Poetry Sunday 2018
ALL COPYRIGHTS REMAIN WITH THE WRITERS OF THE POEMS CAPTIONED
Prelude Laurel and Mark:
“On a Wonderful Day Like Today”
Opening Words
Vernon Rey:
Knees? Knees? You found that appropriate as a sentiment for a community of Unitarians? (Laurel holds up music) Yes, I know it’s in the words, but it’s a piece from the 50’s (Laurel indicates higher). Alright, it’s a piece from the 60’s, either way, it’s a dated metaphor. It’s irritating.
Laurel:
Yes, it is. But, at one time, the dominant paradigm of our culture saw it as a symbol of the height of reverent Gratitude.
Vernon:
Things have changed.
Laurel:
Yup.
Call to Celebration
Laurel Mendes & Vernon Rey:
Come, come, whoever you are….
Anthony Williams Lighting the chalice flame:
In the light of truth, and in the warmth of love,
we gather to seek, to sustain, and to share.
*Hymn Grey 18 “What Wondrous Love is This”
Greet neighbors
*Song Grey 390 “Gaudeamus”
Invitation to Community
DEFINING GOOD AND EVIL
Vernon Rey:
Good and Evil XXII, Khalil Gibran:
And one of the elders of the city said, "Speak to us of Good and Evil." And he answered:
Of the good in you I can speak, but not of the evil. For what is evil but good tortured by its own hunger and thirst?
Verily when good is hungry it seeks food even in dark caves, and when it thirsts, it drinks even of dead waters.
You are good when you are one with yourself. Yet when you are not one with yourself you are not evil.
For a divided house is not a den of thieves; it is only a divided house.
And a ship without rudder may wander aimlessly among perilous isles yet sink not to the bottom.
You are good when you strive to give of yourself. Yet you are not evil when you seek gain for yourself.
For when you strive for gain you are but a root that clings to the earth and sucks at her breast. Surely the fruit cannot say to the root, "Be like me, ripe and full and ever giving of your abundance." For to the fruit, giving is a need, as receiving is a need to the root.
You are good when you are fully awake in your speech. Yet you are not evil when you sleep while your tongue staggers without purpose. And even stumbling speech may strengthen a weak tongue.
You are good when you walk to your goal firmly and with bold steps. Yet you are not evil when you go thither limping. Even those who limp go not backward. But you who are strong and swift, see that you do not limp before the lame, deeming it kindness.
You are good in countless ways, and you are not evil when you are not good, You are only loitering and sluggard. Pity that the stags cannot teach swiftness to the turtles.
In your longing for your giant self lies your goodness: and that longing is in all of you. But in some of you that longing is a torrent rushing with might to the sea, carrying the secrets of the hillsides and the songs of the forest. And in others it is a flat stream that loses itself in angles and bends and lingers before it reaches the shore.
But let not him who longs much say to him who longs little, "Wherefore are you slow and halting?" For the truly good ask not the naked, "Where is your garment?" nor the houseless, "What has befallen your house?"
Laurel Mendes:
I Know Evil When I See It:
Thoughtlessly destroying what was of worth to many for your benefit alone? You, I know.
Promising to rebuild and renew, but only for those who are able to pay you to do so? You, I know.
Committing to fund a community in need with one hand, while the other hand rescinds the gift? You, I know,
Hoarding a resource that does you no good? You I know.
Deciding what help is needed, without asking if anything is needed at all? You, I know.
Disagreeing with me at every turn?
Disagreeing with me at every turn?
Disagreeing with me at every turn?
You, I know.
Pat Montley:
I Shall Pass This Way But Once, Etienne de Grellet
I shall pass this way but once;
any good that I can do
or any kindness I can show to any human being;
let me do it now.
Let me not defer nor neglect it,
for I shall not pass this way again.
Alan Barrish:
Grace Unstuck in Time, Laurel Mendes
I wonder if those days of wonder from our youth, all wound round with mist and fragrant vapor, smelling of lilac and spring evening, were so, because, in those moments, some part of our awareness caught our future selves in reflective recollection.
