cataractmoon’s blog

We Don't Always Understand What We Love is available for purchase.  You can read the opening chapter to get a detail on its strength.

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--Moon

-1-

The girl in the jeans and flannel

Sips coffee in San Francisco

Her husband snapping photos

The pier raging in the background

 

She holds the perfect smile

Like her modeling in New York City

Living out the daydream

Of a long forgotten lifetime

 

A teenager from Kansas City

A divorced father and a mother

And a lover we call her husband

With children coming after down the road.

 

(Chorus)

And I see her in the flannel

I see her when exhausted

I see the wavelength frequency

The crystalline of her posture

 

And I wonder when she breaks free

Waves slipping softly by her

And I wonder when she breaks free

Her arms flapping faster

Toward the shore.

 

-2-

A few years from San Francisco

The lady in the flannel

Loses her brave husband

To divorce and banal weather

 

She looks upon the relics

The vacations and the photos

Sees the perfect fourness

Of her family shaped together

 

Once posing in San Antonio

The piers and harbors fading

With the need for another camera

To tap into the loving

 

To delete the trips of anger

The fights against her lover

With no winner or an answer

Only pages to be turned and turned and turned.

 

(Chorus)

And I see her in the flannel

I see her when exhausted

I see the wavelength frequency

The crystalline of her posture

 

And I wonder when she breaks free

Waves slipping softly by her

And I wonder when she breaks free

Her arms flapping faster

Toward the shore.

 

-3-

But the girl in the jeans and flannel

Looks deeply into the mirror

Sees the gray hairs covered

With golden shapely color

 

The lines beneath her eyelids

Hide her behind the shadows

Of makeup placed near edges

As darkness rages inside her

 

Her body once the cover

Of the magazine and the party

She once walked into the room

Men turning their heads behind her

 

But the control of former glories

Slips into stories of her memory

So she sinks into the mirror

And loses something larger

 

Thirty-four years have passed her

And what can she show us

As she applies her rosy lipstick

And sprays perfume into the solid air.

 

(Chorus)

And I see her in the flannel

I see her when exhausted

I see the wavelength frequency

The crystalline of her posture

 

And I wonder when she breaks free

The waves slipping softly by her

And I wonder when she breaks free

Before she sees the shore.

 

-4-

Let's look into the future

The honor of the mother—

The lady in the flannel—

With her children smiling at her

 

She snaps the photo twice

At her two sons' graduation

She gets the perfect postures

The smiles and silly answers

 

But the long, forbidden questions

The truth of a single mother

Lining up her life's directions

But remembering within her belly

 

The beginning of life's addresses

Her children crawling on the carpet

Blowing their first bubbles

And laughing at their mother's happy voice.

 

(Chorus)

And the lady in the flannel

The lady once exhausted

They know her wavelength frequency

And her crystalline posture

 

They see her in the ocean

Waves slipping softly by her

They know that she is free

Her arms flapping faster

Toward the shore.

 

And they sit beside the beaches

And they listen to her stories

And they throw their arms around her

The flannel and the glory

 

All smiling, smiling, smiling

On the canvas shore.

 

--Moon

The mad sergeant says
in Apocalypse Now,
"I love the smell of napalm
in the morning."
And he skips about
happy and insane.

And our lives are like that--
directionless,
tireless,
worn down to rubber
on burnt tire tread.

and the smoke and thunder
hurling underneath
our breath and terror
spins too out of chaos

until we arrive
in bedroom silence
with our bodies
spooning and glooming
in a tired masterpiece

after Van Gogh's sanity.

The mad sergeant says.
But there are better things
to smell in the morning.

Your breath inhaling my chest.

--Moon

So, what shall I say about "Going Green"

The current Philosophy Now Journal describes Heidegger's ideas in this form:

"Heidegger believes that development of Science and Technology in the modern post-enlightenment world are expressions of this alienation"

and

"Science and Technology have in Heidegger's term now 'enframed' the natural world by turning it into a mere object of empirical study for commercial exploitation."

Do I agree with Heidegger?

Yes!  Going green is, of course, a movement, but it is also a fad of commercialism, to some degree.  Can the lower class really afford organic food when it cost twice or thrice as much while trying to feed a family?  Thus, to some degree, going green is a class and race issue of exploitation!  (Claim: I need better evidence to prove this point that "green food" costs more.  From my own examination, it seems to.)

But, we as a culture should conserve energy and as a state recycle, but Heidegger's point is more interesting than the Going Green movement.

We look at nature as empirical.  When we do that, we lose its mystical and naturally mysterious quality.  That is really the truth to me about GOING GREEN.  Not conserving electricity.  But, instead, walking from place to place and from cafe to cafe in the purest form of our bodies participating in the natural event of nature.  In this case, we are no longer alienated in our cars, but we are walking with the wind, the pine cones fallen off the tree, and truly seeing the natural progression of nature's cycles without defining it in its purest empirical form or data or geometrical or physics experiment.

