Muse in the Morning

State of the Onion XXX (Finis)

Art Link Brain Scan The Words The words have control command I attend Through my mind they must flow I am their vessel They require writing demand creation Pushing boldly forward whenever I pause The words I give you that they may be read and spead their infection into the future –Robyn Elaine Serven –February 16, 2006

Muse in the Morning

State of the Onion XXIX

The graphic linked to below was created when I was experimenting with creating the “feel” of digital texture.  This one is wax.

Sometimes the poems express thoughts that plead for discussion.  Rarely does that discussion actually take place.  This is one of those.  In a performance it comes right before the closing words, which are immediately followed by a Q & A opportunity for spontaneous communication.

Art Link Scratching at the Surface Wishes and Horses I wish someone anyone could tell me would tell me why people behave as they do with disdain toward in disregard of so sadistically to people like me What have we done to engender such disrespect to evoke such contempt to earn your hatred Whatsoever it was we are willing to work together with you to repair the rift to seal the breach to integrate our existences –Robyn Elaine Serven –February 1, 2006

Muse in the Morning

If there is a “We” and we want the world to be a better place, then one would think we would want to join in common cause, which requires finding common ground.  That last thing is not so easy.

State of the Onion XXVIII

The techniques I have used to create the eggs (the graphics) evolved over time, leading to the 3D look-and-feel exemplified by today’s art.  The poem is what it is.  It was written one day after my 58^th birthday.

Ah, but I was so much older then.  I’m younger than that now.  I wish.

This series is almost over.  There are only two more poems after this one, for now, but one doesn’t know how many more acts there are to this story.  Time takes its toll.

Art Link Cracks in the Shell On Aging The urge to expend all energy to protect the container is strong but what good does it do to protect the body if the spirit dies Time demands its payment Youth cannot be defended by surrendering to the needs of the flesh The vessel slowly deteriorates worn down joints creak with every motion muscles are too stiff bones become brittle but the contents the mind/soul can be bright and vital growing fresher with each new thought with each opinion challenged with each dip in the fountain of knowledge I will be forever young if I continue to bathe in the River of New –Robyn Elaine Serven –April 4, 2006

While I was writing last Friday’s piece, I decided to do a bit of follow up today.  I’m always interested in words and thought I would drag some along behind me.

Please note: These words are about the subject of that other essay, Despondency. They have nothing to do with my present state of mind. Suggestions that I need anti-depressants just might be inconsistent with what that essay said and with my current state of mind, although people commenting in my essays without seeming to have actually read them is a bit depressing in and of itself.

The closest word at the Online Etymological Dictionary (quoted liberally here) to despondency is despondence, a word dating from 1676.  It derives from the Latin despondere:

“to give up, lose, lose heart, resign” (especially in the phrase animam despondere, literally “to give up one’s soul”), from the sense of a promise to give something away, from de- “away” + spondere “to promise” (see spondee [we shall return to this]).  A step above despair.

So, okay.  How about despair?

Each day I can watch him trudging home from wherever he has been.  Fortunately it is downhill from the bus stop to where he lives.  He never smiles, eyes focused on the ground a few feet in front of his pace.

Beaten down.

The world so heavy that he can’t even look up.

Shoulders sagging under the weight of the last straw, and the last straw before that… and the one before that.  A succession of so many minor beatings to the ego that he flinches reflexively at anything, everything, expecting the worst

Back bent from too many sorrows.

And you want him to rise up?

Why?  Is his life going to be better?  Tomorrow, when he rolls out of bed, is anything he interacts with going to be better than it was?  Is it worth his effort?  Does he have any effort to give?

I’ve been there, a time or two…or ten, when all one worried about was where the next bottle, or toke, or hit was coming from, anything to reach numb.  Anything more than numb was a bonus.

Muse in the Morning

If there is a “We” and we want the world to be a better place, then one would think we would want to join in common cause, which requires finding common ground.  That last thing is not so easy.

State of the Onion XXVII

Art Link Suspended in Blue Common Ground Common ground cannot be found when some people demand that everyone have the same beliefs as themselves Common ground is found when it is acknowledged that individuals with different beliefs can work together towards the same goals Common ground is found when we concentrate on what we do not why we do it or what we believed while we were doing it Common ground is populated when individuals with different beliefs can respect the value of divergent points of view Most important of all common ground occurs when people are willing to be changed by the effort they make to seek it –Robyn Elaine Serven –February 10, 2006

Muse in the Morning

State of the Onion XXVI

Art Link Fool’s Gold Living on Lies Such small minds in fear they cower preferring deceit over truths which they cannot fully comprehend My God how their souls must be shrivelled stained by false bravado unmistakably obvious as they pollute our mutual reality –Robyn Elaine Serven –March 28, 2006

Muse in the Morning

It’s a great song.   But times have changed…

State of the Onion XXV

America the Ugly Brotherhood Skin Tones They lack a sense of brotherhood toward so many kinds of people for union members for whom it has special meaning for immigrants of any kind legality be damned for those whose roots weren’t cultivated in the appropriate loam kinship even denied with their own children if they happen to be queer no empathy felt for those whose skin tones haven’t been created recently enough by lounging in the sun nor sympathy for people whose cupboards are too bare from one day to the next If you don’t believe what they believe then to hell with you America Amerika There is no crown for there is too little good to place one upon –Robyn Elaine Serven –April 14, 2006 America, America After o so many years America America For you we weep our tears –Robyn Elaine Serven

Muse in the Morning

It’s a great song.   But times have changed…

State of the Onion XXIV

Muse in the Morning

It’s a great song.   But times have changed…

State of the Onion XXIII

America the Ugly Fruited Plains Food? At the edge of forests healthy for everything but animals or trees lie the fruited plains blistered with toxins alchemically nurtured in a liquid roughly water strange brew what’s inside of you America Amerika Groves of blemished trees bearing produce invisibly bruised dripping venomous juices like Snow White’s apple We are fashioned into laboratory mice to ascertain how much poison we can consume and remain vaguely human while we are forced to pay exorbitant fees for what passes as our health –Robyn Elaine Serven –March 29, 2006

The Storyteller took a deep breath and cast back for another memory, another story to tell.  The Listener was patient, but did require the occasional feeding.  The Storyteller chuckled at the observation.  The Engineer glanced backward and nodded.  And the Train switched to another happentrack.  

The Storyteller began to sing.  The Listener leaned forward.  The passenger turned over, but otherwise remained sleeping.

Pine was at it again, hectoring all of creation.  Canyon rolled its eyes as Sun passed overhead.  Canyon preferred peace.

It dawned on me the other night where it all went wrong.  At least from one perspective.

Here I was thinking the Buy-Centennial Sell-Abration was only supposed to last for one year.  1976, if anyone is keeping track.  Apparently I misunderstood.  Apparently it was intended to last much longer.

At least it seems to have lasted that way.

Did you know you can purchase a white chocolate (i.e. cocoa butter) replica of the Capitol building?  What could be more patriotic than eating that?  And you can also get a dark chocolate (i.e. chocolate) replica of the Washington Monument.  What could be more phallic than that?

I mean, don’t get me wrong.  I’m glad so many other people have finally noticed this.  But it’s not like it is news.  And pardon those of us who have understood this for as long as we can remember and have trouble working up a good hysteria.