turn together

 

End times

getting more desperate.

We could stop!  Breathe!

Build shelter to quell destruction

from the storm.

We could trade hard work for arms,

explode all against all

by the billions.

 

 

 

I don’t need

a philosophy.

To me that is not what

following a path toward Truth

is about.

The path is not a philosophy.

It is a life.

 

 

 

So easily misunderstood

The eyes in my mind

                   aren’t yours,

   we forget.

 

 

 

Converse – to turn together.

 

 

Suddenly I was a hermit

on a private dark night journey.

 

 

5/26-31/21

 

 thoughts provocateur on Drug War

https://web.archive.org/web/20091027151906/http://www.geocities.com/libramoon.geo/thoughts.htm

We have been hearing for quite some time about drug abuse and the so-called war on drugs. Governmental interferences in our lives of absurd proportions have been suggested and implemented in this mad campaign. 

In response to those who blame illicit drug users for the growth of the "drug problem" on the demand side, you are entirely missing the point. Look into history or psychology and you will clearly see that people have always used the substances available to them to ease their anxieties, self-medicate for chronic or medically untreatable pain, relax, recreate, celebrate, become more sensitized to art/beauty/relationships, become less sensitized to poverty/ugliness/hunger, search for spiritual fulfillment, change their consciousness in one way or another. For most of history this was an incidental aspect of human behavior. The problem with the illicit drugs (not to be confused with the drugs this society condones, for whatever accidental reason) is the profit motive resulting from their artificially inflated prices (a direct result of the laws and enforcement of same against their use or sale) which lead to bloody battles among those who want to make those profits, and between the profiteers and the law enforcement personnel who harass them. 

What most people who complain about the "drug problem" are afraid of is the violence and street crime resulting from this profit motive. Profit-driven violence is only being exacerbated by law-enforcement's efforts to crack down on drugs. To lower the incidence of serious abuse of drug use, wouldn't it be more practical to control the legal use of these substances? We could heavily regulate sales centers for those substances we choose to designate. Perhaps limit the number of such centers in each given area, regulate their locations (say not within a certain distance of schools or other chosen community facilities), regulate the age of patrons with mandatory ID checks, regulate the amount to be sold per transaction, regulate the prices while still keeping these prices well below those of the current illicit market, include heavy taxation and use tax revenues from the sale of these substances to fund various treatment centers, substance use/abuse education and medical programs (after which any additional tax revenues may be used to help pay for other desired programs), disallow advertising of these products, stringently disallow public use and driving under the influence (along the lines of current policies against drunk driving, we could have laws against driving under the influence of any debilitating substance with stringent penalties like loss of the driver's license and car and substantial fines). Drug bars could be licensed to give people a legitimate place in which to enjoy these substances with others, and regulated to disallow minors, require that sales be only for on-premises use, etc. (We could also require for the staff of these drug bars expertise in controlling and mitigating conflicts, both physical and psychological. It would benefit both the community and the customers of these bars to maintain a positive environment.) 

Through tax revenues our government programs would benefit from those who desire these products, rather than organized crime. Meanwhile, a system of highly regulated legal distribution would allow for the kind of knowledge and control which is impossible under the existing situation of uncontrolled illicit transactions. Educational programs against drug use could be refined and expanded. Minors would not be pressured into drug use or sales by criminals seeking expanding profits or seeking less legally liable dupes to do their work for them, or by their own desires for otherwise unimaginable wealth; and people in general who use these substances would not be forced to deal with profit-hungry, unscrupulous criminals and possibly tainted products. Drug treatment programs could be made much more available; and without legal considerations some secret drug users might be less intimidated about going for treatment. More room would be available in prisons and courts for other kinds of criminals if less were taken up by drug-related crimes; and there would be less violence in our communities without drug-profit related crimes. 

If we like, harsher penalties could be legislated against criminals who commit crimes while under the influence of drugs (including alcohol) to both prevent these criminals from trying to use their drug-induced misjudgment as an excuse for their crimes and increase the general idea of responsible use of mind-altering substances. Public resources now being desperately and ultimately ineffectually thrown into the anti-drug "war" would be available for use against the social problems we all recognize such as homelessness, poverty, intrafamilial violence, lack of quality education, et al., the root causes of addiction. Furthermore, a more enlightened attitude toward drug use might allow for those who do choose to make recreational use of drugs to be better informed about the consequences of their choice and, therefore, allow them to pursue these activities more safely and responsibly. 

eclipse whispers

  

Retreat from

War mentality.