A timeless, simultaneity, whispered across the passages between then and now, taking place in both places.
Much as a child whispers secrets to his friend, imagined or real, so have we, in those moments, whispered to our future selves-remember me.
Always.
Promise?
And we do.
Remember
Relive.
Taste the air of elder days no more.
The wisp of that breath we draw, warms and fills like nothing else, like nothing ever.
Nothing now, ever more, but then, oh then, ever forever, gifted to us, reminding us who we were, are, and will be.
Reminding us there is yet more time to whisper to the future-remember me.
Always.
Promise?
Vernon Rey and Laurel Mendes Invitation to Offering:
V: As compelling as the sentiment may be,
L: We cannot go back to the manner and moments of “better days.”
V: Time, for us, flows only in one direction, forward.
L: The only gift the past holds for us, is remembrance, and the odd pleasant melancholy.
V: The offering will be graciously given and gratefully received.
Offertory and response
Laurel Mendes:
Angels, in the Early Morning, Emily Dickinson
ANGELS in the early morning
May be seen the dews among,
Stooping, plucking, smiling, flying:
Do the buds to them belong?
Angels when the sun is hottest
May be seen the sands among,
Stooping, plucking, sighing, flying;
Parched the flowers they bear along.
Vernon Rey:
In the Presence, Unaware, Laurel Mendes
How is it, we never recognize, that, presence, until so much later,
Looking backward, too late, to give thanks?
How is it, we cannot see, when, we are that presence, until later,
Looking backward, too late to comprehend?
She never knew. It would not occur to her.
We could not see, blind to the impossible possibility.
We were in the presence of holiness.
She was holy.
Not the holiness of ancient mystery tales,
Nor movies, like “The Song of Bernadette” or even “It’s a Wonderful Life,”
Just the every-day holiness of hew wood and carry water;
The holiness of enlightenment, that can keep its secret, even from itself.
Pat Montley:
Our Helen
Our Helen’s a docent divine.
She knows about color and line
and also about composition
as befits her mission
to educate and make merry the unwashed masses
and even the more sanitary
who take art classes
and thus know a palette knife from their…tasses.
She’s full of…knowledge artistic on every item displayed,
but it’s her faves that evoke mystic-al raptures of praise played
to appreciative groupies
prepped with a tasty repast
and eager to drain the last
drop of cultural class
till, full satisfied, they droopie.
Alan Barrish:
My Angel, Wasn’t, Laurel Mendes
No halo.
No harp.
No wings.
No blinding light.
No warning to, “Fear not.”
I never needed that warning, anyway.
I was strangely, unafraid.
Face to face at dusk with a wild animal,
I was unafraid.
I was still as he sniffed me.
I was still as he decided whether or not I was food.
I breathed deeply as he decided I was not
I watched him as he leaped into the air to catch a moth in his mouth, for a snack,
Then leaped again for the fun of it.
He briefly chased his tail.
He yipped.
Then he bounded away.
I had read his stories, good and bad.
I had dreamed of him,
Sought him in my spirit.
But, in the end, he found me,
Coyote, spirit helper, first of all those who would follow.
Laurel Mendes:
EVIL Katie Nicole
i was sure i knew
what earthly evil looked like.
but then i met you
Alan Barrish:
Anything Can Be Evil
Good morning. Welcome. I will make a brief statement and then, with any time remaining, I will take your questions.
Firstly, I would like to address the matter of the “fake news” which has been spread about me for the last few centuries by a poet- not a news professional-- a poet; one John Milton. The truth of the matter is I am simply a refugee who fled his country of origin after the political party with which he had affiliated himself, led a failed coup. My home was seized by the state, as were the properties of all my associates, and I and my associates became transient, homeless, desperate. We migrated to the only place that would take us in.
Sadly, the new home we found for ourselves was in chaos. The political structure in complete collapse there, as well. Someone had to step in to reassert order, which is what I did, nothing more. It has been rough justice and sometimes the penalties crueler than a more civilized population might prefer, but those were early days. Every day we get better, fairer.