However, I do not agree with Heidegger completely.  I do believe in the function of empiricism, but we must always remember that replacing this function with the true mystery of the human patterns that are sometimes inexplicable will take us into a moment when we see the raw reality of God right before our very eyes and move into that ZEN moment of non-rationality into perfect bliss and harmonization of the entire universe beyond reason and logic.

Going Green is Releasing your ZEN GARDEN within!

Q: Why don't you wear an American Flag pin?

Obama: I prefer to wear my Superman or Captain American Boxers.  Both heroes represent the all-American hero.  They are patriotic, as I am patriotic.

Q: But doesn't your former Pastor also wear these boxers?   And, since he wears them, doesn't that imply that you are guilty by association and un-American?

Obama: I disown the boxers that my former Pastor wears because they are not the boxers made by hard-working Americans in Pennsylvania.  He wears the same boxers, but his were reproduced in China, which is currently funding the Iraq War.  Therefore, I am still patriotic, even though I respect my former pastor's desire to wear boxers.

Q: Hillary, what do you think about Obama's boxers?  Is it hypocritical that he and his pastor wear similar boxers?

Hillary: I think the boxer debate is something the American people need to review.  And, I know the Republican party will bash Obama's relationship to his pastor's boxer choices.  I have spent thirty-five years working for the people of America, and though I served on the Board of Directors of Wal-Mart, the company where Obama's pastor purchased his Chinese boxers, I have fought the special interests and lobbyists in Washington.  And, I will stand up against the Republican attacks because I am a fighter and drink beer and bowl and have a husband who has sexually harassed lower class bimbos and other non-elitist women in Pennsylvania.

Obama: (with his finger in the air): I have to speak to this one, George.  Now George, Hillary's response is a typical answer of the old politics of Washington, and I am hear to change that view.  George, let me be brief.  No pun intended.  Let's talk about real issues.  The war in Iraq.  The economy.  The fact that our Pennsylvanian voter has lost his job and cannot even drive to Wal-Mart to purchase ObamaMania boxers because of the increased gas prices across the country. 

Hillary: George.  I should respond briefly.  No pun intended again.  When my husband was not wearing boxers but smoked illegal cigars from Cuba, I traveled to thirty-five or forty countries across the globe and fought for women's rights and faced some terrifying warfare in the process.  In fact, I am a Methodist who does not mind breaking the laws of my church to drink a Guinness in a Pennsylvania Irish bar.

Q: Any response from you Senator Obama?

Obama: Look.  All these points about me being an elitist are not true.  I mean, my wife is ghetto.  She speaks ghetto.  I hide her from the campaign trail until the media begins to portray me as an elitist.  So, she can outdrink Hillary any day, but we need an elitist to run this country, because honestly, George Bush has failed in his ability to reach out to others across the aisle and use logical reasoning in his choice of language, even though I mangle my words every now and then, hang out with Black extremists, and was not present when my pastor spoke harshly against 9/11 with anti-American sentiments.  Come to think of it, he doesn't wear a flag on his suit either.

Q: That will be all of the questioning for this evening.  Thanks for the enlightening discussions on the issues facing our country.  After the candidates leave, we will then spend the next three months evaluating each word spoken by the candidates.  CNN will make Clinton look like a hero.  Fox will shred Obama and Clinton to death.  And MSNBC will ride the fence on the issues.  That is all from the Constitution Center in Pennsylvania.  Good night!

-CM

When I first saw you, I knew one or two years from now, you would be a faint memory in my thoughts haunting me as I look at a cafe's window at traffic and tall buildings leaping toward the skyline.

With hope, you have flown like a bird to its nest, and I sit alone again knowing that I have helped you on your mission as far as I can lead you.

But, last year and the year before, you were like a scarecrow in the wind without a foundation to hold you straight, and I leapt into the tornado fields and rain and nearly coughed up blood from pneumonia to keep the straw from falling out of your lungs and body.

Maybe I jumped in too hard, and if I remained aloof to your presence and never entered your crazy, chaotic realm, you would be the same as you are today.  I have no idea.  But, I saw a person in the deepest and darkest places, the holes that I used to go and still do, and knew that if I allowed you to fall in the holes I typically crawl in that you may not find any substance left to disappear the deadness left to grow and kill your soul.

And, so you stood on my shoulders, and I have bruises and back pain to prove it.  You stood high in the sky while my feet sunk deeply into the mud.

And now?  Now, you seem to be okay.  One minute you were on my shoulders crazy and out of place, and then poof, you stopped biting your nails and learned to be yourself again.  How did it happen so quickly?

Now, I am left in the window looking out to the hospital across the street.  I'll stay here a few more minutes in finish the decaffeinated coffee and allow your ghost to remain.  And somehow, I plan to return to my former activities and realize that sometimes friendship is not meant to last forever and a day.

