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Tova Gabrielle

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Even writing about his mental illness seems like a luxury now
by Tova Gabrielle
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writers block during war

I had stories to publish
Before this
Religous War
against Muslims and Reason,
I had poems about the usual.

Now writing of love, loss and
even his
prlonged illness-
seem like luxuries.

My personal triumphs
and tragedies move
further behind the veil
that separated the living from the dead,
my broad perspective has paled, like so dissolving bodies and angels,
no longer of this world.

Angels, I'd wanted to write about how
I had seen one once, in the wee hours
on March 8th of that year, 2000
months before the November coup
that marked the end of art as a way
and a means, along with freedom of press,
democracy, restraint, co-operation, and Reason.

Oh some of us saw it comming:
what would a man who managed to steal the leadership out from under our own control
do next?
What regard did he have for the popular vote,
of US or even the world?

My country tried to forgive and forget.
Move on.
That's what they tell you in families where there's an abuser at the head.
And there are other unspoken commands,
like, "Don't think. Don't Feel. Don't Talk About It."
Rules that protect not the children, but the alcoholic, say who brings in the dough.

We bond to our fathers,
whether we like them or not,
they over-ride us, seem evil, yet "right",

we bonded with the big shot
at the top
especially when we became afraid
especially on that September.

We wanted a Daddy to protect us.
We, voluntary chose blindness.
We still are blind to evidence that
something was amiss in our government
during 9/11.

Many found him almost likeable:
the Bush-shrub that seeded fear in
the soil of America, the People,
corrupted our Vision, like acid rain
and grew until it
managed to raise
up a macho hard on that claimed might was right,
the shrub spread
new roots just under the soil
of democracy
and out burst new strangulating ones
surfaced and snaked on grounds
we thought
were our sacred rights in the land
of liberty, of the free.

They crept into our sleep
and devoured the bliss of being unconscious
and we awoke to scream
Before the snake creep over
not just that which was
once my country
but the whole Muslim world,
and after that,
onward with new Star Wars Plans
to colonize space!

Oh, but come
to think of it,
this Never Was My country:
we were foreigners
who stole, as Bush stole the elections
murdered indigenous people, as now in Iraq.
Why should I be so surprised such a thing as fascism could happen here?

How it always bothered me:
the way my country managed to not mention,
even to forget, all that blood
under Our Side- [on which we] -Walk

but that luxury to forget and ignore,
that was before.
The blood is back, now, en masse.
Native blood emerges from the earth like
corpses awakening,
it courses in
through the cracks we couldn't cover
A huge collective grief burst, and now gushes over our brittle identity,
breaking the cement covering a land that was not ever ours,
and hearts around the globe break and gasp in horror.
We are all shocked and awed.

Well, I donít know what to write about anymore. I used to write about birds and angels, like the one that awoke me in March before the November that allowed a mere shrub to get into the soil and spread its roots above the ground and across the world.
It only happened once, the angel thing. I was sound asleep and someone whispered my name right in my ear and I awoke with a start. I opened my eyes and it was standing there up against the side of my bed, by my side, it was standing like a seven-foot dome shape, but somehow human, hovering benignly but powerfully over me. It shimmered like snow and I saw and knew its presence, I must have been barely breathing. And I didnít know what it wanted until I heard myself saying, the next day, that I didnít know what it was doing there, at my very bedside. Except that if I ever thought I was all alone in a hostile universe I could think it no more. That was what I said about the angel I named it, that shimmered like snow over me that I must have seen with my third eye, which must have been opened. Maybe because Id been sleeping.
How benign a universe it was to bring me this gut knowledge that the universe, the energies that defend life, even those not of a physical reality, are watching.
How good it is to know that about not being all alone in a hostile universe... even though I cant remember how to write about the Good because it appears the good is now in the heavens, above the bombs, and no longer on earth right now, what with the war that is proof it Can happen again, and in fact, right here where we thought we were safe... but then again, how could we have believed we were safe, when thereís always been all that blood under all the pavements, for as long as pavements have existed here?
I know the Good exists, still. It is inside the Earth where all of the animal spirits and the extinct ones too reside as vibrational beings. And I guess itís above like we always imagined you know that place we call heaven. I donít know where heaven is, though. It certainly isnít in this country. We thought we had it, didnít we. But the blood under the pavements well, the pavements themselves, blew apart didnít they: All that cement that only explosives could have pulverized into dust like that, on Se 11th reminds me that the blood under the pavement came alive like an awakened massive corpse. But we are not corpses. Not yet. And I can still write about better times, but with this certainty they are and always were jaded, built as they were on the slaughter of races before white middle class American happiness made those memories I used to be able to publish before the explosions and the dreams about Armageddon materialized before the millennium which in fact did happen, it started in the real year of 2001, with that anti-Christ thing, they used to prophesize about all over the world in every religion, the thing about the show down between good and evil before the dawning of that new age in which we would OD on violence and war and in which that love of life, like the one that awoke me and stood over me as if to say, "This is Real", before the time of peace would come, after all the destruction that brought the world to the brink of disaster. I remember. Do you?


