The Art of War

the-art-of-war

The moving images of the governments’ aspiration being depicted from coast to coast. Justified are the premises, no matter what side the station picks. We never stop to think why their isn’t a third opinion on nightly sets that say that there is another way. Flames are just a prop in the pictures, illuminating results of the fireworks of overzealous engines atop the pyramids. Not seen as human anymore; and shouldn’t be if you alter the reasoning. The people lost are marginalized because their lives needed to be forgotten to bring peace… only to the power’s state of mind. The Gaza Strip is just another in the long line of “it’s sad it has to be this way, but it is.”

The media’s role in the apathy of the nation can’t be measured, but it can be felt. If a war is ongoing, it starts off as the breaking story. But as days pass, it is pushed to the back burner of these too-influential nightly melting pots. So as the frequency of the story lessens, the importance of it does too. On one hand, it is depressing. Who wants to see stories of death and destruction everyday, all the time? On the back of that same hand, the news always seems to be depressing. The top story on the 10 o’clock news is always a shooting, a local scandal, or something shady going on in a hood near you. These nightly programs probably give viewers the feeling that the world is a dangerous place because of evil people roaming every corner; not because of establishments voted into their positions. But the way that wars just fade into the background make it seem like there is nothing we can do about them. Persistent, but not something you need to know about. They will always be there. They are the backdrop to an ever changing danger, always lurking, that isn’t really changing at all. It is all fear. The thought that the big picture is explosions in hotel lobbies and nuclear threats, and the possibilities closer to you that are just as bleak create this sense of hopelessness. They say that they are here to inform. That is their function. But not to a point where we are moved to take action, but one to where we are too resigned to the fact that our obstacles are immovable objects. And we are not an irresistible force. Just bystanders. The news is depressing.

We are stuck at a crossroads that we come to every time our soldiers go off to battle. You always hear phrases like “Americans wouldn’t stand for this” or “We are a nation made up of the best people.” Not saying that that isn’t true, but I have to ask why do we stand for it? GITMO is still open and I don’t think many would be yelling out if our President elect didn’t make closing it one of his top priorities (fortunately he has.) We have more important things to think about. You can probably count on one hand the amount of full weeks we haven’t been involved in a military conflict in the past 50 years. There is a faction of this country that is wildly nationalistic; who believe that what we do is right because we are doing it. But there are a lot more of us that can think past the 50 stars and look at a situation objectively. I don’t think most people want war, but I think that 95% of us are ok with it. It’s the way it is, the way it was, and (no one
ever talks about this, but I think in the back of our minds we believe it’s) the way it always will be.

We’re stuck. But only if we choose to be. People get all choked up and annoyed about fiction, imagine if someone showed us images of what was going on in Gaza right now. And not the bombs going off from miles away, but the photos of children sitting next to their dead parents. Or a family lying in the rubble of their formerly standing home. We would be outraged. Incensed. Calling our congress men and woman, telling them to stop letting these wars be funded with our tax dollars. Crying because we see the similarities and could imagine that being us. If they are going to be biased, they should bombard us with this truth until we have no alternative to turn to. Force us to make it stop, as if those families were our own.

Or we would be a little frightened. Mostly indifferent. Use to it. Would change the channel to something entertaining. Not seeing ourselves in their shoes and basically strengthening our “Sucks for them” attitude. When did we become indifferent about lives? I’m thinking when we became indifferent about life. We don’t have control, we have powerlessness. We don’t have any way to stop wars but we have full power over the remote. We don’t make our paths, we accept our fate. That way, hopefully, if we stay out of destiny’s way it will bless us in the end. They bombard us with the trivial and shield us from the finality of our silence. Are they protecting us? Is this the way? Is that their purpose?

I watch the moving lips, of supposed analysts going back and forth all night about two sides of the same coin. Like there is only a right and a wrong to every situation and the television personalities, that happen to give you the events of the day, present to you very neatly. Conservative versus liberal. Right, left. The grand old or the fresh new. All the moving images. They’re hypnotizing. Almost make you forget how human you are; and how that separates none of us. And how that doesn’t include your party, country or anything that is reason enough to justify the deaths. There’s another way, even if they don’t speak its name. Guns must be drawn. But they won’t change if we don’t want them to. And we don’t need them to if we just started remembering what our priorities would be if they weren’t told to us.