Learn to understand

our social ecosphere.

We can become our own

best friends, join not as

soldiers to hold a line,

expend our energy in fights.

Step back from destructive habit.

Open eyes cleansed of

acrid burning.

Move toward our true desires;

find what peace can build.

 

 

 

 

the dancer and the dance

I see this tiny epiphany awhirl,

like a firefly flight of fire and awareness.

Immanence aroused in a glory of

rhythm and desire.

See us reach invisibly into a wholeness,

a blessed story,

a holy trance, above, beyond, knowing,

yet our closest self.

 

 

 

 

this comment is not about the fragility

of "white allies" but about the true rational goal

-- is what we want to apply our considerable

energies and creativity and time and

human interactions to

making imperfect people feel shame,

or to make a better social structure

in which every person's opportunities

for self realization expands?

 

 

 

we should initiate a citizen's decency

board to bring these police miscreants

before for severe shaming until they

cry in remorse and horror

at their behavior

 

 

 

these "pro-lifers" must hate children

they are all about forcing children

to be born and raised in situations

that don't want them

maybe that was how they got that way

 

 

 

 

all that uproar and legislation to end

Obamacare and it turned out the

people want it -- these Republican

anti-democrat obsessions

are not about reality

 

 

 

 

How can older Jews

who suffered the atrocities of

The Holocaust not feel empathy,

compassion for the Palestinians,

and horror at the Israeli leaders

who torment them?

 

 

 

What, exactly, did you win?

What has the end of your

possibility of honor

bought?

 

 

 

I  developed my nascent

philosophies through science fiction --

that metaphoric narrative view

of our realities.

 

 

 

I get it!

They are mistaking religious mythology

for realpolitik.

 

 

 

Hiding in the park

after dark

under evergreens

seeking forest.

Old ages home

trailing memory

aching to feel, real.

Frail sensations

stored in stories.

Clasp, grasp of

smiling ectoplasmic

audience.

Shadow/light

whisper/thunder

breathe deep ash

of campfire ghosts.

Bubbling out from dense fog

to clear a magic window.

See such a fairy parade

sparkle into ecstasy,

into vast caravans

 

 

 

 

 

 

5/21-26/21

 

Rory and Renata Go to the School

 Rory and Renata Go to the School (excerpt root of desire)

https://windsongmyths.wordpress.com/2020/02/21/root-of-desire-in-progress/

#fiction

 

“We work with a diverse population of the underserved underclass. We find the people we need, and the people who need what we can make happen.
Yeah, it’s a struggle every day, and a surprise that we figure it out and carry on. It’s following a vision that’s always being re-envisioned as we figure out what works,
how to pick up synergistic pieces and keep going because that is what we do.”

Karl and Janna, Marcus and Eddie along with Betty have settled in to their playhouse hotel that Tom River helped them acquire.

Rory is too city, too restless for bucolic creative bliss. Renata needs to expand her mortal experience, learn new skills, try new lifestyles.
They visit the crew when they can, take their part in the theatre. It is better that they bring refreshed perspectives from outside.
Rory has discovered the School through his elusive, randomly distributed contacts. He brings Renata to observe the dance and respond as she will.

Dorothy and Alice are at the core of the project. The have each had excessive lives, developed strong resilience and motivation.
Since they have found each other, they have further developed through mutual support. Their self-assurance and charisma inspire gifted idealists
to commit to a plausibly possible cause.

What is a school? A place to be shaped, to be contused and polished through interaction, to discover, be directed or create your own role and style.
It is an entrance of ignorance into a process into a home, a grounding to grow, produce from seeds and dung and work.
A school, a structure wherein we learn what we learn by lecture, by example, then practice to entice competence, tasks to master, ideas to fester,
projects to test and explore. A school can be much more than a prison for clearing the streets, teaching shame and defeat or for a few fanning ambitions
seldom fit to meet. This can never be that twisted. Rather we envisage a tool for healthy breakthroughs out of misery and flailing infirmity.
We dance. We talk. We teach and learn. We develop the skills we need to be the people we care about. We are put down, but we can care so much,
be so much, just by learning to be who we are.

