Showing posts with label Poems. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Poems. Show all posts

Friday, December 7, 2012

Part III. INAUGURAL POEM FOR OBAMA 2013 Explanatory Notes

Click here for An Open Letter to President Obama.

See first Part II Explanatory Notes.

***Note: I've made some edits to this posting, making it more complete.***

This next section, indicated by asterisks and squigglies (tildas--I remembered the name, yay!":
     
“~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*”

represents a shift forward in time.

The brothers were bound more tightly
                                        than the many winding roads.
No matter how Great the Burden,
                                      the brothers shared their loads.
Their scars seared brightly to their skin
                                    sewn from each others’ Bondage,
Woven from great Ideas--and lapses--
                                          into canons, laws and codes.


This stanza tells of how America's place in the world changes, but our future is no less promising than before.

After the Civil War, the Great War, and Two World Wars, which tends to unify instead of polarize people of a country: “The brothers were bound more tightly than the many winding roads.” During conflict, it is often easy to measure loyalty: “No matter how Great the Burden, the brothers shared their loads.” Yet, even with women building airplanes during World War II, and Blacks fighting alongside Whites, the wounds of war, both global and at home, have a hard time healing. So long as vulnerable groups were disenfranchised, they would never truly be free, and that’s a black eye on federal and local governments who continue to allow discrimination. Thus, these black eyes, wounds, or “scars” are “seared brightly” on their skin.

If anything, after the two World Wars, America's future was at its brightest. The United States soon became the leading industrialized nation in the world.

The brothers' scars are woven from great ideas, from their lapses, i.e., periods during which their ideas were not so great. Their scars are also a result of each others' bondage. What the heck does that mean? So long as fringe groups did not enjoy the freedoms that mainstream America did, those groups aren't much better off than they were at home in a kitchen or someone else's property. And yet, from the Declaration of Independence, to the Constitution and Bill of Rights, then great ideas have made America a paradigm for law and order.

That's why Americans have faith in our future!

What’s more, women and Blacks, who fought for suffrage, vote against Gay rights, some homosexuals think that poor people should take responsibility for their own healthcare because it is not an entitlement. Hence, our scars don’t heal very well and are pretty evident because our transgressions against others, “sewn from each others’ Bondage,” is what makes our scars all the brighter.

After World War II, the ascendancy of the U.S. was pretty evident and unstoppable. The “Eastern waters” refers to the Atlantic Ocean on the East Coast of America. On the continent, the U.S. became a major player, having jumped into World War II when Great Britain was the last stronghold against Hitler in Europe. (Why do people write against “Hitler” as if World War II was fought between the Alliance and ONE person?)

The Western sea” refers to the Pacific Ocean, west of the U.S. The “lands of which our fathers sought” is the Orient. Beginning with Christopher Columbus, who underestimated the size of the Earth and thought traveling west would lead to Asia, and so many intrepid explorers who paved the way an integrated world (It’s a Small, Small World! Yup, I have this song on my MP3 player. It comes right after “Zip-a-Dee-Doo-Dah, Zip-a-Dee-Ay! My, Oh My, What a Wonderful Day!”)

Across the Eastern waters:
                               a New Order was deftly wrought.
Beyond the Western sea:
                        the lands of which our Fathers sought.
But finding Something in between
                                   Our forefathers stopped to rest.
Go West young man, go west,
                   was Then, and Now our greatest thought.


It was Horace Greeley who said, “Go West Young Man, Go West.” That one statement printed in the New York Tribune encapsulated everything that Americans felt about their future and destiny. People believed that the best was still yet to come, as many do now!

Horace Greeley was a liberal who was an outspoken Abolitionist. (I saw his portrait in the National Portrait Gallery that is set apart from the Smithsonian Museums and never knew the Gallery was there until a friend mentioned it.) Horace Greeley realized that the Western areas of North America had great potential for settlers and printed in his New York Tribune, “Go West young man, go west and grow up with the country.” He meant from the Midwest-ish U.S. to the Wild Wild West, e.g., California, Nevada, Oregon, which some people think are still too wild. ;-) One of my friends says that going west was hardly America’s greatest thought. I told my friend, it’s the spirit behind the adventuresome traveling. Don’t take it literally. He said, if you have to explain a poem it’s no good. Poems are made to be read, not explained. I agree. But in order to get a reader to understand perfectly, I would have to revise the poem until it turned into prose!

The next stanza focuses on the domestic scene at home. The United States, blessed with the greatest diversity of any nation in history, is a country that has to deal with a whole lot of opinions. “The brothers’ bonds stretched slowly. . .” That means some people believe that others should do as they believe, i.e., person A believes that person B must follow person’s A way. That’s when we start to clash. But person A assures it is the moral thing to do, and enacting laws for and against certain behaviors and actions, homosexual marriage, abortion, medical and recreational marijuana, the debates never end. That’s a good thing, right? But notice that we’re still one country despite a growing number of petitions to secede from the States. Some people even say that Lincoln should have let the South secede. “Yet never did they [our bonds] snap,” as we still show a united front during times that test the resilience of America.

