Autumn, Creative Directions, and Peace Work

Autumn creeps forward with bits of auburn color, splashes of yellowing leaves, and clear blue skies that we’ve missed this past summer. The air is crisp and refreshing. I’m in a time of renewal, with new projects, artwork, and learning to centering myself in the creative process. The creative flow has felt like a tidal wave in the past six months and now, like a veteran surfer, I’m finding the perfect wave, my relationship to the ride, and learning to balance on the powerful tide. The creative balance is between my work as an artist and my commitment as a peace activist.

I’m productive and relaxed, letting go of many outside commitments that were diverting my attention away from writing and creative work. I’m writing each morning about 2-4 hours daily without strict deadlines, able to write what I want and pursue my creative projects. I’m able to follow the wild muse and enjoying the ride. Though this creative free form schedule has been difficult in terms of getting work out, published, and/or produced, I’m enjoying the privacy of creativity. This creative process includes the writing, designing and drawing new installation peace projects, writing and playing music, photography, and the time to savor the freedom of creativity.

Richard Lovelace in his poem “To Althea from Prison” captures this freedom of spirit so well:

Stone walls do not a prison make

nor iron bars a cage;

Minds innocent and quiet take

that for an hermitage;

If I have freedom in my love

and in my soul I am free,

Angles alone, that soar above,

enjoy such liberty.

September through October getting ready to perform my newer work - iR Reveren'jAz and jAZ mU eXperience. 17 October 2009 I will be at 5C Café on Avenue C in NYC with some excellent jazz cats. Then I am on to Cambridge and Boston for shows. Stay tuned for details. I am slowly planning for additional shows at colleges in the region. I’m approaching shows differently, each show as a unique creation with the improvisation of jazz, word, and multimedia.

One of the new projects I’ve been very keen on (but and dragging my feet) is the performance multimedia project “Four Prophets” Jesus, Mohammed, Moses and Buddha meet in a Public restroom.

This November I’ll (hopefully) visit a new community development project in Haiti. Then over to Dominican Republic to follow up on on-going community projects we have there. GRACE CARES supports small-scale community development projects around the world. We have one project in India that teaches health care and English and those project holders are creating a larger community health project.

In January through February, I’ll be in Palestine and Israel observing, writing, performance, and hopefully teaching and engaged in homeopathy for children with PTSD.

In the late spring, if things go well, back in Europe performing for a two week tour.

I am a peace activist and artist, and have continually tried to fuse this work and find the balance. Some of this work is on my website at www.vermontpoet.com/gallery and in the music and book section, as well as the section on Landmines. I am designing a Peace/ Meditation Garden using old military weapons and building fountains and art projects. It combines alternative energy, community development, and design. I have a potential sponsor for this in Florida.

I also have the poem One Hundred Flowers that we are aiming to translate into 100 languages.

One Hundred Flowers

Let there be one hundred flowers

of peace that bloom in the garden.

let there be one hundred hours of peace

for every moment of war

let there be one hundred acts of kindness

for each instance of hate.

let there be one hundred years of love

for each minute of violence.

let there be one hundred voices of peace

for each one of war.

let there be one hundred flowers

of peace that bloom in the garden.

namaya 2001

Another integral part of my peace work is looking at ways that my contentious and feisty self appears in the world. In working towards a world of peace I need to center myself, less caught up in my petty arguments, the small egocentric vanities of anger, and focus my attention on the real work in life. I am clearing out the emotional junk that has lead to a lot of unproductive anger. Truly, I am a work in progress. I will always be a feisty person, but the necessity is to do it with a bit more graciousness and humor, learning to find the cruising speed and the easy idling, and avoid the temptation for constant over-drive.

My renewed attention is to the on-going military debacle in Afghanistan and Pakistan. The US needs to turn over its share of the war to the EU nations. If the EU, Russia, China, and other countries see that Afghanistan is such an imperative, then it needs to put its soldiers and commitment there. Why is Obama continuing the same failed policies of the Cheney/Bush misadministration?

I campaigned for Obama and think he has the potential to make a difference, but his administration is still fundamentally committed to the failed policies and militarism of the previous administrations. The U.S. is in a pivotal moment, while we need to engage and create peace partners internationally, we must resolve the catastrophic problems in the US: 2 million homeless; 25 % elderly poverty; the lack of affordable health care; the vanishing manufacturing base; our deteriorating education system; and the lack of regulation of the Wall Street Capitalist gangsters.