Dorothy and Alice Gaya – We gave ourselves our surname in a commitment ceremony during our neo-feminist period. Heavily layered in spiritual/political significance.
It’s not that we’re against people using drugs. We’re against unconscious lives bereft of informed choice.

“Neo-feminist?” Renata, quizzical, “What are you now?”

Alice smiles. “Teachers of the oppressed.”

rising Mercurial

   

Not the natural world's rain,

(maybe reign of entitlement's power)

a mockery, a chilling irresponsibility

of bullets, of brutal men casting out

humanity, sanity, possibility of sad

empathy.  Cast out in cascading fire,

damning to true meaning of Hell.

Where is that decent world, kind

community, strength of health and

clarity?  How did this chaos of horror,

casual terror, settle into

normality?

 

 

 

It is a shameful dilution of

the moral force of hate

to show it toward anyone for

any reason other than their own

actual behavior which, purposely

or negligently, harms nonconsenting

others.

 

 

 

 

 

biology/science clearly have shown that

the idea of two sexes is outdated and inaccurate

 

 

 

 

it seems to me that rather than an ethical dilemma,

climate inaction is more about freezing from

existential fear one cannot face leading

to denial of some kind.

 

 

 

 

isn't that the most appropriate means of

paying for our nation's infrastructure,

the necessary environment for businesses

to succeed,

for the structural business community

to pay for these assets that benefit their profits.

 

 

 

Accept?  Give credence to their existence?

People don't need your belief

to self-evidently exist.

 

 

 

We claim to want more jobs created,

yet encourage a culture of overwork,

understaffing for the work to be

effectively done.

 

 

 

 

Shame only carries moral force

against those who value being

seen as good.

 

 

 

I am not so sure that "Hamas"

is not (to some extent) controlled

by Netanyahu, since he has the most

to gain from increasing hostilities.

 

 

 

 

happiness triggers:  being seen/heard

with love; experiencing beauty;

enjoying epiphanies

 

 

 

5/17-20/21

deep spring reflects (no worries, no hurries)

 I tend to think in words and pictures,

to feel in music,

to see pictures, hear words

when in presence of music,

to feel meaningful images,

look for synchronicities,

magic.

 

 

 

I am ready, willing, happy to do

the work, the difficult, detailed,

dirty, eternal work.

I can’t long bear

the slings and arrows,

nastiness,

the assholes.

 

 

 

 

words, when obfuscated by political agenda,

become clumsy as tools for clear

communication.  Perhaps we ought

to indicate when using these words

which meaning we are intending.

 

 

 

 

Capitalism, as imagined by those who

imagined it into existence, is very different

from what we are led to believe by its worshippers. 

When appropriately regulated and companioned

with rational safety net structure, it is a system

for people to be rewarded for sharing their wares

and skills, and through competition to find better,

less resource depletion or other undesirable outcomes,

easier to use and access,

more in line with what people want, good and services. 

The important component is the regulation

to keep the market honest, fair, and safe.

 

Capitalism, like Communism (Marxism) was originally

imagined as an equalizing, community developing,

individual dignity respecing system in contrast to

Feudalism's dependence on aristocracy and clear

class distinctions. 

See how we silly humans take reason

and mangle it with arrogance and jealousies.

 

 

taking responsibility, accountability, away from the

human agent allows for all manner of nasty mischief.

 

 

 

we must disengage from party politics

and learn to have political conversations

based each on our own and our communities'

interests.

 

 

5/15-16/21

meditation and madness

 

slowly, gently,

like a meditation or guided fantasy,

take many long, deep looks at your life,

how experiences have felt, where relationships

have led, what calls to you to complete or

begin, what has meaning, what feels good,

where does your mind go when you go to a

place of escape and restoration. 

Now, read some good science fiction and

think about how a future could be created.

 

 

 

tolerating is not the same as condoning

or encouraging or embracing -- it is just

admitting the reality of what is in our

world and figuring out how to deal with

that without violence

 

 

 

 

Why do we obfuscate our common rules

in elite jargon, legalese, when rationally

what we need is profound fairness of

clarity?

