More Amour ~ With legs, hands, lips and ~~ The Kiss

*

Okay, some sexy love fun is in order and, well, the photographs sing their own song. John Lee Hooker just ices the cakes. Hmm.

I don’t think I’ve ever seen high heels quite like the ones in the very last image of this video. Ladies, the last set of heels is all yours.  Homage to the sensual side of love–with a lot of legs. Yes,  a lot of legs. I think we have some idea of what appeals to this particular incarnation of “Irene Adler.” And to many of the rest of us.

Bang Bang Bang Bang ~ John Lee Hooker

Irene Adler·

*

It ought to be easy to find a translation of a song’s lyrics, right? Not so with In The Forest, a Polish tune.  Apparently the words cause even modern native speakers some grief because this is not modern Polish.  Best I can figure is that perhaps there’s some questions about if the guy deserves what happens to him–and, the thought “shit happens.” You’ll have to watch to the very end to get that last thought via an image. At least that ‘s how I’m interpreting it right now.  It’s bit of a walk on the dark side of romantic relationships. Just a bit. Don’t be dissuaded from listening because you don’t know Polish and there are no lyrics. The images tell a very familiar girl and boy story. I have no doubt you will recognize it.

In The Forest ~ Warsaw Village Band

JARO Medien GmbH – Bremen

*

I discovered Edna St. Vincent Millay in the fourth grade. What can I say? Great things in the school music and arts program–which also included The Highwayman of which a version also appears here and Poe’s The Bells, which does not appear here.

Love Is Not All

Love is not all: it is not meat nor drink
Nor slumber nor a roof against the rain;
Nor yet a floating spar to men that sink
And rise and sink and rise and sink again;
Love can not fill the thickened lung with breath,
Nor clean the blood, nor set the fractured bone;
Yet many a man is making friends with death
Even as I speak, for lack of love alone.
It well may be that in a difficult hour,
Pinned down by pain and moaning for release,
Or nagged by want past resolution’s power,
I might be driven to sell your love for peace,
Or trade the memory of this night for food.
It well may be. I do not think I would.

Edna St. Vincent Millay

*

Drive Elevator Scene ~ The Kiss ~ composer Cliff Martinez ~  Heads up, if you’re squeamish,  then stop watching for a short time, don’t stop listening or you’ll miss out, after the kiss while the music is in transition. If you have not viewed the film Drive, which is a truly great film, then I highly recommend it. Mary Poppins it is not.  That said, what would you do to protect those you love? Also, yes, Ryan Gosling’s character knows the man in the elevator is a hit man and he knows he has fatal intentions. He steps into the elevator knowing. These are not random acts. Everything has intention.  I cannot think of another film kiss that can compare with this one. If you can, I invite you to share it. Furthermore, there are clips of this scene set to other music by fans. I don’t know why they bother because Martinez’s score here is flawless for sheer emotive power in my opinion. Everything matters in this scene, every image, every look, every sound.

 PowerfulScenes

*

What can I can? If you love poetry, then discover Neruda if you have not already.  Here’s just one sonnet why.

One Hundred Love Sonnets: XVII

BY PABLO NERUDA

TRANSLATED BY MARK EISNER

I don’t love you as if you were a rose of salt, topaz,
or arrow of carnations that propagate fire:
I love you as one loves certain obscure things,
secretly, between the shadow and the soul.
I love you as the plant that doesn’t bloom but carries
the light of those flowers, hidden, within itself,
and thanks to your love the tight aroma that arose
from the earth lives dimly in my body.
I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where,
I love you directly without problems or pride:
I love you like this because I don’t know any other way to love,
except in this form in which I am not nor are you,
so close that your hand upon my chest is mine,
so close that your eyes close with my dreams.
[Online source: The Poetry Foundation http://www.poetryfoundation.org/poem/179257]

*

Before Sunrise Written & Directed By Kealan O’Rourke ~ A very lovely animated work about the dark finding light and the rest is transformation.

kealanorourke

*

Opera imaginaire ~  Lakme Flower Duet ~ Opera that works for me. Perhaps it will work for you too. I love how this transcends all sorts of obstacles and barriers on multiple levels: gender, culture, language, nature, humans, media, music and spirituality. If you don’t get it, then, well, you just won’t get it until you do a few dances with with a spring wind scented with apple blossoms.

magermunson

*

Oh My Love ~ Katyna Ranieri, song by Riz Ortolani’  ~  Oddly enough I cannot recall how I found this gorgeous piece.  I have heard of Ranieri. I have heard the song from some long ago time. There it was on the tubes of you and I was lucky enough to find a live performance by the very expressive Ranieri.

