FEBRUARY 2014

 

“When an individual is protesting society's refusal to acknowledge his dignity as a human being, his very act of protest confers dignity on him.”

Bayard Rustin

"I have walked into the palaces of kings and queens and into the houses of presidents. But I could not walk into a hotel in America and get a cup of coffee, and that made me mad."
Josephine Baker

 

 

 

1

 

Another original rhythmical, metaphorical, and stanzaic piece for your entertainment.

 

by DesigN

 

Poets.use.different.devices.

To / sHarE / tHEir / ArT

The Manifestation of Inspiration

 

                                like        c.

or perhaps  2  amuse        e.e.

 

Iambic Pentameter of a Sonnet’s Verse

S i L l Y  c H a R a C t E r S

Few words for big ideas

 

Run-on sentences as a rebellion against proper grammar forced upon us by men who lived long ago and who needed to control the speech of the elites and maintain a prohibition against educating the hoi polloi who were the majority of the population.

 

Rhymes resounding like chimes

As a couplet in the prime of times

 

>Exactitude of Form

 

S*o*m*e*t*i*m*e*s   Quite Fanciful

 

An alliterative allusion about Atlas 

acting as an apt allegory affecting 

an amoral and avenging adversary.

 

Tempestuous seduction of metaphor

Onomatopoeia that oozes with sizzle

Rhapsodic similes like gospel melodies

The oxymoron of an ironic paradox

 

OR

the succinct haiku

an abstraction of a thought

composed on paper

 

>Precision of Wording

 

  W`` 

        ``A``

                ``T

               ``E`

                     `R ``

                         `` F`

                           A``

  ‘L ‘

                                 ``L` ’ S ‘ ‘

 

OR    \S

          \L                                          S 

            \O                                  P |

              \P                         _E |

                \E                    T |

                  \S     &     S |

 

I once knew a poet named Rick

Who was funny and punny and quick

But he needed to rhyme

To anyone, anytime

Til Nick beat him up with a stick

      

>Specificity of Layout

 

     G     E    O    M    E    T    R    I     C

                            L  ^ Q

                        L   ^   ^  U

                     I   ^    ^   ^   A

                 P   ^    ^    ^   ^   L

             S    ^    ^    ^    ^   ^   I

          O   ^    ^    ^    ^    ^   ^  Z

       I   ^    ^    ^    ^    ^    ^    ^   E

 < D    I     A     M     E     T    E     R    S >

                                    

Mind

Brain

Right

A

Of

Manipulation

Backward

 

THA   VOYS   OF   A   REBLE,

of ANGUSH, DISPEAR, FURRY

Criticism, Satire, Farce, Hyperbole

Or the admiration of an Ode with

Gratitude, Genrosity & Grace

 

Or maybe just plain print and original thought

 

 

2

 

 

Sabbath Sermonette

 

“It was books that taught me that the things that tormented me most were the very things that connected me with all the people who were alive, or who had ever been alive... All art is a kind of confession, more or less oblique. All artists, if they are to survive, are forced, at last, to tell the whole story; to vomit the anguish up.”  

James Baldwin

 

7

 

The Bright and Showy, Lighthearted and Carefree (definintion

 of gay by Mame in the eponymous musical) Olympics

 

Russia has caused an international blizzard of a furor due to recent anti-gay legislation enacted in the Red country and coinciding with the 2014 Olympics being held in Sochi. The icy legislation was supported and signed by the icy Russian dictator, Vladimir Putin, to perpetuate the legacy of the former USSR like a surrepticious check made from the penalty box. Putin claims that the laws prohibiting “propaganda of homosexuality in front of children” are not discriminatory and that no LGBT Olympian will be affected. In the meantime, Russian LGBT persons have been harassed, arrested, and beaten like pucks in a practice session in a Siberian gulag for “advocating homosexuality.” An avalanche of worldwide condemnation has had absolutely no effect on Putin and his Cossacks.

 

Today was the opening ceremony of the Olympics and never has such a gay winter wonderland been produced anywhere in the world for any event whatsoever. This had me thinking that something was frostbitten in the state of Sochi! This spectacle could only have been created, organized and choreographed by ice dancers from West Hollywood with the grace and agility of a slalom!   There is not a straight man alive who has the panache to even conceive of such an event or the cross-country endurance to implement it. The detective in me was rudely awakened like a snowman in hell and I knew there was more to this than met my eye as if I had been blinded by a gust of newly manufactured snow.

 

After a little googling I found out that the show had been produced by celebrities exraordinaire with the flair of a Jamaican bobsled team:  Elton John, Brian Boitano, Greg Louganis, Ellen, Billie Jean King, Tom Daley, Neil Patrick Harris, Martina Navratilova, Queen Latifah and Madonna. How did this happen, I queried. As it turns out they all used KGB-like pseudonyms:  Eldon James, Brianne Galtano, Butch Louganis, Helen, Willie Gene King, Tommi Lance Black, Patricia Neal Harris, Martin Navratilova, Queen Clausette and Madonna. (Surprisingly, it worked since pop culture is as forbidden in Russia as a Zamboni on a golf course!) 