All the moving images. They stand as a microcosm for life; saying so little about who we are but so much about who we have been. Their opinions aren’t what’s bothersome, the problem is the amount that they offer. And how those two viewpoints support one idea about the only thing that matters when going to war: Can any gain really make this worth it? Connect to the cable box and you’ll see that it’s ok because… it’s just the norm. It makes me wonder: what is it’s function? And what are they working towards? I think we’d be better off imitating art.

Still Life on Table

An empty bottle
That’s a quarter full,
With a half eaten pie
And scissors that can pull,
Sit on the table with me
Outside while I’m alone,
Where I sit and ponder,
To catch the night and groan.

So Tired

I’m so tired,
so tired,
so tired,
He took the light out of my life,
She took the wind out of my sails,
He sold my dreams by the dozen,
She broke my heart in two,
He mocked me in silent praise,
She threw my years away.
And They, what did They do?
They did the worst thing of all,
Nothing.

A Meeting

I sat across from her,
And listened to her eyes,
Sparkling words of wonderment.
We held a table hostage
Sharing time and space
As the world swirled around us.
Nothing could break us,
A beggar’s cries were lost,
Cold winds only brought us closer.

How much of me was hidden from her,
Yes, my mind was open,
And she could see my mouth,
My teeth were not shy.
But my heart lay buried,
For it would destroy us both,
Capsize our table and drown our friendship.

It tried to escape from me but I strangled it,
And it flowed from my lips only as a sigh,
A familiar occurrence, not noticed,
Another dead dream flowing into the world
To join others and drift nonchalantly
Over us actors, awaiting action

She had to leave me,
We parted in the cold,
A smile accompanied by a hug,
Was her gift,
And she was neither angel nor devil to me,
But something more beautiful,
Human

Void Red Ink, but Paint

No corrections to be made
We had whips and chains,
Places to blame
And circumstances to hate for our in and out game
Never believed we met the end of the line
But still ray as we ignored the math matics
Finding ways to dilute the valid hazards we speak every time our spaces meet
Remnants of deaths just coming into focus
Left on ceilings of stages marked for our atonement
Drip, drop
From tip, top
To places that would leave stories in the footprints
If they fell fast enough
Too down for the idea to witness the panoramic view we had of the writings on the wall
Perfect depictions of the scars and bruises
And the therapeutic uses of letting go
But we used the flowing as paint instead of proof
Drawing what could only be the work of history rewriting synergy
No whips and chains: correction
So we were free to deviate from this plan we made
So familiar, like I’ve seen this play in mourning as the sun awakes us
In two different places
Ended hating each other, but with enough insight into our selective memory
To leave a little space for the feelings of satisfaction momentary
I wish we would skip all the make shift and fast-forward to the pain
Then maybe we’d pick up someone else’s sense and see that we’ve painted this prose before
But we love the illusion
I’m counting the moments till you forgive me,
Show up at my door and I take you
Can’t say no to the walls I molded and the monster we created
The weakness in free will
Forever, I will be devoted to this…
It, never worth mentioning
Or trying to explain
That’s why (we stay) it stays
Between us

Spare Change

I fired at you
You shot back your heart’s presets
Fixed, little use in trying
You weren’t up for trying this out again
But I proceed with cautious steps
I proceed off steep ledges on hillsides that others have only turned back from, repeatedly
That past tense never makes this kid hesitate
He hasn’t been able to fly
But every drop feels a little bit closer.

Suspended
Your eyes met me
Danced in my shadow
Kept up with the manic
Mimicked it and laughed “No reason to run yet”
I haven’t been still in months but you see it that everything worth pausing for has come too close for comfort
Fear
Jubilation
Or any emotion that is adjacent with ground dwelling
You. My inspiration
The glimmer in deep falls and ledges.