Eisenhower said it best, “Every gun that is made, every warship launched, every rocket fired signifies, in the final sense, a theft from those who hunger and are not fed, those who are cold and not clothed. This world in arms is not spending money alone. It is spending the sweat of its laborers, the genius of its scientists, the hopes of its children. This is not a way of life at all in any true sense. Under the cloud of threatening war, it is humanity hanging from a cross of iron.”

In the time of personal renewal I am looking at my art and writing as a voice to speak for peace.

Never

Never

Never raise a hand

to a child.

Never strike

or beat.

Never an excuse

to hit or humiliate.

Never a reason

to shame.

Never a need

to hurt a child.

In an instant

of anger – pause.

In a moment

of rage – leave.

In a sudden

anger… stop.

Stop.

See yourself

as that child.

Dr.Gates, please, did you forget

Dr. Gates Harvard professor
international renowned scholar,

breaking into his own house,
a bit more than suspicious.

Wouldn’t you say?

Though intelligent and well
spoken, in the blue eyed vision
of a cop, where black is black
and white is always white,

a Black man

is still a Nigger.

Did you forget, Professor Gates?

Well Trod Path

I’ve spent my life taking
the path least familiar and
less traveled on five
continents, but a path
that is best cherished is
the well trod one through
the woods to my neighbors’
house.

About a hundreds yards or
more, whether in the summer
or any season, the path winds
through the woods to their
backdoor. I generally don’t
knock, but give a call of
“hello” and most times it is
a call back of, “Come on in.”

A glass of water or wine offered,
and if it’s around dinner, an extra
plate appears on the table.

If a tool is needed it’s there
in their shed or ours, readily
available.

This well trod path through the
woods so familiar and known
that even in the pitch black of
night we can find our way to each
other’s door.

* for Michael & Phyllis Gigante

Email, texting, being important

Email, texting,
etc.:
The Importance
of being Important

Email, texting,
on the cell
phone, constant
yammering,

urgent addiction
to emails, checking
it every ten minutes,

as if something
important was
there, life threatening,

an urgent call
from a girl-friend
while you’re on
a date.

your date takes
out his cell phone
and suddenly
you’re at the
dinner table

can we admit
most of it is
very silly
nonsense?

And for me
this very
famous
person, in
my own
mind,

no, I’m
not as
important
as I think
I am.

Are you
as important
as you
think you
are?

Portrait of you

My lover died

yesterday. I had

time with him

alone, before the

nurses, doctors,

and other well

meaning people

came.

I caressed his

hair and combed

it one last time.

A few strands

fell off in the

comb and I

kept those.

I wore a faint

touch of lipstick

and kissed his

lips one last

time. I placed

a kiss on this

canvas. As

many as the

memory of

our loving

could hold.

I ran my finger

under his armpits,

I smelled it and

it was too clean

but it had his

scent on it and

I placed it on

this canvas.

I kissed and

held his cock

in my mouth

one last time.

I know he has

AIDS and I

do not, but for

the memory

of all of our

loving, the

laughter, joy

and for the

years we

would never

have.

I then kissed

this canvas

again, the saliva,

perhaps filled

with AIDS …

or

was the disease

at last

redeemed with love?

Was the disease

blessed with our

final loving?

From those arms

once so strong

who held me

I drew tubes of

blood, as much

as his still veins

would offer.

On this canvas

I have written

this poem with

his blood and

as I write it,

the tears run

down my cheeks

without fear

or shame.

His blood dried

quickly and

I couldn’t finish

and drew blood

from my veins.

This canvas

torn from our

soul, a fragment

of our journey

interrupted, but

a memory of

love

complete

RAFA: King of Pain

The King of Pain

Sweet boyish face smiles

in victory after victory.

In the middle of the match

he skips back to play

like a little boy in a school yard,

but this is where the boyishness

ends and the king of pain

takes over. He is like some

cartoon figure that turns himself

into the monstrous hulk…

the scowl returns, the eyes

narrow like an animal on

the hunt, and the bulging

biceps and muscles grow

with each point.

But what kind of

animal is this

…moves like a gazelle,

ferocity of a wolverine,

the grace of a hummingbird,

the persistence of a bull

and the cunning of a crow?

This animal can be no

other than Rafa raised

on the red clay of Majorca

and now stalking the

tennis courts of the world

with ferocity and grace,

inflicting pain and dashing

hopes of those who fall

before him.

Though at the end when

the battle is over

the boyish smile returns,

and with the grace

of a champion he acknowledges

his foes…

but there is no mercy

when Rafa takes the court

as he is the King of Pain.