 

I called Elton and he gave me the breakdown of who-did-what.  The duties were based on individual expertise:

 

Elton/Eldon:  Hats, Eyeglasses, Jackets and Rocket Men

Brian/Brianne:  Ice Ballet

Greg/Butch:  Ice Diving

Ellen/Helen:  Construction

Billie Jean/Willie Gene:  Construction

Tom/Tommi:  Water ballet

Neil Patrick/Patricia Neal:  Song and Dance Combos

Martina/Martin:  Construction

Latifah/Clausette:  Construction

Madonna/Madonna:  Everything Else

 

The show was ready in three days with the speed of a downhill racer flying over a mountian of moguls. (However, after three days the gay men were not speaking to each other, the lesbians were not speaking to the gay men and no one was speaking to Madonna who was like a bare patch in the path of a freestyle skier.)

 

Then Elton, gossip that he is, inadvertently gave away the most unbelievable, incredible, fantastical, shocking, thrilling, orgasmic secret of the entire Olympics faster than a lycra wedgie on a speedskater:  all the athletes from every country are either Gay, Lesbian, Bisexual or Transgender! At the closing ceremony each individual athlete will explode from the proverbial closet on worldwide television like a luge relay team bulleting down the alps! Sure, we knew that the figure skaters, the ice dancers, half the snowboarders and half the hockey teams were pretty gay and yet we never dreamed that something as awe-inspiring would actually come to pass. It just makes you want to glow in the colors of the rainbow found in the aura of nightime skiing! AND, one special guest will also be coming out like a quadruple axel (due to a vow of silence I can only say that his initials can be found in the phrase ‘Vancouver Preliminary Skeleton Trials" and that he will be half-naked!)

 

We thought that Russia was banning the Pride House but it turns out that every olympic residence is a Pride House with the exuberance of a hat trick by the Dream Team! The closing ceremony will be as smooth and spectacular as a curler on a pristine Canadian lake. I can already see the bombs bursting in air and gayly streaming! This is going to be the most fabulous Olympics ever and soon those rainbow circles will be furiously spinning with pride like a snowboarder doing an ollie with triple spins!  It’s like Dorothy finally returning to Kansas on a tornado of short track skaters. There’s no place like Sochi.

 

 

9

 

Sabbath Sermonette

“There was still no likelihood that we could make a living from dance. We were doing it because we loved it... We realized how full we felt; we were surrounded by music and dancing and joy.  To be who you are and become what you are capable of is the only goal worth living.”  

Alvin Ailey

 

 

10

"What is essential is invisible to the eye," -- Le Petit Prince.  

Like Alice through the looking glass, the following poem roams to a darker place -- that ominous landscape where many fear to venture and, hence, they do.

 

 

Transitory Essentials

 

There is a futile emotion that causes one's essence to decompose

And deteriorate, depriving it of energy and will and purpose

And the anguish, the decay, the despair, the sorrow

And the surrender are not curtailed by pharmaceuticals or psychology

And the intensity begins to erode the psyche

And the part that encompasses joy is disabled

And the part that maintains sanity fritters

And the part that sustains existence dissociates from consciousness

And contemplation diminishes to nonsensical imaginings

And social interaction becomes intolerable

And conversation is displaced by a disquieting silence

And inauthentic tears seem affected and irrelevant

And the heart aches from a forging of alienation and inconsequence

And the body is weighed down from the clash of inertia and angst

And sustenance provides neither pleasure nor vitality

And a vacant detachment eludes the burden of survival

And fragmentary sleep seems to soothe the delirium

And no one discerns or perceives the inauspicious confinement

And no one has the capability to circumvent unsettling apprehension

And no one can resuscitate the vanished radiance of this interior life

And the seconds trickle into minutes which degenerate into hours

And the hours ooze from a porous sheath of ambivalence to form days

And the days morph from inexorable agony into weeks

And the weeks creep into months of disordered distress

And unexpectedly the inner conflicts dissipate into a seeming truce

And the intimate maelstrom momentarily ceases

And then, so do you. 

 

 

14

 

Here's my beautiful Valentine for 2014!  And for all you lovers of romantic history...

 

 

The Story of the First Valentine’s Day

 

Mark Hall and Val Tyne were the best of friends – one could even say that their relationship was a bromance.  While they each had steady girlfriends, they both preferred spending time with each other.  The date was November 11, 1918, the place was Kansas City, Missouri and The War to End All Wars was finally over.  Mark and Val had been too young to go to war but they had high hopes for 1919, the new year of peace.  They decided they would start a business together to become rich and famous.  In the weeks following the armistice, soldiers were returning home by the boatloads, literally.  Appreciative women mobbed the returning heroes in every city and town.  Lightning struck Mark and Val – they had to take advantage of all the new romances that were burgeoning throughout the country.  They could make boatloads of money, literally, on romantic love that would continue to prosper long after the return of the vets. 