But reality comes back to me as your wisdom finds solace on my shoulder
This kind of warmth was reserved for those finally finding their way home
I’m no where near, but you’ve fell upon my footsteps
Made me wonder if they weren’t pointless
With the touch of Ms. Been There and the eyes that proved you made it back
I try to focus on the scar on your cheek as you dance in the snowflakes
I can’t
Your feet make me forget about the frozen walkways I am so afraid of
How beautiful are you?
Why do I get to witness it? Why do I have to leave the time we’ve spent?
I want to crash and burn in it
Use the fire to wash away all the consequences and bath in it
Lay in you, and your memories
Be a distraction and mirror some of what you’ve been for me
In this one night. This one stroll inside Hollywood cameras.
Thrown back to the drawing board because of our separation in the ending
I can’t help but forget about ‘what is’ because of thoughts of ‘what could be’

But you won’t let me
One caress of my neck lets me know it wouldn’t be perfect, but it is in this moment
Actually making me believe you’re doing what’s best for me.

We continued on
My heart argued with your memories
You tried to give me something to remember as I tried to let you forget
Interrupted by a voice
A homeless woman gave us a piece of advice, for a price of our choosing.
The only thing you need to be concerned with, she said
Isn’t the sex, the money, paying your rent
No
That girl on your arm
She just wants to be kissed.
We laughed at the sentiment
It had nothing to do with the future, the past, anything except, this
But it seemed like the best compromise

So for now can we put all thoughts aside
And let me take her advice?

This Roof

I feel you
I think all things are possible because they are already alive
It’s our job to find it
Be prepared through the moments we get
All is waiting for me, when I’m ready.
I’m still too aware of what people think
I’m a little jealous of you because you’ll do what you want because you feel to
I promise I’ll never be embarrassed of any of it
I may not tell you this because any kid would take advantage of it,
But I don’t believe in right or wrong
It’s all just experience
I’ve spent too much time in pain because of the judgements
When you get here, it will probably be on-going.
I tried so many times to paint your eyes the tint mine could never reach
And I realized that I was just trying to rewrite myself
With a better beginning, middle and end
I promise I will never try to do that off a sketching pad, but I still feel compelled to make right by you
That’s what we call insecurity
I’m too young for most things but I feel like I could grow up for your sake
I’m probably not ready to shoulder the burden of another’s when I can’t even handle my own life
But I come through on most things I’m forced to do
But I don’t want to use you
I don’t want you to be brought here so I can conquer my fears
You deserve a life which the ends don’t have to justify anything
Especially these means.
Your mother, with any luck, will be the reincarnation of my own
Willing to give everything she has not to see you fall just because she knows you can fly if you’re given the chance
I’ll agree, and you’ll be the only thing we wouldn’t hold grudges over
Because your prospects are effortless
And we got and gave each other the opportunity to witness it
You can’t imagine how much planning we’d put into you for close to a year
And then have it all come down into pieces because we could never have predicted your uniqueness
We will do more than embrace you, we’ll just believe, and I know you’ll oblige
I love you, incredibly
Because I know you exist
I was talking about you when I said our immaculate conception was received before birth
I know that you’re just waiting for me to be ready
I thought I’d try to speed up the process
But I haven’t been blessed with your presence because there are still things I need to get in order
What I want for you is a solid home with a head that is steady
Everyday I try to make the right place for you
I want you to know that you are welcomed.
Not a burden or coincidence, just my best surprise
When it’s right, when I’m ready,
Come home

If I could see you

If I could see you,
to have one look into your face.
If I could see you,
and hear you speak my name.
If I could see you,
and ’round my chest feel your warm embrace.
If I could see you,
and see your sweet smile again.
If I could see you,
and watch your strong handsome frame.
If I could see you,
and see the wind catch your hair.
If I could see you,
and in a glance catch your stare.
If I could see you…

Miles Away

I think of you miles away
and I am chilled.
For I want you
here
to ignite me.
I want you
on me
over me
in me
filling me
with your heat.
Hands playing my body
making me sing.

Time
do not tease me
any longer.
Bring you
my lover
to me.

Copyright Catherine Anne Hayes © 2008