Secondly, I would like to address the egregious, outrageous, and perpetual misquote of a single sentence, taken out of context, by the way, uttered by me as I and my associates, after perilous journeys, first set foot on the shore of our new home. While oddly compelling, poetically speaking, who in his right mind would bellow, “better to reign in hell, than serve in heaven?” It’s been so long since our arrival, I don’t recall what was actually said, but I am certain it was not that.
Thirdly, while allegations fly fast and furious, I can assure you, regarding the climate of our adopted home, the presence of my people and of me has had no effect leading to rising temperatures. That is just more fake news, spread by a people who have no right to criticize us and our choices. As to the dangerous fauna which, occasionally, may stray outside our borders, do not many people here, choose to retire in places of similar climes, with less than friendly fauna? Arizona (have you seen the scorpions there?) and Florida (Hello? Alligators?)?
The truth of the matter is, when one brushes aside all the fake news with which I, my home, and my people have been “saddled,” our land, however Saharan in nature, is populated by a wise and civil people. Ben Wade said it, in 1885, “heaven for climate, hell for company,” (his words were of course, later attributed to both James M. Barre and Mark Twain). Heaven’s climate is obviously going to be superior, duh, it’s Heaven. But in terms of the lack diversity and scope of its population, I am definitely siding with Mr. Wade.
Dear me, look at the clock. I’m afraid we will have to continue this at a later date. Thank you all for your attendance and attention. Should you require it, my staff can provide you with written copy of these remarks.
Oh, one last thing, and please take this one thing, if nothing else, with you, from our brief meeting today: Anything can be made to seem evil.
Vernon Rey:
Evil, Michael Cross
Evil is not thing.
Evil is not a condition of individual.
Evil is choice, which we all must make between good or evil.
The darkness or the light, it is your choice.
Loud Voices, Laurel Mendes:
It was the Easter Sunday Service, 1968, United Methodist Church of Maywood.
It was the last time my father would set foot in church on an Easter Sunday.
My devout, every Sunday to church father, would never again attend church, except for a few Christmas Eves, to hear me sing.
And for his funeral of, course,
Though that was my mother’s doing.
Obviously.
My sister and I, for the last time, our hair in ringlets, were wearing matching dresses, white gloves, hats, white patent leather shoes, and bobby socks with lace on the turn down cuffs.
Our mother would never again go to such effort for Easter.
We had lunch after church that year at our local coffee shop, “The Biscuit.”
It was Sunday roast chicken, with dumplings and potatoes.
I remember the dumplings and oceans of gravy.
No dessert, though, there was candy at home.
I remember it all so clearly.
Because of what happened next, after we got home.
To say that my father yelled at my mother about the Easter sermon, would be putting mildly.
He roared.
He raged.
He ranted.
He raved.
He bellowed.
It was the same words over and over again,
Words I vaguely recalled from Reverend Foye’s sermon.
Words I have not, will never, forget.
“Sometimes to enlighten, we must first offend.”
I did remember that day what they meant in the context of sermon.
I will never know.
But, I have not, nor will ever forget them.
“Sometimes to enlighten, we must first offend.”
*7
Alan Barrish, For Juror Number Eight:
Intro
In the movie 12 Angry Men a Juror played by Henry Fonda called Juror number Eight manages by combining the art of gentle persuasion and the praiseworthy of sticking to one’s core values to convince the other eleven jurors to come to a just verdict.
Poem He never apologized for his stand
He never bullied others
Yet somehow through persistence and love justice prevailed.
You know sometimes I wish I could be more like him.
However sometimes I fall short.
Hell - make that most of the time.
There are days that I here the Fabulous Thunderbirds singing “Why Get Up”
And in spite of all the tugs from this way and that I wake up chose a middle path get in my car and go to work.
And as I sip my bottled caffeine and chocolate I get into my car and head off to do what others want me to do.
Laurel Mendes, Virtue:
Virtue can be unsatisfying and exhausting.
Shepherding thought, reshaping perspective, requires unending vigilance.
It erodes the illicit joy in the words, “he’ll get his.”
