Friday, August 6, 2010

get bombed for Hiroshima Day retirement party

In Honour of the 65th anniversary
 
 
The HyperTexts

Hiroshima Poetry, Prose and Art
Hibakusha Poetry, Prose and Art
compiled and edited by Michael R. Burch
 
 
The Abiding Significance of Hiroshima and Nagasaki
August 3, 2010
 
Hiroshima
 
Peace
Fight for peace
our sacred honor
arrows flying
piercing armor
piercing amor, pride in
full measure
wrath, revenge,
mortal fear, coiling
paranoia
bayonet strong
Toddlers at play,
unarmed, unwary
skeletally still
bared secrets slipping
from space and time
Scorching pinprick holes
in heaven's fabric
petrified souls thrust into
premature rebirth
Hellfire ripped from metaphor
rends scream-echoing
palpable texture,
daring phantoms,
death's brigade
Crying "Peace!"
-- unheeded command
because real glory
belongs to destruction
 
(c) August 6, 2008 Laurie Corzett/libramoon
 
 

nuclear quiet

Tremble

Terrible holocaust

Gravestones attest to the sight of horror

beyond any concept of fright.

Tremble

Desirous of destruction

engulfing, eclipsing, destroying the night.

Ghastly retrieval to contemplate.

Holy emission of erupting planet

engulfing, engorging, destroying the night.

Terror behind closed eyes of terrible fire

destroying, enjoining, resplendent in blazing

agony;

transcending the night into deepest & deadliest

terror.

Yes, tremble and think not of that night.

Caught in a thread which ravels to end in

throat-clutching screams.

Send terror escaping into sad streams made of tears.

Endless, enduring, yet rent past all mending.

Quiet, so quiet tonight.

Kept closed -- quiet tonight.

Unable to scream; unable to cry; unable to go on

-- But, God, I don't die

just seeing the fire descending and screaming

without a sound.

Tremble, just tremble -- there's no soul around.

 

from thot games

I have been thinking alot about the fragility of life, the brutality of war, the emanations of hatred, despair, futility, anti-life beliefs, subjugation of the natural world and our natural ways of being, the yin and yang of human power.

They chose Hiroshima as a target because it had not been bombed, was not already disfigured, so there would be stark contrast between before and after.
I've been wondering how to possibly have faith in a world where so many suffer so regularly. Do we create such realities? Do we really learn and grow from horror and death and ugly bleeding wounds?
Collective mythology points to a pantheon, whether extraterrestrial, divine, or some other origin. Somehow the group which instituted Judeo-Christian-Islam was able to wield power so that they gained sway over this segment of human history which we call Western Civilization.
I don't know what this means, but it seems significant. The Old Testament god was jealous, arrogant, warloving. These people valued patriarchic hierarchies, perhaps as being easier to control. They instituted strict rules; devaluated bodily gratification, pleasure, fun, intra or inter-species cooperation. In many ways they devalued the Earth, the eco-sphere, the kinds of interdependence that lead to valuing each and all. They favored harsh competition, violent confrontation, us-gainst-them/winner-take-all. They favored the wealthy and powerful whose ends justified any nasty means. Their moral code was about restrictions, not solutions. And Christ-be-damned, this is the god-council the Christian authorities worship. Yet, there are other gods with other values. How did this group gain so much control over man?
What is needed is to go over to the win/win concept where we each benefit when we all benefit, as opposed to survival of the fittest. Then we could do what actually makes sense rather than being preoccupied with a mythical bottom line. We could all be much calmer, easier, more usefully productive and playful. Is this the way it was before the evil gods? Was this the Eden we were booted out of because the gods had other plans? Why didn't we fight harder to keep a way of life that was good for us? The imbalance is killing us and our home.
Man is within nature. Man's habitats, no matter how grand and complex we may think, are natural in the sense of being created of by and for that which nature provides.

I have thot of this a bit, in terms of beauty. There is the often grand and breathtaking, often soft and ethereal, beauty of the natural world. There is such beauty as well in the art and architecture of man. Each has its story, its music, its water colour. Each has the power to move the rhythm of my heart and bring tears streaming down my face. Each has the power to make me feel hopelessly inadequate, or to inspire me to reach to the stars.
Mind can be more lonely than body would imagine. Mind can search for answers, for questions, for quests, for endless conundrums, and so enjoy the game. Yet mind wants other minds to play with, to bring in ideas that surprise and excite. It is spirit that knows to blend and meld into all that is. Yet spirit too can identify with loneliness, as an essence, as a way to die a little while caught in the ecstasy of exquisite pain. There must be a very important reason for loneliness. There must be a wholeness of interconnection that we truly need to attain.
I've been working the random universe/intelligent design/mystical maya one quite a bit lately. My conclusions are sometimes random, highly emotive, itchy and veiled. However, I had a revelation about the dweller on the threshhold (a revelation to me at least). It's not about going over the threshhold. It's about living it that eternal magic between the worlds and enjoying the view from each side. There may be a time when going onward is appropriate; I don't know. First I have to build my home on the threshhold, learn about living there, learn who I am that I may have myself as a trusted friend on the continuing journey.

Streaming in and out of consciousness, I don't know what I know. I feel,
but fleetingly. I feel exhiliration and fear. I feel so abysmally sad, so
ecstatically unbound, so small and insignificant, so rebellious and angry,
so tired, so endlessly used up, so guilty, so abused, so resigned, so itchy
to be free, so overwhelmed, so stagnant, so magickal, so impossible, so
dangerously close to the edge yet happy to be here dancing on the head of a
pin too small to do other than fly.
There is magic. There is the ability to send out energy and have it return
as your heart's desire. There is a magical path that will take us there
once we have the courage and grace to find it. Like the end of the rainbow
with its pot of gold, it's tied up in koans and hidden between the
dimensions. The only thing I know to do is dance.