Brain Splinters

**This short story received an Honorable Mention in the 2004 Judith Stark Creative Writing Contest.



Brain Splinters

Mommy always had a nasal tone to her voice, but after years of a two-pack-a-day menthol habit, it's become raspy and a bit deep. Her clothes are a hodgepodge of thrift store and hand me down items. Her sneakers cry to be put out of their misery, and her socks have air conditioning. Time has reduced her once breezy gait to a hunched shuffle. Decades of sickness and poor self-care has aged a vibrant young woman immeasurably beyond her forty-seven years. At one time, she had a cute face and body built like a brick shithouse...or so I'm told. Her hair, once thick and wavy, is now thin, brittle, and completely gray.

It wasn't always this way. Friends have come and gone with the passing of seasons. Many didn't have her best interests at heart, and those that did grew tired of the incessant psychotic episodes. My aunt once told me that my mother has never been the same since the first nervous breakdown when she was only sixteen. I've been witness to moments of clarity, where I saw what I imagine to be her true self. A funny, generous woman who loves to dance and play. Such a shame that things turned out this way.

Until recently, through the bad times she would carry a positive attitude and a smile. Now it has become mere memory. She has told me at intervals that having my brother and me was the best thing she ever did. This makes me happy, since most of her life is riddled with regret. Days are lonely and nights are endless in her world. Reminiscing helps her with her hardest days, where she lives in a residential facility, and seems to slip a little further from reality as days become months and years. I visit her now and again, when guilt compels it, but in truth I'd rather not see her like this.

I remember being a little girl, visiting her on the weekends. It's like a dream; one of the best times I can think of. It was as if she was my mother and I was her daughter. Her apartment was cramped, dim, and smoky. It wasn't the type of place you would want to sit down and kick back in. My mother lived there, alone, usually staying up all hours of the night and sleeping during the day. As a child who was accustomed to a regular day/night routine, being there made me feel as if the world was upside-down and backward. I inhaled the thick stench of her Newports, and watched the smoke curl and drift around the room. Sometimes she would blow circles of smoke, which impressed me at the time.

It was nearly 3 a.m., yet I couldn't sleep a wink. I doubt anyone could, with The Kinks' "Paranoia" blaring on the radio. Her eyes bothered me; they had a dark, vacant look about them. She was still so beautiful to me, with her lush dark hair and crooked smile. My brother hadn't been born yet, so I must have been about five years old. She still had a youthful quality uncorrupted by time and sorrow. She made me a glass of warm milk and let me sit with her in the kitchen until it took effect. The fluorescent light above the sink made a low buzzing sound, and the gave the kitchen an eerie glow. I rocked back and forth while she chain smoked, and it was all good. Eventually, my eyes became heavy, so I went to lay down on the sofa bed, and got under the itchy green afghan she had crocheted a few years before. I drifted into dreams to the drone of the air conditioner and my mother tapping her foot to the beat of the song in her head.

Civil Disobedience

Henry David Thoreau, who was a conscientious objector to paying taxes which supported war, wrote the stirring essay Civil Disobedience, which had a profound impact on the world. It has grown with the times, and is just as pertinent today.
Civil Disobedience is a dissertation which proposes a method for social reform, whereby the activists involved endeavor to bring about direct action without stepping down morally or using violence. Thoreau’s work influenced Mohandas Gandhi, who developed the idea of Satyagraha (holding to truth) which led to the India’s independence from its British occupation.

Thoreau’s essay transcends the time he wrote it, during the 1800’s. Since its original publication, people such as Martin Luther King, Jr. have been utilizing its principles. While perusing the news, I found that just a few days ago, on September 19th, President Bush was addressing the U.N. in the General Assembly building. More than one thousand people were outside, protesting his foreign policy in a peaceful manner.
Their indictment of President Bush stated: “We have come to the United Nations today to engage in non-violent civil disobedience. We demand the war on Iraq end immediately. We oppose any attack on Iran. We declare to the world that President George W. Bush has been found guilty of war crimes and crimes against humanity. He does not speak for us. These crimes must come to a halt. Demonstrators included Iraq veterans and former U.S. officials, among others.
As the Not in Our Name Statement of Conscience (Jan. 2005) said: 'It is our responsibility to stop the Bush regime from carrying out this disastrous course. We believe history will judge us sharply should we fail to act decisively.” Sixteen of the protestors were arrested for blocking the intersecting streets in front of the building.
According to Thoreau, withdrawing (at the very least) patronage from such institutions which you find to be immoral is a de facto method which surpasses the idle talk most people engage in. “I do not hesitate to say, that those who call themselves abolitionists should at once effectually withdraw their support, both in person and property, from the government of Massachusetts, and not wait till they constitute a majority of one, before they suffer the right to prevail through them” (Thoreau 8).
In the short story, Repent Harlequin! Said the Ticktockman, the harlequin is a bona fide adherent of Thoreau who throws the Orwellian system off balance by his pranks and anarchistic idealism. Where Thoreau is more serious and austere, the Harlequin takes the jester’s approach. The resulting social change is the same, however. In a society where technology and timeliness has all but revoked humanity, the Harlequin thumbs his nose at the institution which attempts to rob him of his autonomy . To that end, both the Harlequin and Thoreau are ‘free’.
In the beginning of the novella, the narrator says, “But because it was the very world it was, the very world they had allowed it to become.” Bit by bit, or civil liberties are pulled out from under us, under the guise of homeland security or some other dubious term. Both men would be considered ‘enemies of the state’ for their so-called evil deeds.