Erodes into dust.
It does not matter the destiny of these words is dust.
The momentary satisfaction of them remains.
We purpose to forget,
The dust,
And ashes.
Ashes left from burning the bridge, which would have taken us to all the other possibilities.
The Seven Deadly Virtues,
Sung by Mark Guiliano
Vernon Rey:
Treading Water, Laurel Mendes
Think of the Declaration of Independence, the Constitution, and the protection of our liberty under the law, as flotation devices provided to our democracy by earlier generations.
As the madness of the present political turmoil turns Tsunami and the “Right the Ship” folks do their best to up-end it, we must also remember this:
Those sneaky founding mothers and fathers took the precaution of teaching their baby republic how to tread water.
A skill we might do well to acquire.
Alan Barrish, Opus 2:
Have you ever wanted to say to the whole world “To hell with all of you?”
Have you ever felt like you were being pulled in two directions at once when all you want to do is take a straight path toward your own goals?
Remember you still have your own strengths.
Use them.
Cut those cords.
Use your mental scissors to carve your way to sanity.
It’s just that easy
No Conclusions, Laurel Mendes:
The struggle to find a temperate life in the means is ongoing.
Extremes call to us from every direction; sometimes with a voice of distinguishable madness,
Sometimes, with the sweet tones of the sirens of old
It may be our erstwhile endeavor will be to equally on all sides turn aside unreason,
To be rigorously thoughtful,
To question and confirm the virtue of each chosen action,
And to continue to grow in ourselves a devotion to reason to which we can hold fast in these days when good is publicly defined as unattainable,
And evil, disagreement with the dominant paradigm.
Vernon Rey:
If we shadows have offended,
Think but this, and all is mended-
That you have but slumbered here
While these visions did appear.
And this weak and idle theme,
No more yielding but a dream,
Gentles, do not reprehend.
If you pardon, we will mend.
And, as I am an honest Puck,
If we have unearnèd luck
Now to ’scape the serpent’s tongue,
We will make amends ere long.
Else the Puck a liar call.
So good night unto you all.
Give me your hands if we be friends,
And Robin shall restore amends.
Prelude Laurel and Mark:
“On a Wonderful Day Like Today”
Opening Words
Vernon Rey:
Knees? Knees? You found that appropriate as a sentiment for a community of Unitarians? (Laurel holds up music) Yes, I know it’s in the words, but it’s a piece from the 50’s (Laurel indicates higher). Alright, it’s a piece from the 60’s, either way, it’s a dated metaphor. It’s irritating.
Laurel:
Yes, it is. But, at one time, the dominant paradigm of our culture saw it as a symbol of the height of reverent Gratitude.
Vernon:
Things have changed.
Laurel:
Yup.
Call to Celebration
Laurel Mendes & Vernon Rey:
Come, come, whoever you are….
Anthony Williams Lighting the chalice flame:
In the light of truth, and in the warmth of love,
we gather to seek, to sustain, and to share.
*Hymn Grey 18 “What Wondrous Love is This”
Greet neighbors
*Song Grey 390 “Gaudeamus”
Invitation to Community
DEFINING GOOD AND EVIL
Vernon Rey:
Good and Evil XXII, Khalil Gibran:
And one of the elders of the city said, "Speak to us of Good and Evil." And he answered:
Of the good in you I can speak, but not of the evil. For what is evil but good tortured by its own hunger and thirst?
Verily when good is hungry it seeks food even in dark caves, and when it thirsts, it drinks even of dead waters.
You are good when you are one with yourself. Yet when you are not one with yourself you are not evil.
For a divided house is not a den of thieves; it is only a divided house.
And a ship without rudder may wander aimlessly among perilous isles yet sink not to the bottom.
You are good when you strive to give of yourself. Yet you are not evil when you seek gain for yourself.
For when you strive for gain you are but a root that clings to the earth and sucks at her breast. Surely the fruit cannot say to the root, "Be like me, ripe and full and ever giving of your abundance." For to the fruit, giving is a need, as receiving is a need to the root.