Mauro Piffero·

*

Irene and Sherlock  Love Game ~ Vitamin String Quartet ~  Oh my, Sherlock is BACK! with a modern wonderful vengeance. There’s a bit of an homage to Sherlock currently on the sidebar to celebrate this delight.  I selected this one because of the violin.

LittlestVioletSeller

*

The Highwaywman ~ Loreena McKennitt ~ Listen and read and imagine.

Xouliamas

Album: The Books of Secrets
Year: 1997

Lyrics by Alfred Noyes, abridged by Loreena McKennit

The wind was a torrent of darkness among the gusty trees
The moon was a ghostly galleon tossed upon the cloudy seas
The road was a ribbon of moonlight over the purple moor
And the highwayman came riding,
Riding, riding,
The highwayman came riding, up to the old inn-door.

He’d a French cocked hat on his forehead, a bunch of lace at his chin,
A coat of claret velvet, and breeches of brown doe-skin;
They fitted with never a wrinkle; his boots were up to the thigh!
And he rode with a jewelled twinkle,
His pistol butts a-twinkle,
His rapier hilt a-twinkle, under the jewelled sky.

Over the cobbles he clattered and clashed in the dark innyard,
And he tapped with his whip on the shutters, but all was locked and barred;
He whistled a tune to the window, and who should be waiting there
But the landlord’s black-eyed daughter,
Bess, the landlord’s daughter,
Plaiting a dark red love-knot into her long black hair.

“One kiss, my bonny sweetheart, I’m after a prize tonight,
But I shall be back with the yellow gold before the morning light;
Yet if they press me sharply, and harry me through the day,
Then look for me by the moonlight,
Watch for me by the moonlight,
I’ll come to thee by the moonlight, though hell should bar the way.

He rose upright in the stirrups; he scarce could reach her hand
But she loosened her hair i’ the casement! His face burnt like a brand
As the black cascade of perfume came tumbling over his breast;
And he kissed its waves in the moonlight,
(Oh, sweet black waves in the moonlight!)
Then he tugged at his rein in the moonlight, and galloped away to the west.

He did not come at the dawning; he did not come at noon,
And out of the tawny sunset, before the rise o’ the moon,
When the road was a gypsy’s ribbon, looping the purple moor,
A red-coat troop came marching,
Marching, marching
King George’s men came marching, up to the old inn-door.

They said no word to the landlord, they drank his ale instead,
But they gagged his daughter and bound her to the foot of her narrow bed;
Two of them knelt at the casement, with muskets at their side!
There was death at every window
And hell at one dark window;
For Bess could see, through the casement,
The road that he would ride.

They had tied her up to attention, with many a sniggering jest;
They had bound a musket beside her, with the barrel beneath her breast!
“now keep good watch!” And they kissed her.
She heard the dead man say
“Look for me by the moonlight
Watch for me by the moonlight
I’ll come to thee by the moonlight, though hell should bar the way!”

She twisted her hands behind her, but all the knots held good!
She writhed her hands till her fingers were wet with sweat or blood!
They stretched and strained in the darkness and the hours crawled by like years!
Till, now, on the stroke of midnight,
Cold, on the stroke of midnight,
The tip of one finger touched it!
The trigger at least was hers!

Tlot-tlot! Had they heard it? The horse-hoofs were ringing clear
Tlot-tlot, in the distance! Were they deaf that they did not hear?
Down the ribbon of moonlight, over the brow of the hill,
The highwayman came riding,
Riding, riding!
The red-coats looked to their priming!
She stood up straight and still!

Tlot in the frosty silence! Tlot, in the echoing night!
Nearer he came and nearer! Her face was like a light!
Her eyes grew wide for a moment! She drew one last deep breath,
Then her finger moved in the moonlight,
Her musket shattered the moonlight,
Shattered her breast in the moonlight and warned him with her death.

He turned; he spurred to the west; he did not know she stood
Bowed, with her head o’er the musket, drenched with her own red blood!
Not till the dawn he heard it; his face grew grey to hear
How Bess, the landlord’s daughter,
The landlord’s black-eyed daughter,
Had watched for her love in the moonlight, and died in the darkness there.