 

All they needed was a plan to make romance profitable year after year.  They needed to do some research and who better to know about romance than their girlfriends and the two other women they knew in the city.  The two girlfriends thought there should be a special day to celebrate romance with gifts from the men to show their love and fidelity.  They suggested February as the perfect month because men love to cuddle during the cold winter.  The other two women, roommates, said that a day of love should not be limited to just men as it was a human emotion first and they wanted to honor their loving female friends as well.  The boys had visions of sugar-plums and boatloads of money, literally, in front of them.

 

Mark and Val knew what they had to do – start a yearly holiday to celebrate love and romance with gifts for the women.  They chose August 1 as the day since August was such a boring, hot  and sweaty month.  But since air conditioning had yet to be invented, they thought, perhaps, the girls were right about February -- something to look forward to after Christmas and before the Easter holiday.  February it would be but what should the holiday be called?  Now it just so happened that Mark had a large collection of historical erotica that had cost him boatloads of money, literally.  He had recently read about Cupid, the Roman god of desire and erotic love.  He suggested the name, “Cupid’s Day”, to Val, adding “and you are my Cupid!”  But Val didn’t like the sound of Cupid’s Day for he feared it would soon be called “Stupid’s Day” since men would be forced to spend boatloads of money, literally, on gifts for the women.  Val’s eyes suddenly lit up.  “Let’s give our holiday a made-up name using our own names, Mark Hall and Val Tyne.”  So they made a list of possible names:  Mark-and-val's Day, Val-and-mark's Day, Val-and-kilmer's Day, Mark-and-hall's Day, Hall-and-oats' Day, Hall-and-tyne's Day, Val-and-tyne's Day.  That was it!  Val-and-tyne's Day!  VALANDTYNE’S DAY!  It was easy to pronounce and had a nice ring to it.  

 

The name was done, now a date.  Mark’s favorite number was four and Val’s was one.  Bingo -- the new date was February 14.  The final task was creating an easy gift for the men to give.  Chocolates were messy.  Flowers died quickly.  Clothes and jewelry cost boatloads of money, literally.  Val and Mark’s eyes lit up at the same time and they both shouted “Greeting Cards!”  The cards would be cheap and easy to manufacture and the boys would make boatloads of money, literally, just by selling greeting cards for Valandtyne’s Day.  It was pure genius.  And then Mark announced, “I’ve got the perfect name for our company – Markhall Cards.  Besides, the day has your name.”  Val thought for a second and said “No, but how about Hallmark, like a stamp of purity.”  And that’s how the Hallmark Greeting Card Company came to be.  Mark and Val put ads in all the Missouri newspapers and they sold so many greeting cards for the first Valandtyne’s Day that they made boatloads of money, literally. 

 

This was the beginning of the romantic holiday we still celebrate 95 years later. Sadly, Mark and Val were not able to enjoy the fruits of their labors for very long.   On the second Valandtyne’s Day in 1920, their girlfriends found them in bed together and bludgeoned them to death, literally… 

 

…and many a Happy Valandtyne’s Day to all!

 

 

16

 

Sabbath Sermonette

“The ultimate measure of a man is not where he stands in moments of comfort and convenience, but where he stands at times of challenge and controversy.  In the End, we will remember not the words of our enemies, but the silence of our friends.”

Martin Luther King, Jr.

 

20

 

Some thoughts on global homophobic legislation and violence...

 

 

Reminiscing Uganda

23

 

Sabbath Sermonette

“Homophobia is like racism and anti-Semitism and other forms of bigotry in that it seeks to dehumanize a large group of people, to deny their humanity, their dignity and personhood. This sets the stage for further repression and violence that spread all too easily to victimize the next minority group.”    

Coretta Scott King  

“Remember, Jesus would rather constantly shame gays than let orphans have a family.”  

Stephen Colbert

 

 

28

 

In February 1992, I descended into the Underworld, like Orpheus, but with neither purpose nor design.

 

 

Death in February (Part 1)

 

Frantic with intolerable sorrow

Outbursts of excruciating pain

Relentless anguish overwhelms the body, the mind 

Memory is tortured with final scenes

Of loss and abandonment

Maker of my very being

Why did you depart so soon

In sickness you never left my side

This day is inconsolable

Helen Therese Delahanty Davis

Loving mother of, adored wife of

Only the conviction that you peacefully evaded suffering

Vehemently impedes a mental disintegration

Eliciting the wherewithal to maintain

A semblance of composure

Notwithstanding bouts of weeping

Damn the Fates and Fausts and Frauds

Abetting the reaper in his crime

Nurturing the malevolence of sadists

Guised as aged disease

Unleash a thread of solace

Into this shroud of hopelessness

Staving off a paralyzing grief

Hacking in my lacerated heart

February twenty-six nineteen ninety-two

Ripping my inner being from its core

Obscuring my impaled essence

Mother, why have you forsaken me?

Be warned, time may never heal this raw, gaping wound

Over days and weeks and months and years

Begetting an angry void covered by a grotesque cicatrix

Blending together with all the life-marks to

Yield a crude, unrefined work-in-despair