 

 

 

I think the emphasis on competition

as we grow and learn how to navigate

the social world would cause many to feel

resentful of any perceived advantage to

those we see in competition with us

for the good stuff.

 

 

 

 

So many seem to prefer a loathsome view

of humanity, warring savage slaves to greed

and casual meanness. 

I tend to say:  All people suck. 

But, not all the time and some more than others. 

There is that but that can encompass great

kindness, opening to lively adventure based on

joyful celebration of our communion. 

What empowers the positive regard, uplifting,

diminishes the cruel and mean?

 

 

 

 

why do so many people hate their lives so much

and refuse to make them better

instead sending their hate outward?

 

 

 

 

when Earth no longer sustains human life,

what are you going to buy/who are you going

to rule/where are you going to be?

 

 

 

Stop encouraging those working to oppose

our essential values.  Stop acting like their

work is of value to our world.

 

 

 

Cowardly lazy liars

to convince themselves

they are the virtuous

 

 

 

5/2-14/21

healing dance

 

Healing Dance

Laurie Corzett

 

La danse, c'est le mouvement, et le mouvement, c'est la vie.

("Dance is movement, and movement is life.")

--Ludmilla Chiriaeff (Founder, Les Grands Ballets

Canadiens)

 

What is is about dancing, in a group, with an intimate other, or alone, that can give us that mystical rush and promote wellness on so many levels? Is it the pre-cognitive memory of the rhythm of the heartbeat keeping us safe? Is it the emotional-spiritual connection to the natural world we feel when moving pleasurably in our animal body? Is it some atavistic source of healing from our primal days?

This is my quest -- to discover the healing properties of dance and how to best use and promote this simplest and most profound gift of our physical being.

 

Throughout our history, dancing has functioned as a healing and balancing component, a form of social communication and transcendent spiritual ritual. Though patterns and forms vary, expressive rhythmic movement is a very basic means of relieving emotional tension and has from the beginning been associated with religious ritual and healing. We celebrate by dancing at weddings and

festivals, and join others in dance as the quintessential romantic experience. Dancing alone, feeling the rhythmic sway and getting in touch with the extension and contraction of muscles in a pleasurable context, is uplifting, healing. Dancing definitely helps to bring up my mood and promote more sane reflection. When I can get so caught up in the dance that I no longer feel separate from the music and can move within it, it seems to free something very profound within me.

 

I have been working with dance as a self-healing resource and looking intuitively and through on-line research to open my knowledge and understanding into the possibilities and realities of healing through dance.

 

My work is based on the intuitive feeling I have been developing for quite some time about dance. There is something very primal, very basic in regard to our species and dance, involving healing in the holistic sense and the intrinsic energies of life/form/time.

In every culture there has been an emphasis on dance in not only entertainment, but as a healing force. And, then, entertainment is of course part of healing and cultural unity.

 

In my search I am finding a wide variety of healing modalities, spiritual activities and holistic therapies based on our natural expression of energies through dance, as well as community and individual art projects promoting creativity and wholeness.

 

 

 

all is interconnected

each is territorial

life, death, re-emergence in changed form,

a nightmare tarantella

a wiggly microbe dance

re-imaged into macro

by degrees of the eternal

This culture obfuscates

the basics of sex and death --

binds them up in moral outrage

and damnation for the masses

to feed upon in maenad frenzy

We expect subterfuge to fuel salvation

when all we need saving from

is the resultant confusion.

 

 

 

We are all changing all the time.

We look to the crowd to find the security of the same.

Mirrors merely show us what we expect to see.

Look, inside, all around, throughout eternity.

Feel the change.

Dance it into the change you want to be.

 

 

mirror neurons let you dance by watching others

motor neurons let you dance by moving to the music

in whatever way you comfortably can

body/mind connection, ain't it wonderful!

 

 

Wisdom, so common yet so fragile and rare,

peeking out of storybooks, popular lyrics,

offhand remarks.

Days go on and often with little thought

wound up in routine, dance steps to

elevator music, or music only recalled.

Then, on a silent walk to some unsung errand,

bursts of beatific choirs take flight,

circling like mythic birds of joy.

 

 

Maybe put on music that feels good and move with it,

let the images, ideas, memories dance with

you.

woodstock diary '73-'76

 *)*

 

A Vignette

*)*

*)*

It was a simple house in a simple town.