The brothers’ bonds stretched slowly,
                                        yet never did they snap.
They flexed their newfound strength with hands
                             that drew a New World Map.
The bonds broke in striations
                                  that kept our voices taut.
Even as it seemed some voices,
                          were still helplessly entrapped.

Nation building, protecting the little guy, call it whatever you want, the U.S. has had a hand in much of the world’s political, social, economic, well everything. Hence “hands that drew a New World Map.” That is because we can by flexing America’s “newfound strength” since World War II.

Thus, one of the reasons why America's future has always been bright is because we always help each other. Remember "It's a Wonderful Life" with Jimmy Stewart? Jimmy Stewart played George Bailey, a small town guy living in Bedford Falls. George has a heart of gold--but also Jimmy Steward 'cuz everyone knows that Jimmy Stewart was the nicest guy around!--and ever since he was eight (George Bailey, not Jimmy Stewart but I wouldn't be surprised if he wanted to as well), wants to go out and see the world. He never gets the chance because he's always busy helping someone else. Until he is so old (only forty-ish) that he realizes he is stuck in Bedford Falls forever.

What's the point? Even when there are bad guys like Mr. Gower (played by the great Lionel Barrymore) who bah-humbug there way through this classic Christmas story, a few greedy people cannot overcome the heart of a great guy like Jimmy Stewart, er, I mean George Bailey. That's why it's a smart investment to have faith in the future of the United States!

Yet, even as we became stronger, we became more diverse, and the bonds that keep us together also have more voices that seek representation, protection, and service. The great diversity keeps politicians and civilians alert to each other’s needs. Some say we haven’t done a good job with that, but lately, few would doubt that the voices during the recent election were not without a sense of urgency (I hope I did that double negative right.)

The voices that seem “helplessly entrapped.” That’s pretty evident. Minorities, binders full of women, the Forty-Seveners who are either lazy and demanding or hardworking and entitled. We’ve got a long way to go, and yet, like the Virginia Slims advertisement: “You’ve come a long way, baby.” The ad shows a model smoking a cigarette, something that wasn’t allowed back in the day. But now that smoking is hazardous to your health, that ad is passé, irrelevant, and misfit. Too bad, those girls were hot.

Part IV will finish the explanatory notes. Can you guess what:

on our winding road that split
                                three dozen times plus eight 

means? Send me an answer through the comments section!


Some more background notes (Part I) to Obama's Inaugural Poem 2013, click here

Part II Explanatory Notes to Obama's Inaugural Poem 2013

A version of Obama's Inaugural Poem with correct formatting and spacing because I can't get a handle of this HTML! Be the first to buy it!



Part IV Explanatory Notes, Meaning Behind Inaugural Poem


~*~*~*~**~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~**~*~*~*~**~*~*~*~*~*~**~

MY OTHER WRITINGS



Princess  Boo Wakes Up on the Wrong Side of the Bed





Saturday, December 1, 2012

Dusame in the Mirror - A Story Poem of Medusa's Cousin by Ssal Nogard the Poet

Dusame in the Mirror is about a lady who sits perpetually at a vanity in the middle of nowhere and looks into her mirror. That’s why the story begins

In a land deep of reflection
Actually, when she sits too long, she gets leg cramps, ergo:
There sits a maiden, sometimes standing 


She cannot look anywhere else (even when she is standing up stretching) but can see the reflection of what is going on around her through the mirror. Seeing everyone else have fun, she would like to as well but cannot. She’s stuck to her mirror or else. Or else what?

The key is the second part, delineated by asterisks and squigglies, which I love so to use as a section break: *~~*~*~*~*~*~ (Actually, I used to only use asterisks but upon hitting the carriage return, Microsoft Word kept automatically formatting the asterisks into a page-wide like of square dots, very irritating I’m sure you agree.)

The only famous Gorgon in mythology (that I know of) is Medusa. Hence the “immortal hair” in

Her sisters two at least as fair
Gorgons both: the immortal hair

Recall that although Medusa was so ugly that the sight of her would turn you to stone, although she once was, according to some versions that have cropped up through the millennia, a ravishingly beautiful maiden.

"In a late version of the Medusa myth, related by the Roman poet Ovid(Metamorphoses 4.770), Medusa was originally a ravishingly beautiful maiden, "the jealous aspiration of many suitors," but when she was caught being raped by the "Lord of the Sea" Poseidon in Athena's temple, the enraged Athena transformed Medusa's beautiful hair to serpents and made her face so terrible to behold that the mere sight of it would turn onlookers to stone. In Ovid's telling, Perseus describes Medusa's punishment by Minerva (Athena) as just and well earned." http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Medusa For more about Gorgons: For more about Gorgons, click here.