You are good when you are fully awake in your speech. Yet you are not evil when you sleep while your tongue staggers without purpose. And even stumbling speech may strengthen a weak tongue.
You are good when you walk to your goal firmly and with bold steps. Yet you are not evil when you go thither limping. Even those who limp go not backward. But you who are strong and swift, see that you do not limp before the lame, deeming it kindness.
You are good in countless ways, and you are not evil when you are not good, You are only loitering and sluggard. Pity that the stags cannot teach swiftness to the turtles.
In your longing for your giant self lies your goodness: and that longing is in all of you. But in some of you that longing is a torrent rushing with might to the sea, carrying the secrets of the hillsides and the songs of the forest. And in others it is a flat stream that loses itself in angles and bends and lingers before it reaches the shore.
But let not him who longs much say to him who longs little, "Wherefore are you slow and halting?" For the truly good ask not the naked, "Where is your garment?" nor the houseless, "What has befallen your house?"
Laurel Mendes:
I Know Evil When I See It:
Thoughtlessly destroying what was of worth to many for your benefit alone? You, I know.
Promising to rebuild and renew, but only for those who are able to pay you to do so? You, I know.
Committing to fund a community in need with one hand, while the other hand rescinds the gift? You, I know,
Hoarding a resource that does you no good? You I know.
Deciding what help is needed, without asking if anything is needed at all? You, I know.
Disagreeing with me at every turn?
Disagreeing with me at every turn?
Disagreeing with me at every turn?
You, I know.
Pat Montley:
I Shall Pass This Way But Once, Etienne de Grellet
I shall pass this way but once;
any good that I can do
or any kindness I can show to any human being;
let me do it now.
Let me not defer nor neglect it,
for I shall not pass this way again.
Alan Barrish:
Grace Unstuck in Time, Laurel Mendes
I wonder if those days of wonder from our youth, all wound round with mist and fragrant vapor, smelling of lilac and spring evening, were so, because, in those moments, some part of our awareness caught our future selves in reflective recollection.
A timeless, simultaneity, whispered across the passages between then and now, taking place in both places.
Much as a child whispers secrets to his friend, imagined or real, so have we, in those moments, whispered to our future selves-remember me.
Always.
Promise?
And we do.
Remember
Relive.
Taste the air of elder days no more.
The wisp of that breath we draw, warms and fills like nothing else, like nothing ever.
Nothing now, ever more, but then, oh then, ever forever, gifted to us, reminding us who we were, are, and will be.
Reminding us there is yet more time to whisper to the future-remember me.
Always.
Promise?
Vernon Rey and Laurel Mendes Invitation to Offering:
V: As compelling as the sentiment may be,
L: We cannot go back to the manner and moments of “better days.”
V: Time, for us, flows only in one direction, forward.
L: The only gift the past holds for us, is remembrance, and the odd pleasant melancholy.
V: The offering will be graciously given and gratefully received.
Offertory and response
Laurel Mendes:
Angels, in the Early Morning, Emily Dickinson
ANGELS in the early morning
May be seen the dews among,
Stooping, plucking, smiling, flying:
Do the buds to them belong?
Angels when the sun is hottest
May be seen the sands among,
Stooping, plucking, sighing, flying;
Parched the flowers they bear along.
Vernon Rey:
In the Presence, Unaware, Laurel Mendes
How is it, we never recognize, that, presence, until so much later,
Looking backward, too late, to give thanks?
How is it, we cannot see, when, we are that presence, until later,
Looking backward, too late to comprehend?
She never knew. It would not occur to her.
We could not see, blind to the impossible possibility.
We were in the presence of holiness.
She was holy.
Not the holiness of ancient mystery tales,
Nor movies, like “The Song of Bernadette” or even “It’s a Wonderful Life,”
Just the every-day holiness of hew wood and carry water;
The holiness of enlightenment, that can keep its secret, even from itself.
Pat Montley:
Our Helen
Our Helen’s a docent divine.
She knows about color and line
and also about composition
as befits her mission
to educate and make merry the unwashed masses
and even the more sanitary
who take art classes
and thus know a palette knife from their…tasses.
