Shabba Ranks would understand.
She has still managed, despite her insane academic schedule, her absence of social life, and deep concern at an externally imploding world, to fit in a mentally self-stabilizing concert where LIVE musicians still exhibit skill, mete out meter in measured doses of self-imposed regimen, and remind her of how little she still knows, and will continue to know, as her time, age, and academic credentials increase. She hopes she always bemoans too little time and the absence of required knowledge in her continued attempts to make sane, impassioned, reasonable assessments of the collection of knowledge, hoping, in doing so, that the application of that same will mean the difference in an uncertain world. It is hard, sometimes, to imagine the instances where that is made real.
Picture, if you will, a traditional, deeply sad (although not outwardly so) older man; used to being presumed to be brave; used to being presumed to be capable, comfortable with, responsible for, and the reason for problems with and for, the aforementioned young woman. He, too, defiantly attends, surrounded by, apart from, and yet enclosed within, the cocoon of the love of the gift of music. He is troubled, hypersensitive, bothered by an absence of appreciation and opportunity for, this gift that has given him this balm. He stands guard as artist and hero, fierce in his appreciation for, recognition of, and thankfulness for, the health and safety and......a flash! My God...he prays he might sleep without thoughts of guns or bombs or dead young people. His music is now all the balm of seeking he made in all of the songs he sang loudly, yelled fiercely, played loudly....instead and in place of, Death. Music still helps him see his way through it.
Angry with himself for thinking it might be, he grows gruff in his speech; abrupt in his gestures....makes contact clumsily but without malice, aside from that which age and Death insist upon, as our movements falter, our hearts contemplate....and our minds give us three seconds to act upon, in a stadium full of people despite the seemingly insane possibility that snatching away a gun or a bomb might result in his own death. The expected bravado, turned inwards, made silly.....denied balm, with hanging head, inwardly weeping heart, the protective somewhat stern father having been denuded.......desparked.
Hypersensitive to the idea of bonking heads or making contact in a modern/ancient frustration made doubly frustrating by being misinterpreted or assimilated into excessive, somewhat combative, academic arrogance........the old hero is vanquished. The enemy is unclear, however.
Its name is Fear, and it has, for a time, destroyed them both, prevented them from speaking, made them both presume, caused them both to move uncharacteristically and suspiciously, and....denied them what they both loved, for a time: a shared Balm.
This is a tragedy. It is especially so, because it is in my country, and despite understanding every terrible thing, both unspoken, and spoken, instinctively, which leads two such different people to attend the same place, for the same reason.....
Alas....despite the beautiful accompaniment which neither was able to attend, together...
My voice is absent.
I am wearied, and ashamed, at having been too busy to get there in time to prevent it....the absence, I mean. Shabba Ranks would understand.
Saturday, May 20, 2017
Friday, January 20, 2017
Sunday, December 18, 2016
New Audio Recording Release - Dawn M. Nevills
AVAILABLE NOW! $9.99 - just in time for Christmas!
poetry favourites read aloud - Vol. 1
Read aloud by Dawn M. Nevills
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
In this volume:
Swinburne, Malloch, Arnold, Elizabeth Barrett Browning, Sandburg and others!
poetry favourites read aloud - Vol. 1
Read aloud by Dawn M. Nevills
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
In this volume:
Swinburne, Malloch, Arnold, Elizabeth Barrett Browning, Sandburg and others!
 |
| poetry favourites read aloud - Vol. 1 Dawn M. Nevills |
Sunday, November 27, 2016
This year's "Message to Michael"
This year's underestimated women have something to say, quietly, too....
"Kiva.org" Be part of watching something Bloomin' wonderful grow.....People. xo...everywhere.
"Kiva.org" Be part of watching something Bloomin' wonderful grow.....People. xo...everywhere.
Wednesday, August 24, 2016
Towards Democracy with Integrity
Much has been said about the ideals of democracy.
