AngeliqueSimonetta's Open Salon Blog

in my blackest moments...

Tue, 29 Jun 2010 16:06:57 -0400

in my blackest moments - a poem for gary olson (an early poem by Gregory Hall 1946 - 2009)

when the blackness comes there's nothing to do;

ti jean. jostling in the street

i realize i've met a mountain.

o the blink'll come; there's no doubt.

and when it comes, will there be blackness still?

gary envisioned it as being high, high as you've

ever been; all your best friends there

whatever you dig to drink most,

you've got it--

a tall of old E; your favorite music,

your mother and father there holding hands

and singing together --

all the brothers, sisters, babies there; everyone

high and happy.

like the most happy blake things i've read, close

to the little sheep, on the planet

the very stars singing songs with light in the corners

and no fear and no hunger;

no restlessness or darkness of the spirit.

the earth alive and well; no cancers or diseases

no walls between us at last forever.

and this is death: the blink that comes,

then high--evermore.

the mysterious land from which nobody's come back;

the pictures still hang, revered by the survivors

the poems on the page, not to fold till the last

being's attention goes and the time falls off the walls

of consciousness for the last and final collapsing

echo of existence shot to the far reaches of the cosmos.

the ends of never; the borders of the infinite;

the wolf-ghost's parents lair;

where the collossus of the universe groans on a bed of

galaxies, sent to sleep in centuries, its' alarm

set for the inside-out paroxym convoluting eternity.

see the blind, the cripples, the misery of the manacles;

it will pass. the blink is the grace of god;

the vision a consolation when all human wheels

stick in the mud of illusion and our throats are parched

by the dust of the human fireplace.

carloads of tender poetry will bathe us in bliss

till the parting from this planet brings us together

in eternity; in the land which arrives after

the blink has its being. o gary your vision has saved

my soul.

Contentment at the Bottom of the Sea...

Mon, 4 Jan 2010 01:01:53 -0500

Nature is surrounding me

and the 'me' that I had believed

and thought myself to be is slowly

(and perhaps mercifully)

being whittled away, like the rocks that turn

into sand from the constant pounding

of the waves. Could it be the 'egoic self',

(so to speak), is being whittled out of existence,

along with my penchant for words?

The longer I am here, the more silent I become,

as I settle into the bottom of the sea,

completely content.

"THE ECONOMIST" AD HAS RENDERED O.S. INOPERABLE

Tue, 15 Dec 2009 15:12:53 -0500

Am I the only person on O.S. who is struggling with these ads from The Economist (you can't miss it - Big, bold red box eating up the screen acting as an impenetrable fortress to O.S. content)? Yes, I have tried hitting the little 'x' on the left hand corner to close the screen - It does not close, despite my erstwhile efforts. It would seem that I am being forced to click into the OTHER little box, the one that will take me into the ad itself, (with attached marketing video, I assume - although to date I have managed to avoid clicking into this, out of sheer stubborness).

At times the ad disappears, only to resurface, like an entity being "beamed up" onto The Star Trek "Enterprise", ghostly and nearly hollow, just when I am trying to click into a post, or my own blog. This happens again and again and again, and as of this morning, I at last admit defeat, for I am not willing to click into the ad like some hapless sheep or lemming.

Those O.S. users (including myself) who expressed concerns about the various ads that were inserted into our personal blogs were ignored and the ads continued, for obvious, monetary reasons. However, I cannot imagine I am the only O.S. user who is literally unable to use this blog-site due to The Economist ad. Between this and the plethora of postings that garner only a few reads unless made Editor's Pick, O.S. appears to be disintegrating into a pile of pop-up, viral-type ads, with actual blog-content existing in between, and only as a passing thought.

Guess it is time to follow the Northern Star while kicking the O.S. dust off of my boots. See ya around, cowboys.

A Goddamned Poem At The Request of the Formerly Homeless

Wed, 18 Nov 2009 03:11:53 -0500

DECIBEL ONE

“Blow Your Horn, Boy!”

when the very your of “your”

sets the brainwaves into separating links

of fire and diesel fuel.

Couldn’t remember if I paid off the milkman

who used to deliver bottles of fresh cold milk

early in the morning days long past;

people passing too, and the rage of summer

inflamed with greed and the fear of sweat and death...

Today the beach in places smelled like the stink

Of latrines from the Korean War

and the confusion over sides

and where is north and south.

At least here I know the ocean

is always west where I live,

what’s left of it.

Too much credence is given to reason

over rhyme but perhaps it suits the lazy heart

or at least pays the bills when all the loot

has run out. “Too much talk exhausts”

said the repressed Asian sage,

ancient and forcibly wise.

But I lost the inside

years ago.

Stop The World - I Want To Get Off (Or, Can We Slow Down?!)

Fri, 9 Oct 2009 12:10:17 -0400

(Bad Moon Rising...)

Has anyone else noticed that time is speeding up? That karma is becoming (as John Lennon prophesized) "Instant"? (Anyone remember Instant Karma? "Instant Karma's Gonna Get You...?" http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EqP3wT5lpa4. BTW: On the "B" side of this little 45 was Yoko Ono's stunningly off-kilter "Who Has Seen The Wind", sung in her now infamous hypnotic, breathless whine... - I'd post the link but Yoko appears to have had it yanked off youtube due to "use violation rights").

A couple of weeks ago, my friend, who works at the Main Library in San Francisco, had to evacuate the building TWICE due to bomb threats. During one evacuation she stayed behind with a disabled person in a wheelchair who couldn't exit because the elevators were off limits, believing this to be the humane and caring and appropriate thing to do, and was advised later by her employer she is required to leave the building and just leave disabled people there...HUH?

People drive too fast, tail-gate, and honk in an indignant, aggressive fashion if you slow down to turn into a gas station, as if one should never slow down...

I notice a sense of increased "urgency" and agitation in and near Urban environments, and less friendly connections, less eye contact, less casual conversation, less community.

This is why I am moving to a small, rural community near the beach. It just feels better over there, out of the way of....Well, just out of the way.

And that seems to be what a lot of people want these days. For other people to JUST GET OUT OF THE WAY.