She’s full of…knowledge artistic on every item displayed,
but it’s her faves that evoke mystic-al raptures of praise played
to appreciative groupies
prepped with a tasty repast
and eager to drain the last
drop of cultural class
till, full satisfied, they droopie.
Alan Barrish:
My Angel, Wasn’t, Laurel Mendes
No halo.
No harp.
No wings.
No blinding light.
No warning to, “Fear not.”
I never needed that warning, anyway.
I was strangely, unafraid.
Face to face at dusk with a wild animal,
I was unafraid.
I was still as he sniffed me.
I was still as he decided whether or not I was food.
I breathed deeply as he decided I was not
I watched him as he leaped into the air to catch a moth in his mouth, for a snack,
Then leaped again for the fun of it.
He briefly chased his tail.
He yipped.
Then he bounded away.
I had read his stories, good and bad.
I had dreamed of him,
Sought him in my spirit.
But, in the end, he found me,
Coyote, spirit helper, first of all those who would follow.
Laurel Mendes:
EVIL Katie Nicole
i was sure i knew
what earthly evil looked like.
but then i met you
Alan Barrish:
Anything Can Be Evil
Good morning. Welcome. I will make a brief statement and then, with any time remaining, I will take your questions.
Firstly, I would like to address the matter of the “fake news” which has been spread about me for the last few centuries by a poet- not a news professional-- a poet; one John Milton. The truth of the matter is I am simply a refugee who fled his country of origin after the political party with which he had affiliated himself, led a failed coup. My home was seized by the state, as were the properties of all my associates, and I and my associates became transient, homeless, desperate. We migrated to the only place that would take us in.
Sadly, the new home we found for ourselves was in chaos. The political structure in complete collapse there, as well. Someone had to step in to reassert order, which is what I did, nothing more. It has been rough justice and sometimes the penalties crueler than a more civilized population might prefer, but those were early days. Every day we get better, fairer.
Secondly, I would like to address the egregious, outrageous, and perpetual misquote of a single sentence, taken out of context, by the way, uttered by me as I and my associates, after perilous journeys, first set foot on the shore of our new home. While oddly compelling, poetically speaking, who in his right mind would bellow, “better to reign in hell, than serve in heaven?” It’s been so long since our arrival, I don’t recall what was actually said, but I am certain it was not that.
Thirdly, while allegations fly fast and furious, I can assure you, regarding the climate of our adopted home, the presence of my people and of me has had no effect leading to rising temperatures. That is just more fake news, spread by a people who have no right to criticize us and our choices. As to the dangerous fauna which, occasionally, may stray outside our borders, do not many people here, choose to retire in places of similar climes, with less than friendly fauna? Arizona (have you seen the scorpions there?) and Florida (Hello? Alligators?)?
The truth of the matter is, when one brushes aside all the fake news with which I, my home, and my people have been “saddled,” our land, however Saharan in nature, is populated by a wise and civil people. Ben Wade said it, in 1885, “heaven for climate, hell for company,” (his words were of course, later attributed to both James M. Barre and Mark Twain). Heaven’s climate is obviously going to be superior, duh, it’s Heaven. But in terms of the lack diversity and scope of its population, I am definitely siding with Mr. Wade.
Dear me, look at the clock. I’m afraid we will have to continue this at a later date. Thank you all for your attendance and attention. Should you require it, my staff can provide you with written copy of these remarks.
Oh, one last thing, and please take this one thing, if nothing else, with you, from our brief meeting today: Anything can be made to seem evil.
Vernon Rey:
Evil, Michael Cross
Evil is not thing.
Evil is not a condition of individual.
Evil is choice, which we all must make between good or evil.
The darkness or the light, it is your choice.
Loud Voices, Laurel Mendes:
It was the Easter Sunday Service, 1968, United Methodist Church of Maywood.
It was the last time my father would set foot in church on an Easter Sunday.
My devout, every Sunday to church father, would never again attend church, except for a few Christmas Eves, to hear me sing.
And for his funeral of, course,
Though that was my mother’s doing.