Back, he spurred like a madman, shrieking a curse to the sky
With the white road smoking behind him and his rapier brandished high!
Blood-red were the spurs i’ the golden noon; wine-red was his velvet coat,
When they shot him down on the highway,
Down like a dog on the highway,
And he lay in his blood on the highway, with the bunch of lace at his throat.

Still of a winter’s night, they say, when the wind is in the trees,
When the moon is a ghostly galleon, tossed upon the cloudy seas,
When the road is a ribbon of moonlight over the purple moor,
A highwayman comes riding,
Riding, riding,
A highwayman comes riding, up to the old inn-door.

~

~Bear:  LOVE    http://bearspawprint.wordpress.com/2013/12/13/music-themes-love/
____________________________________________________________
Eva:   More Amour — With legs, hands, lips, and The Kiss —            https://47whitebuffalo.wordpress.com/2013/12/13/more-amour-with-legs-hands-lips-and-the-kiss/
Eva:   What’s Love Got To Do?    What’s Love Got to Do? Musical Theme for Friday, the 13th of December 2013.
____________________________________________________________
Willow: ??     http://willowdot21.wordpress.com/
____________________________________________________________
Johnny: LOVE
http://johnnyojanpera.wordpress.com/2013/12/13/musi-theme-december-13-love/  ____________________________________________________________
Deborah: Love and Random Acts of Kindness: A Musical Exploration           http://myriad234.wordpress.com/2013/12/13/love-and-random-acts-of-kindness-a-musical-exploration/
____________________________________________________________
D.S. Nelson: ??   http://hatpaintladdersandwonkypooh.wordpress.com/

 

 

 

 

 

Advertisements

Poetry and Power in Qatar ~ and beyond.

So, you thought poetry was just for fun rhymes and wooing women? Without music poetry is often backhanded as a literary form ignored and disdained as too esoteric or too convoluted for straightforward no nonsense reading.  By the way, if you think Mother Goose nursey rhemes are just silly ditties, you’ll think again after going a few rounds with an annotated copy with the darker references to realities. Oh, speaking of reality.

MIC CHECK

A while back I had an actual face to face conversation with a young woman who insisted no one had never been imprisoned for writing literature. I found her literal ignorance astounding  not only for her lack of awareness of the historical contexts in which writers in all genres have run into very serious trouble for expressing their views, but also for what it revealed about her lack of comprehension of some of the works she’d claimed to have read. Hence, this post. I believe it makes my point in a very very contemporary fashion.

From Democracy Now!’s headline news

15-Year Sentence for Qatari Poet Upheld

Democracy Now! Headline News for 22 October 2013

In Qatar, the top court has upheld a 15-year jail sentence for a poet convicted of incitement against the regime. Mohammed al-Ajami was arrested in November 2011 for allegedly disparaging members of Qatar’s ruling family in a poem. But activists say the real motivation was his poem “Tunisian Jasmine,” in which he expressed support for the Arab Spring uprisings, writing, “We are all Tunisia in the face of repressive elites.” Al-Ajami was initially dealt a life term but that was reduced to 15 years in February. His lawyer said he has been held in solitary confinement for two years. Al-Ajami’s only recourse now is to appeal to the emir. Click here to see our interview from Qatar with Mohammed Al-Ajami’s lawyer.

http://www.democracynow.org/2013/10/22/headlines#102211

Qatari poet Mohamed Ibn Ajami Imprisioned for Life for Reading a Poem 

[“Tunisian Jasmine” audio text]