The road was long and winding.

Two men sat on the road.

They were playing cards.

One man had a bottle which was occasionally passed.

They were not playing for any stakes,

But as an excuse for companionship.

It was a simple house in a simple town.

Old gnarled, stately tall trees formed a woods

that lined the roadway.

It was noon, but the day was overcast;

not dark, but pleasantly muted.

It was autumn.

The trees were proud of their majestic leaves

of gold and magenta which covered their branches

and sprinkled the earth.

Small furry creatures occasionally could be seen

amidst the trees, leaves and earth.

The two men were aware of all this in the

backgrounds of their minds.

They were also aware of the pleasantness

of their peaceful companionship

as they played cards, passed the bottle

and made casual conversation about this and that.

It was a simple house in a simple town

by the side of a long and windy road

which was surrounded by woods.

A plane passed overhead

and was briefly a part of this scene,

before moving on to more important places.

*)*

*)*

*)*

 

Spring Medley

*)*

*)*

Air clear as a free-running stream

tumbling over country rocks and minty greenery

Clear soft air of early spring

Breathing satsang, reeling eternity,

While running 'cross the straight-lined highway

-- shouting

"Hey sky, embrace me!" shouting

I embrace the air and call it Love.

*)*

I love you, love you, love you, love you

I

Form, Words, Action

I in motion

I in tumbling, stumbling, crazy image

kaleidoscope

over 'n' over

love you, love you, love you, love you

Capture the essence for an almost noninstant

Capture the image of groping, grabbing, grasping

gazing heartfelt on release, but

love you, love you, love you, love you

insane, insatiable

cannot touch release of

love you, love you, love you, love you

Smothering in the too pure air.

*)*

Hey, Springtime,

Got some time to be wasting

So I tracked a songbird

on a still bare treebranch

and joined it in song.

What wonder the woods bring

I can't contain it.

Thistle and briar weeds

Capture my imagination

Grow wild and tangly

All through my mind.

*)*

*)*

*)*

 

Easter

*)*

*)*

Gentle rosy raindrops of a mellow morning,

Children make the day -- it's spring.

I thought of God in Church this morning,

nailed to His cross in long ago Jerusalem,

arising to springtime, the earth's reawakening.

It's a time for children and games of childhood,

a time for playing with love,

secret smiles and daisy chains.

It's a time for the simple and natural

A time for anointing the soul in peace

after the ravages of winter.

A time for gentle things

like newborn kittens

and flowerbuds after the rain.

I am slowly relearning the healing strength of love,

Slowly relearning the simple pleasures of humanity.

Life is sweet, poignant,

a drifting melody.

*)*

*)*

*)*

            daydream

*)*

*)*

It was a warm and windy day,

bittersweet in springtime,

the trees, newly leaved,

swayed in the warm, sweet melody.

It was a day to kick stones

along a riverbank and dream,

before a night of jukebox music and cokes

at the local diner.

What kind of day are you?

*)*

*)*

*)*

Caress the Moment

*)*

*)*

Caress the moment

Let it rain and whisper gentle melodies,

lusciously over your skin

  and tingling nerve ends.

Lap happily of the sweet, sweet honey

  that this time drips

  freely onto your tongue.

Be aware of the hopeful breezes

  and busy butterflies

  of sane emotion

  fluttering around and about.

Caress the moment as it caresses you

And care enough to share it

And help it grow into forever.

*)*

*)*

*)*

 

 

  Somewhere

  in summer

  days are catching up to us

  All those silent moments

  When we would shout out our being

   but

   better not.

 

*)*

*)*

*)*

 

Hurrah the Saturnalia!

*)*

*)*

Hurrah the Saturnalia!

Bacchus reigns on high

And all the world's a feast of fun

So pass the pipe and pour the rum

And flash a smile o'er everyone

A twinkle of the eye.

*)*

Hail the merry Season!

A boost for love & joy

When packages that yell "surprise!"

May dance before our merry eyes

from "Santa Claus" that merry, wise

& venerable old boy.

*)*

Joy to all ye revelers!

It's time to join in play

where roles are dropped and laughter raised

We're all buffoons, so clowns be praised

It's time to shout out loud, ablaze

"Joy to all today!"

