shoes

i
i
i
want
more than anything
more than ever
to take flight
but i find
that my shoes are made of concrete



i forget momentarily
(this moment encompasses my decade)
that i can
take my shoes off
…………………………………..
she
she
she
wants
more than anything
more than ever
to take flight
and finds that
her shoes are made
of concrete

she momentarily has forgotten
(that moment longer than her memory holds)
that she can
take off
her shoes

what good are words if they are not shared?
heard?
what good are we
if i still fear
that your existence may touch mine?
……………………………………
what good is love
if it is stranded in fear?

in which the ego renders the heart’s energy


impotent
…………………………………….

he
he
he
wants to fly
fearing fearing fearing
that her attentions will solidify
into concrete
bearing down upon his ribs

he and she both
regretfully, for a moment forgetting
(a moment whose destructive expansiveness
must be taken as seriously as the most serious threat)
that they owe one another
nothing

that love
is not heavy

that fear
though natural
is not necessary

and that honesty
is free
……………………………………

i
you
i you i
will continue to repeat the same mistake
past my own bodily death
past yours until
we
emerge
above
the drowning tide of our fears
and breath

deeper than thought allows.

dream/life

when I am dreaming it is kind of hard to know where my hands are*
Natalie said

.
.
.


all around
the zoo
every body lives in a cage
cages surround other cages surrounding smaller cages still
people in the outer cages look at those in the inner cages
thinking themselves free
every cage and every bar
with time becomes invisible

is it possible to be partially free?
is it a thing sold in degrees, slices?

children in Qalqilya*
cry everyday
their teacher helpless
empty of anything to offer
at the zoo
their eyes feed them
see these animals
lives more repressed than their own
and convince themselves of how
much worse it could be

my niece, not yet nine years alive
so distant on the phone
tells me stories
broken
yet true because she dreamt them

i ride my bicycle
through the life i am creating of my own dreams
through the warm and windy streets of the city
and wonder why i do not feel free

is this part of the awakening road?
realizing that there is no such thing as
partially free
partially true

in an omniversal reality
perspectives on truth
an infinity humans may or may not ever evolve to know

and yet there is such a thing as bullshit

my kin choose pill-shaped freedom
over their intense and chronic pain
i, with my partial-mended heart
take solace in daily fatigue
even the Buddha indulged in comfort
two decades hiding from the pain of freedom
so say projections of an orientalist mind**

i can understand why children lie
so strong is their need to protect their grownups
so strong their belief in the immutability
of their own imperfections

secrets to guard more critical than life
…………………….
before saying goodnight i tell Natalie
that her life, like her dreams
are in her own hands

shackled i
wonder if either of us know
how to distinguish the bullshit from a dream

*http://electronicintifada.net/v2/article1616.shtml

**in The Art of Dreaming, author Carlos Castaneda recommends that to bring oneself out of one’s dream, one merely needs to look at one’s own hands.

***Herman Hesse, author of Siddhartha

thirteen ways of looking at the end of us

1. that you left me because i was not __________ (blank)__________ enough

2. or because i was too much of _____(what?!?)________,
which you could not take –
on a very regular basis

what?

3. that being left by you leaves me with the certainty of being un-
(or at least no longer) -loved by you

and the question of to what degree am i eventually to be eternally unloved
by anyone

4. or just by anyone remotely like you

5. and the next question
(sometimes veering on a certainty, but which i repeatedly realize, in the process of stepping back to reality that it is, in truth, only a question)
in other words i think
that i can not know who is extremely similar to you
or who possesses the quality of yours’
of not being able to – as you always said – take me (live with me)
-at least not on a very regular basis

6. ahem – that i can not know unless i try who is and who isn’t
better yet
who can and who can’t
love and live in loving
the complication of me
taking the good with the bad and
experiencing all of it
-or me -
as the good

7. and – AHEM --
that no matter how many times i thought i could fool myself into
thinking otherwise
i was and will never have a mind available to
the love of another
until i give up completely
on
the idea of us
the idea, that is, of you and i actively engaging in the life of us

8. and the circular and wondering question of if
i can turn my face and daily intention away from seeking to fix
that which has clearly gone from wrong to wronger

9. and not identify myself as a failure for doing so



10. in another set of words
does giving up on a life of loving you mean giving up on love in general?

11. does it mean converting my thoughts on having loved you into the sorrowful and tedious thought: “well, it must not have been True Love.”?

12. or can i simply say: “some things are not meant to be.” ?

13. and walk away
with myself

taking the good with the bad
saying
knowing that
the bad is not bad,
it’s just different than the original fantasy and

taking myself back

saying
Knowing That
i Can Love
and still (not give Myself away)

come here (a story)

with desire request became demand,
“come here”

there comes a point where there is no further point in game playing
nor doubt.

