Guilt

Raskolnikov sits on the toilet and thinks, “Nobody sees me here. But if I was the Invisible man full time, would I then lose all restraint?” Despite his stink, he still smells paint—it simply will not fade! “If I could disappear, though, none of that would matter!” But his chance of being fully invisible, He found, was slim or next to none. Everywhere he went, he saw, they’d see him or smell him. Sometimes they seemed to sense him When he wasn’t even there! Raskolnikov takes to his bed in a sweat, Then wakes up with a start and far too loudly mutters, “Does it matter, does it matter— Whether I’m as guilty as I feel Or as guilty as I think?” rcs. 3rd draft: 08/14/03 ©2000 Ronald C. Southern

Dark Beauty

All men strive for beauty through definition As women strive for definition through their beauty; In women’s forms and faces Men see it and applaud it, How lips that are not quite right Must be reshaped and eyebrows Vague or thickly pagan, Must be smoothed and plucked, Arrayed another way. For whom do they perform This ritual of realization, Groping through the paint and powder To recall a dream of youth that's lost? Who has this turgid power? And what, what the cost? Come, my lovely, And give definition to your grace; Dispel the years and the toil and tears And show me your young face. Darling, dance your heart for me In elegant curls and lace, While I am drawn in gloom and storm, The master of a sterner race. Come play for me And make the music sleek; My tarnished voice must yet Through mere human methods speak, But your voice is clear and fair, Rising to a pitch I cannot dare. And God your fit and youngish skin! Alive and soft and curved! But I must figure the angles, Plot the sins, find enemies to conquer Even if among your auburn hairs. You see, my heart is bare. Where beauty must be sought so, Threadbare kings will ever entice some Naked innocent to dress and paint and preen, Implore infected girls to mirror What queens should never deem: To forge a definition of, To freeze in time a picture of, To faint and feint an adoration of Dear beauty, dire beauty, dark beauty, For which I strive, From which I fall. rcs. 4th draft: 10/22/02 ©1984 Ronald C. Southern

Animal Kingdom

He was as crazy as a rat, And he mistook the feeling for love As if the couplings of nature's beasts only—not ours— Are set by heedless instinct. How exactly These mental diagrams, these animal confusions That foster our embraces in the cortex of desire, Have made the world of difference that we imagine Is never very clear to others. rcs. Current draft: 03/08/03 ©2003 Ronald C. Southern

Man Of Heart Alone

To touch the stone again Is my hope, Yet keep both hands wrapped Tight around the wheel And see the way again Yet feel both feet, though not heroic, Set firmly as a statue On the path The way-of-the-world on-the-loose Takes time to learn, takes time to teach. Now I’ve grown wiser than my reach, A man of heart alone. Fear or courage, Neither one much matters, But only this nerve that drives us Through the darkness and the marsh. Not breath held back Or blood stopped cold But only hope's hooded falcon, That with feathers flying everywhere Takes a firm grasp of the world and itself with piercing talons. Not the fury that swells the blood gone wild Or the need in the cries of the child, But only this relentless tearing, As the soul-in-term declares either War or Love. Suzanne, like a fledgling I heed the hand that feeds me; In the pleasures of knowing Are markers that define our pride. Our Passions are proud, and just, and shy, and they will Waylay the best in us while we strive for balance— For the world, make no error of the horror of it, Will cut its own throat and without honor lie. rcs. 3rd draft: 09/08/01 4th draft: 01/27/10 ©1980 Ronald C. Southern

Plink, Plink, Plink!

Just going through various water tortures. That's all. But I HATE water!

Love Concealed

Out for a walk in a piney wood, Annoyed with all of life, I found an old burnt stump Amid autumnal leaves. Around the charred circumference Where I’d kicked the leaves and straw away, In deep bold letters carved long ago By an angry hand were these words: “Lay Hands On Me At Your Peril! Abstain And Never Regret!“ Kicking my way slowly through the pine straw, I thought, How Strange That a nobody’s words Could travel so far and anger me so! I wondered, if he had known How long his reach would be, Might he have chosen other words To scratch upon that tree? rcs. 3rd draft: 09/07/01 4th draft: 01/25/10 ©1980 Ronald C. Southern

Thank You, America

If I believed in God, I’d suspect that God just used the people of Massachusetts to strike down the healthcare reform that democrats have been working on. Maybe they thought it was “in the bag”. God showed ‘em it wasn’t. It was His little joke. I’m mad, though, because I’m one of those people who can’t currently get adequate health care and I’d have liked to see a change. I’m mad because I’d like to blame God, but I know it’s actually the fault of greedy, petulant, morally outraged, or just plain uninformed citizens all around the country. Everybody gets hot quick when they think somebody might get something they haven’t earned. I probably used to think the same way when I had a job that provided insurance, but I had the job when I was in good health. They don’t give any merit points for all the years I just worked and didn’t get sick. I thought I’d always be healthy and at least strong enough to stand up on my own, but that was a load of crap, wasn’t it? Thank you, America, you greedy fucking capitalist pig! I hope you roast in hell!

You Snooze You Lose

Well, so much for any impatient waiting on that one. I may join the snooze myself.

A New Fat Poem (190 lines)

Here's a link to a brand-new poem about the universe that means a lot to me. It may be awful or it may be great, but it required a lot of work. See it at BLEW AWAY.

2100 Carrots?!

I think it's interesting how many of the "Next Blogs" are new and how many of the new bloggers are afraid to begin(or at least reticent about it). I've now posted nearly 2100 posts here and hardly any trees or pets have been sacrificed. Ugh, that's a strange thought. What if the price of blog publication WAS a sacrifice? You'd have to go out and kill an animal (other than an insect) every time you had a new blog post ready? It might work out for a long time--after all, we do have a surfeit of pets on this planet. But I suspect that over 90% of us would lie and claim that we only killed fish! Even fish don't care about fish, that's how they always seem to me. Everything in the ocean wants to eat everything else, as far as I can tell. And they do it, too, any time the opportunity presents itself. No, wait, there are some vegetarians swimming around out there. Some of the whales, I think. I don't mind if they do or don't, though. Who in his right mind could dislike a whale? I could more easily get pissed off at a carrot or a potato. I don't even like the way that those creepy carrots look at me! Killing carrots might be kind of a kick, you know?