Its goals are lofty, its ideals are the stuff of the best of man's aspirations, practices, and beliefs, and its precepts - presumably, and by definition - are supposedly reflective of what its most precious values keep sacred, in the daily infrastructures of a free and just society.
And yet.....not until 1947 did Quebec officially recognize the equality of women, and allow them to vote. Think about that. Slaves were emancipated from the Deep South of the United States and FLED to this country ....and women could not participate, legally, in the official declaration of the idea of freedom, within the very democracy that supposedly rescued other human beings from institutional bondage.
For all of our discussions of language, inclusion, cultural representation, religious, sexual, and minority-driven equalities......the Second World War did not include women who could officially vote in Quebec. Little is said by a smug Nation about the reality of its history - and its treatment - of women.
Herded onto official plots of land deemed not threatening enough to deter "progress", blood percentage quotas were also "officially" imposed upon the main aboriginal inhabitants of the country by its "officials" in order to determine and institutionalize governmental subsistence, intertribal racism, caste mentality, and "dependences" which were encouraged and instituted as "equal", while instantly creating a "removed citizen" system which isolated, "zooed" and reduced its First Nations generationally. They created pogroms of the popular, with punishment-popular systems of accountability and shaming with little or no ways and means for governmental and operational foundation-building training....and then, having reduced recipients to recalcitrant child status, moaned about waste and accountability, when the imposed system began to implode. The well-crafted "problem child Frankenstein" failed to perform like the much-hoped-for sainted dancing bear.
Only recently have some of these systemic norms been acknowledged, recognized, and exposed for the ways in which they have "retarded" normal societal growth and inculcated gross misunderstandings, terrible degradations, and complete ignorance about who, what and why the idea of "status" came to be in the first place.
Recent footage revealed the horrific poverty and alarming suicide rates of people in the Far North. More alarming, amidst supposed increases in connectivity and "available wealth" was, simply, a sense of hopelessness in the young....and the elderly. Removed from a knowledge of their own tradition, the void between the two, and the lack of understanding, had become vast, and disturbing.
Having been used up, wrung out, and exploited, the "discomfort" that is "the difficult Aunt" of representational democracy, having been patted on the hand and quietly shut up in the attic to pay off everyone's bills, would not go away, amidst the hypocrisy, the glamour, the new beauty, and the remembered hours of double overtime shifts worked, like most people, with the idea of it resulting in a life made better by work and effort. Alas....1947, a propensity for enjoying the practice of patronizing hope, and the convenience of "putting them uppity niggers to good use" saw the dignity, honour, and belief in the idea of service, denigrated and debased with a viciousness and focus usually reserved for a truly threatening enemy. Education, hope, and equality, responding in bewilderment, looked around in horror, and recognized how easily enslavement of "one for all the rest who found it convenient" - oblivious to the shadows of the six million gassed to death in a fever pitch of focused and furious group envy - was allowed to continue, unchecked.
The artist, aghast at the distortion of freedom and law, retreated, wounded.......
...and then, defiant at the outrage, demanded reparations; unrepentant, determined.....unrelenting.
Its goals are lofty, its ideals are the stuff of the best of man's aspirations, practices, and beliefs, and its precepts - presumably, and by definition - are supposedly reflective of what its most precious values keep sacred, in the daily infrastructures of a free and just society.
And yet.....not until 1947 did Quebec officially recognize the equality of women, and allow them to vote. Think about that. Slaves were emancipated from the Deep South of the United States and FLED to this country ....and women could not participate, legally, in the official declaration of the idea of freedom, within the very democracy that supposedly rescued other human beings from institutional bondage.
For all of our discussions of language, inclusion, cultural representation, religious, sexual, and minority-driven equalities......the Second World War did not include women who could officially vote in Quebec. Little is said by a smug Nation about the reality of its history - and its treatment - of women.