Yeah, that’s pretty fu**** up but it’s you guys telling these idiot stories, lol. Note that her two sisters are gorgons with immortal hair. Medusa is the only one of her sisters who is mortal, and thus killable by Perseus. (Recall that Athena gave Perseus a magic shield that doubled as a reflecting mirror so he could behead Medusa. Yeah, women don’t get ahead because they work against each other. What did Medusa ever do to Athena anyway?)

Some more recent versions have Medusa changing with the darkness.

And when the sun spit shriveled rays,
Her hair turned in a vastly maze
of dark and emerald ablaze
that met none of her awesome gaze--
       chimera called Dusame. 


I like this version better because it gives her a break from always being ugly.

If you rotate the letters in her name (I forget the word for that little trick), Medusa becomes Edusam, Dusame, Usamed, Samedu, and Amedus. Edusam sounded too masculine. Usamed and Samedu sounded too Arabic and that wasn’t the vibe I was working towards. Amedus sounded too similar to Amadeus.

Dusame, unlike her original counterpart, appears to have a conscience. Instead of turning men into stone, she refuses to look at anyone and instead looks only into the mirror.

The mirror looks for her instead
of her own eyes, to which it fed
forbidden sights behind her--led
her to such things as she would wed
       fastly to her eyes. 


It gets old of course, looking into the mirror. In one version of Medusa, Medusa was so vain that she boasted that she was fairer than Athena in Athena’s own temple. (A Cute Children's Retelling is here.) I think this version was confounded with the story of Andromeda, whose mother, Cassiopeia, made the famous Boast of Cassiopeia about Andromeda’s beauty so that Andromeda had to be sacrificed on some rocks that fell into the ocean. (The rocks didn’t actually fall, they were in a formation of a cliff.) Anyway, Perseus, who happens to be flying by on Pegasus, who sprung from Medusa’s body after he decapitated her, saves Andromeda. All good and happy.

In my version, the conscience-stricken Dusame would love to go out into the great fun world to have fun but she cannot. Suitors actually come, or are they there to kill the Gorgons?

They come to see the sisters three,
heroic with a certainty,
that in their curse they bear gladly
are free to wave most luridly
at suitors all who fast decree
       to slay the sisters famously. 


It never ends this way, only
more turned to granite cruelly
not from fate but intensity
of finding more and differently. 


For Medusa’s gaze does not lose its potency in death and would be a great weapon in battle. That’s what “turned to granite” means, turned to stone.

That means if you kill her and want to use her stony gaze as a death-instrument, you have to kill her with her eyes OPEN. I bet you never thought about that, huh? I guess the men who come are not suitors in the literal sense. They might be if the Gorgons weren’t so dangerous, but some men like them that way, I’ve heard. ;-)

Notice also that there are no less than TEN, count them, TEN lines that rhyme. That's why I liken this to Edgar Allen Poe's the Raven: Once upon a midnight dreary while I wondered weak and weary over many a curious volume of forgotten lore. Suddenly there came a rapping as of someone gently rapping, rapping on my chamber door...I did that from memory so forgive any errors.

So, one day, a suitor comes

Two steps forward, whistling lowly
He has come to see the holy
of the Gorgons, changing solely
       at the break of eve. 


The only one that changes is Medusa, her sisters were born Gorgons and are thus immortal. Medusa was changed into a Gorgon and went to live with them, as they are the only ones that can withstand her petrifying gaze (besides other immortals, of course). This nice suitor wants to be a hero like all the others and intends to cut off Dusame’s head as a trophy and weapon of mass destruction:

Looked through the glass but for a flash,
He lifted sword and made to slash
her slender throat a deep red gash 


But can he do it? Not very nice considering how Dusame is considerate enough to keep from killing all the mortal men that come to woo and/or kill her. I guess you’ll have to read and find out!

Dusame in the Mirror Page

Again, I would like to note that I am totally against analyzing literature of any kind, but if it helps you to read it, I will be a sell out. I would also like to write full-time, so if you would like to see one of my screenplays on the big screen one of these days or find a book of mine in the bookstore, or meet me at a book signing, lulz, please spread the word, many thanks! =-)

Many other poets have found Medusa as an inspiration. Here is Sylvia Plath's poem on Medusa. Kinda' like mine better because it rhymes, lol. However, as an artiste (with an "e" at the end), invidious comparisons have no place in real art, wink wink.

Friend me on Facebook!

Friday, November 30, 2012

Led Zep's Houses of the Holy, A Continuation, Meaning Explained Part I. Sending his Brother Away

Click here for the lyrical poem, "And now Here Comes Michael Walking," that I wrote after listening to Led Zep's Houses of the Holy one too many times late one night when I was cramming for a final exam.

Lyrics Written by Ssal Nogard for Houses of the Holy Part Two and More
Led Zeppelin's Houses of the Holy


Some people comment that my writing isn't transparent on a first or second (or third read). Here is some explanation of the lyrics that I wrote (that go in time with Led Zeppelin's song), after hearing this song one too many times. After reading these comments and the meaning behind my new lyrics, it might make the reading a little more enjoyable.

