Oliver North and The Warrior Class, Barbara Ehrenreich

[stilltrucking]

Men who make death for others, men who never go to war themselves, men who die peacefully in their beds at home. So many of those.

Men who make speeches about valor but who were too busy getting out of the draft to go to war themselves.

I wish I believed in hell.

[SadLuckDame]

I think I'm just reacting cause I'm in dark sorts with my mood at the moment. Finding it hard to shake off me this time. I was thinking of the ex walking death all over me, he'd not even gone to war.
I'm sorries, Jack. I'll get better soon.

[stilltrucking]

I think I am darker than you
No really I mean that
I am the one bringing up all this negativity not you

First Jovonie and then Bush Rove Rumssfield et al and Leo Frank.
Have you ever read a poem called 'In a Dark Time the Eye Begins to See'?




Silent'woman's husband was a sweet guy. I mean that no sarcasm. He was a good guy, loved his children, loved her. He just could not stop talking. She could not find any solitude in her marriage. I don't think he ever blamed her. He just could not understand that he was driving her crazy. In that book 'Men are from Mars Women From Venus' the author tells women to give their men some space don't be clinging to them all the time. I wondered about that. Seems to me plenty of men do the clinging.

[SadLuckDame]

ppp
I'm meaner than you
darker
and more down and out.

Grr at the roll eyes.
Fine, you be darker if ya wanna.
Men and their dark moods.

[myrna minkoff]

I don't sleep with an imaginary shotgun under my chin anymore but a couple of years ago when I thought I had lung cancer I imagined I myself walking on a beach with my pockets full of rocks thinking of Virginia Woolf. I was a precocious child, tried to hang myself when I was about eight years old. I still can't bear to wear a turtleneck sweater or a tie.

In a Dark Time

In a dark time, the eye begins to see,
I meet my shadow in the deepening shade;
I hear my echo in the echoing wood--
A lord of nature weeping to a tree,
I live between the heron and the wren,
Beasts of the hill and serpents of the den.

What's madness but nobility of soul
At odds with circumstance? The day's on fire!
I know the purity of pure despair,
My shadow pinned against a sweating wall,
That place among the rocks--is it a cave,
Or winding path? The edge is what I have.


A steady storm of correspondences!
A night flowing with birds, a ragged moon,
And in broad day the midnight come again!
A man goes far to find out what he is--
Death of the self in a long, tearless night,
All natural shapes blazing unnatural light.


Dark,dark my light, and darker my desire.
My soul, like some heat-maddened summer fly,
Keeps buzzing at the sill. Which I is I?
A fallen man, I climb out of my fear.
The mind enters itself, and God the mind,
And one is One, free in the tearing wind.

Theodore Roethke