Published on Feb  9, 2013

February 6, 2013 7:23pm PST
From Democracy Now: “Three days after the United Nations Climate Change Conference began here in Doha, a Qatari court sentenced a local poet to life in prison, a move that shocked many activists in the Gulf region and human rights observers. The sentencing of Mohammad ibn al-Dheeb al-Ajami came nearly two years after he wrote a poem titled “Tunisian Jasmine,” supporting the uprisings in the Arab world. “We are all Tunisia in the face of repressive elites!” al-Ajami wrote. “The Arab governments and who rules them are, without exception, thieves. Thieves!” We speak to his attorney and a member of Qatar’s National Human Rights Committee.”
http://www.democracynow.org/2012/12/7…
From the Guardian “A Qatari poet has been sentenced to life in prison for an Arab-spring-inspired verse that officials claim insults Qatar’s emir and encourages the overthrow of the nation’s ruling system, his defense attorney says.
It was the latest blow in a widening clampdown on perceived dissent across the Gulf Arab states.
The verdict in a state security court is certain to bring a fresh outpouring of denunciations by rights groups, which have repeatedly called for the release of the poet, Muhammad ibn al-Dheeb al-Ajami. It also marks another example of tough measures by judicial and security officials in the Gulf against possible challenges to their rule since the Arab spring revolts began last year.
The poet’s lawyer, Najib al-Nuaimi, said he planned to appeal.
“This judge made the whole trial secret,” said Nuaimi. “Muhammad was not allowed to defend himself, and I was not allowed to plead or defend in court. I told the judge that I need to defend my client in front of an open court, and he stopped me.”
Ajami was jailed in November 2011, months after an internet video was posted of him reciting Tunisian Jasmine, a poem lauding that country’s popular uprising, which touched off the Arab spring rebellions across the Middle East. In the poem, he said: “We are all Tunisia in the face of repressive” authorities, and criticized Arab governments that restrict freedoms.
Qatari officials charged Ajami with “insulting” the Gulf nation’s ruler, Sheikh Hamad bin Khalifa Al Thani, and “inciting to overthrow the ruling system”. The latter charge could have brought a death sentence.
Nuaimi said Ajami, a third-year student of literature at Cairo University, had been held in solitary confinement since his arrest.
Gulf regimes have stepped up crackdowns on a range of perceived threats to their rule, including Islamist groups and social media activists. Earlier this month, Kuwaiti authorities arrested four people on charges of insulting the emir with Twitter posts, and the United Arab Emirates imposed sweeping new internet regulations that allow arrests for a wide list of offensives, including insulting leaders or calling for demonstrations.
Last year, Bahrain issued a royal pardon for some protest-linked suspects, including a 20-year-old woman sentenced to a year in prison for reciting poetry critical of the government’s effort to crush a Shia-led uprising against the Sunni monarchy.”
http://www.guardian.co.uk/world/2012/…

 

I don’t know about you, but this packs a resounding wallop in my book of verses.

Running Wild: The Life of Dayton O. Hyde and the Black Hills Wild Horse Sanctuary.

Sometimes the book of faces is just perfect for exploring interconnectedness–especially when it brings all sorts of interesting people and places right to your news feed no hunting required. Beautiful images of horses being horses at the Black Hills Wild Horse Sanctuary in South Dakota caught my attention a while back. Today they brought my attention to the film Running Wild: the Life of Dayton O. Hyde which is showing at the Slamdance Film Festival in Park City, Utah January 18-24, 2013.  Apparently there’s more going in Utah than Peaceful Uprisings. Film site : http://www.runningwildfilm.com/

Slamdance website: http://www.slamdance.com/    Information on film festival and writing competition via the link. Slamdance is also on Facebook.

Running Wild: The Life of Dayton O. Hyde runs at Slamdance Jan. 19 & 22, 2013

Full Motion Pictures Presents “Poet on the Prairie” which provides more than a film teaser length look at the content of Running Wild.  For more Full Motion Pictures: http://www.youtube.com/user/FullMotionPictures

Black Hills Wild Horse Sanctuary:  http://www.wildmustangs.com/  Discover information and  wonderful photographs of horses on their Facebook page.

Dayton O. Hyde:  http://www.daytonohyde.com/

Wild Horse Channel on the tubes of you:  http://www.youtube.com/WildHorsesChannel . Get some music with mustangs –view more of Josefina, Nina and Gabriella enjoying life.  Here’s Don Juan’s dancing to catch your fancy:

Here’s my favorite horse poem so far.  Please share your favorite horse poems, photographs, videos and/or films via the comments.

devotees

slowly he disappears among the penned ponies

knowing and yet wishing not

the tents, uniforms, guns

wary of even his own now

aware their life fabric has been brutally sliced

soft mouths nuzzle his hands

he inhales ever reliable horse scents

cares not for calico, coffee or coins

long tails twitch and flick as he moves among them

keen to his warrior man smell

as willing to push their all beyond the limits

as he

wind racing

foreign tongue streams nearby

ripping good hearts into rancid meat

furthest away surrounded by hooves, manes, hot breath

blows against his neck

stars safe above

spring grass under feet

he drinks their peace

they eat his pain

whispering

we are one

crazy horse

@wojcik

Sensual Saturday Singing from Leonard Cohen

There’s just something about listening to Leonard Cohen last thing at night before sleep descends for the Dreamtime then waking to more Leonard Cohen in the morning.  If you’re so inclined please post your desired Cohen sublimations. Morning all.