The best friend of all is the one who jumps into a situation knowing he or she might die along the way, and when the other has reached the pinnacle of her dreams and satisfaction, I can finally, finally walk away.

I sound sad today about it all, and maybe I am.  But, that is okay, because deep down...deep within the spirit of my being, I helped you crawl through the rabbit hole of your shadowy path and see your light again.

I believe I have helped, but now, I must live like the dark soul I have always been and remain fresh in my cave where only the lightning bugs will mix with the bats as they play a little game of "Tag, you're it!."

I am lost today, but I don't plan to stay lost for more than a day, Spring has sprung, and I have my own lungs to fill with breath before the lightning fades.

soar through the mountain clouds
to wipe the tears that shroud
your beauty and grace

slide down the sloping cliffs
unafraid of rocks that shift
and balance your descent

to pure snow
and the river's embrace

--moon

I thoroughly enjoyed Charlie Wilson's War. I do not know about the real events, but from the fictional perspective, he helped negotiate funds for Afghanistan to overthrow communist infiltration. Obviously, since communism and the cold war were a threat during the 1980s, Mr. Wilson was able to persuade a justification of spending funds.

However, once communism leaves Afghanistan, the movie shows him struggling with funding a rebuilding of the country, particularly since the majority of the population were, according to the film, under the age of fourteen. No communism and, therefore, no reason to continue funding the country for educational purposes.

The final question really looms. What if we had continued to fund the educational system of Afghanistan? What if international support had truly spent time rebuilding the bridges blown up by Russian jets? Could International support have stopped the Taliban government from overpowering the citizens and placing strict laws against the rights of women and children? Could we have helped move Afghanistan toward its own identity instead of waiting twenty-three years later for 9/11 to happen and for our military to re-enter the country and attempt to curb the problems of a known colonialism that Afghanistan has struggled against for many years before with the Russians?

We never know exactly our outcomes of a particular situation. If we leave, what happens? If we stay, what happens? When is it time to leave? How long is too long?

Some of these questions are still being discussed in regards to the Iraq War--an unjustified mistake. But, now we are there. Do we completely terrorize a country and then pull out too quickly? Or, do we completely terrorize a country and then wait to the right point to where the country has reached a pinnacle of stability? Regardless of the answer, we still terrorized a country, so it is difficult for me to fathom a reply to this question.

However, America should be held accountable for its actions, and the only candidates I hear speaking about accountability are Ron Paul--a Republican and Libertarian--and Barack Obama--a Democrat. Both men are extreme in their political belief system, but from their differences, they understand the consequences of the United States getting involved in CAUSES that may not be justified or sanctioned.

Nevertheless, we didn't help the Afghan people when they needed us most, and now we are infiltrating their country as we continue tracking down Taliban and Al Queda networks. And, we are doing our best in Iraq to navigate our troops through safety as yet another car bomb kills an inordinate amount of people once again for the sake of some CAUSE beyond our understanding.

Charlie Wilson's War is an incredible film as it contextualizes the Reagan Administration in an interesting light to me, but more than that, it tells me that history repeats itself, and while threads of communism disappear around the world, there are other terrors still pervading all lands. Some view that terror as American and Christian colonialism, and others view that terror as Islamic Extremism.

In the end, I can only be hopeful that a man like Obama can make strides as a pragmatic President who can bring hope again to a shattered world. And, there is no cause greater in this life than global reconciliation!

War reduces, depletes,
angers, and competes.
War destroys, ignites,
lingers, and deletes
the consciousness of humankind.

War may kill, fall,
maul, and repeat,
but dr. king, malcolm x, and ghandi
sit, reflect, react and sift
the consciousness of humankind.

When they die,
they stir, arise, and uplift
the eyes of youth
and old forgotten dreams
left to rot through the skin
of hollowed men and women.

and others with guns,
homebrewed bombs,
and kamikazee visions

despise, frustrate, and disengage
the rhetoric of peace
their missions skewing
the consciousness of humankind.

Until love sings again,
it lingers toward hate
beneath traps
of trigger fingers.

dr. king and malcolm x,
you stood on mountain tops
but could not relate
your vision
or escape
the terrorists on
american soil--
the violation of fate!

rise again, peace,
from the mountaintops of war.
cloak and cloud the pestilence
of every soar and sour sting
of hate and prejudice.

until we can be ghandi,
malcolm x,
and all peaceful kings.

--Moon

(the terrorist alluded to in the poem refers to the Americans who murdered Dr. King and Malcolm X.)

i erase me tonight
beneath the light of my manic disease,
and beyond my bipolar plight,
i bend down on my knees
and wonder if butterfly eyes
see clearly in midflight,
because beyond that dream
i erase me tonight.

--moon