*)*

A very merry holiday

to each and all I say!

*)*

*)*

*)*

 

Memories

*)*

*)*

Memories, they weave a silken web in silence

We talk of times past in gently measured tones,

  sometimes bitter humor.

We watch a bird circling in the distance,

  and build patterns in the clouds.

Last year I spied a mole burrowing in

  the unmelted snow of early spring.

Today I tend to think of you

  smiling as you did last night

when you first saw me after parting.

*)*

*)*

*)*

Reflections

*)*

*)*

Walking long mornings into sunrise

You stood by and took the earth into your arms

like grainstalks

I called you my Degas print.

You spoke of the moon.

21 days and nights we tarried.

Almost single, almost married.

I loved you.

You spoke to me in words of magic.

Will you speak to me again?

Hollywood houses and Paris cafes bowed to us.

You said you needed work and companions.

I cursed you in my mind, and went off

seeking other follies.

The days look longer now, feel somehow strange.

Love is like a looking glass, reflecting change.

*)*

*)*

*)*

 

For Michael

*)*

*)*

You were a mystery to me.

A sensual stranger in the night

Who brought me ecstasy and fantasy.

What we shared wasn't love --

but an adventure -- and the love of adventure

  draws you near me in certain dreams.

And you are still a mystery, a symbol in my life

  for certain exquisite longings.

The time we were together was a magic time.

I'm looking for that magic again.

I am looking for another magical romance,

  as I remember you and smile

  without wondering where you are.

*)*

*)*

*)*

 

 

 

For Steve

*)*

*)*

Dreaming, I sit here,

Wondering, remembering your past

As you've told it to me in hours of easy yarning.

You look so young, asleep and dreaming

  beyond my touch.

Do you know that I think about you,

Watch for hours, wait for your step at the door?

Do you know that thoughts of you,

silent dreams and yearnings,

Are easily taking over my mind?

You said that men are romantic,

And women are strong and practical.

I don't feel practical or strong,

Just dreamy, and slowly

Obsessed.

*)*

*)*

*)*

 

 

Rainbow Shop

*)*

*)*

And she sold me rainbows

dancing gaily 'cross the window

  windchimes in light.

And she smiled me daisies

and bursting bright blooms of summer.

And she told me, maybe,

if you're looking in

the right direction,

  a miracle may grace your sight.

And I smiled

dancing

  into the day.

*)*

*)*

*)*

 

Diamonds and Rust

*)*

*)*

"Diamonds and Rust" like Joanie says

memories, I mean

lovers.

I saw you tonight with your San Francisco cut

and that old double-edged blade

went piercing through my heart

leaving me bleeding

memories

long through this autumn night

of no-sleep blues and golds

and rusty burnished reds

that cut like diamonds.

*)*

I call to you in fevered dreams

that leave me gasping,

haunting all through the dreary day.

Can't escape that sudden urgency.

Just like days gone by. You don't answer.

You don't hear me through all that mass

-- your own driving imperative.

We meet so seldom

separation so long.

We are like strangers.

Yet times we have touched, one to one,

to perfection,

have been one strength and impulse

have known such intimacy . . .

I call to you now,

Hearing your voice in every song of romance.

*)*

*)*

*)*

 

(dedicated to Danny McDermott, wherever

       he may wander)

*)*

*)*

He calls on the strength of the ocean,

Fire burning in his heart

calls on the spirit world to succor

He who hath known tribulation, but not succumbed

Made stronger and wiser knows power and wisdom

Flow through the elements always there to call on

For the pure though fiery of heart

The saddened but strengthened of soul

The man who would flow with the forces of nature

In touch with the all.

*)*

*)*

*)*

Gathered on picnic table benches behind the home,

hot in sunshine. Karen explains, fact by fact, how Gus

became her inseparable soul. They beam together.

He gives consoling hand to shoulder as she grieves

children left with their father, her ex’s condemnation,

stern paternal assertion of power. Saving his kin from

this unrepentant whore. Karen cries, again – unrehearsed

habit. She carries sadness; leaks occur.

Gus hardly speaks. His troubled eyes, weary stance,

gentle pull and pass of their pint bottle as he glances with

deep countenance to each face around is eloquent conversation.