 

Leonard Cohen, LIVE from London 2008 —

“In My Secret Life” YouTubed by bikerdude990

 

“First We Take Manhattan” YouTubed by Peter Run

 

“Dance Me to the End of Love” YouTubed by Samos 360

 

Anthem “Ring the Bells that Still Can Ring” YouTubed by frountch

 

“The Future” YouTubed by aleckseykaplienko

Crazy Brave, a memoir by Joy Harjo. Who needs a muse?

Click cover image to visit Joy Harjo online.

     “I often painted or drew through the night, when most of the world slept and it was easier to walk through the membrane between life and death to bring back memory. I painted to the music of silence. It was here I could hear everything.” Joy Harjo

Joy Harjo’s memoir, Crazy Brave, is one wickedly beautiful piece of intensely personal poetic writing.  This is not a fact crammed autobiography tossing up gossip and shallow dirt galore. This is a sharing of a poetic journey of becoming self in this strange world we inhabit. Harjo’s word craft strives to bridge the differences of perception and perceiving that often keep people unaware of their connections to each other and the universe. This is a memoir that offers a sense of what it means to be Joy as she unfolds to embrace her creative gifts.  Don’t read this book expecting to learn all about Joy’s journey into Jazz or how she feels playing on the international stage as a musician-poet.  Read this book as an opening act to learning about one woman’s love for art and music as life.  This is a book about spirit and love and suffering along a path that knows no limits or boundaries between time, space or place.  Certain experiences and people are shared as part of her journey as Joy contemplates past, present and future life. Dealings with lovers, friends and family are offered as part of the pathway to learning to speak and sing.  It’s about making choices and listening with trust to the knowing even when it speaks ever so softly.  It’s about making a commitment to the poetic spirit in the fullest sense of living.

     “To imagine the spirit of poetry is much like imagining the shape and size of the knowing. It is a kind of resurrection light: it is the tall ancestor spirit who has been with me since the beginning, or a bear or a hummingbird. It is a hundred horses running the land in a soft mist, or it is a woman undressing for her beloved in firelight. It is none of these things. It is more than everything” (JH p. 164).

Like many poems Crazy Brave can be read in one sitting yet it will stay with you long after the last page.  It may well haunt your dreams and intrude upon your waking hours.  The poetic journey is one without beginning or end. It’s an ongoing adventure. A work in perpetual progress. This is a memoir that reveals the poetic power of prose that sings a life song.             

Cloud Man pens more White Clay

 White Clay

 
There were two bars in the hamlet.
I like the word Hamlet.
It cleans up the place nicely,
There was Jumping Eagles.
And
There was Stabler’s
Just two bars.
To survive a Saturday night there
Was do-able,
It was dangerous and not.
It is more dangerous now.
I never saw anyone close to dying
Now I do
Back then death was sudden
I had two friends die Sudden
A half mile from the HAMLET.
Sad ass joke to be or not to be.
But if I was there they were laughing
Laughing as they slammed into the other car.
Only nine died that day
.
.
Cloud Man
 

“ME” by Cloudman

Cloudman, guest poet, shares “ME” — a poem that references the infamous Nebraska town of Whiteclay where selling alcohol to the Lakota  is the raison de existence.
.
.
.
                            ME
Once again White Clay memories walk in,
I was sitting by the shade of Howard’s store,
Watching as Elders came for a drive to buy,
From Howard
Lakota words on the side of his store,
Advertising food,
This White Clay is another memory,
On another day
I awoke one morning surrounded by
Federal marshals and F.B.I’s
Asking who I was What I was
Even then my identity was in question
Now I ask who am I What am
These years later when White Clay
Is more known then I
.
Cloudman
.
.
.
Link to Wikipedia regarding White Clay http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pine_Ridge,_Nebraska
From Wikipedia:

Soon after the territory entered the public domain, a trading post was set up to sell alcohol to the Lakota, and merchants have continued to do so since. In 2010, its four beer stores sold an estimated 4.9 million 12-ounce cans of beer, an average of over 13,000 cans per day, for gross sales of 3 million dollars.[1] They have no place to consume beer on site, and it is not supposed to be drunk on the streets, but there are often inebriated customers sprawled around Whiteclay. John Yellow Bird King, president of the Oglala Sioux Tribe, says that tribal members bring alcohol illegally back from Whiteclay and “90 percent of criminal cases in the court system” are alcohol-related.[5] Beer is sold almost exclusively to residents from the reservation, as the nearest big city is two hours to the north.[5] According to Mary Frances Berry, the 10-year chair of the United States Commission on Civil Rights, Whiteclay can be said to exist only to sell beer to the Oglala Lakota.[6]