After extending the story of Houses of the Holy, which isn't really a story but I made it into one from a few of the catchy phrases in the lyrics, the epic story-poem, call it whatever you want, kept telling itself, so to speak, or so to write.

And yes, I listened to the song the ENTIRE time I was writing the each chapter, which means that I listened to the song a lot!

Remember to read while you are listening to Led Zeppelin's song Houses of the Holy. The beat will make the story that much more fun and readable.

I would like to note that I do not enjoy reading "critiques" or "analysis" of literature before reading anything. However, I did need to read Einstein's notes on his Relativity (the version for the layman, which is really too heavy duty for the layman) and found them useful and necessary, and wished the Maestro had written more, more more! Einstein is Maestro II in my Princess Boo Stories. Maestro I is Newton (or the other way around, I forget).

If you are a Led Zeppelin fan as I am, you no doubt love, luv, l-o-v-e Houses of the Holy. The lyrics are copied below:

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Let me take you to the movies. Can I take you to the show
Let me be yours ever truly. Can I make your garden grow

From the houses of the holy, we can watch the white doves go
From the door comes Satan's daughter, and it only goes to show. You know.

There's an angel on my shoulder, In my hand a sword of gold
Let me wander in your garden. And the seeds of love I'll sow. You know.

So the world is spinning faster. Are you dizzy when you're stoned?
Let the music be your master. Will you heed the master's call
Oh... Satan and man.

Said there ain't no use in crying. Cause it will only, only drive you mad
Does it hurt to hear them lying? Was this the only world you had? Oh-oh
So let me take you, take you to the movie. Can I take you, baby, to the show.
Why don't you let me be yours ever truly. Can I make your garden grow
You know.


~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Part I. Sending his Brother Away

I got the pic of Satan’s daughter standing in a doorway to a bordello in Reconstruction Era New Orleans (don’t ask me why New Orleans, maybe because the Orleans casino is a large Southern estate-like mansion on its façade.)

Reconstruction Era, for you furreners (j/k), foreigners, internationals who I love because all seven of you read my writing, lol, is the period in American history after the Civil War. The South went through a very rough period, as after President Lincoln was assassinated, the Northern Congressmen were unforgiving in their policies toward the South. Some would say the deep South deserved such punitive measures. Today, many reenact famous Civil War battles and fly the Confederate flag. (These are the states that voted very red in the election this month, btw.) Evidently, most people did not espouse Abraham Lincoln’s view that:

“I have always found that mercy bears greater fruits than strict justice.”

If Lincoln had said “punishment” in lieu of “justice” I think I might have agreed with him more, in light of the word “always” also being in there. I think he meant: with “strict administration of the law, justice is not always served because no law is perfect, being either too over-inclusive or not enough, and not being able to tailor judgments to every single situation. But we all get the point.

Anyway, and she’s standing there (Satan’s daughter, sorry for the digression), much like Mae West in “Diamond Lil”. But of course, she has to be waiting for somebody or somebody has to be passing by that catches her eye, or vice versa. Satan’s daughter, not Mae West, or maybe both. J or all three, Diamond Lil, too.

Who else but Michael, since he’s got his flaming sword in hand. So the story begins, and soon I found myself daydreaming about famous scenes from the Bible, that are well documented in gilded paintings on doorway panels in Byzantine and Eastern Orthodox Churches, as well as ornately carved panels in Western Cathedrals.

Part I, posted earlier, tells of Michael readying for battle with Lucifer, who was the original bad-ass archangel, bigger than Michael back then. When Lucifer gathers his host of angels that are willing to follow him into battle against God, God sends Archangel Michael, God’s new right-hand man, er, angel.

In the first part of this epic poem, Michael is readying for battle. He’s donning his chain mail (don’t ask me why angels need armor) over his wings (feather, not rainbow wings). His chain mail is a bit corroded and stinky because Michael never bathes, as angels need not. However, chain mail does need upkeep even if angels do not. After all those battles, the perspiration and blood, if indeed angels bleed or sweat, must take its toll on Michael’s armor and garments. Since angels are sinless (except Lucifer and those who went down with him), Michael doesn’t need to shower, so the joke here is that pure Michael might be a bit stinky (only something that people who are sensitive to the slightest odors would think about, Eew).

That’s also why Michael might feel a bit bland, as some philosophical schools of thought would agree that good cannot exist without evil, since there would be nothing by which to compare the former (or the latter). How do you know what is good if there is no bad? (Or the idea of “evil”?) Thus, badness is not such a bad thing and a necessity. In my epic story poem at least.

Gabs of course is Archangel Gabriel, the Bearer of Good Tidings since he appeared before the Virgin Mary to tell her that the child she was bearing was from God. That’s why he’s all happy and has bouncy curls (that was in an older version). Michael has salon-fatigued curls (later chapter) because he’s unsettled in mind and spirit for some reason, especially after seeing Satan’s daughter.