Bucking this establishment had its consequences, both then and now. For Henry David Thoreau, it meant one night in prison. For the Harlequin, it meant death.
For the rest of the unnamed people involved, they were likened to sheep which are easy prey for the wolves. They were herded to and fro, to pay taxes “Thus, under the name of order and civil government, we are all made at last to pay homage to and support our own meanness” (Thoreau 6).
Or alternately, people are made to rush through life, never really living it, in hopes of sparing a few minutes which would otherwise be shaved off for delay. “And so it goes. And so it goes. And so it goes. And so it goes goes goes goes goes tick tock tick tock tick tock and one day we no longer let time serve us, we serve time and we are slaves of the schedule, worshippers of the sun’s passing, bound into a life predicated on restrictions because the system will not function if we don’t keep the schedule tight” (Ellison 7).
What Thoreau and the Harlequin attempted was what Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. later dubbed ‘creative protest’.
Written in the 1960’s, Ellison’s novella is just as poignant for today’s audiences, who are living in a world where taxation that supports an unjust war is a reality. In addition, our overscheduled lives are at their breaking point, which is clear when you sit down (sit down?!) to take a moment and notice how fast the day goes by, rushing to this job and that appointment. “Why let them order you about? Why let them tell you to hurry and scurry like ants or maggots? Take your time! Saunter a while! Enjoy the sunshine, enjoy the breeze, let life carry you at your own pace! Don’t be slaves of time, it’s a helluva way to die, slowly, by degrees…down with the Ticktockman!” (Ellison 10).

President Bush visited Portland, Oregon this past August, in support of Gordon Smith (Senate). While giving his speech, dissidents where heralded with rubber bullets and pepper spray. So much for civil disobedience? In our reality, we are living, working, and paying taxes to a seriously unjust system in which over 2,706 American military personnel and over 100,000 Iraqi civilians have been killed under false premises. As a side note, we (as taxpayers) have shelled out $318 billion (and counting). Thoreau is undoubtedly turning in his grave over these odious facts. “Do we call this the land of the free? What is it to be free from King George and continue the slaves of King Prejudice? What is it to be born free and not live free?” (Thoreau 87).
As we are ensconced in the computer age, there is an updated form of civil disobedience. It is often called ‘electronic civil disobedience’ or ‘Electronic Disturbance Theater’. It can take place at home, at work, etc. without the physical body ever being at the designated location. In 1994, the Mexican Zapatistas effectively blocked President Zedillo’s web site when more than 8000 people at once sent a manually automated reload request to the site. The virtual sit-in caused the web site to be blocked on and off for the entire day. This idea of creating social change via the internet sparks interest and conversation, not least of all by the authorities, who would presumably have a much more difficult time arresting protestors. The Mexican government did in fact respond, and directed their software to cause individual (users) computers to crash whenever EDT was present on their site. However, the activists are at present researching their own countermeasures.
As evidenced by the examples above, it is clear that Henry David Thoreau’s message has not gone unheard. Although we are in what seems to be a perpetual state of war and unrest, there are always those who are brave enough to speak out (or click the mouse). Without uprising, how can there be revolution? Without revolution, how can we grow? “You can’t make an omelet without breaking a few eggs” (Ellison 14).

Works Cited
1. Thoreau, Henry David. Civil Disobedience and Other Essays. Dover Publications, New York, 1849.
2. Web article: Protests and Civil Disobedience Mark Bush’s UN Speech. September, 2006. http://indymedia.us/en/2006/09/19526.shtml.
3. Ellison, Harlan. Repent, Harlequin! Said the Ticktockman . (Publishing house unknown 196?).