Victor Clarke, the owner of Arrowhead Foods, a grocery store in Whiteclay that does not sell alcohol, said he “did more than a million dollars in business last year, with an entirely Native American clientele.”[2] As the reservation has no banks and few stores, its residents spend most of their money in Nebraska border towns, for regular needs as well as alcohol. The beer stores in Whiteclay cash welfare and tax refund checks for the Oglala Lakota, taking a 3 percent commission.[5]

Rain + Poetry = Navajo Water Songs

Dine’ poet Luci Tapahonso’s “Dust Precedes the Rain” seems appropriate for both a tip of the cyber hat to April as National Poetry Month –and to focus on the joys of water, especially rain–water that falls from the sky.

“The water from the sink is no good for making pottery.

It just ruins it,” my children’s Acoma grandmother would say.

Thereafter she sent the kids to replace the full bowls of rainwater

that had filled since it began to rain.

Her son said that when he was a child, the rain smelled

and tasted so good–he and other kids played outside,

laughing and running around–and they stopped once in a while to lick

the cool adobe walls . The sides of the smooth houses were

fragrant and nurturing. From atop the mesa at Acoma Pueblo,

it is possible to see almost seventy miles in each direction.

 

It is the same on the reservations surrounding Phoenix.

Long before the rains come, the gentle desert wind

carries the scent of rain, wild plants flutter anxiously,

and pets frolic, acting silly. To the west, the thunderheads

loom dark and full. Thin waves of dust precede the rain,

rolling tumbleweeds and bits of paper, and the children run and skip,

allowing the wind to push them along. They yell and laugh.

The lilting sounds ae carried eastward by the blowing slants

of rain–their laughs and shouts  caught in the leaves of sturdy trees.

They linger in the crevices of small hills and arroyos

and finally swirl into the slopes of the purple mountains nearby.

 

It must have been the same when the Hohokamiki lived here

where the expressway crosses over. The children played

in the dust- charged breezes, shouting and running in circles,

and when the rains began, they paused, their faces turned upward

to taste the cool clean rain.

 

Their quiet gratitude for brimming pots of water remains

now in the crumbling re-buried walls fo their small homes.

The still concentration with which they painted pottery

remains in the small toys and tiny woven sandals that are unearthed:

their spirits remain in the dry grains of dirt

that were dug up by shovels, backhoes, and bulldozers.

 

This is evident in the persistence of the bright wild plants

that push their way out of the dry ground.

This is evident in the new growth that springs up

along the arroyos and streams following sudden rains.

This is evident in the island of peaceful silence

that the museum cradles amid the city’s frenzy.

This is evident in the restless energy of the busloads

of children who visit the old homes of the Hohokamiki today.

They recognize the old history that is theirs.

They recognize the old history that is ours.

@Luci Tapahonso, “Dust Precedes the Rain” from Blue Horses Rush In, University of Arizona Press

Link for Luci Tapahonso at University of Arizona:

http://www.ais.arizona.edu/people/luci-tapahonso

Child of Water  video uploaded by outtayourbackpack, Camille Manybeads sings.

Wild Irish Poet Calling

Greetings, all cyber surfers. The speech video posted here came to my attention while visiting Occupy Dame Street in Dublin, Ireland on its first day of streaming live for a few hours.  If you’ve wandered into the various chatstreams arising for the spreading occupy movement then you’ve probably experienced everything from total madhouse chaos of Occupy Wall Street in New York City to relatively coherent discussion of issues in Los Angeles–at times.  Pure chance led me to Dublin’s livestream debut and its sublimity. Yes, sublimity of experiencing the positive actualization of what the internet can do for bridging the literal physical distance between people and places.  People were watching and listening online the very serious and informed discussions of those occupying Dame Street across from the Central Bank in Dublin, Ireland. We watched, listened and conversed.  There was discussion and communication in English and Gaelic. It was grand. After the livestream went down to cool the computer on the ground and recharge its batteries the conversation continued. It was sweet, heady stuff. Not because of the political exchange, but because of the reaching out and sharing and learning and connecting.  All the things nearly impossible in the now often free for all textual brawling, trolling and raving in the Occupy Wall Street chatstream.  This video shared by the wildirishpoet is a tiny part of that wonderful conscious inter-connecting. It exemplifies something important for Ireland that can be extrapolated to the rest of humanity–to manifest the sublime we’re capable of actualizing.

