29 Aug 2019: "When Cultures Collide" by Saber Li

It was the end of the world when Ares met Mars
Supposed to be counterparts, brothers in arms
But on opposing sides they stood
Couldn’t see eye to eye
And instead of stemming the blood
Each took an eye for an eye
Until in time the whole world went blind

The sword attacked and the spear struck back
But that’s what happens when cultures clash

With anger and hatred it starts to divide
But nobody wins, cos the dead look the same on both sides

It was the mother of all storms when Jupiter met Zeus
There could have been a deuce; could have called a truce
But each wanted more and more
The two as black as thunder
And instead of stopping the war
Each stole the other’s thunder
Until in time the whole world went under

The thunder attacked and the lightning struck back
But that’s what happens when cultures clash

When cultures collide
With anger and hatred it starts to divide
But nobody wins, cos the dead look the same on both sides

The underworld shook when the earth caved in
Pluto and Hades together couldn’t take us all in
We didn’t see when being heartless
In wanting the best of both worlds
That the second of the two would be darkness
And together the weight of the worlds
Would send us crashing down to Tartarus

The rivers overflowed and the fires turned to ash
But that’s what happens when cultures clash

28 Aug 2019: "Throwing Away the Alarm Clock" by Charles Bukowski

my father always said, "early to bed and
early to rise makes a man healthy, wealthy
and wise."

it was lights out at 8 p.m. in our house
and we were up at dawn to the smell of
coffee, frying bacon and scrambled
eggs.

my father followed this general routine
for a lifetime and died young, broke,
and, I think, not too
wise.

taking note, I rejected his advice and it
became, for me, late to bed and late
to rise.

now, I'm not saying that I've conquered
the world but I've avoided
numberless early traffic jams, bypassed some
common pitfalls

and have met some strange, wonderful
people

one of whom
was
myself—someone my father
never
knew.

26 Aug 2019: "Book of Hours" by Rainer Maria Rilke

Put out my eyes and I can see you still;

Slam my ears to, and I can hear you yet;

And without any feet can go to you;

And tongueless, I can conjure you at will.

Break off my arms, I shall take hold of you

And grasp you with my heart as with a hand;

Arrest my heart, my brain will beat as true;

And if you set this brain of mine afire,

Upon my blood I then will carry you.

24 Aug 2019: "Sweetness" by Stephen Dunn

Just when it has seemed I couldn’t bear  
   one more friend  
waking with a tumor, one more maniac   

with a perfect reason, often a sweetness  
   has come  
and changed nothing in the world   

except the way I stumbled through it,  
   for a while lost  
in the ignorance of loving   

someone or something, the world shrunk  
   to mouth-size,  
hand-size, and never seeming small.   

I acknowledge there is no sweetness  
   that doesn’t leave a stain,  
no sweetness that’s ever sufficiently sweet ....   

Tonight a friend called to say his lover  
   was killed in a car  
he was driving. His voice was low   

and guttural, he repeated what he needed  
   to repeat, and I repeated  
the one or two words we have for such grief   

until we were speaking only in tones.  
   Often a sweetness comes  
as if on loan, stays just long enough   

to make sense of what it means to be alive,  
   then returns to its dark  
source. As for me, I don’t care   

where it’s been, or what bitter road  
   it’s traveled  
to come so far, to taste so good.

12 Aug 2019: "Moon Slices" by Allie Jo Dreadfulwater

The Escape;

chiseling white Moon slices

at Dawn.

by Allie Jo Dreadfulwater

August 10, 2019

[in response to Infinite Jest, D.F.W.]

11 Aug. 2019: "Thereʻs a certain Slant of light..." by Emily Dickinson

There's a certain Slant of light,

Winter Afternoons –

That oppresses, like the Heft

Of Cathedral Tunes –

Heavenly Hurt, it gives us –

We can find no scar,

But internal difference –

Where the Meanings, are –

None may teach it – Any –

'Tis the seal Despair –

An imperial affliction

Sent us of the Air –

When it comes, the Landscape listens –

Shadows – hold their breath –

When it goes, 'tis like the Distance

On the look of Death –

by Emily Dickinson

10 Aug 2019: "The Moon and the Yew Tree" by Sylvia Plath

The Moon and the Yew Tree

This is the light of the mind, cold and planetary
The trees of the mind are black. The light is blue.
The grasses unload their griefs on my feet as if I were God
Prickling my ankles and murmuring of their humility
Fumy, spiritous mists inhabit this place.
Separated from my house by a row of headstones.
I simply cannot see where there is to get to.

The moon is no door. It is a face in its own right,
White as a knuckle and terribly upset.
It drags the sea after it like a dark crime; it is quiet
With the O-gape of complete despair. I live here.
Twice on Sunday, the bells startle the sky —
Eight great tongues affirming the Resurrection
At the end, they soberly bong out their names.

The yew tree points up, it has a Gothic shape.
The eyes lift after it and find the moon.
The moon is my mother. She is not sweet like Mary.
Her blue garments unloose small bats and owls.
How I would like to believe in tenderness –
The face of the effigy, gentled by candles,
Bending, on me in particular, its mild eyes.

I have fallen a long way. Clouds are flowering
Blue and mystical over the face of the stars
Inside the church, the saints will all be blue,
Floating on their delicate feet over the cold pews,
Their hands and faces stiff with holiness.
The moon sees nothing of this. She is bald and wild.
And the message of the yew tree is blackness – blackness and silence.

by Sylvia Plath, Ariel