In a Country with Strange Taboos
by dharmasyd
For rusty1776 in gratitude for his
“Writing in the Raw: Valentine Confessions”
I remember when you brought me hyacinths
We walked the path under pepper trees
Laughed our way to the beach
To play in the surf like yearling seals
And when you kissed me, your salt wet curls
Dripped ocean on my face
I was a virgin then, and you a married man
In a country with strange taboos
Camille Claudel
I remember when you came again
We were older then, and you had tasted
The bite of war on your golden flesh
You brought me only your body then
And took me, coldly unwilling
On the stone cold floor
Eyes wild, body strawberry ripe
Your virgin rape bride
In a country with strange taboos
When you took me over my protests
I heard the voice inside me say
Yes to the Universe
Yes to God
Yes to you
Yes in concentric circles swirling out
Thought forms in an expanding universe
Orgasm of matter in an ocean of space
Meeting each other face to face
forgetting your wife
Waves from a meteor plunged in the sea
at her desk a mile away
Rippling into the universe like a psalm
I remember when you brought me your wound
Placing it in the palm of my hand
The night you, dreaming of the war
Took the remington you kept by the bed
And shot your reflection in the mirror
Thinking it a jap
Killing on instinct
In a country with strange taboos
I remember when you said you could not love me
Although you loved me
We played like Hindu deities
Entwined like spiral galaxies
You brought me so many images then
Mother and Priestess
Virgin and Whore
I had ruined your life you said
Because I wasn’t a virgin when we met, you said
In this country with strange taboos
And I remember when you brought me spider mums
Naming me Circe
She of the beautiful hair
Naming me an illusion and your fear
Saying we had to live celibately
That only in god was there ecstacy
You the torero, killer of bulls
You the marine, killer of men
You the man, killer of me
The killer in Circe’s lair
In this country with stange taboos
You brought your wound and your war and your fear
Home to me here in our bed
Taught me the thorn in the flesh wound of sex
Gradually I learned to live
According to these strange taboos
I learned to go on living and
Sometimes only fucked and judged and fucked and judged
But wanted always only to love
Even with galactic distances between our souls
In recreational sex till the messiah comes
I sought love on the beach and love in the bar
I sought love in the eyes of a stranger
Who looked for all the world like a friend
To help the wound to mend
The gap in the heart of the soul
Till the wound heals and we are whole
Meanwhile
I write confessional poetry
shadows of
what should I blame
a catholic girlhood
a father’s vice
Some strain across a fault zone in the planet’s heart
Some original sin in my soul
Meanwhile
I write recreational poetry
Kill the messiah every time he comes
from what
from fear, from habit
ego, lack of trust
Some geo-centric allergy to dust
While in my heart I know we must
Love one another body heart and mind and soul
Till the wounds heal and we are whole
And kill these strange tabboos.
_________________________________________
this poem is complete. raw. beautiful.
poetry… as force of nature.
what is extraordinary is knowing
that which we’ve found
here
amongst ourselves
in this small moment of time
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the world at their fingertips
something i wrote last week.
Your poetry captured a “moment” in every conceivable expression — so well done!
dharmasyd’s poetry told us a “story” — one that lived and one that succombed, yet strives!
Both poetry were beautiful in their own right. In whatever “moment” each belonged, both touch the mind, the spirit and the heart.
Kudos to both of you!
and I am a fan of Camille Claudel as well, she captured moments so passionately and gracefully.
Thank you for sharing.
Simply amazing.
And my own contribution to that had too many interruptions, awkward transitions, and juvenile stupidity! Ah, to be young and neuro-physiologically underdeveloped!
Author
i have this image of us, a bit hunched over, walking together with my hand in his jacket pocket.
this song, The Water Is Wide, sounds like love that has endured… it sounds the i feel about being old, looking at this man i love, and knowing it will all end soon enough. but there’s something about love… that feels infinite.
here’s to love…
I can’t think of anything to say!
At least, nothing on topic…which doesn’t usually stop me from just blurting out inane and idiotic things at inappropriate times, mind you, but I…
Oh, see? There I go again…
:/
……………….