“come here”
it is obeyed

perhaps i am obeyed?

daily i fall in love with my own self. this fact both is and is not the instigating factor for what comes next. crazy love this. it can also be secondary, arguably irrelevant, to the becoming experience of objectification. i am now another’s subject. the valley into which to fall. beloved. the passion of the game.

but towards the mutual fall and the un-sensible idea of two together?

how many hair width’s away?
a breath?
they were now almost skin to that first touch——cara.

a whisper, “i finally am ready to open my brain’s heart into yours”

“it is the intelligence’s seduction that bonds the deal,”

“you know i’ve made love to you before, though you didn’t know”

“are you sure i didn’t know?
perhaps i’ve done the same to you”

“regularly"

a smile expands, extends. reaches.

a belief resurfaces.
my “lower” self’s organs are fighting my “upper” self’s emotional high. preference of a cup half drained than one flowing and filled with promises, toxic in their fleetingness.

the conflict may not even be necessary.
but both lovers suffer from full spectrum intelligence. endlessly flexible. it has always been of our own choosing.
could a war with two winners end with no losers?
both had lived and died sufficiently to doubt it.

a keyboard on which hands play.

the crisp clicks, hard stepping. rhythmic. repeat.

words on the screen.
my eyes burn jealous with admiration, the beauty being created. i resent the end of this war, my safety. the effect of this cease-fire the end of all i know? as my tool of confession is conquered, de-sanctified, i panic. what would stop those hands from surmounting me, ripping my soul apart from her only outlet and refuge?

each tap pulls me four times back, five times forward.
a dance.
i worship the sweat gracing your pores, inhale your odor—high, scattering away imprisonment, self-control.
lightly I realize I’ve dropped the need of knowing who comes next.


NO
it had become intolerable. how…. dare… presumptuousness… i will not allow this condescension any longer.

the thought loud and louder
registers

audible now:
“i am truly sorry.
to have in any way violated your sacred spaces”
,
the clicks, shoes soft-stepping, retreat.
,
,
,
,
fear combined with confrontation, decades of hoarded collective inaction

one further flash
violently persuasive, mongering
then rejected
…………………………………………..

is it possible to know at what point our words syntaxed then dissapeared?

no longer are there isolating covers separating desire with propaganda
no sanctuary, no partial freedom.

the merger goes off

it only takes one moment

for now
this is sufficient.

this night this day this celebration

.............................................

even the bartender’s dancing

i am also dancing my ass off

pronouncing GOBAMA!

uncaringly joyously, nerdily to everyone who passes my way

what’s happening here?

is it christmas’ true meaning coming early this year?

tomorrow today morning is barack-obama day-off!

a moment

from the plaguing questions

will he, won’t he?

to answer

this one precious night,

tomorrow’s one precarious sun and moon,

our troubles can be put aside

tonight the planet (at least) dances with us

how can I possibly overstate the nature of this day’s celebration?

this one which had to happen first, to dump the fear that it may never really happen

today's the day

who eye? i

call me anything you want to

negro, colored, black, sensitive

go on with your slurs – if you think even they’ll do anyone anything

the power our unity has rendered

today these words will never hurt us

we are drunk with the height of standing one inch taller*

high, our rainbowed spectrum spinning glittering joy

from all of the autumned hued peoples

we are, one night—

and for a change in the atmosphere—

in a healthier state of mind

this night morbid fiscal worries will wait...

what bombings wars ethnic cleansings

what scary terrorists stories?

what pain of injustice?

unemployment, urban sprawl,

what first what second class citizenship

which people criminalized

modern day slavery? what segregations?

what empty promises?

what, where’s my mule and can I perhaps maybe just get even the smallest acre?

though – surely – the circle has not been rounded

another, a significant layer of healing from that heinous institution

which anglo friends

with various and logically evidenced ideas of rigging, conspiracy

refusing to see that sometimes even

the powers that be

can’t dam this tidal joy

we muslim hindu buddist arab south asian hidden others
(especially muslim)

today forgive our new leader’s campaign’s little black lie

we get the joke

hopeful the hawk-stands are made of the same righteous cunning

today little black children AND little white children

tiny tell me who they are voting for – barack obama

today my gorgeous brilliant sisters and i

in silks and sexi-fitting jeans, highest heels

and love lives we can’t quite get right

look upon that wide smile

and, reminded of our lovers, brothers

let go the burden of regret bitterness disappointment

for a minimum of 56% of american females and 51% of her males**

even true love becomes possible this promising day

mothers fathers and grandest parents

express their hope through worry

uttering sheltering prayers of protection for their newly heroed son

giant on screen today michelle malia sasha

their triple-handed miracle
instantly evolves the whole world’s standards of beautiful, pretty, american, normal

today the lonely black girl fashion plate

is joined by sisters and sisters again – tokenized exoticized no more

today the royal fleet has been conquered

the dark chocolate covered golden ticket unwrapped

today let’s all disrobe our emperor’s clothes

unpunch a time clock

hug a many-flavored tree

today we are reminded again that nothing ever happens except

in its own time

in its own place

and when the purpose has perfectly ripened

tonight we let go our fears of thievery

tonight we are the champions (thank you freddy mercury)

tonight we are that which we have been seeking

the space

the deep and clear breath

……….