Death Does Not Become Her

Death does not become her

Purple flowers decorate the places where he beats her

Sneaker logos pattern her back

The Nike “swish” mocks her during the attack

No tears. No sound. Only deafening silence

After he stomps her

She quietly cleans the dishes

As her hands shake

The dinner plate breaks

Blood covers her fingers

A hollow laugh

Pierces the air

A glance in the mirror

Reveals an unfamiliar face

Splotchy and mascara stained

Weathered and severely plain

Weakness does not become her

She licks her lips

Swallows the bitterness

She grips the broken porcelain chips

Squeezes them between her fingertips

The reflection has splintered

Her soul feels like winter

She reaches for his throat

With a fist full of ceramic

He staggers backward in shock and in panic

He reveals the fear in his eyes

She spits in his face

Drops the plate

She mouths goodbye

Technology and Our Culture: How Does Modern Film Reflect Our Faith?

“For now we see as through a glass darkly, but then we shall see face to face” 1 Corinthians 13:11.


The technological nature of movie viewing reflects the value system of our culture. John C. Lyden argues that the Star Wars series focuses on the need to preserve our humanity; naturally, spiritually, and ethically. This theme is also constant in The Matrix and Ghost in the Shell 2: Innocence, all of which I will discuss here. My goal is to analyze the way these modern films critique our technological era, and the potential it has to take away or restore our humanity, which includes our faith in religion.
The definition of faith means accepting something as fact without evidence. When you are viewing a movie, you need to have faith in the storyline and the characters in order to enjoy the film. Going into the theatre, you ostensibly know that what you are about to view isn’t real. However, you allow yourself to be taken into the fantasy world for ninety plus minutes, and at least temporarily transported into an imaginary time and place. If you were to liken film viewing to religious gatherings (not so far-fetched an idea when you consider the rituals involved) it is clear that movies infiltrate in ways missionaries do not. For example, in the 2001 Australian census, 70,000 people marked their religion as Jedi Knight (Plate 1). There is also a less noted but highly popular cult called “Matricism” which sprang up from the principles denoted in The Matrix trilogy.
Ironic, when you consider the fact that instead of a human preacher in a pulpit giving us spiritual guidance, we receive the proverbial sacrament from a movie projector.
Clearly, religion is imagistic, participatory (even when it’s passive), performative, and world creating (Plate 2). The same adjectives can be applied to film, which make movies a powerful medium to express ideas.
The film industry itself is a secular organization which often replaces the ritual of going to church (Saturday night at the movies, anyone?). Brent Plate argues that religion creates a different world, beyond merely physical, (as does film) and subsequently invents a new society by framing and projecting. Both give their audience an inside look at a potential utopian or dystopian society.
According to Andrew Gordon, “we have created a machine world for ourselves that seems drained of spiritual values, a world in which we feel impotent and alien (Screening the Sacred 83).” This is made clear in all three films in the following ways: In The Matrix, human society is enslaved by machines, originally of human creation, who have turned against their “makers” and proliferate by synthesizing the energy output of the human body. The humans are unaware of this, as their minds are perpetually stuck in a computer-programmed virtual reality. When the main character, Neo, is “freed” from the egg-shaped cocoon his physical body is encased in, he is flushed down a hollow tube, along with the rest of the ‘waste’ then pulled out of the sewage water- in a similar fashion to the baptism of Jesus by John-who is represented here by Morpheus.
The Matrix blends the Buddhist ideas of fate and the Judeo-Christian theme of a messiah and a chosen people. For example, the last human city of Zion is the place where those freed from the matrix live and presumably wait for the day when their savior, Neo, or the “One” arrives, and the machines’ vicious rule ends This can be dually viewed as the enlightened “one” found in Buddhist texts (Clark).
The Wachowski brothers, who made the film, cleverly blended various religious philosophies, which effectively gave its audience a fundamental message- all religions have the common denominator of faith, which is what keeps us human. Loss of our humanity is the result of our lack of trust in ourselves, and the “force” which binds us to the natural world and each other. The disastrous end result is illustrated by war, civil unrest, and the dependence on automatons.
