Why art satisfies

This is NaPoWriMo #2 .  At the very end - this poem makes a allegation about art and why we find it meaningful.

Better than television

The rolling wire probe
tests the level
of moisture
in this careful
world in glass.

Nurtured,
self-contained
moss, tiny ferns,
bugs, little lizards,
a climate trained for
atmospheric tricks
on command.

So every Friday night
Manfred sells tickets,
puts the terrarium
through its paces,
circles folding chairs
around his coffee table.
Unlocks the doors
Pops the corn
Announces each act.

"Ladies and Gentlemen
we bring you a special performance
by the Sudden Storm Troupe!
First up, the magnificent duo:
Lightening and Thunder!"
(applause followed by flashing
and crashing sounds, followed by
more spontaneous applause)

"And wasn't that spectacular?
And now,  please welcome:
Heavy Rains with Driving Wind:"
(applause, rapid pelting, vigorous
whooshing, then more applause).

Ringside seats
No channels to change.
Sometimes the storm inside
and the storm outside align:
Audience satisfaction.
Transcendance.

-- Mar Walker

The prompt was to take the acronym for the site name ( RWP for Read Write Poem) and run it through "Acronym Attic" then pick one of the lines and write a poem inspired by it. "Rolling Wire Probe" and "required weather performance" were the lines that inspired this poem

NaPoWriMo: Poem #1 Chameleon

Today's prompt was to write a shuffle poem using the first five titles that appear in the shuffle mode of your MP3 program or device. I took the first five English titles that appeared as my player is overloaded with Italian, German, and Latin items in the Classical genre. These are the first five English Titles I got:
** The Concept of the Open Throat (From a voice instruction CD by David Jones)
** Madama Butterfly Act I (Puccini)
** In the Fen Country (Vaughan Williams)
** When I Have Sung My Songs (Ernest Charles)
** I Cried All the Way to The Altar (Patsy Cline)

Here is the first poem:

Chameleon

I cried all the way to the altar
in the fen country of never
then like Madam Butterfly Act I
I waited in the sap green hills
between the paper walls
with irrational hope
for my life to start

I had delusions but
Pinkerton had a  plan, a social agenda.
As he sails away, I cannot find the right knife
the right note, I sing and sing until
all the songs have gone out
like last ship, the last love
the last dim star.

As the finale crashes to its end
I think about the coda: I think
when I have sung my songs
I should burn this music.*
After the fire, I lift my brushes,
paint still LIFE, or land SCAPE
and never wait for masagynists
or condescending conductors, and
the concept of the open throat
suddenly demands blackberries or peaches,
or a sigh of contentment at the end of the day.

And the good light shines in any color I want
every morning for the rest of my life

-- Mar Walker

*this is a metaphorical statement. I would not burn a score

Nature's economy

I was looking out the window yesterday afternoon and noticed a big black crow on the lawn. It seemed to be watching something. Across the street in a neighbor's yard two squirrels sprinted face first down a straight tree trunk. They were moving very fast, hit the ground flat out. The first bounded across the road; the second was turned back by a car.

The lead squirrel had something in its mouth. I thought it was a hunk of  bread, and that must be what was so interesting to the crow. Then I realized the bread was wiggling, had legs and a tail. At first I thought it was a mouse, and marveled because I didn't realize squirrels were carnivorous.

When the victor squirrel got into our driveway, it stopped and started to eat the poor thing alive, opening  a bright bloody wound in its throat as it struggled. Of course I ran out yelling like a fool.  I  guess I thought it might drop its prize. As I approached I realized, this creature (whose species I had previously admired) was a cannibal. It was eating a live baby squirrel, and not a tiny infant either, a juvenile, about a quarter of his size, but still recognizable as a grey squirrel with a grey coat, white underbelly and a long but less fuzzy tail.

The crows, three at this point, were closing in too, and the squirrel leaped into nearby  tree with its poor prize clamped in its jaws. A neighbor approached and I had to explain why I was yelling.  By then I couldn't see where it went. So I went back inside the house,

Less then a minute passed and I looked out the front window. The crows had won the second round. They had the taken cannibal squirrel's meal which was now in three pieces, one bloody piece in front of each crow. And the crows were polishing off their meal. Nature is not gentle, but in its stark economy there is a great horrific beauty.  Trust me - it's not  the invention of a loving kindly god. I'd hope as a species we can have as a goal to be kinder  than nature.

I still don't know if the squirrel chasing the cannibal was the mother squirrel or a bystander like the crows, who was trying to steal dinner.

So called infallible pope covers up abuse

http://www.youtube.com/v/jT8sQvXXU8Y&hl=en_US&fs=1&

http://www.youtube.com/v/dWErBV0MfEg&hl=en_US&fs=1&

Offline, life is better

Though I am unemployed, I am not unoccupied. My life has taken on a certain friendly rhythm.. I get up in the morning, get coffee and study my current row of unfinished paintings. I ponder them, and what needs to be done to them in the beautiful morning light. Besides daily tasks and occasional errands and things to take care of,  for the last few weeks, I have basically been painting all day from 7 to 3 pm. as if it were my job.

Only then -- after 3p.m. do I  allow myself to go online. I used to be on all day -- let me repeat ALL DAY!  I would CHURN in that endless internet way -- where by you feel like you are working at something, yet afterwards you realize you have actually done nothing and taken all day to do it..... I am not twittering, nor facebooking, nor chasing down endless email items all day.  Not that those are not interesting - but they need to be balanced with something physical and real. They need to be contained by limiting the time spent on them. I don't know about you, but I need other things in my world. I have stopped joining various membership sites online as well, and unjoined a few.  You can't be everywhere....

Now at the end of the day, I can look and see what progress has been made. That is, what concrete physical changes have been made to the paintings at hand.  It has made life more simple and less stressful, and made me a bit quieter at heart. In this crazy world, that can't be bad.

Reggie Marra "Bump" - a poem for Anne Marie

A poem about Reggie and his older sister Anne Marie as giggling children at play. Reggie read this during his featured reading at the Blue Z Coffeehouse on the one-year anniversary of Anne Marie's death on St Patrick's Day 2009.  --> Cherish life. You only get this one....
.

http://www.youtube.com/v/D2Ws6-I_LEQ&hl=en_US&fs=1&rel=0

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The roar at Stevenson Dam after all the rain, 3/14/2010

While traveling from the New Haven area on Sunday I took this short video of the Stevenson Dam on Route 34. Notice the incredible gush of water that is being let out of Lake Zoar at the side of the dam > you can see it in the lower right hand side of the frame . That is a lot of water. Peak was not expected until 1 p.m. the following day, according to a Danbury News Times article. This was video shot with a G3 iphone using the Qik Video app. The G3 cannot shoot video out of the box. This is a a low rez fix - but low rez but better than no rez.

http://www.youtube.com/v/zvRsLMKukJ0&hl=en_US&fs=1&rel=0