Herded onto official plots of land deemed not threatening enough to deter "progress", blood percentage quotas were also "officially" imposed upon the main aboriginal inhabitants of the country by its "officials" in order to determine and institutionalize governmental subsistence, intertribal racism, caste mentality, and "dependences" which were encouraged and instituted as "equal", while instantly creating a "removed citizen" system which isolated, "zooed" and reduced its First Nations generationally. They created pogroms of the popular, with punishment-popular systems of accountability and shaming with little or no ways and means for governmental and operational foundation-building training....and then, having reduced recipients to recalcitrant child status, moaned about waste and accountability, when the imposed system began to implode. The well-crafted "problem child Frankenstein" failed to perform like the much-hoped-for sainted dancing bear.
Only recently have some of these systemic norms been acknowledged, recognized, and exposed for the ways in which they have "retarded" normal societal growth and inculcated gross misunderstandings, terrible degradations, and complete ignorance about who, what and why the idea of "status" came to be in the first place.
Recent footage revealed the horrific poverty and alarming suicide rates of people in the Far North. More alarming, amidst supposed increases in connectivity and "available wealth" was, simply, a sense of hopelessness in the young....and the elderly. Removed from a knowledge of their own tradition, the void between the two, and the lack of understanding, had become vast, and disturbing.
Having been used up, wrung out, and exploited, the "discomfort" that is "the difficult Aunt" of representational democracy, having been patted on the hand and quietly shut up in the attic to pay off everyone's bills, would not go away, amidst the hypocrisy, the glamour, the new beauty, and the remembered hours of double overtime shifts worked, like most people, with the idea of it resulting in a life made better by work and effort. Alas....1947, a propensity for enjoying the practice of patronizing hope, and the convenience of "putting them uppity niggers to good use" saw the dignity, honour, and belief in the idea of service, denigrated and debased with a viciousness and focus usually reserved for a truly threatening enemy. Education, hope, and equality, responding in bewilderment, looked around in horror, and recognized how easily enslavement of "one for all the rest who found it convenient" - oblivious to the shadows of the six million gassed to death in a fever pitch of focused and furious group envy - was allowed to continue, unchecked.
The artist, aghast at the distortion of freedom and law, retreated, wounded.......
...and then, defiant at the outrage, demanded reparations; unrepentant, determined.....unrelenting.
Friday, August 19, 2016
Sky Sigh
I looked into the ink of God and saw
The thoughtful eyes of moments ago
Reminding me of all that I had yet
To do
And in that instant
I flew
Higher
Under their gaze
The thoughtful eyes of moments ago
Reminding me of all that I had yet
To do
And in that instant
I flew
Higher
Under their gaze
Tuesday, August 16, 2016
Nobody Does it Better
http://www.thekaraokechannel.com/online/karaoke/community/Dawn-M.-Nevills/Carly-Simon/Nobody-Does-It-Better/r_842746
"Tears Dry on Their Own" - gentle thoughts of damaged lives and new tomorrows with changed Men....by Dawn M Nevills
http://www.thekaraokechannel.com/online/karaoke/community/Dawn-M.-Nevills/Amy-Winehouse/Tears-Dry-On-Their-Own/r_590271
"Fake Plastic Trees" - an unexpected interpretation, by Dawn M. Nevills
http://www.thekaraokechannel.com/online/karaoke/community/Dawn-M.-Nevills/Radiohead/Fake-Plastic-Trees/r_777790
Thought for the Day
http://www.thekaraokechannel.com/online/karaoke/community/Dawn-M.-Nevills/Annie-Lennox-Al-Green/Put-A-Little-Love-In-Your-Heart/r_1080737
Tuesday, June 21, 2016
Hockey Pome
Mine's a workaday thought, bound by matter.
When I close my eyes, I see it rise above the various pros and trons, electras and newts,
Winged, like all those
Higher Beings
I see pictures of, when I have a moment away from
Tidying Up.
All this order, and disorder....tidy, tidy tidy.
The rain broom sweeps the dust particles and glinted motes in the sunlight,
A reminder of the wondrous Moments, breathed into
When the matter took shape,
And Mattered.
Maybe the bees are confused, lately;
Gentle, cheery, ardent, focused:
A lot of things die when their example isn't followed.....
