Day: December 26, 2018

Waxy flowers in the snow

Waxy flowers poking through
Snow so white
Flowers bright.
Made me think of you.

I see once more your dark,dark hair,
Soft as snow,
On pillow.
Now my bed is bleak and bare

,
Face alight,flower to sun,
I loved you.
Love so  true.
Fear by love,overcome.

Cyclamen, in  the snow,
Pink and red,
Now frozen,dead.
Love was,oh,so long ago.

But never gone from in my mind.
Thoughts so deep,
Upwards seep.
Love was gentle,love was kind
And always in my mind

Imagination’s home.

My old blue fountain pen allows 

The ink across the page to flow

Like wet paint from an artist’s brush,

And words come in a rush. 

  Enchanted by the hand that writes, 

Bewitched   by art, beauty alights.

The script is like a music score 

Through which we pass as through a door.

Imagination’s home. 

  As, mysteriously to you, to me,  

The spirits of our hearts are tamed,

  By rhythms of pen, of brush, of mind.  

They enter vision quite unplanned,

  Like moths to flutter softly round  

Fire joined heart and hand.  

The pen slows down, the hand goes still  

And just as dreams at daybreak will,  

They shrink, they disappear, they’re gone.  

Like raindrops  on  hot stone 

 

Was Christ a Palestinian refugee?

https://www.aljazeera.com/indepth/opinion/remember-christ-palestinian-refugee-181224101728798.html

Extract:

In the Latin American context, in particular, and through the emancipatory work of liberation theologians, the figure of Christ emerges as the revolutionary leader of the wretched of the earth.

The Peruvian philosopher, theologian and Dominican priest Gustavo Gutierrez has revolutionised our contemporary understanding of Christ. In my own work on Islamic liberation theology, I have been deeply influenced by the work of Father Gutierrez, who next to the eminent Jewish philosopher Emmanuel Levinas have brought the prophetic voices of Biblical exegesis to bear on our contemporary lives.

For years at Columbia, I have been teaching a book called Don’t Be Afraid, Gringo: A Honduran Woman Speaks from The Heart: The Story of Elvia Alvarado (1989) in which there is a splendid a chapter called: Jesus was an Organizer.

The Nazareth-born Palestinian filmmaker Elia Suleiman has a short film called, Cyber Palestine (1999), in which he presents the story of a modern-day Mary and Joseph as they attempt to cross from Gaza into Bethlehem. As a parable of the Palestinian predicament in their own homeland, “Cyber Palestine” captures the quintessence of the story of the birth of Christ under military occupation of the Romans then and the Zionists now.

That wall they built

Oh, mother, father take me back
I’ve lived the pain, I ‘ve felt the rack
I wanna see Jesus.
Take me to that  wall they  built
Let me see where blood’s been spilt
I wanna see Jesus.
Oh, take me back to where I was
The enemy may well be us,
Not Jesus.
What did all those sermons do?
Did they say he was a Jew?
Oh, Jesus.
Did he want the First Crusade
It is his blood  the priest creates
Lord Jesus.
I don’t like the way things are
I am getting tired of war
Kill Jesus.
What has human wisdom done
From Wittgenstein to Abraham?
Cripes, Jesus!
Does research improve our lives
As for grants, the scholars strive?
Ask Jesus.
We may have  chemotherapy
Radiation, history.
Where’s Jesus?
You’d think that after all the years
We’d have used  up all our tears
Sweet Jesus.
Love your neighbour as yourself
Give 1% of all your wealth
Aye, Jesus.
Do what’s better, not what’s worse
I see another fragrant hearse.
It’s Jesus.
See the plastic Crucifix
See  him  dying with dry lips
Bend your knees, confess your sins
Otherwise,  the Devil wins
Not Jesus.
We destroy the good we hate
Envy writhes and with pride mates.
The progeny will wreck the earth
Eden’s burning as drones pass.
No, Jesus.No Jesus.
Know Jesus.

 My mistress ‘s air is like a sultry sun

 

Eugène Delacroix's 1825 painting "Louis d...

 

 My mistress ‘s air is like a sultry sun

My mistress eye looks lined as it is glass

She lost her marbles playing with Dettox

She’s good at letting errors stumble past

And mending fuses in that little hock.

My mistress dear I gaze upon that  feast.

I see her skin is read as is the alphabet

I too have dusted and I have confessed

But still she rambles and she pays  no debts

In truth I am as fertile as a cat

but each must act according to  the facts

Oh God so like  the snake in Eden’s flowers

Cain and Abel fight still for first place
One to slaughter whom he might embrace
Oh,foolish God that ranks our offerings
Thus to the  human world you murder  bring

Brothers are more deadly than  a foe
Hatred builds inside , we let  flow
Oh God so like  the snake in Eden’s flowers
Tempting humans by the highest powers

 

Little acts may  cause an avalanche
A woman’s eye may ignite a romance
Her beauty cause destruction to whole States
Oh Helen fair were you  inviolate?

Humans kill and others weep in woe
Thus on our  nuclear path we ,stupid, go

The artist’s brush

What we can’t say in words ,when we turn mute
The feelings blocked  may injure our own selves
When we cannot change the hateful truth

 

That Xmas dinner ignites  old disputes
Rage in our own breast may grow and swell
We can’t  express in  peace ,so we turn mute

The stronger brethren dominate and loot
While on the tower there rings the ancient bell
We see but cannot change that hateful truth

If  trauma were a plant we could uproot
To grow  red cyclamen and  leave this hell
Ah,stopped from speech , we turn  dead,  pale and mute

The long procession of the souls and ghouls
Wanders round the tower of lost Babel
We see but cannot change, who do we fool?

The  mind in pain will never be quite still
Breathing out the fear can make us well
What we can’t say in words ,when we turn mute
The artist’s brush may  best convey the truth