Tag: love

Daniel Zwerdling, of NPR, continues his reporting on the Treatment of our returning Military Troops, you know who they are, maybe, those who those ‘Support The Troops’ magnetic ribbons, now rarely seen, are meant for. Or the significance of those ‘Lapel Flag Pins’ the politicians and some others harp about, the politicians who Praised a Coming Invasion of anothers little Country but didn’t have the the time, nor will, to do their jobs in Oversite, Funding, and simple Investigation!

There’s a formidable group of warriors out there – and they’re fighting America’s military. Spouses of troops who have come back from the war with serious mental health problems have made it their mission to force the military to give the troops the help they need.

In the process, they’ve transformed themselves from “the silent ranks,” as the military traditionally calls wives, into vocal and effective activists.

  For rusty1776 in gratitude for his “Writing in the Raw: Valentine Confessions”

I remember when you brought me hyacinths

We walked the path under pepper trees

Laughed our way to the beach

To play in the surf like yearling seals

And when you kissed me, your salt wet curls

Dripped ocean on my face

I was a virgin then, and you a married man

In a country with strange taboos

I remember when you came again

We were older then, and you had tasted

The bite of war on your golden flesh

You brought me only your body then

And took me, coldly unwilling

On the stone cold floor

Eyes wild, body strawberry ripe

Your virgin rape bride

In a country with strange taboos

When you took me over my protests

I heard the voice inside me say

Yes to the Universe

Yes to God

Yes to you

Yes in concentric circles swirling out

Thought forms in an expanding universe

Orgasm of matter in an ocean of space

Meeting each other face to face

 forgetting your wife

Waves from a meteor plunged in the sea

 at her desk a mile away

Rippling into the universe like a psalm

I remember when you brought me your wound

Placing it in the palm of my hand

The night you, dreaming of the war

Took the remington you kept by the bed

And shot your reflection in the mirror

Thinking it a jap

Killing on instinct

In a country with strange taboos

I remember when you said you could not love me

Although you loved me

We played like Hindu deities

Entwined like spiral galaxies

You brought me so many images then

Mother and Priestess

Virgin and Whore

I had ruined your life you said

Because I wasn’t a virgin when we met, you said

In this country with strange taboos

And I remember when you brought me spider mums

Naming me Circe

She of the beautiful hair

Naming me an illusion and your fear

Saying we had to live celibately

That only in god was there ecstacy

You the torero, killer of bulls

You the marine, killer of men

You the man, killer of me

The killer in Circe’s lair

In this country with stange taboos

You brought your wound and your war and your fear

Home to me here in our bed

Taught me the thorn in the flesh wound of sex

Gradually I learned to live

According to these strange taboos

I learned to go on living and

Sometimes only fucked and judged and fucked and judged

But wanted always only to love

Even with galactic distances between our souls

In recreational sex till the messiah comes

I sought love on the beach and love in the bar

I sought love in the eyes of a stranger

Who looked for all the world like a friend

To help the wound to mend

The gap in the heart of the soul

Till the wound heals and we are whole

Meanwhile

I write confessional poetry

  shadows of

  what should I blame

  a catholic girlhood

  a father’s vice

Some strain across a fault zone in the planet’s heart

Some original sin in my soul

Meanwhile

I write recreational poetry

Kill the messiah every time he comes

  from what

  from fear, from habit

  ego, lack of trust

Some geo-centric allergy to dust

While in my heart I know we must

Love one another body heart and mind and soul

Till the wounds heal and we are whole

And kill these strange tabboos.

finger tips…

heat-seeking missiles

exploiting target-rich terrain

tongues… peanut butter salty sweet smooth

sex smell. sweat, sticky warm

an audience of two

falling backwards,

landing like pick up sticks

arms legs fingers toes interlocked

soft there

safe there

in amber chamber light

he catches her breath

she holds his hand

moaning laughing at the groaning

not afraid to find each others eyes

to look there, stay there

smile as a child and say

i love you

I’ve long been a fan of noted blogger clammyc.  He is a tireless and eloquent patriot blogging for the cause.  He is also a pioneer in the field of blog radio and a soon-to-be new father.  After following his writing for a year or more I finally met him face to face at YKOS in Chi-town this past August.  In the course of our conversations there he mentioned that he had a trip to Atlanta coming up in the fall.  I told him to get in touch if he had any free time.  

I was eleven in ’63…when they killed John Kennedy. That was the end of my innocence, and the end of America’s too. 

I shouted out,
“Who killed the Kennedys?”
When after all
It was you and me

Rolling Stones – Sympathy for the Devil

If anything defines the thrust of my postings here, it is a repeated exhortation both to myself and to others to think about things differently.  To me, this is of upmost importance.  Far too often, we are limited in our thinking by predefined boundaries or conceptions.  This has the result of limiting our answer set to the various questions we ask ourselves, often without our even knowing it.

This is not an original thought on my part: what is more a cliché of our times than to “think outside the box”?  Yet, we do not think outside the box very often at all, and no place less than in the political arena.  Take, for example, the issue of public education in American politics.  What are the major political issues relating to this subject?  Vouchers, class size, teachers’ unions, merit pay, increased spending per student, standardized testing, and charter schools.  These issues have been the major political issues regarding public education for at least the last decade, the period of time that I have been a voting citizen in the US.  And the sides in the debate are fairly static; Democrats are good for reducing class size, higher spending per student, and supporting teachers’ unions, Republicans are good for vouchers, charter schools, and supporters of merit pay and standardized testing.  We are left with both a supposed “crisis” in public education which is persistent (and in many ways mythical) as well as with a static debate, with political impasse allowing for these issues to remain dominant and no theoretical reforms ever fully implemented.  Ideas outside of this spectrum, such as the expansion of either the school day or school year, tend to lack partisan support from either side and languish, undebated and unimplemented.