Looking out to heaven’s blue sky (which is never red, btw), Michael sees the approach of his brother Lucifer, which makes him sad, Michael, not Lucifer. For although the Bible and most fire-and-brimstone religions are black and white, I cannot imagine brothers who truly love each other being happy about killing each other and never seeing the other again. Although the Bible tells of God being sad that Lucifer was lost, the general tone of the Church is pretty cold towards Satan.

That’s what’s behind Michael’s “queer mix of love” for his brother Lucifer, as Lucifer, knowing heaven and sin is the only of the archangels to know (in the Biblical sense of having lived) right from wrong, to be distinguished from Archangel Michael, who knows in theory what is right and wrong but has only ever practiced “right”.

I correct myself: On this day, if heaven is measured in such terms, heaven does bleed with red, so I guess the skies must have been pretty purple (or maybe lavender since heaven is light blue. Actually, you would probably get a darkish reddish purple. Merely wishful thinking on my part since lavender is a happier color.)

Lucifer’s nickname is Luz (no, not in the Bible, in my story), which means “light” in Spanish. That leads into my reference to the morning star, Venus, which some would not approve as some do not believe that devils should be referred to as guiding stars.

I don’t care because this is my poem. So, crank up Led Zep’s Houses of the Holy and read this poem to its tempo. You’ll see it reads pretty darn well.

Friend me on Facebook!

On to Part Due.


~*~*~*~**~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~**~*~*~*~**~*~*~*~*~*~**~

MY OTHER WRITINGS

What I Said When I saw Salvador Dali's Metamorphosis of Narcissus

Friday, October 12, 2012

A Tale of Two Romneys by Ssal Nogard

Click here for An Open Letter to President Obama.


A Tale of Two Romneys: A Satirical Election Poem

Click here for explanatory notes to "A Tale of Two Romneys".

***See my Inaugural Poem I wrote for B.O.! with background notes and explanations, great to teach in a classroom setting! Feel free to add a link!***

It was the Best of Times, it was the Worst of Times.
On that pretty much everyone agrees.
The election of two thousand and twelve, Dear Friends,
was between President Obama and the Two Romneys.

The country was sore divided those pre-election days,
as much as anyone likely-to-vote could rightfully recall.
But it was the tell-tale double speak of the flip-flopping Romneys
that was the most confusing thing of them all.

Now the second Romney ain’t his lovely wife, Ms. Ann.
And neither am I talking: The Big Polygamy.
But I do mean the two men that she’s been married to:
the Grand Old Party’s flag bearer: the flip-flopping Mitt Romney.

Mitt had a Gift of Contradicting his own words really well. 
It was because he had at least two sides to his Ken doll face.
While he said one thing on the right, he slipped in something left,
contradicting himself three times in a short five-minute space.

Romney-on-the-Right said to his buddies the “Haves-Some-More-Please”:
“I’ll cut your taxes to boost America’s economy.
Scouts Honor, it won’t expand the debt or the deficit.”
That’s the First Face of the Two Flip-Flopping Mr. Romneys.

Romney-on-the-Left said, “I’ll create jobs for the middle class
and help small business to jumpstart our nation’s recovery.”
But he sent jobs overseas to China to cut his labor costs.
That’s the Second Face of the Two Flip-Flopping Mr. Romneys.

But now Mitt the Second’s bleeding heart (or is it Mitt the First’s?)
truly cares for the Forty-Seveners as if they were his own.
Like his gardener or his maid, the poolboy and the cook,
the forty-seven percent of entitled peeps he’s never really known.

And even though he’s short many a Congressional vote,
Today, Tea Party Romney swears he’ll repeal Obamacare.
But as Governor Yesterday he gladly signed a bill
Giving Massachusetts the same Universal Healthcare.

Romney the Republican denies his great job on health care
because, as Bill 40 said, “It takes a lot of cajones
to attack someone for doing, the exact same thing you just did.”
a.k.a. bulls**t, blarney, or spam made from year-old baloney.

“I--t’s not the same thing,” Mitt One hems . . .and then he quickly haws.
The same way Mitt Two can’t or won’t say what tax loopholes he’ll close
to balance the budget while cutting taxes for the very wealthy.
As Paul Ryan and Obama say, “Guess only Romney (or God) knows.”

What happens to sick people who have no health insurance plan?
Romney Bleeding Heart smiles, “Well, there’s always the E.R.”
Then Tea Party Romney wonders if he’s being too sympathetic;
Perhaps his show of empathy went a little bit too far.

If you’re sixty-four today, you might listen a little closer.
Romney the First swears up and down he will not slash Medicare.
But Blue Cross is not required to take your senior’s coupon voucher.
But Romney Two correctly claims: “Vouchers can be used anywhere.”

What, you say? Mitt One and/or Mitt Two simply make no sense?
But you’re still undecided because . . .well, you simply just don’t know?
Then I’ve got a bridge to sell you over the Grand Canyon.
It was built before the Colorado dried up only three months ago.