Similar in ideology to The Matrix, The humans represented in The Ghost in the Shell are mostly, if not entirely robotic or android. One of the main characters, Batou, is a cyborg, whose only human trace is his “ghost” (human spirit). Even the somewhat-human Togusa has a CPU, which is accessible by the input/output plug located at the base of his neck. He can easily download information or be hacked into; just like a regular computer*. The main issue of the film is that young girls are being taken from their homes by the Yakuza and their “ghosts” are being dubbed into beautiful mannequins, creating seemingly perfect and compliant living dolls. Their souls are trapped inside the gynoid effigy, creating a prison from which they cannot escape. A strain of the doll prototypes go haywire, killing everyone in their path, and then self-destructing. Togusa and Batou pursue the corporate cover up of the murders with the aid of the Major- a female counterpart to Batou who has no body. Only her “ghost” remains, which can be downloaded from the Net. She watches over the other two, and is explicitly compared to a guardian angel. It propagates the idea that the soul transcends the physical body. In the film, human souls co-exist with androids and machines because they have to. However, it questions the very nature of our “human-ness”. According to the director, Mamoru Oshii, it concludes that the world does not revolve around the human race. It presumes all forms of life, animals, humans, and even robots-are equal. The point is to co-exist and transcend outmoded ways of seeing other life forms. The Frankenstein-like dolls are the result of the efforts of a dishonorable corporation, aptly named Locus Solus. The corporation is an excellent example of how we make business, money, and power our religion, losing touch with what is truly important.
Our palpable frailty becomes evident in each film, as we become increasingly robotic. Darth Vader is almost entirely machine. Luke is well on his way (mechanical hand and forearm). The ‘freed’ slaves from The Matrix are full of electrical input/output holes. As mentioned before, even the most human-like being in Ghost in the Shell has a CPU inside their body.
I have used these movies as examples to express what happens when monstrous technological creations, e.g. The Death Star in the Star Wars series, or the dolls in Ghost in the Shell, represent the loss of faith when human power is left without boundaries (Film as Religion 223).
All three films have a major character or characters that are transformed into redeemers, saviors, or martyrs. This is a fundamentally Christian theme; however, there are also significant Buddhist principles which are reconciled. In Star Wars, Luke is his father’s redeemer; he sacrifices himself to show Vader the true meaning of his love (for him) and his faith (in the Force). Darth Vader becomes Luke’s savior; he kills the emperor to save Luke’s life, and is thus redeemed for his evil deeds. Although he dies shortly afterward, he has atoned for his evildoings, and becomes one with the Force (there is a shot of him alongside Master Yoda and Master Obi-Wan Kenobi which illustrates this point). This re-establishes the people’s faith in the Force, which had all but lost its value in Luke’s time. At the beginning of Episode Four, Obi-Wan and Yoda were the last of the Jedi order, living in exile, largely thanks to Darth Vader’s massacre of the Jedi twenty or so years before. Influenced by the evil Darth Sidious, Young Anakin Skywalker had lost his faith in the teachings of the Jedi due to his fear of loss and lust for power. Although he was urged to “let go” of his attachments (Buddhist ideology) it was beyond him to do so. After losing all of his limbs in an epic battle with Obi-Wan, Anakin (now Darth Vader) is forced into a machine-like state, with most of his bodily functions relying on the construct of his mechanical suit. He can’t even breathe without its assistance. To make a parallel to Ghost in the Shell, Anakin’s “ghost” still resides on the inside, but it is twisted and warped, and under the control of the Emperor.
The discarnate Major from Ghost in the Shell sacrificed her physical body for two reasons: 1.- in order to escape the authorities (who wanted the information stored in her memories) who would use her data for world domination, and 2.- in order to save her comate, Batou from an equal fate.
Characters within these films are in some sort of self-inflicted “prison”. Their bondage stems from human reliance on technology and rejection of the natural and spiritual world. In The Matrix, the everyday person is so hopelessly dependent upon the system (of the Matrix) and afraid of the unknown, that only a small percentage of the millions of humans are actually “free”, and in most cases, they will only accept the abstract idea of the Matrix if they are children. Neo has a difficult time coming to terms with the ‘reality’ that machines run the world and use humans as a power source because it opposes his programming.
Viewing films such as these, which reflect on the current state of affairs, as well as several of many possible futures, we are shocked to conceive of a world where our souls are on the market. It is not so hard to imagine a pacemaker or artificial leg because these things have already become our reality. One hundred years ago, you would have been sent to the funny farm if you told someone to call you from the plane to discuss your laser eye surgery.
In a commodity based, consumer-driven culture such as ours, it appears nothing is too precious to sell or buy. There are churches inside shopping malls; this is what our society has become.
When we whole-heartedly put our faith into science and progress, the values of family, friends and altruism fall by the wayside. If we accept the message of these films, we can clearly see the disaster which can easily befall us if we become too arrogant. There is hope for us if we realize the true nature of ourselves, and our connection to the divine.