Joy, surprises, thoughtfulness, humour, steely possibles....Hope.....
All waiting.
It's different from constantly being
Benched.
D. Nevills
21June16
When I close my eyes, I see it rise above the various pros and trons, electras and newts,
Winged, like all those
Higher Beings
I see pictures of, when I have a moment away from
Tidying Up.
All this order, and disorder....tidy, tidy tidy.
The rain broom sweeps the dust particles and glinted motes in the sunlight,
A reminder of the wondrous Moments, breathed into
When the matter took shape,
And Mattered.
Maybe the bees are confused, lately;
Gentle, cheery, ardent, focused:
A lot of things die when their example isn't followed.....
Joy, surprises, thoughtfulness, humour, steely possibles....Hope.....
All waiting.
It's different from constantly being
Benched.
D. Nevills
21June16
Saturday, June 18, 2016
Of Cheese and Wine and Love
Oh, if this dirt could blow a carbon image of dream's imagining,
Then I might curve around, star-like
A universe contained in the eyes
of
Undiscovered, known.
Woulds't thou see, in elements undetermined, form, and fan, and fly,
Amidst the shifting winds of Time?
These shells.....these shells we inhabit - these gifts of function -
Permit us to share Each Other.
In the doing, when our minds are allowed - oh, such Brevity, Darling Mine! -
Circumference completion.
There is no other explanation.
In the circle's half, hands hold face, embrace,
Ignite
Find, Speak, Caress, Weep, Speak Again, Moan Lost Years,
Mature, Regress, Scream Moments Gone,
Embrace the Griefs of Other,
Comfort, Wish Pain Gone....and
Love.
As years pass, the vessels are imperfect, but
We see, as years ago, the beauty and fire that
Ignited the
Joining of spirit and Ardour
In a world of
Only Briefly,
and it is
Enough,
Beautifully.
Then I might curve around, star-like
A universe contained in the eyes
of
Undiscovered, known.
Woulds't thou see, in elements undetermined, form, and fan, and fly,
Amidst the shifting winds of Time?
These shells.....these shells we inhabit - these gifts of function -
Permit us to share Each Other.
In the doing, when our minds are allowed - oh, such Brevity, Darling Mine! -
Circumference completion.
There is no other explanation.
In the circle's half, hands hold face, embrace,
Ignite
Find, Speak, Caress, Weep, Speak Again, Moan Lost Years,
Mature, Regress, Scream Moments Gone,
Embrace the Griefs of Other,
Comfort, Wish Pain Gone....and
Love.
As years pass, the vessels are imperfect, but
We see, as years ago, the beauty and fire that
Ignited the
Joining of spirit and Ardour
In a world of
Only Briefly,
and it is
Enough,
Beautifully.
Friday, June 3, 2016
Circles and Halves
I wonder why Picasso called it
"Girl in a Mirror".
did he miss his breasts, or just wonder why they were missing?
did he just want to understand why no one would probably have bothered
to look at the painting if he'd called it
Self portrait of the surgically removed? having
denuded himself of his
feminine side, he needed to
pencil in all of the
internal organs
After all, it completed the
Hymn to the
Silence.
"Girl in a Mirror".
did he miss his breasts, or just wonder why they were missing?
did he just want to understand why no one would probably have bothered
to look at the painting if he'd called it
Self portrait of the surgically removed? having
denuded himself of his
feminine side, he needed to
pencil in all of the
internal organs
After all, it completed the
Hymn to the
Silence.
Wednesday, May 4, 2016
PRAYERS FOR FORT MCMURRAY
Thoughts and prayers going out today for the terrified 61,000 people fleeing raging fires in Fort McMurray, Alberta today, as the military is called in to assist people trying to escape, after a major exit south of the city was blocked by fire earlier yesterday. This is the largest evacuation due to disaster in Alberta's history....please stay "Caring and Canadian", as people escape, literally from an 80-foot wall of flames with their lives. Please help when you can, and in whatever way you can, during this terrible and frightening time for them....!No prayer is ever wasted.
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