How about Mitt One and Two’s positions on Abortion?
Well, Mitt the Religigo* (you heard the word here first**)
was pro-life during primaries, while as Governor was pro-choice.
He’ll be pro-anything to get your vote, for better or pro-worse.

At least Paul Ryan stands beside his religigo convictions.
In cases of rape and incest, a victim gets no relief.
That means per Ryan no abortion if your father happens to rape you.
Your choice: Two Mitts with zero conviction--or Paul’s pretty sick beliefs.

If the mother’s life is in danger, who the hell gives a damn?
Not Ryan because says Akin: We faithful have no doubt:
In legitimate rape (when the woman’s not lying)
her body “naturally” kicks the fetus out!

By now, if you’re dizzy from the two Romneys flip-flop flipping,
watching One Romney rub his tummy while Romney Two pats his head.
Can you blame Obama for being a little muddled
debating two people talking at once in blue, purple, and red?

Do you see the problems plural that’ll come if either Romney wins?
We might go direct to heaven and/or indirect to hell.
More importantly, how do we address an about-facing salesman?
Is it Hail to Chief One and/or Chief Two, too, or both of them as well?

It was the age of Wisdom and of even Greater Folly.
The year of the Good, the Bad, and the Two Flip-Flopping Romney’s.
Romney One is sure of This except when Romney Two is not,
The only time he’s sure is when he’s speaking inconsistencies.

Yet it’s probably safest to allow one of the many Romney’s
to explain hisselves in the only way he knows how to address.
For there is One who speaks in Red and Two who’s dressed in light Blue,
but in one thing (or maybe half) both Romney’s said it best:

“It is a far, far better thing that I speak than I have ever spoken.
And a far better statement I contradict than I have ever retracted.
It’s safe to say, I think, that anything I repeal today
has either been already vetoed or will soon be reenacted.”

A Tale of Two Romneys  © Oct 10, 2012  by  Ssal Nogard  



*What's a Religigo? Read all about one! Her name is Luzy-Ann the Sectarian, the story of a religious bigot.


Politifact Awarded its Biggest Lie of the Year of 2012, bestowing Mitt Romney's ad on Jeep the dubious honor. 

***See my Inaugural Poem I wrote for B.O.! with background notes and explanations, great to teach in a classroom setting! Feel free to add a link!***

Here is a link to Other Inaugural Poems from great poets like Robert Frost for J.F.K. and Maya Angelou for  B.O., yeah! 

HEY YOU GERMAN GUY READING THIS NOW! YEAH, YOU! YOU TOO, AMERICAN GUY, OR GAL, PLEASE ADD A LINK OR LEAVE A TWO-WORD COMMENT, SUCH AS "OKAY, I GUESS..." ;-)

I'M STILL WAITING FOR SOMEONE TO TELL ME HOW BRILLIANT (OR IDIOTIC I AM, PREFERABLY THE LATTER). LET YOUR FRIENDS KNOW EITHER WAY! =-)

OR ARE YOU READING FROM AUSTRALIA RIGHT NOW? LEAVE A HOWDY FROM DOWN UNDER? I WAS THERE A FEW YEARS AGO. LOVE THE GOLD COAST AND THE GORGEOUS CORAL DIVING! 

BE SURE TO FRIEND ME ON FACEBOOK. I LOVE TO KNOW WHO'S READING MY WRITING. LOOK UP "SSAL  NOGARD". THERE'S TWO OF US. I'M NOT, I REPEAT N-O-T THE GIRL WITH THE SUNGLASSES. HAVE NO IDEA WHO SHE IS. PROBABLY AN IMPOSTER HIDING BEHIND SHADES! 

OH, IT WAS ME INCOGNITO, I GOT RID OF HER! NO SSAL IN SUNGLASSES ANYMORE! 

GEEZ-FRIG-KRISTO (I TRY NOT TO SAY JFK!) EIGHT PEOPLE READING, ONE FROM GERMANY AND NO COMMENTS YET? SO UNLOVED! 

UM, REMEMBER FOLKS, MY PRINCESS BOO STORIES ARE NOT, I REPEAT, NOT PRINCESS BOO BOO. SHE IS ALSO NOT HONEY BOO BOO. PRINCESS BOO IS AN ALICE IN WONDERLAND (ALICE IM WUNDERLAND ANGESEHEN--DID I PRONOUNCE THAT RIGHT?--) STORY IN THE MAKING.

OH OH, I HAD THE COMMENT SETTINGS ALL WRONG! NOW YOU CAN COMMENT! ANYONE, ANONYMOUS, IMPOSTERS, PRETENDERS!

OKAY, AM I MISSING A COMMENT BOX? DO I NEED TO EMBED ONE? HOLD A SEC...WE'RE GETTING THERE!

Yeah! Finally got the Comment box working. Can't wait until someone, anyone, comments...but si'l vous plait, try not to be obscene...

...as in say geez-frig-kristo instead of JFK (shh!) the kids might hear...