Endnotes

1. Neo from The Matrix has an almost identical construct at the base of his neck. In Star Wars, telepathy is used, which is different from the other two, but similar in idea of our interconnectedness to the physical and non-physical world.*


Works Cited
1. Plate, S. Brent. Representing Religion in World Cinema: Filmmaking, Mythmaking, Culture Making. Palgrave Macmillan, 2003.
2. Martin, Joel W. And Ostwalt, Jr., Conrad E., Screening the Sacred: Religion, Myth, and Ideology in Popular American Film. Westview Press, 1995.
3. Lyden, John C. Film as Religion: Myths, Morals, and Rituals. New York University Press, 2003.
4. Polk, Bryan. Seeing the Field: Religious Themes in Popular Film, 2003.
5. Schoefield-Clark, Lynn. Spiritual Themes of the Matrix Reloaded. May 16th, 2003. Religion and Ethics Newsweekly (Episode no. 638). <www.pbs.org/wnet/religionandethics/week638/feature.html>.
6. Suchenski, Richard. Senses of Cinema. Mamoru Oshii, 2004. <http://www.sensesofcinema.com/contents/directors/04/oshii.html>.

Essay on The Tokugawa Shogunate

The Tokugawa period was ultimately dissolved due to the following factors. A rapid growth economy, up until the 19th century, allowed room for civil disobedience, and consequently a whole new political and social structure. The feudal system was out of date by more than two hundred years; the class division into warriors and commoners didn’t relate well to 19th century Japan’s cities bursting at the seams with wealthy merchants and agitated samurai. Foreign pressure to open borders also upset the apple cart, and further widened the ever growing rift of discontent.
Samurai Confucian values were juxtaposed against capitalist gains. Specifically, the Tokugawa leaders saw agriculture as the basis of the economy, ‘even though the demand to improve the material quality of one's life was quickly leading to the development of a money/market economy’ (Hoffert 4). Samurai were paid in rice, and consequently, opulent extras only served to decrease their fixed income and undermine their quality of living. Unfortunately, there were only a limited number of ways that the daimyo and the bakufu could deal with this type of economic crisis. The potential return to early Confucian values was one way intellectuals sought to deal with the issue, e.g. Ogyu Sorai and Yamaga Soka (who pushed for frugal living/bushido ethics). On the other hand, if funds were cut or restricted, it either put the Samurai into poverty level living, or took them out of the caste altogether.
By the early 1860s, the Tokugawa bakufu was in a quandary. Although there was definite resistance from the court, the Perry Convention and the Harris treaty were signed. The shogun's loyalty was questioned. ‘On the one hand it had to strengthen the country against foreigners. On the other it knew that providing the economic means for self-defense meant giving up shogunal controls that kept competing lords financially weak. Activist samurai tried to push their feudal superiors into more strongly anti-foreign positions. “This procured stern countermeasures and diplomatic indemnities. Most samurai soon realized that expelling foreigners by force was impossible. Foreign military superiority was demonstrated conclusively with the bombardment of Kagoshima in 1863 and Shimonoseki in 1864. Thereafter, samurai activists used their anti-foreign slogans primarily to obstruct and embarrass the bakufu, which retained little room to maneuver. Domestically it was forced to make anti-foreign concessions to placate the loyalist camp, while foreigners were assured that it remained committed to “opening the country” and abiding by the treaties. Both sides saw it as prevaricating and ineffectual” (Britannica 23186). The bakufu wouldn’t accept any of these ideas, which created the problem of a modern vs. a feudal economy, forcing action on the part of the Satsuma and Choshu. The Tokugawa shogunate was overthrown by lower samurai and ronin, (Satsuma, Choshu, Tosa & Hizen clans, specifically) court nobility and the Emperor, merchants (who largely funded the revolt) and disgruntled peasants who were soldiers and equally held a general disposition that weakened the regime. Satsuma and Choshu were part of the largest domains, and therefore capable of political sway. Satsuma was 2nd in tax yield, Choshu held the 9th; out of 165 Hans in Japan. Their wealth in the mid 19th century led to their success. Excellent financial resources, strong morale, and western ammunitions took them to victory. Both Satsuma and Choshu were in locales far removed from the more urban areas. The warrior/aristocrats were less wanton in these outlying regions, so morale was much better than their urban counterparts. Satsuma and Choshu were not initially allies; however, after 1861 this changed because Satsuma had lost faith in the Shogunate and doubted their true motives. They deduced Choshu was a better adherent. By 1866, a secret alliance was drawn up in Kyoto in order to snuff out the shogunate. The reformers themselves were young, forward thinking people, samurai and peasant alike. Choshu took an interesting approach by supporting the “Sonno joi” and thus sided with the (Choshu controlled) Imperial Court. The bakufu didn’t deal with the ‘aliens’ as it were, which led to the demise of Tokugawa. The shogunate was forced to comply with the public, and was given a timeframe to literally expel the westerners. This put the shogunate in an unachievable position, which continued to undermine its power. The Shogunate was wedged between pressure from the Kyoto court and the advanced military power of the West. It was futile to attempt policy making. Once the emperor and shogun died within one year of each other, civil war ensued. The new Shogun, Keiki, voluntarily surrendered his executive powers to the youthful new Emperor, Meiji, in November 1867. Imperial re-establishment was formally decreed. This was the beginning of an extended struggle before the calm. Following the formal proclamation of the Restoration, a new governmental structure was announced in 1868. A ceremony to proclaim the Charter Oath took place in Kyoto. Emperor Meiji read out the following covenant before the ‘gods of heaven and earth’:
1. Deliberative assemblies shall be widely established and all matters decided by public discussion.
2. All classes, high and low, shall unite in vigorously carrying out the administration of affairs of state.
3. The common people, no less than the civil and military officials, shall each be allowed to pursue his own calling so that there may be no discontent.
4. Evil customs of the past shall be broken off and everything based upon the just laws of Nature.
5. Knowledge shall be sought throughout the world so as to strengthen the foundations of imperial rule.5
The Charter Oath was the foundation for constitutional government. Keiki was wholly excluded from its membership and his domains were ordered to be seized. He took up arms, but was defeated at the Battle of Fushimi. After this failure, Keiki ordered Edo to be surrendered to the Imperial troops. The idea of removing foreign influence waned, and the new administration realized that in order to keep up with the great economic powers, Japan would have to quickly catch up to the technologically advanced west. The government readily enabled British, American, French, German and Dutch as pilots, railways and marine engineers, financial and legal advisers, agricultural experts, university and school teachers, military and naval instructors. In turn, the Japanese went abroad to do the same. They were eager to learn from the foreigners, and put the newfound knowledge to good use. Policy went from anti-foreigners to pro-foreigners almost overnight. In 1869, the Emperor took up residence in Edo, which is modern day Tokyo or Eastern Capital. It has been Japan’s epicenter ever since. The fortitude and ambition of the young samurai pushed the movement forward which led to not only the fall of the Tokugawa shogunate, but the rise of the Meiji restoration. Military power rather than traditional power became the scene in Japanese politics.