It’s been interesting to watch this “movement” of occupation from its inception in New York City with Occupy Wall Street.  At the start it was impossible to find any coverage of the event and now, well, now even Fox News is covering OWS as best it can–with the usual suspect results of course. Still it’s telling that even right wingers are increasingly aware of  the occupy movement. It’s clear some have no comprehension of the fundamental issues that are bringing people into the streets to voice discontent. The lack of understanding is a sign of what’s gone so very wrong in this culture and others. When one part of the population doesn’t really comprehend what’s got people riled up to civil disobedience then there’s a serious problem with seeing reality.  It’s still easy for many to remain comfortable and cozy in their havens of home and work.  But I sense that comfort will not last much longer. Chris Hedges recently penned a piece titled “Why the elites are in trouble.”  Hedges hits the target right on mark. The occupation will continue until real change occurs.  But what Hedges does not contemplate–at least not yet to my knowledge–is just what bringing about real positive change will entail in the long run.  The One Percent and their minions may be aware and may have passed the stage of ridiculing the movement indeed–but they are nowhere near capitulating to its demands. Why should they–yet? When they have many tools of FORCE at their beck and call via the carrot of money to blow.  I suspect the honeymoon period is about over for the Occupy Movement. The newness and novelty are fast fading.  Roots have dug in and are spreading.  Now real work is beginning–the work of awaking the rest of the population, the work of having to really deal with the power of the One Percent who will NOT “go quietly into that dark night”.  This shifting of consciousness has no clear ending in sight. No one really knows just where it will lead. Oh there is all the hope for a better world for everyone. The thing is how will we get to that promised land of loving compassion for all? There are still the dark dark woods to venture through. And the history of human nature so far shows that’s not an easy journey.  This is about more than just creating jobs that give everyone a living wage and enough disposable income to feed the consumer addiction.  This shift in values, perspective and relating goes far beyond that and what shape(s) may eventually manifest is anyone’s guess.  Oh and for those thinking this will fade and go the way of the peace movement of the 60s, I say think again. This is an awakening that knows no bounds. When the mind is free from illusions then there are no limits, no  boundaries and no constraints. People often cite the Rule of Law. Well The Law is a human construct. It’s clear our current Rule of Law is fatally flawed. It does not serve the people. It serves the interests of the One Percent. Only the Laws of Nature are pure and uncorrupted by human meddling. The Laws of Nature are perfect and complex. Nature’s Law trumps human created Rule of Law because it cannot be corrupted by avarice, ego or blackmail.  For humans there are laws beyond Legal Law. At the risk of sounding offhandedly simplistic I’ll call these the “laws of doing the right things” for the “right reasons.”   We want to protect the Earth because it’s our only home and it’s a Wonderful Home. We don’t have a planet to migrate to so we need to clean this one up if we wish to continue as a species.  We reach out and help others because it’s what caring humans do. Some, like Tim DeChristopher, defy the human construct of Rule of Law to do the right thing–and do it without regret or remorse because they know they’re doing what needs to be done on the most fundamental levels of understanding and awareness.

The Rule of Law serves the One Percent, it’s just one tool they will use in every way they can because they enjoy being the One Percent Feudal Lords  and they don’t want their luxury boats rocked by any uprising serfs.  The One Percent has not yet begun to fight back. They will. It won’t be a pretty sight. They will not cede power and bow out gracefully. That’s not their style as evidenced by how they’ve become the One Percent  This revolution will not be won by millions of keys shaken in the streets per the Czech’s Velvet Revolution. It’s going to be won one heart and mind at a time. And that’s damn hard work.  Get ready for the long haul because once awake no one goes back to sleep.  This street only goes one way–forward. To where? How long? Creating what?

Imagine the possibilities.

What kind of world do you want to live in?

I imagine a world where no one goes without the necessities of life because of someone else’s greed; where quality education is free for everyone; where everyone gets the healthcare they need; where there is no war, where Mother Earth is loved and respected; where everyone can live a live worth living–and that’s just for starters.

namaste

Links of possible interest:

Occupy Dame Street, Dublin, Ireland:   http://www.livestream.com/occupydamestreet                  

The Spirit of Ireland Film:  http://www.thespiritofirelandfilm.com/          

 

Potluck leftover brain stew…..