tonight on canal street by the chicago river

a man with an apparently cardboard reality

with needs far greater than what he is pleading

than what i have to give

dropped me

hypocritical and guiltily, to the usual wary state of mental existence

for a little while down

but still hopeful

and taking this one day off from

my own imprisoned cynicism

…………………………………………………………………………………………

*http://www.observer.com/2008/media/richard-belzer-every-black-kid-will-go-school-inch-taller-if-obama-pulls-it

** http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/americas/us_elections_2008/7709852.stm

when?

on the eleven and fifty seventh hour mr. olhmert states
that israel has been mistaken.
oh Ehud!
are you about to die?
does losing your golden spikey crown just feel that way?

and that’s why you finally say that israel has been mistaken
and that “the palestinians” have a right to have?*

when will it be – more than safe – heroic
for any leader to speak and act against the grandest injustices
no matter their popularity?

when will WE stop thinking in terms of
these mine ours!
those you yours!
and whether y’all are wrong for hoarding or
when are who gonna take that those what which
shoulda been mine ours
anyone’s but theirs

globalized corporatized governments
monetary resources
bailouts passed
hand to hand and hand and hand and hand and
again master’s indulgences forgiven through
the capture of slave-gland secretions
still we have the nerve to brag and bully
of mine and yours and ours and theirs

further still, why suffer when we are about to die?
the questionable wisdom of agism says
let the problem be solved by the young
and the younger after that
so long as my stock are stocked in that false god’s resources
wait till I get off (this planet)
till then postpone the great depression part two
no matter this means pretending that we’re not
already in world war three and four and five and etc

think of this as a call to action
for our youth and for everyone
who has dis-allowed the shriveling gods
of our resource hoarding system to
permanently distract the last heart in our minds

when will america’s politicians
the beloved saviour-types and
the cartoonish alike
give their word
use their over-exposed images to turn our eye towards the
people whose struggle-laden lives
can’t be mytho-euphemized into the generic middle class

when will our imported yogic advaitic** teachings steer our hearts
out of petty-eyed I-nsecurities and up
through the light and free-state of WE-consciousness

this is a call to action
let go of national and racial and sexual and religual
and all other jealousies

and replace owning with loving
eyes and minds renewed daily

………………………………………………………………..
* http://www.independent.co.uk/news/world/middle-east/israel-will-have-to-reinstate-pre1967-border-for-peace-deal-olmert-admits-946124.html
**advaita philosophy promotes absolute non-dualism

community organizers- a letter to the editor

martha burzynski
http://flickr.com/photos/marthaburzynski/473666957/

September 5, 2008

Open Letter to Governor Sarah Palin and Mayor Rudy Giuliani,

In an apparent effort to generate a few laughs at Senator Obama’s expense, you chose to disparage a large and honorable group of working citizens. With this low-rate amusement, you brought the intellectual vibration of the RNC several stages lower.

Community organizers are the wheels through which marginalized people enact social change all over this country. Representing all ethnic, religious, political, and economic sectors, they work compassionately and tirelessly, usually with little or no wages, to address the needs of their communities.

But I will give you the benefit of the doubt. Perhaps you are unaware of the great progress that has been made through the sweat of community organizers. Working directly with their community, they are held responsible long after they have been hired for their job. They are a grounding force, linking politicians who have become disconnected with their primary motives with the people they originally swore to serve.

Jane Addams, a Victorian woman, founded the then-revolutionary Hull House. This countries’ first settlement house continues to address the needs of the urban poor through physical fitness, art, and innovative adult education programs, uplifting the nation’s humanitarian consciousness.

In the violently segregationist 1950s southern America a young Black man organized community into the Montgomery Bus Boycott. Would you dare to publicly criticize, much less mock, Martin Luther King?

By connecting Senator Obama with these champions of our society, you have reminded all of us, thinking republicans included, of the continued need for these advocates of peace and justice. You did the Democratic party’s campaign a service in highlighting this achievement in Mr. Obama’s resume.

Governor Palin and Mayor Giuliani, you are both people gifted with eormous personal charisma, but with your ill-planned shots you showcased the mob mentality through which you are attempting to gain political power. Is this really the level of thought you want our nation be operating on?

Sincerely,

Hanan H.D. Hanna

………………………………………………………………………………………..

Personally, I wish that you would take the time to hear, as I offer respects for more than this tiniest fraction of the great needs that are filled by community organizers.

I’d mention Majora Carter – the founding organizer of Sustainable South Bronx – works to uplift the economic, environmental, and physical health needs of the people of the South Bronx. The successful evolution of this formerly reviled community has inspired sustainable self-empowerment projects towards truly renewable urban neighborhoods for other formerly disenfranchised places around our nation and the planet.

And Camille Odeh, who is a visionary Arab American woman transforming the power of the grief surrounding the severe injustices in Palestine through organizing community in Chicago. She founded the Southwest Youth Collaborative to organize and unite young African-, Latino-, and Arab-American people -and all people - in Chicago’s southwest side. In the last 17 years the hands-om educational empowerment initiatives of Ms. Odeh have literally saved the lives of hundreds of young people and their families.