Bibliography

1. Encyclopedia Britannica Online
2. http://www.crystalinks.com/japan9.html
3. The Making of Modern Japan, Jansen, Marius B. The Belknap Press of Harvard University Press, 2002.

A Poem About The Wife of Bath From Chaucer's Canterbury Tales, written in (bastardized) Middle English

Ye goon to Caunterbury, God yow speede!

Whoso that nyl be war by othere men, By hym shul othere men corrected be.

I love the Wyf of Bath’s ironye,
As well as her indemnytye
For sooth she loveth her freedome
As for her sondry housbondes sekirly
That of loue can wythe no vileynye
She myghte have kypte one man
as her kyng
Eek to cherish the hourye
Which she gloses as the flour
Of al her age
Of her housbonde, she uses his sely instrument bothe eve and morwe
She wol not lette
From collectyn of his dette
For wel ye knowe she covets not virginitee
Eek this tale of transformationye, I trowe
Rests with the wyf’s verray glorie
To put him who is vileyn in purgatorie
For Housbondes in hir degree being cruel and unjust
Not to mentione coveiteth
To hem equals with their own expectation

we wol ben at oure large.
“To thow seyst we wyves wol oure vices hide The wyf has not eek the tyme for lyes “Til we be fast, and thanne we wol hem shewe”
Take note, she saith “forbede us thyng, and that desiren we; Preesse on us faste, and thanne wol we fle.”
The wyf must hath in her chart some Sagittaurye
For to be Gat-tothed as she was
bicam her weel
For as her tendancye to heere sundry Talys and evere yet loved to be seye
Or to make visitaciouns
To folk of sundry stacions
She cuts to the nekke-boon
The subject matter relates to it anon
The questioun “What thyng is it that wommen moost desiren”
And for men to leere
He may do al as hym liketh
The wyf is a wommen with honour
Not to be eclipsed by her valour
What I fynde in this mateere
Is to clawe the surface
And recognise a femmynyst
But one who for sooth
Can be moost vertuous
At seeing within
Eek the beauty withal
Of age and wisdom
From the entire Kyngdom
Not to mention merit
Pryvee and apert
I fynd her to be of a gentil kynde.

