Archive for July, 2016

Port-Artur.

Or, Port Arthur.

1904,

1905,

1996,

2016.

Battleground, siege, bloodbath.

Beyond time and place and name.

Carnage is all the same,

when you’re lying, bleeding, dying.

Cacophony of confusion, noise, discordance.

Tumult of current time, casts me back to the essential,

ethereal,

nature of being,

and seeing,

in Port-Artur.

 

(Epilog)

What is,

after all

an Estonian shopping mall?

Capitalist excess,

perversion and decadence.

 

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The underlying,

overarching

feeling that it could all end, at any time.

The avocado and mango supply.

The battery in your device.

The peace and quiet.

The relative benevolence of strangers.

Your favorite piece of music.

The ceasefire.

The war.

Life.

Live it.

 

Eva Braun visited me last night,

It was…

Interesting.

Misunderstood woman?

For sure!

Perhaps not on the level of

Joan of Arc, Cleopatra,

or even Mata Hari,

but definitely misunderstood,

even in the dreaming.

She and I were looking in the cupboards,

sorting our large collection of Canadian sardines:

surprised to find several cans way beyond their use-by date

(we put them to the front, ready to eat first),

and mortified to find a couple of cans busted open,

putrefied, wasted contents.

Inconsolable, almost,

I woke up.

And Eva was gone.

 

All we want is some space, a buffer one might say.

And peace.

Can you blame us?

Our history and terror!

Repeated invasion, perceived continual threat,

even from small-fry.

Your misunderstanding and aggression,

our reaction.

Our rhetoric and sometimes actions.

It’s not about conquest,

it’s about peace.

 

Some battles aren’t worth fighting

(you can still win the war).

Like, Christ Jesus shaking the dust from His feet and moving on

(from kith and kin who wouldn’t accept His promise).

Like, 1812 and 1941, invasion

(recoil, regroup, ready to rebound).

Step back.

Step forward.

Today’s opinions mean little:

Let time and perspective vindicate you.

 

Was it defiance,

or opportunism?

Solidarity undermined,

for sure.

Moral treason?

… Maybe there was a good reason.

Sport, politics, human life,

competing ideologies,

competing interests,

does anyone ever truly win?

Perhaps we all rather lose.

 

Politely declining an invitation

that I know is wrong.

Praying, listening to the voice within,

obeying my moral imperative,

doing the right thing.

Unexplainable, perhaps,

incomprehensible,

but totally justifiable

to myself.

And that

is what matters.

 

Garden of Eden.

Something beautiful,

sullied by your perception,

messed up,

by your rejection of grace,

your refusal to consider others,

as they should refuse to consider you.

You string me along,

then humiliate,

and desecrate.

Well, screw you,

I take no blame.

You are a big man,

a real bald-headed Adam.

I say: Get behind me, Satan,

I’ve had enough of your crap.

 

I see the joyful people,

singing and praising in church,

giving thanks to God,

they seem genuine.

And I feel strange emotions,

something of an eyebrow raise.

Mixed sentiment, indeed.

Anger, partly.

Because, as much as I respect and deify God,

I don’t feel I have much to give thanks for.

And guilt, that I am feeling this way.

 

Hubris seeping through every pore,

the preacher made his point:

“Give long and prosper”.

… Lay claim and take…

The congregation happy –

materialism,

suspicions and hopes

confirmed.

American exceptionalism,

some say, scoffing, as they burn the flag.

Actually, it’s a global thing, imbuing all desires,

religions, frenzies, the secular and faux-holy,

acts of desperation, terror and exploitation.

We think we can profit at someone else’s expense.

The Universe is a poorer place.