Ever experience a collection of seemingly random concepts simmering in your brainpan? Some thoughts are easier to reconcile than others.  Some blend better than others–like some ingredients for potluck leftover stews. At another blogcasa there’s an ongoing discussion concerning truth, ethics, and politics. For now I’d rather let that conversation remain there because right now the following ideas are on my mental docket–and these extend beyond the context of that other dialogue. But the common ground entails notions about truth–and the consequences and ramifications of engaging in truth-telling. 

totalitarianism  

                                         fascism

                                                                    authoritarian nationalism

“Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof, or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people to peaceably assemble, and to petition the Government for a redress of grievances.”

First Amendment to the United States Constitution, United States Bill of Rights

Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame, with conquering limbs astride from land to land; Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand a mighty woman with a torch, whose flame is the imprisoned lightning, and her name Mother of Exiles. From her beacon-hand Glows world-wide welcome; her mild eyes command The air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame, “Keep, ancient lands, your storied pomp!” cries she with silent lips. “Give me your tired, your poor, Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free, The wretched refuse of your teeming shore, Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me, I lift my lamp beside the golden door!”

“The New Colossus”  by Emma Lazarus

“Anyone can kill a man. Anyone can take a scalp. But only the bravest warrior can count coup and fight with no weapon at all.”

Matho Wayhui ~ Conquering Bear, Brule Lakota

Clicking on the photograph connects to PowWows.com’s collection of  old photographs.

What’s this stew taste like to you? 

« Older entries

RevolutionResource.org

Agitate, Educate, and Organize ~OO~

Deceleration

Climate Change: Mitigation. Adaptation. Justice.

Lgambill48's Blog

a place for reflective expression.

Shechaim's News of the Day

#neveragain/Amendment#6/Me Too Movement/ (ERA), Equal Rights Amendment/

Free Alabama Movement

National Movement Against Mass Incarceration and Prison Slavery

Books Can Save A Life

"Sometimes a person needs a story more than food to stay alive." Barry Lopez

The Greenery

Ideas That Grow

The Case for Global Film

Discussing everything that isn't Hollywood (and a little that is)

LRInspire

Wellness Leadership Education

Tales from the Conspiratum

Warning: This site may contain conspiracies

Make No Bones About It

The Quest for the Truth

Beyond Extreme Energy

No new permits for fossil fuel infrastructure. Renewable energy NOW.

Mugilan Raju

Prime my subconscious, one hint at a time

ipekseyhanpoyrazkarayel

Asla İdeallerinden Vazgeçme Asla! Never Give Up Your İdeals Never!

Interesting Literature

A Library of Literary Interestingness

Portraits of Wildflowers

Perspectives on Nature Photography

Cynthia Reyes

The blog of Canadian author Cynthia Reyes

1EarthUnited

Uniting the world, One Love at a time. :D

The Stay-at-home Scientist

Science, Gardening, Work-Life Balance

People Powered Machines

Our business is committed to saving energy, reducing emmissions and waste.

drwilda

Just another WordPress.com site

Tubularsock

". . . first hand coverage, second hand news"

Espen Stenersrød- From Pen To Heart

Jack Kerouac with a scent of Henry Vaughn

Army at Wounded Knee

A blog dedicated to documenting through primary sources, the Army's actions at Wounded Knee

yadadarcyyada

Vague Meanderings of the Broke and Obscure

Ekostories

Essays connecting nature, culture, self

Red Wolf Journal

A literary compass for finding your voice..."You turn toward me, your lips move, wanting to speak."--Stephen Dobyns, "Wolves In The Street"

poet4justicedotwordpressdotcom

The poet can reach where the sun cannot. -HINDU PROVERBThe greatest WordPress.com site in all the land!

"OUR WORLD"

Working together to make the world a better place to live! A fine WordPress.com site

Spirit In Action

Change IS coming. WE can make it GOOD.

CreekWaterWoman

Simply a spot for this mid-lifer to dump some words, a poem, an essay.

Rezinate's Blog

Just another WordPress.com site

Through the Peacock's Eyes

Insights for Spiritual Living

Heila

My Cats say Life is Simple

the zen space

a space for zen words

We Write Poems

a community of people reading & writing poems, moving words

shelbycourtland

Bringing Social Issues To The Forefront

R. L. Culpeper

Sapere Aude

THE ONENESS of HUMANITY

Earth | Peace | Truth | 2018

InkPaperPen

You can't stop the waves, but you can learn to surf.

Eléctrica in the Desert

News, photos, stories, and trouble from the borderland