Tripping over signs and symbols
Politically powerful predator
Ripped apart a mother
Seeking food for the family
Feathers plucked instantly
Lonesome mate cries out
As she is flown
To another family’s nest
But not as a dinner guest
Food chain inexorably cruel…
© 2017 Clarissa Simmens (ViataMaja)
IMAGE: Feathers for a funeral
(scroll down for YouTube video)
As we Baby Boomers begin our final journey
To who knows where
I wrestle with thoughts
Of how sure we were
That the sun would shine in
And all would be love, peace, music and poetry
Youth was a time
When even the place names
Far away
Magically wooed us
Manchester was one
Appearing in a song from “Hair”
Making no sense to me
Then or now
But a city I’d want to someday visit
Perhaps I’m so poor at Geography
Because some places exist
In realms uncharted
An alternate Geography
Living and breathing
In the mind
Now, Manchester has a new meaning
Sunshine, stardust, all the magic of youth
Blown apart…
© 2017 Clarissa Simmens (ViataMaja)
IMAGE: Manchester Evening News
YouTube video (song begins at 2:49 https://youtu.be/fhNrqc6yvTU
Lyrics for Let the Sun Shine In http://www.songlyrics.com/hair/let-the-sunshine-in-lyrics/
Moving away from the city that day
No longer able to tolerate cement suffocating the earth
Never seeing the universe’s nightly planetarium
Hiding out in the country
Ostriching my head
As the daily news counted the dead
Telling myself, I’m safe
But I know now it is the absolute end
Glass face of the moral compass
Shattered
If there was still a molecule of belief
In love and peace
It has been sucked into a
Bottomless vacuum
And nothing
Not a speck
Not an iota
Can ever be seen
No matter how strong the
Scanning electron microscope
Zaps
Seeking an image
Gone, all gone…
© 2016 Clarissa Simmens (ViataMaja)
IMAGE: pollen molecules under scanning electron microscope
Women in woad
Shaking undressed breasts
Leading the warriors
Down Irish roads
Banshee-ing through the air
To cause enemies fear
O, to be with you
When war was for defense
Multi-married Maeve
“She Who Intoxicates”
Queen to Eochaid
Demanding a dowry paid
By a trinity of promises:
A husband who would be without
Fear, meanness and jealousy
Maeve, brave survivor of
Rape, war, and her own soul-sucking envy
Powerful woman or perhaps a goddess
Embodying the Sacred Marriage
Guaranteeing fertility
In a viridescent land
*Inspired by the work of Heather Awen
PLEASE SEE HER WORDPRESS SITE:
https://heatherawen.wordpress.com/pen-pals-political-pagan-lgbtq/
© 2016 Clarissa Simmens (ViataMaja)
IMAGE: Woad, ekmpowershop3
**scroll down for YouTube video**
Separated only by a belt
Japanese legendary war
Between the Taira family
As red as Betelgeuse
And the Minamoto family
As {blue-tinged} white as Rigel
Stars still battling
Orion’s belt
No-man’s land
A war
A constellation
A leg and an arm
Emblems of a mythos
Red and white
Like the Japanese flag
Symbolizing
Duty, sacrifice and loyalty
The Hunter a mighty sum
Of his parts
In the eternal aethers…
© 2016 Clarissa Simmens (ViataMaja)
IMAGE: Earth-Sky.com
YouTube: Orion by Metallica https://youtu.be/mmNpYwMpeJE
WROTE THIS WITH A LOT OF ANGER. NOT SURE IF i AM ANY MORE PEACEFUL THAN THOSE I WROTE ABOUT…
What makes a war?
I get it when you say
Young men
And now young women
Should refuse to carry a gun
But that is victim-blaming
War is a social class problem
Poor youth, no job, no education
Join the service and the government
Pays for college, food, shelter
You get the magic beans for the price of your life
Mystery fans know
That murders are solved
By figuring out
Who benefits
Look at the many suspects:
Military-Industrial Complex
Super wealthy want war
Winning territory or oil
Politicians clamoring
For more
Reelection under the guise of patriotism
Most misunderstood word in the
English language
Bankers line their dragon-caves with gold
War enables merchants to become wealthier
Junk yard dealers selling rusted metal for weapons
Factories producing uniforms from fabrics
So-called food needed in cans and plastic packages
Benefits the huge farming conglomerates
Journalists who no longer report the truth
Ignoring the Double-Yous of
Who, What, Where, When, Why
Just talking, pretty faces of ignorance
Snapping soon-to-be photoshopped
Award-winning pictures of children
Blown to bits
But never lifting their voices to just say STOP
And the grieving goes on for
Spouses, partners, children
For aging grandparents and parents
Losing their babies to
Death, dismemberment or
Post-trauma hauntings of the mind
War is a class-thing
And as always
The lower class pays the highest
Retail price
Who is the enemy?
Most are like us
Wanting to shop on Ebay or Amazon
Wanting to rock out to current music
Wanting to love and laugh in nature
Caveat:
Don’t hate the Arabs
Don’t hate the Israelis
Don’t hate the Irish
Don’t hate the British
Don’t hate the Africans
Don’t hate the Hispanics
The victims are people like me
And you
Any more I tremble from
Lightning strikes in my back yard
House-shaking from thunder
But no way can I ever comprehend
A baby’s fear
As bombs explode
Interrupting their dreamy sleep
Waking, screaming
Because the boogie man isn’t
Hiding under the bed
Or in the closet
The boogie man is flying through the sky
Infiltrating to make them die
Physically, spiritually
So the survivors grow up
Losing their humanity
Whatever the current definition is
For that old-fashioned word
I look at my box of Sixties souvenirs
Peace necklaces that still retain
My sweat and tears
From my bleeding seventeen-year-old heart
ERA badge from the Eighties
Equal Rights Amendment
I campaigned for it
But women told me
They didn’t want to share a bathroom with men
Sound familiar, trans-gender people?