QuICK, tell your friends who referred you to come back and comment! The Comment Box Awaits you, my friends! 

And if you liked this poem, AND you like Led Zeppelin, then check out my "Houses of the Holy" posts. What you do is you crank up "Houses of the Holy" duh-duh-duh-duh, duh-duh-duh-duh, duh, bum bum, "Can I take you to the movies? Can I take you to the show?..." and then you start reading my "Continuation of Houses of the Holy" and "Here Comes Michael Walking" (that's part one) to Led Zep's Houses of the Holy

And then you can sing in time with the new lyrics. It works, it reallly works Mikey! 

A little bit of background behind "And here comes Michael walking..." (can you hear it in time to "Can I take you to the movies?...") The line in Led Zeppelin's song that goes:


"From the door comes Satan's daughter, and it only goes to show. You kno-ow. There's an angel on my shoulder." 

Soo, immediately I thought of the archangel Michael with Satan's daughter. 

Hi, United Kingdom guy/gal. How are you doing this fine morning?

OMG, two, count it, Not one, two people from Malaysia are reading this! Hey buddies, share it with your Filipino friends, hurry! =-)

***See my Inaugural Poem I wrote for B.O.!***

Spread the Word! "Like" it, Share it +1 on Google, Link it to your website or facebook page:  



I don't know how to promote things, so every little bit helps! In solidarity!

Leave a comment, good or bad. Hey, I’m a big girl, I can take it (sort of)! ;-)

Befriend me on Facebook!

My Inaugural Poem for President Obama on Amazon

With Cliff Notes and Cheat Sheets Part I, , i.e., Background and Explanatory Notes Part II, and the Meaning behind the Rhyme (Part III) !

I Wanted to Bet on the Election but It is Not Allowed in the States!

Two Romneys: George and Mitt : The New Yorker


A Tale of Two Speeches - Slate Magazine








Obama blames 'Romnesia' for opponent's positions, as he campaigns in Virginia


Romnesia, Mitt Romney - YouTube



Twitter / Search - #Romnesia



~*~*~*~**~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~**~*~*~*~**~*~*~*~*~*~**~

MY OTHER WRITINGS



My Inaugural Poem for President Obama on Amazon

WhatI Would Have Said If I Had Visited the Cataracts of Iguacu or Iguazu.





Saturday, June 16, 2012

The Cataracts of Paradise by Ssal Nogard a.k.a. The Cataracts of Iguacu (Iguazu)

Yes, this is about the Cataracts of Iguacu (Iguazu) you can scroll toward the bottom. 


Cataracts of Iguazu (Foz de Iguacu) The World's Highest Waterfalls



Slight Detour: Check out how I got to the Inauguration in D.C. and my Open Letter to President Obama and An Inaugural Poem I wrote for President Obama. Background Notes to the poem I wrote in Honor of President Obama's Inauguration are available in Part I, Part II, Part III, and Part IV.




Cataracts of Iguazu Iguacu the Crazians Ssal Nogard
The Cataracts of Paradise is my version of the story based on the highest waterfall in the world, the Cataracts of Iguazu (or Iguacu with the funny little squiggle on the bottom of the "c") that runs between Brazil and Argentina.

The name means "really big water". The background story is the typical tragic one of star-crossed lovers, Naipi and Taroba. A (male) god saw Naipi and fell in love with her (beauty) but she preferred her mortal lover (really?) and as they were fleeing from the spurned and wrathful god down the river Iguazu, the god split the river in half (much like Moses) separating the lovers for eternity. 

(The funny thing is, I never read or heard of this story before I wrote this poem. The reason I thought of such a similar story is that I started thinking of Naiads and water nymphs, and drowning men--a la Odysseus but I guess those were water sirens--as is my wont when around or  reading about water. Of course, being a poet, my story had to have a tragic ending as well. Don't ask me where God came in. He just did. In my version, the water nymph started out that way, not human, and wants to become human to be with her human love. In the traditional story, I guess the lovers are human.)

It is at this precarious juncture that those who try to navigate the falls will not come out alive. Hence, it has come to be known as Garganta del Diablo, which means Devil's Throat. (I did hear that is was called the Devil's Throat when I was traveling nearby but did not have time to take a detour there.)

In the traditional story, the rejected godling is vengeful. In my story (and I have no idea why I wrote such a similar story), God is a little sad that the nymph girl wants to leave, but God lets her go anyway, knowing that she won't be any happier in human form. But alas, humans (and newly transformed naiads-to-maidens must learn things for themselves. The hard way.


The Cataracts of Paradise


The cataracts of Iguacu
fall from the steps
                      of highness
down to the arms
        of el Diablo
                      and roar into the dryness.

Diablo’s arms encircle falls
that crash down
                     his enfolding.
Yet all the drops rise back on high
       to blight
                     his infernal holding.

A kind of space
       within the walls
forms at Diablo’s base,
       where nothing moves or shivers--
                    except one lonely grace.