A Reflexive Nosebleed

I acquiesce

I return

To childhood

As a little girl

Overcome

Innocent, yet bellicose

Brimming with fancy

Not to mention moronic beauty

Which youth bestows upon the foolish nymph

Of late there are a few

Crinkles in my expression

Closely observed

They are gullies and canyons

Through which many streams have passed

As years stretch skin

Once so free

Now mired in vexation

Nothing escapes

My thoughts re-emerge as lines on my face.

Poetry Ink

This event preceded my first publication, and it was really exciting! Thank you to my family and friends who came out to show support.....this was an all-day reading, and there were scores of poets (over 100!) who came out to read their work. My poem "The Phoenix of Self-Nihilism" is included in the anthology:

Moonstone Readings
At Robin’s Bookstore
108 S. 13th Street, Philadelphia, 215-735-9600, www.robinsbookstore.com
Books & Events for Independent Minds from Philadelphia’s Oldest Independent Bookstore
Free and open to Everyone

Poetry Ink: Celebrating Poetry with 100 Poets Reading at Robin’s
& Party for Poetry Ink: The Tenth Anniversary Anthology

Sunday April 2, 2006 – 1pm

Welcome Poets! Welcome to the Tenth Annual Poetry Ink event. Welcome to the party for our first book, Poetry Ink: The Tenth Anniversary Anthology ($19.95 Plan B Press). Welcome, Welcome, Welcome. And Thank You. This is all because of you. Moonstone has had a poetry series for twenty-five years and the Poetry Ink event for ten years, but it is only as good as the poets who choose to participate. So, Thank You. This event is unique because poets from all over, from many groups and venues, choose to participate, allowing this event to be a cross section of poetry in Philadelphia. We welcome everyone: academic poets, famous poets, free form poets, street poets, unknown poets, word poets, published poets, unpublished poets, and it is a joy to hear the different voices. We will, of course, have our Poetry Ink book for sale, the profits from which will go to fund Moonstone’s new chap book series, which will help emerging poets publish their first chap book. We will announce shortly our editorial board and guidelines for submissions. We will have refreshments. We will supply the coffee and punch. Please bring something good to eat to share. We ask that you limit your presentation to 2 minutes. I know that is not long but we will still be here for 5 hours, so please conform to the time limit. In addition to hearing many terrific poets, you get to talk with people interested in poetry. This is an open invitation to poets and lovers of poetry, so please invite your friends.

The Phoenix of Self-Nihilism

On haunting dreams I do expound

My memories move me

The mellifluous retrospect soothes me

My lack of foresight

Questioning faith

Torn limb from limb by a menacing wraith

I’m tumbling downhill

I reach out in the hot night

With clenched teeth and tense face

It’s become too fake

Sweat drips beneath me

I can’t tell between dreaming and awake

It’s become too real

I tried to make you understand

Yet you demanded

To expose me

To exploit me

To eat my innocence

There is beauty in your arrogance

You’re so fucking greedy

You like the taste
Of youthful indulgence

The plate is on the table waiting

Your gnashing teeth devour it

My eyes are closed

I can see you clearly

Shards of morning light

Tear you into tiny pieces

Fresh air is everywhere

As I close the prison door behind me


V J D

The Primrose Path

The edge is nearly upon me
Though I fear not
My eyes are open

 The Primrose Path (revised)


It was a hot night in East Falls, the only sound around was the thumping bassline of Diamond’s jet black ’94 Escort. She was more beautiful than most chicks from around the block; the kind of girl you would pick first out of a crowded room. Magnetic green eyes, light brown curly hair, and a crooked smile to boot….

Butterflies did backflips in her stomach on the drive down to his place. She couldn’t believe she was actually going to this party. She had to pick a big fight with her man to free up the night. Things were nearly in place for her to leave him for good. She was sick of being his figurative and literal punching bag. He was probably high right now anyway, curled up to his true love, Grand Theft Auto. The two of them hadn’t slept in the same room for months. They often went days without so much as a word to one another. Tonight was for her, though. She needed a break from the insanity of her life.

