Friday, March 28, 2008

Spring wish

Body sound -
riveting thought,
alas winter
laziness wrought.
So frame fair
shaping needs
walk, leap,
run indeed.
When we all
know the cure
why don't I
just endure.
For my torso's
shocking lack
and turn into
a jumpin' jack.

Sunday, March 23, 2008

Spring sprung

daffodil or jonquil
a thrill until it's stilled
the yellow bellowed
a spring mellowed

Friday, March 21, 2008

It's the money - always

Watching a college team sport
as a non-interested sports fan
bothered by the commercials
walked away to write a comment.
Truly disgusted with the enchilada
of sports idolizing of the world
and asking the question, why?
Too much money in the sports -
granted a team workout is great
except it is legalized war games
on top of the other fights - oil -
beliefs - power - world hegemony.
Follow the money - follow the team
just once in a fairly rare blue moon
the underdog will call the shots
and money will rain on them too.

Hope haiku

Eye-dears for photos
crippled by suburbia -
yet the sun shines.

Thursday, March 20, 2008

Commedia

Commedia della Humanure
every day observing the news
generally with great apathy
important as haute couture.

Commedia dell'Arte obscure
delving in wars and woes
fodder for the snotty kibitzers
relevant as the old grand tour.

Commedia della human allure
enjoying the spectator's sport
until one day it hits bull's eye
suddenly -it is for me to endure.

Wednesday, March 19, 2008

Bubbling haiku

Voices of the past
bubbling up now, then, again,
a cauldron of life

Tuesday, March 18, 2008

Ode to quiet joy

Quietness in my room
as opposed to
kid playing with dog
upstairs - "go"
bounce - bounce
stillness in joy.

Monday, March 17, 2008

Photographic Fantasia

Photographic fantasia
wild blooming animalia
budding posy from Asia
points to fierce vernalia.

Of course I was not the first to coin
"Vernalia", but I am using it
as a new term for Spring

Sunday, March 16, 2008

My Grecian Urn Moment

Wien waltzes with wild wolves
photos for fabulous flashbacks
youthful jogging yields judgement
whereby whoever walked the way would
continually be calibrated cadencially
passing the performance perpetually
mimicking masterfully in memory
only never to outshine that occasion
when waltzing the voluptuous Viennese.

To Jimmy Taub, the dancer whom every other is measured by
and found wanting.

Saturday, March 15, 2008

Wall haiku

This Spring Ides of March
in wondrous wall flowers
incessantly blooms

Thursday, March 13, 2008

Notes on Modest Mussorgsky

each visitor brings her own notes
to the pictures at an exhibition
each has her musical depiction
if a novice to the state of art
will forthwith just jump start
if an expert to the avant-garde
will enjoy the l'art pour l'art:
one by one decides on her vision
a truly personal musical precision
each will have her double-quotes

thinking of Mussorgsky and the Hubble Space pictures among Renaissance Art
The ten pictures Mussorgsky depicts are: a gnome-shaped nutcracker; a troubadour plaintively singing outside an ancient castle; children vigorously playing and quarrelling in a park; a lumbering wooden Polish ox-cart; a ballet of peeping chicks as they hatch from their shells; an argument between two Warsaw Jews, one haughty and vain, the other poor and garrulous; shrill women and vendors in a crowded marketplace; the eerie, echoing gloom of catacombs beneath Paris; the hut of a grotesque bone-chomping witch of Russian folk-lore; and a design for an entrance gate to Kiev.

Wednesday, March 12, 2008

The First Sex - SCREAM!

Wonders of women - ponders Vigga the Vølva,
how can they keep on accepting their fates
the poor - the illiterate - the females
kept in their place by tawdry tradition
and fiercely fatherly rocking religion?
To all these women who die in childbirth
or get gang-raped to thrash the transgressions
of somebody else - innocent bystanders
to tribal male malicious prick pride,
all the feisty females - in abusive alliances -
there has got to be a way to stop that desecration
of the body and mind and spirit of the first sex.

Monastically the male was the prime panther,
alas, by brunt extortion, the female principle,
the mother of their children was charmingly choked
into servant submission and in male monitored places -
still it is happening in the world of today, why?
The Vølva is perpetually pondering this paradox.
Testosterone's tests participate in power
entitling male domination of the female
backed up by 3000 years worth of shady tradition
and religious raunchiest rabid hate of the amazons'
ability to create, to give birth to new life.

Vølva Vigga will appeal to all wenches - once virgins -
that they should help the female counterparts
by changing the politics of the western democracies
and boycott all countries where female torture
takes place, be it at home or in the villages, in towns.

Alas, Vigga the Vølva well knows that submission
to home abuse takes place, even in enlightened relationships,
but at least it can be dealt with by shouting it out
from the roof tops in suburbia, cities, remote hamlets.
Use your voice against verbal, sexual, any partner abuse,
scream it out in your churches, in neighborhoods,
in malls, in center town halls - then mayhap
the people of power may legitimately listen -
especially, if the female yells justly about another abomination
abuse of - a special kind - the unprotected innocent child.

But today is the day for hailing the feminine principle
the first sex. Albeit the Vølva is painfully aware
whence the masculine pricks took over - when the
alphabet arrived and the bountiful earth went from
hunterer and gatherer to connecting the dots at crossroads.
Granted we may not yet have had computers
because the manly male needs creative out-pour
for the overproduction of domineering testosterone.

But then, she asks, why do three established religions
condone their proselytes' behavior - she shrugs
because most of their pulputarians - godfathers are men.
One religion in particular promises a 70 wives for
taking out another human being in the name of God.
Vigga winks humorlessly at this flaky fallacy.
How many Virgins are there in Paradise, or
does Eden have blown-up plastic dolls for that purpose.
Maybe the Virgins of hog heaven get their hymens back
every time a new martyr rides on his merry way to them.

Enough of making fun - knowing what rape is like
what powerless fear can do to a feisty female,
Vigga the Vølva went through the wretched ordeal herself
and was now pondering what would happen to a lady,
if she had daily beatings or brutal beratings
of her body and her mind and her spirit
- with nobody to back her up - what could a chick do?
With family ties broken or the law of the community
not on her side, how could she survive being battered?

By not screaming it out in the ether, by keeping quiet,
the crime will be revoltingly repeated ad nauseam.
The Vølva Vigga urges vigorously virgins and vixens,
women of all ages and sizes to scream and to yell:
Assault - Abuse - Wicked - Wrong - and last but not least
S T O P VIOLATING ME and TELL EVERYONE!

Tuesday, March 11, 2008

Tiles of history

Tiles tell tales
mosaics prevail
the ancients - hail!

Sunday, March 09, 2008

Blogging thought

Bloggers blog their thoughts.
Do bloggers block
other bloggers blogs?
Blog, my blog, blog away
a blogger can blog
thousands of blogs a day.
Bloggers - blog - hurrah -
all for blogging naught.

Friday, March 07, 2008

Grave smokescreen

A grave site appeared
an island in the Aegean
Ulysses' Ithaca?
The Iliad literally revisited?
When the Ancients speak
do we even listen?
When the matriarchs tell tales
do we even believe?
When the old men present
do we even bother?
Another grave - our own
leaving just airwaves
and bits - a smokescreen?

Tuesday, March 04, 2008

A dying idea

A thought
over the miles
no response
fear of ...
drying

An idea
over the tiles
no answer
fear of ...
flying

A notion
over the aisles
no reply
fear of ...
lying

A concept
over the piles
no rebut
fear of ...
prying

A vision

over the files

no retort

fear of ...

dying