They say upon a time 
       there once
was formed
                   inside the mind
       of god a fancy passing fair
                   kept separate from mankind.

he kept it lone at Iguacu
       for
       this fancy passing fair was such
a thing of peerless grace,
       which man should never touch.

Thus, in the forest by the falls
       there lived a maid thing
                 of the trees.
Her form was like a veil of mist.
                 Her hair was of the breeze.

Her shape was of a comeliness
        that set man in her thralls.
Her song was cousin
                 to the sirens
and her eyes
                 were of the Falls.
For in the falls she saw her down
        a fate made even fairer,
Within her eye a sight
                 of Him,
        therefrom gleams
                 her terror.

But something happened long ago, 
They say: upon a yearly
        a man did touch the passing fair
                 so that Iguacu fell
                 severely.

Come far and wide like many men
        from whence He came is hidden.
He only knew he came to taste
        the fruits that were forbidden.

But really He was not a man
        but boy between the line
                   of gravity and boundless fancy,
        He chose what he could find.

With vigor did He seek a spirit
        whose life the lore was told
        if caught could give him
                 His desire
                             beyond the worth of gold.

He stood there on a ledge that thrust
                into the waterfall.
And when he spied the two bright eyes
                             fell he within her thrall.

She saw him too
                and too at once
a longing sprung
        within her form.
It sprouted like an evil weed
                and yet her heart was warm.

Her heart, though really she had not
         a heart to feel
                the things of bliss,
that souls can feel, but yet
               she could
endure what part-souls cannot miss.
And so her half-soul felt a warming
       as such a part-soul might permit,
                but with it at the time
                                       and same
a pin of cold
                went through it.

For she was not of blood and sinew
       mere substance of fire
                and vim,
a soulless pittance that feared
                her fate
                from god, who made his whim.

She had no corporality
                to make the love He desired.
       Thus He prayed to god to give
                her essence
                            what love required.

God listened and as usual
       he gave a saddened sigh,
                           and gave up what was asked of him
                to her that lived on high.

Drawn long and pale
                in resignation
       she shimmered into state,
                           diminished by her body,
                she came full to her fate.

She has a soul so long as she
                is bathed within the falls.
      Yet if she ever crashes down. . .
                           is tender for the walls.

Through moonlight upon the falls
                erupts a light
                           of kind unseen
in this they bathed in love
                unhallowed.
Came nothing in between.


They wallowed in infinity
                 the nymph girl and her boy
                 and with uncommon might
                           and main
he gave her body joy.

She had the limbs of heaven’s ease
                in which He glorified
and paid the ransom of the saints--
                like them:
                           divinely died.

And with her new-found faith did she,
                           moan soft idolatries.
Yet god awayed his grief
                and
                           pretended not to see.

Sometime in their love
                                          that was
                the nymph girl gave a shudder.
                           She slipped through
                                          her love’s embrace
                and broke him as no other.

And in the moment when she fell
       the cataracts grew mute.
                The only sound that could be heard
                                          were
                           her trees that followed suit.

She let no scream pass through her lips
       nor tear fall
                from her eye. 
Though terror reigned again complete
                 beginning from on high.

Her body viscerated in
                 the mists
       that rise from
                 the wall’s embrace.
Save the bright terror
                 of her eyes,
       her soul flows unencased.

Thus now she is part mist and nymph,
       a half-soul he cannot hold.
                And he knows why there are
                           some things
       that god leaves from the fold.


The falls fell fey
                           upon that day
       their nymph became their leaven.
Still He laments why there are things
                           that god brings not to heaven. 

The falls changed with a slightness
                           like a line that was
                                               lengthened
Still men blight the cataracts
        whose walls were ever strengthened.

Thus she may never leave the falls
until He can defer
        a love without the boon of god
but then he would not
                                        need her.

He cups his hands upon the ledge
       to catch the eyes
                that downpour
But the nymph of Iguacu
                 will fall
       for ever and for more.

Yet once or twice a moonlit night
                a drop of falls shines clearer
these are, they say, the bright eyes
                of terror
that grips her even dearer.

A glimpse he often gets of her
       that paid all for their love.
but never catching her bright eyes
       he looks ceaselessly above.

And as she falls she seeks salvation
       he solely can confer--
but the steps to heaven bid him pass
       so long as he is
                without her.
But with his soul he still does hope
                and never will forget
nor she but with her soul
       has only memory
                and no regret.

Let no man doubt that
                Eden and hell
are linked by Iguacu
       Just peer into the eyes of her
                           that lives and joins the two. 

The cataracts of Iguacu
       fall down from Paradise
raining down twice heaven’s
       length
                into Diablo’s vise.

And in the falls there is a girl
                who endlessly pays the toll
       for reaching out
                beyond her fancy
with which to reach her soul.


~~*~~*~*~*~*~*~~~*~*~~*~~**~*~**~***~*~**~*~*

MY OTHER WRITINGS

Remember, if you like this poem, give it a thumbs up or a like or whatever it is to let your friends (or hostiles) know!