Obviously.
My sister and I, for the last time, our hair in ringlets, were wearing matching dresses, white gloves, hats, white patent leather shoes, and bobby socks with lace on the turn down cuffs.
Our mother would never again go to such effort for Easter.
We had lunch after church that year at our local coffee shop, “The Biscuit.”
It was Sunday roast chicken, with dumplings and potatoes.
I remember the dumplings and oceans of gravy.
No dessert, though, there was candy at home.
I remember it all so clearly.
Because of what happened next, after we got home.
To say that my father yelled at my mother about the Easter sermon, would be putting mildly.
He roared.
He raged.
He ranted.
He raved.
He bellowed.
It was the same words over and over again,
Words I vaguely recalled from Reverend Foye’s sermon.
Words I have not, will never, forget.
“Sometimes to enlighten, we must first offend.”
I did remember that day what they meant in the context of sermon.
I will never know.
But, I have not, nor will ever forget them.
“Sometimes to enlighten, we must first offend.”
*7
Alan Barrish, For Juror Number Eight:
Intro
In the movie 12 Angry Men a Juror played by Henry Fonda called Juror number Eight manages by combining the art of gentle persuasion and the praiseworthy of sticking to one’s core values to convince the other eleven jurors to come to a just verdict.
Poem He never apologized for his stand
He never bullied others
Yet somehow through persistence and love justice prevailed.
You know sometimes I wish I could be more like him.
However sometimes I fall short.
Hell - make that most of the time.
There are days that I here the Fabulous Thunderbirds singing “Why Get Up”
And in spite of all the tugs from this way and that I wake up chose a middle path get in my car and go to work.
And as I sip my bottled caffeine and chocolate I get into my car and head off to do what others want me to do.
Laurel Mendes, Virtue:
Virtue can be unsatisfying and exhausting.
Shepherding thought, reshaping perspective, requires unending vigilance.
It erodes the illicit joy in the words, “he’ll get his.”
Erodes into dust.
It does not matter the destiny of these words is dust.
The momentary satisfaction of them remains.
We purpose to forget,
The dust,
And ashes.
Ashes left from burning the bridge, which would have taken us to all the other possibilities.
The Seven Deadly Virtues,
Sung by Mark Guiliano
Vernon Rey:
Treading Water, Laurel Mendes
Think of the Declaration of Independence, the Constitution, and the protection of our liberty under the law, as flotation devices provided to our democracy by earlier generations.
As the madness of the present political turmoil turns Tsunami and the “Right the Ship” folks do their best to up-end it, we must also remember this:
Those sneaky founding mothers and fathers took the precaution of teaching their baby republic how to tread water.
A skill we might do well to acquire.
Alan Barrish, Opus 2:
Have you ever wanted to say to the whole world “To hell with all of you?”
Have you ever felt like you were being pulled in two directions at once when all you want to do is take a straight path toward your own goals?
Remember you still have your own strengths.
Use them.
Cut those cords.
Use your mental scissors to carve your way to sanity.
It’s just that easy
No Conclusions, Laurel Mendes:
The struggle to find a temperate life in the means is ongoing.
Extremes call to us from every direction; sometimes with a voice of distinguishable madness,
Sometimes, with the sweet tones of the sirens of old
It may be our erstwhile endeavor will be to equally on all sides turn aside unreason,
To be rigorously thoughtful,
To question and confirm the virtue of each chosen action,
And to continue to grow in ourselves a devotion to reason to which we can hold fast in these days when good is publicly defined as unattainable,
And evil, disagreement with the dominant paradigm.
Vernon Rey:
If we shadows have offended,
Think but this, and all is mended-
That you have but slumbered here
While these visions did appear.
And this weak and idle theme,
No more yielding but a dream,
Gentles, do not reprehend.
If you pardon, we will mend.
And, as I am an honest Puck,
If we have unearnèd luck
Now to ’scape the serpent’s tongue,
We will make amends ere long.
Else the Puck a liar call.
So good night unto you all.
Give me your hands if we be friends,
And Robin shall restore amends.