Diamond’s blue jeans were just-right-tight, she had a fresh manicure, and she smelled like peaches. The summer sun had given her caramel skin a delicious deep glow. Her ears pounded in her head as she felt wave after wave of adrenaline. Or maybe it was the ecstacy she had taken earlier, it was hard to tell. Whatever the case, it made her have to pee. Her tires screeched a sad song as she nearly did a donut into the parking lot. Hey, there is such a thing as making an entrance, right? She quickly turned off the car and blew air out of her mouth. The street was eerily quiet. Diamond’s feet made creaking sounds as she walked up the pissy hallway. Every other step was sticky and she caught a delightful whiff of Raid. She already skeeved the place, but knew she wouldn’t turn back. She had already come this far; at the very least she had to have a look-see.

The rhythms of merengue mixed with hip-hop on the opposite side of the door put her mind at ease. Diamond made her way in, nodding heads at some kids she knew from school. She held a brief conversation on the topic of gender-specific corporate manipulation with an uber-feminist from her mass media class. She thought it best to grab a drink; the night was young. Bacardi seemed like a safe bet.

She looked up from pouring to find eyes on her. Staring. It was him. Sergio. She barely held on to her cup. His hazel eyes and heavy gaze made her knees weak. He was definitely an East Coast girl's dream, six-foot-two with muscles and tattoos, y’know, the works. He was working the urban poet look quite well. Thrift store T-shirt and jeans appearing to be very broken in. He was rocking some brown Pumas and quoting Kurt Vonnegut. Diamond inhaled him.

They had met in ethics class a while back, and discussed the profundities of life in a non-Starbucks coffee shop on many occasions. He was perfectly on her level like no one she had ever met. Even in the beginning of her current relationship, when things were at their most divine, it was never this deep. No other dude had ever soul kissed her. Sergio reached out for her hand in one smooth motion and pulled her close.
“Want to see something?” He whispered into her ear.
“Yeah,” she replied, without skipping a beat.
All the faces in the room became a blur as he took Diamond’s hand and led her to the top floor of the apartment. He forced open a dirty, cracked window and motioned for her to go out. She poked her head out first to investigate. She had a fleeting though about falling off the roof and careening to her death.

There was a small ledge, and to the right, an angled roof. An afghan had been spread out, even a couple of pillows. She smiled to herself as she pretzeled her way out of the tiny window and carefully crept over to the blanket to get comfortable. The night sky was illuminated with stars, a rarity in these parts; more than she had ever seen. She was so busy being lost in the heavens she almost forgot about Serg, who had made his way over to her, and was admiring the view as well.
“I come up here all the time,” he said with a slight sigh. “It’s always so crazy in there; my roommates, the parties….” “Some days I just want it to be quiet.”
“I can dig it,” Diamond whispered, and closed her eyes as a warm breeze swept across her face. It was almost perfect.
Diamond thought about Sergio. His juicy lips, the freckles on the bridge of his nose. His jaw was incessantly twitching. It usually happened when he was trying to figure something out. She looked down at his hands. She loved men with nice hands. She thought it said something about them.
Their little moment was interrupted by the window being forced back open. A tiny pale face framed by a cascade of wild black hair peeked out.
“Hey guys!” “Watcha doin’ out here?” squeaked Lilly, a friend of Sergio’s.
“We’re talking.” “Go back in, Lil.”
“Well hurry up your love connection, man. It’s time to get your smoke on.”
Sergio turned back to Diamond. “You wanna go in?” he asked.
“Naw. I like it better out here. You go if you want.”
He glanced away, then back to her. “I wanna be wherever you are.” He tickled her chin. Up to now, nothing physical had ever occurred between them. There was an entirely different life waiting for Diamond back at home, but right now, it didn’t matter. 


Valerie de Angeli  

Grievances in an Aerosol Can

Revelation of an innovation

A futile attempt to circumvent

The aggravation

Of awaiting

Divine inspiration

To course through me

Like electricity

An undeniable rush penetrates

With a forceful touch

I shake and shudder

As I reach for another

So you want to sublimate what I create

I digress

Put me to the test

Without the Teflon vest

I’ll reminisce on days gone by

You won’t have the pleasure

Of seeing me cry

The useless sorrow comes up short

It’s got me vexed

Damn near perplexed

Who’s the true friend

Who’s the true fiend
The one who hears your silent scream

Like a pocket full of nothing

The empty void is waiting

Sonic shocks to my head

Its five a.m.

Almost time for bed