Sweat smells, condensed alcohol, burnt tobacco, drying shit from

local dogs, passing fumes from the road out front, all permeate,

help set the mood.

*)*

They treat the stranger in their midst as a friend of long

acquaintance, just another straggly member of a morphing crew.

“Ain’t we all strangers of long acquaintance – everybody a

wrapping of layers, appearing in colored bits along our drowsy

companionship. Strange friends, welcome distractions, smoky

mirrors that let us see as we discern.”

Bonnie and Denise giggle at Big Dan’s pedantic speech.

They solicit contributions for their liquor store expedition.

Enough gets thrown in to make it a go.

Go, girls. We’ll be waiting, celebrating what we can because

here we are.

*)*

*)*

*)*

 

 

Patty We Hardly Knew Ya

*)*

*)*

So they took you from your lover's home -- Steven

who treated you like a child & later wrote memoirs & told them to take

anything, but to leave him alone

& they took you.

& they locked you in a closet & used you for a media campaign to feed the

hungry.

You had never known hunger or privation.

You were a princess of the ruling class.

But you had known loneliness.

You learned, finally,

away from your university walls, about revolution.

They called you Tania & plastered your picture on front page reports & post

office billboards &

the Six O'clock News.

Your father wasn't the only Hearst

who could make the papers.

You became a phenomenon.  You became a star.

And the question on everyone's lips was:

"Where is Patty Hearst?"

& some were arrested & some were destroyed & the LA siege was just one of

many brutal episodes in a bloody war movie, but you were a star.

& all the "little people" -- the housewives & the students & the laborers of

the working class took you as their own & discussed your motives & some

applauded you & some said you deserved to be spanked & some said you were

just a pawn, but pawn or queen, you were a star -- a media heroine & no one

could ignore you as they had

ignored your wealthy and powerful family.

Month after month you led the headlines.

The FBI was embarrassed

by false leads on your whereabouts.

All those trained bloodhounds searching for one

little girl playing revolutionary.

It could have been made in Hollywood,

But never in CUBA or CHINA or Viet-Nam.

You were so bold, standing in your beret & rifle

in front of the SLA trademark

(and we still may wonder on the significance of

"Symbionese")

Robbing banks in the tradition of Dunaway and Beatty

-- a whirlwind crime spree

to the glory of the "people."

What did you know of the "people?"

Those who cheered for the circus & those who condemned you at their

mid-morning coffee breaks.

Yes, now you belonged to them --

no longer the sheltered heiress.

So they found you, the pigs, really quite by accident (the whole

investigation being a gaily colored comedy of

errors)

& brought you to "justice."

& Justice took its time-honored time drawing out the headlines --

arraignment through appeals & exposes

("New Times features Bill & Emily Harris:

at home with the fugitives")

And when they asked you for your profession on the

official forms you ingenuously proclaimed to be

"an unemployed Urban Guerrilla," which is certainly as valid as an

unemployed newspaper heiress.

And Squeaky Fromm tried to shoot the President,

but you were still America's sweetheart --

poor little rich girl gone guerrilla.

But then you were reprogrammed and reneged on your revolutionary ways.  You

cried for joy on being reunited with your "capitalist pig" parents &

the family dog --

Just like any Long Island JAP or Sacramento

newspaper heiress back from her hippie jaunt.

And they locked you in your "country club jail"

like they send a naughty child to her room --

"just to teach her a lesson."

And still the interviewers came

to continue the media comedy.

What fun you had with your "Pardon Me" teeshirt & your jailhouse romance

with your guard.

(And Jerry Ford, who Squeaky tried to shoot, had

pardoned Trickie Dick.  And Susan Ford, the First Daughter, married her

Secret Service guard.

And it was the era of Post-Watergate when nothing could be too absurd for a

world weary public worn out by the Stagflation Wars)

And Waffling Jimmy Earl of the Georgia Peanut Dynasty was in the Whitehouse.

And China was finally invading Viet-Nam

And a fast-talking Orkian

was the rage of prime time.

And discomania mixed liberally with coke and 'ludes had taken over

Amerikkka's youthful zeal.

And Werner Erhard replaced Che Guevara in ex-Yippie Jerry Rubin's heart & so

the wheel turns.

& five years after the kidnapping,

Patty Hearst finally went home.

 

...