A memoir slouches
on the rim of oblivion,
its title
was “never forget”.
It was written by
a wife, a mother,
who couldn’t let it go
to live
at the mercy
of its readers.
It gathers dust
untranslated,
sits as data files
multiplying.
It is remembered
by scattered
polyglot descendants
who try to see
through her eyes
what happened
that fateful night
when her daughter
accidentally
opened the door
to the enemy.
Back to One Shot Wednesday
A thump,
a window shudders,
a cat needles along
a question mark.
Curtains betray
a lurking paw,
a moth screams
searching light.
After a dinner conversation about a cultural cynicism and envy, I got inspired to write a series of short poems about getting dirty in a very fundamental way. These are a mud spa for the mind.
________
Mud oozes
between my toes
lusciously
________
I stroke the clay
into a column
a satisfying squelch
as it rises
rounded
________
Up to my elbows
in silky porcelain mud
slipping and slapping
________
Up to her neck
in steaming cleansing mud
it found every crevice
________
Red clay fingerprints
trace the hidden bones
her ribcage flutters
________
Porcelain snail trails
smoothing ribbed belly curves
a tweak for a spout
________
Potter’s wheel
tactile
sweet
scent of clay
grounded
________
The vodka bottle sweats
on the bench
as I chop eggplant, onions;
ratatouille’s on the go,
it needs tomato juice
so it doesn’t stick.
I pour some in the steaming pot,
and fill a glass, tomato juice
with a generous splash of vodka for the cook,
Ah, that hits the spot.
Bread pops up.
The toaster does it to a perfect gold;
I open a jar of Beluga caviar,
place a spoonful carefully
on each toast triangle,
a pretty morsel for the guests,
I should taste one,
washed down
with a slug of Bloody Mary,
life is good.
She seeks secrets
in his burnt senna eyes
bamboo whispers
~~~~~~~~
Half a lemon
amber tea
sleeping dog
a rose
and you
~~~~~~~~
Cinnamon
chilli, cumin
coriander
gently heated
glowing golds
~~~~~~~~
With a clear gaze
he offers diamond rings
a deceased estate
~~~~~~~~
my compassion
his violin
I notice
~~~~~~~~
He brings lists
acrid samples
for conversation
This is a collaborative piece – apologies if the order is not quite right – the players in no particular order were @VelvetinaPurrs
@marousia @fumanchucat @peterwilkin1 @amoz1939 @novatwitman egged on by @simonscotland. It was great fun and completely spontaneous. There was no prearranged sequence of turns.
We had been playing around with FF and identifying those who had a love of dragons. I sent out a hash tag – #dragonishrenga and the mayhem began.
When reading this remember that with renga the important thing to watch is what happens BETWEEN the links. Here is our crazy dragon quilt for your pleasure.
The crescent moon smiles/ the sea catches silver light/ a dragon stretches
Dragons run riot ~ sprinkling us with magic dust ~ our brains are addled
Amethyst dragon ~ singing old George Formby songs ~ playing a banjo
the dragons roar music fire ~ bright stars race the night (Err!)
With unfurled tail and high polished spikes / the beast muse stalks my thoughtful words *7/7*
Silver dragon tap-dancing ~ he thinks he is Fred Astaire
An amber dragon ~ gliding around the ballroom ~ like Ginger Rogers
And now I see a natty dragon/ he wears spats and sports a cane
A thunder clap over head/ the dragons chase lightning now
Dragons chase lightning ~ drop it on @fumanchucat ~ her hair turns silver 😉
And that’s not the only thing dragon/ drops for he is not litter trained
Swoop left right up down searching/ preys sighted the hunt begins 7/7
Our dreams race trails ~ dragons fearless magic arc ~ we hold their tails
Frowns ~ toilet paper in her hand ~ dragons howl laughing
Baby dragon belches now/ sniggers better out than in
Sitting down for lunch ~ tying bibs round dragons’ necks ~ such messy eaters
Dragon sulks-the others not serious/wanna hunt now!!! *pouts*
Babies asleep watched by one/ the others set out to hunt
For lunch young dragons have cast-off words / of poets and writers, near and far
With stubby claws they stalk their prey/ these beasts of lore, these guardians of words
The morsels they seek ~ all bad to be consumed ~ guardians of good
Baby dragons wait ~fairy dust on their wings ~taking baby steps
Edding large tears of sadness ~ see baby dragons grow up
Poor squires of York ~polishing claws of dragons ~and their scales too
Boom boom extra boom ~hunt of dragons begin now ~weapons words only
Swoop left right up down searching/ preys sighted the hunt begins 7/7
With unfurled tail and high polished spikes / the beast muse stalks my thoughtful words
I have noticed a tendency lately where just about every story in the media about Twitter is somehow negative and is imbued with contempt. I thought I would try to unpack why.