Okay, lemme try once more…
I liked this part –
I actually heard, like, dramatic music in my head coming to a crescendo, at that point as I read. Very cinematic…
…is perfect with the poem and so is your expression of “…that which we have found here…”
Yes. There is something truly special and wonderful being born here at docudharma.
I’m so glad I found you, or rather, OTB found me and encouraged me to post here.
The strange taboos society inflicts on us can all go take a hike.
A long one.
To this place:
And they can stay there.
Abused by a system that sent this young man into battle, he has devised his own manner in how to deal with fear. He hides it. Deep inside, he knows that if his fear shows, it may spread to other people, who, he is positive would all & forever point at him as the origin.?He must not show what tears at him so he now shows his petaled face, sure that everybody loves flowers. His mother told him so. Here behind the bushes on the edge of the park where he lives, he marvels at the people cheering loud explosions & worries for their safety, having seen the devastation these bombs, bursting in air, cause. He does not comprehend the celebration of independance that shines, reflected on his metal face, positive it could never warm his soul.?Young men like this will be seen more & more as the systematic abuse they have & are enduring starts to bloom . We, who would never use our brothers & sisters like this, are inevitably charged with taking their hand & reassuring them that some one cares. No amount of pills or programs or tests will ever help unless there`s a caring soul to help them along.?The thing that will be difficult will be to make sure these people are not pointed out as the originators of their troubles. There will be many. Please smile at them & be nice. Have a nice day, & count your blessings.?This image I shot at night when while fooling around with the resident skunk, I noticed the light on some statues. I had moved these statues a few days previously & had not yet seen them in the light from the porch. This light was a little behind the statues & a little higher. There were two lights on each side of the porch entry, one red & one green. [Don`t ask].?I went & got a tripod & camera& set up with the camera set at F2.8 & started with a 6 second exposure. I started fooling around with the set-up & went to get a few masks from my collection, & brought along a flashlight. I changed to a 2 second exposure & I would spray the shot with a quick bath of light with the flashlight. This is one of the images from that series. Another image from that series can be seen at this link. It`s called “DICHOTOMY”.
http://frenchpirate.blogspot.c…
I walked into a Malibu restaurant one evening 15 years ago with my daughter.?I noticed, in a booth midway down the length of the place, two couples, one facing my entering & the other with their backs to me.?I overheard the man facing me in the booth remark, “Hey, check out Charlie Manson”.?The other couple turned around & looked towards me, but reacted to their booth-mate`s statement with not enough hypocrisy & knew I had seen them staring, when they pretended to be looking for a waiter.?I ordered my favorite food & let my daughter take her time perusing the menu, like a big girl. Our vegetable salads were brought & I kept looking puzzled, whenever the waiter was near. I finally pretended to be curious enough, & called him over. I asked him if he knew the two couples at the booth, or, if he at least knew their names. When he said, “No”,?I asked him to please go over to them, & explain that I thought they looked familiar to me, & to ask them if they were possibly, the Tates & the LaBiancas.?Diligently, he went over & innocently explained about how they had seemed familiar to me, & if in fact, they were the Tates & the LaBiancas. They had been in ‘after dinner’ mode, but that quickly changed into, ‘let`s get the hell out of here’ mode. The man who had brought up Charlie Manson, quickly came over to our booth & apologized profusely & that he was so sorry he had said what he had. I explained that it was quite unfair to characterize me as a leader of killers while I was peacefully enjoying a meal with my daughter. I also told him that the lesson I wanted him to learn was because of the fear ingrained in him, by the ignorance of his tutors, he might one day, miss recognizing a great person, one, maybe maligned, because of deformities, or race or any other perceived affliction.?I apologized for being so cruel to him & his group, but that if I had not, he would never have learned a lesson, from someone so habituated to his kind of remarks. I asked him to please reconsider judging the next person that might be different & even better, to acknowledge that person with a smile, like I was doing now.?All this time the waiter, was keeping busy close by, hanging on every word I said.?The man shook hands with me, apologized again, & left.?As I was taking care of the tab, the waiter came up & explained that he only understood what I had asked him to do, when they reacted.?He told me, “That was too cold, man, too, too cold. What was so cool was how you talked to him, good on you.”?The man, opened a coffee shop at the other end of Malibu a month later & we became good friends.
Thanks for a wonderful evening.