Wednesday, February 29, 2012

His Daunting Fearlessness


















The truth is - and should not
poetic expression speak truth?
- life with my beloved has been
both a rapture and a torment.
Our life together has been a paean
to fulfilled longing and ardent
need. His unswerving love, a
response to my desire for
complementary symbiosis.

The pleasures - and shared
concerns, the laughter and the
musing doubts, have been legion,
the bond sweet as nectar, strong
as steel, silken-smooth. I look to
him alone for comfort and
assurance, his loving smile the
radiant warmth of a sun around
which we revolve; binary stars.

He is himself; a life-force of
curiosity and enquiry, an adept
at all that takes his interest. We
take from one the other, and give
what each is capable of. The anguish
of gender amply revealed when fear
and apprehension flood my senses,
witnessing his fearless exploits
challenging timeless realities.

Tuesday, February 28, 2012

Comradely Clamour


















The dome of the sky is
now as blue as a heavenly
Adriatic fluidly tempting
the crows to flaunt their
dense black silhouettes
against its static placidity.
No wind to lift them as
they flap and coast over
the forest below, their
comradely clamour
refused absorption by
the newfallen snow
muffling the landscape
below, the burning disc
of the sun reaching toward
spring burnishing their calls
to a rich, full cacophony.

Monday, February 27, 2012

Bring In The Clowns


















If it were a teachable virtue
to accept what we have,
rather than mourn for what
eludes us, a state of happiness
would engulf us all. The
intractable impulse to achieve,
to win, to create and to search
would never disturb our
placid egos, never would we
experience through our deeply
conflicted natures the need
to compete with our own
singular struggles to achieve
our own particular fixations
of success. We are afflicted
with a driven pathology of need,
to hold in disdain what we have,
to strive toward an ideal none
are likely but the rare geniuses
among us to realize, and even
they too chafe fruitlessly at
their human limitations,
living lives of silent despair.

Sunday, February 26, 2012

From Submission To Fury













Though said to be formed in the
image of God, to present that image
for worship is sacrilege. It is, instead
the sacred script that is held in great
veneration of the ultimate symbol of
the Divine, whose word and infallible
guidance has been handed forward
from time archaic to the very present.

To take that symbol, no less than the
blessed repute of the Prophet who
delivered the message of submission,
in vain or light vein, is to invite the faithful
to riotous, grim reckoning. Those devoted
souls maddened by any slight intolerable,
stand prepared to deliver the very final
punishment of death, willing to tear the
offender from limb to deserving limb.

In the process demonstrating the instant
transformation of an adoring people steeped
in tribal lore, from docile fundamentalism
in religious devotion to rampaging primal
avengers of desecration intent on slaughtering
those presumptuous enough, heedless
enough, to slight the ineffable visage of
the Creator. Only the Angel of Death now
able to turn the tide of fury to submission.

Saturday, February 25, 2012

Hair-Raising Idle Thoughts

In an idle moment a thought occurs. That thought is about hair. About how it never seems to stop growing, even when you might want it to slow down a bit. When you've got one of those welcomed 'good hair' days and you know that means that your hair is growing out of a cut that you'd like to maintain and only can if you can restrain your hair from growing, which you cannot.

Hair is one of those very personal attributes that looks so different to the wearer than it does to the observer. Invariably, people think their hair looks perfectly awful, when someone looking at them may be thinking that their hair presentation is pretty special. Only try convincing someone who feels particularly vulnerable about their hair.

Isn't it always the way with human nature that those whose genetic endowment gifts them with thick, curly hair, despair about that thick curly hair and look on enviously at their peers whom heritage has gifted with straight, silky hair. And those with that straight hair grit their teeth in envy contemplating how happy they might be with thick, curly hair, if they could effect an exchange.



And then there's that undeniable fact that for some people, with just-so facial features who also happen to be endowed with quite lovely hair, there are no real 'bad hair-days'. These extraordinary creatures quite simply always look glowingly beautiful, their hair always in place. Of course, no one sees them sans make-up as they emerge groggily from their beds in the a.m.

And then, another stray thought. What about primitive hominids, did they notice their hair, did they care? Imagine, living at a time when human society is beginning to emerge. Presumably before that time homo sapiens lived in an aura of aesthetic sterility, where it was grab-and-guard, and life really was short and brutal.

In those primal times of human evolution, hair presumably grew, and it grew, and it grew. Never cut. No scissors, obviously, and it wasn't likely that sharpened flints would be much good at the job. Imagine, living with hair so long it continually disrupts your eyesight by falling all over; no neat little hairpins or combs to keep it out of the way.

Clambering along cliffs, can you imagine long hair getting caught in rock clefts and causing a fall leading to death? So much, at that time would lead to premature death, from violent confrontations to accidental falls, unfortunate encounters with ravening beasts, or serious injuries never healing. The perils of long hair just another problem.

Long hair - a handy way to catch and ensnare a desperately fleeing female from a male predator. Nothing lovely about that prospect of hair so long it becomes an impediment to life itself. Hair, said to be a woman's crowning beauty, and which it most certainly can represent as, also could be responsible for her early death.

Unclean hair, which was a commonplace until fairly recently with the almost universal care now given to personal hygiene, once was teeming with creepy-crawlies. Parasites, lice and other rather disgusting creatures that plagued humans. Under the elegant powdered wigs of the French aristocracy crept a minuscule world of lice.

Hair-raising, isn't it?