Homo sapiens
So unwise
TV has muddled the mind
That really needs to be nourished
Like a feed-the-masses sprout
Reaching toward the sun and rain
Instead of being blindingly
Dazzled by the beautiful and rich
Brainwashing the audience
Dictating what people should think
All geared to elevate those
Ruled by greed and gluttony
Go inward and contemplate what is really important in each precious life…
© 2016 Clarissa Simmens (ViataMaja)
IMAGE: My peace jewelry worn when idealism existed
Black holes on Earth
Sucking the light
Into permanent night
Portals to realms of horror
Evil’s way of gathering
Stray souls
Homeless, yet living in a house
Loveless, but part of a family
Poor, although paper and coin
Line the pockets of emptiness
Eons of fear
Beginning with the first sign of life
Biological imperative
Eat, reproduce, kill
Never let anyone take yours
Single-cells, fish, amphibians,
Reptiles, mammals
Interspersed with ferns,
Plants, trees and fungi
All obeying the call to survival
Can you believe that biological life
Actually evolved?
Physically, yes, but
The brain, the emotions, seem the same
How many of these black holes
Exist on Earth
I do believe
(And I’m not trying to deceive)
That negative power spots
Aligned along their own antithetical Ley Lines
Continue to increase
As we sleep
As we write songs of peace
As we begin to weep…
© 2016 Clarissa Simmens (ViataMaja)
IMAGE: Black Hole, NASA
A disillusioned friend asked me to share this on my WordPress page. She wishes to remain anonymous:
Uncle Sam slept here
Uncle Sam
That horny man
Seducing young girls
Taking our Social Security
To pay for illegitimacy
The whole point of the women’s movement
Was to give our children
Male or female
A better life
But instead of accepting that
Women are as sexual as men
And deserve to have
Unstigmatized sex
With the understanding that
The goal was
Zero population growth
Meaning 2.2 children each
Instead of popping out babies
By girls, barely old enough to be called women
Because religion snarled through its ugly snout
No birth control!
It would shout
Just say no!
Yeah, sure
As if
As if hormones are not in control
Of every 13 year old’s brain
So Auntie Earth
Divorced Uncle Sam
(or whatever name he used globally)
Because he screwed around
And the population exponentially
Increased
Producing pollution and fracking
And ultimately more war
To get the oil for our car
War, killing and maiming our
Children
Both Male and Female
Producing homelessness and
More visits to bars
Or drugs prescribed
To take away the pain
To never see those war visions again
While girls at home
Living on charity
Should be breaking the glass ceilings
Instead of wishing
They were starring on reality TV
Like the Third Reich’s plan
To produce more human cannon fodder
“Kinder, Kuche, Kirche”
Children, Kitchen, Church
A world gone so off-kilter
But what do I know
A flowery old lady
Sorrowing for Auntie’s beautiful gifts
Now slick with oil and
Strangling on plastic bags
A vomiting Auntie Earth
(OMG! Is she pregnant too?)
Uncle Sam
Zip up your pants…
(c) 2016 ANONYMOUS
IMAGE: publicdomainpictures.net
Clap if you believe in peace…
Like clapping for light and love
Flowers wilting in my gray hair
Discordant voice hoarsely flying through the air
Eyes closed against the news, I see me
Flag bearer in green uniform
Girl Scout 1950s Memorial Day parade
Dad earlier pointing out the remnants
Of Spanish American War survivors
There goes Mr. Gerwitz,
Smelly old man in Edwardian suit and tie
Now wearing a moth-eaten uniform
For a moment, I see him at eighteen
Striding along in the tropical heat
Determined to beat
The enemy
And end all war
Within six years
I will march again
Despite loved ones dying in Vietnam
I will scream against the war
My screams will join others
And we will save the world
I so believe
I clap because I believe in peace
And flying fairies
And Giant Killers
Who slayed the ogres
Ring Wraiths
Bad guys
To begin our Utopia
Clap if you, too, believe in peace
© 2015 Clarissa Simmens (ViataMaja)
(Another poem in celebration of Phil Ochs’ 75th birthday)
Phil’s voice echoing in my mind
As I learn to play
My new ukulele
Here are the chords
No riff, but couldn’t do justice
To the memorable, musical phrase
That always gave me chills when a teen
Listening to him on late-night weekend FM
No commercials in the sixties
Bought the album
Saw him countless times at folk festivals
And Philly coffee houses
Spoke to him twice
Well, in my ultra-shy way
Went through a period of
Perverting his song
As I tired from marching
Although it was to prevent the type of marching
Phil Ochs meant
Anti-war but also voting rights, Women’s Lib
War just kept coming
Voters got rights but stopped voting
Women didn’t want equality if it meant
Sharing a bathroom with men
In frustration I invoked the words of
Phil Ochs
Silently shouting:
“I Ain’t Marching Anymore”!
But got through that phase
An activist works for the common good
Not for the individuals who may pervert the act
So here I am
Almost a quarter of the way into
The twenty-first century
Voice scratchy
The pressing of frets slow
Giggling attitude toward my ineptitude
But playing and singing
Phil Ochs’ call to war
Against war
So here I am
Daring to replicate the sacred chords
Of I Ain’t Marching Anymore
What a high…
© Clarissa Simmens (ViataMaja)
Here’s a Youtube link to the song: https://youtu.be/gv1KEF8Uw2k