Media commentators decry the time we spend being connected, the anxiety we feel when we are disconnected, the ways in which life has sped up, the lack of work and life balance. On the other hand, we are bombarded with advertising that exploits fears of being unconnected and falling behind in a world giddy with technological consumerism.
It’s easy to persuade people that life was better in a ‘before’ where there were no wireless mobile computing, no smart phones and demanding social softwares such as Facebook and Twitter. Newspapers carry claims that the pressure to be constantly available and connected cause stress and actually diminish the ability to concentrate. The happiness industry with its focus on being present, on practice and avoiding distractions is another manifestation of the cultural nostalgic malaise for a time when life wasn’t quite so mediated by technology.
It’s easy to find stories about the naivety of social software users posting status updates that cost them their livelihood. Social concerns about are social media phenomena such as Twitter are framed by and reflected in mainstream media organizations.
I think these concerns often express an emotional response that may be viewed as contempt with both the perceived lack of time and with banal thoughts, feeling and details of daily life being expressed in public spheres.
Contempt is a complex voluntary emotion that has an element of disgust as well as a fear of the other or another that does not conform to normative social controls. It also has a strong element of envy. The psychoanalytical theories of Melanie Klein provide a useful lens through which to examine the anxieties, desires and projections arising from the use of social media. According to Polledri (2003):
For Klein (1957) the direct aim of envy is to spoil the attributes of the good object. Klein always recognized that in the transference the patient projects into the analyst an internal world determined by past experiences; these past experiences, re-lived in the transference, have to be recognized in relation to their historical past. The fact that envy spoils the capacity for creative enjoyment explains to some extent why envy is so persistent. (p198)
Social software, including Twitter has become an object of transference, where envy and contempt are projected. Maybe this is because Twitter has immense potential for creative playfulness and collaborations. Thus it becomes an object that needs to be spoiled. Much of the contempt of social software such as Twitter is associated with the anxiety that people are publicly disclosing feelings and thoughts that are no longer contained safely in private. By extension, those who do not indulge in such behaviours are considered somehow superior. Transgressions by celebrities attract an almost gleeful schadenfreude in mainstream media.
The case of Catherine Deveny losing her job as a columnist for the Age newspaper in Melbourne for using Twitter to express her comments about the 2010 Logie Awards is an excellent illustration of the schadenfreude associated with such perceived transgressions real time social software streams. Her comments according to Michael Bodey, were that “she hoped child star Bindi Irwin “got laid” and that Rove McManus’s partner Tasma Walton didn’t die”. She later claimed that her comments were taken out of context and she was merely passing the time whilst at the Logies. Her comments and subsequent dismissal provided grist for talk back radio with 3AW radio host Neil Mitchell describing her comments as “vulgar, sick stuff” (Bodey, 2010). Mitchell’s words signify contempt and envy through spoiling.
Twitter is a place where the subject can create and consign meaning; and can intervene in the world to make an impact, or to influence others. Social media is personal as well as political. It lives in the imaginary as well as in the social. It is a site of introjection as well as projection. it is not governed by gatekeepers.It is also the symbolic Other (Lacan, 1977), which challenges pre-existing social orders structures and conventions of language use. It has become an object of contempt and disgust.
A leaf dances
autumn’s requiem
as polar wind’s talons
pierce scarves
slipping into crevices;
valiant sun retreats
in a lemon haze.
A sickle moon
rises, a brittle
salute to the howl
sweeping meridians.
Part of One Shot Wednesday
Streams rush
distracted
with salty dreams
of endless horizons
and raging storms.
Gossiping about
fish aspirations;
roaring down rocks,
misting the air,
falling …
Beneath,
a perfumed river
caressed by willows
shimmers past temples,
catches the moon…
Marousia 