I keep thinking about all that Cement...
the cement that blew apart on
September Eleventh,
that got in the hair of New York,
that blew into the nostrils
and down the throats;
and everyone on TV was running
away from the city;
from the trade centers
that did not trade
but where driven business men bought Things in exchange for-getting;
in exchange for Souls
that don't make money.

You know, there is a photo
a friend showed me of the
excuse me,
I mean,
collided-into Twin Towers.

Excuse me; those pictures affected me:
The buildings did not look to me
like buildings falling over
But what do I know?
Instead they look as if they were exploding,

Exploding, like the bombs in Iraq
that explode my sleep at 3 and 4 am.
Sleep escapes me like those dreams knocked out of little heads knocked off little bodies in Iraq).

Like you, Iíd seen the images before
Iíd not thought how the towers did not fall like buildings normally do
in earthquakes and natural disasters.

Iíd not thought much about the laws of physics,
defying that the towers could implode neatly into their own footprints.
I mean, so what if the towers happened to collapse Exactly, Precisely like they do in controlled demolitions?
After all, why think about conspiracy theories!
This is not the holocoust-- I am not insane.
[although I'm certainly mad].

I am an American! I know that Only a fascist government, Like, say,
the one in Germany in the 1930ís would actually collude in blowing up its own buildings, so
it could then blame it on one race of people.

Only a fascist government
would Collude with terrorists,
and try to annhilate a race that
had something it wanted

So what if ours had done business with and armed Terrorists we sought to destroy,
and so what if it had been involved business once with a family named "Bin-laudin"?
That is all coincidence.
I know cuz I am an American.

Of course our President
would NEVER collude
not once, but twice
in a massive deception,
to convince us that his end
would justify the MEAN
After all, That kind of thing is what Fundamentalist Extremists do.

...And just because the bush is a Christian Fundamentalist, well, that doesnít make him psychotic!
No certainly not.
So what if psychosis underlies fundamentalist fanaticism: what black and white, us and them thinking which is the hallmark of mental illness ?
I know better than to imagine that this could happen here.

I am not such a fool as would suggest that
a deluded layer obscures the onion brain
of the Shrub whose disease
we canít mention because...

no one can believe that
something this obvious and insidious
could have possibly happened here
where we have discernment and choice,
right beneath our very noses,
the noses we held
as we ran from all
that pulverized cement that
only explosives could have made
that fine;
and that no airplane fuel
could heat enough
to melt steel.
[So what if it takes a fire
of 1300 degrees
to melt steel
and the fuel from the planes
could only get to 800,
and in the choking space
of those towers only to 300 degrees?]

Anything can happen-
Mere science and the laws of physics,
isnít something
worth taking seriously,

so what
if the investigators were turned away
and the evidence removed?
[al l the steel was all shipped out of the country within eleven days'
And so what if the rescue planes from our airforce were delayed a half hour instead of immediately arriving at the scene of the accident-
And so what if they were told to keep away.

I am much to savvy to imagine that the demolitions were aided by our OWN government, to be used for an excuse
to now attack Muslims around the globe.
No. WE could never allow something like the Reichstag fire that devastated the German Parliament when in the 1930s Hitler hired men to set it, so that he could then blame it on the Jews.
Oh no, it canít happen here.
Never Again.
Anyhow, this one photo of the burning tower showed a cloud of smoke,
And, well it looked like a nasty kind of bird,
in fact, it looked an awful lot like the icon the nazis had of an eagle.
I saw it, that macho, broad shouldered, but hunched menacing thing, that perversion of the bird image something like an eagle. Eagle. Yes Americans too have perverted the image of the eagle, havenít they? Our American eagle looks mean.

justice for woody
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Reviewed by Tova Gabrielle 3/31/2003
Reply to Bill, notice to others who want to debate the issues, rather than comment on the writing itself:

i'm willing to try debating with ou but through emails, not as reviews.
Reviewed by na na (Reader) 3/31/2003
Do you always remove comments of those who disagree with you? Very sad procedure.
Reviewed by Sandie Angel 3/30/2003
A good thought-provoking piece filled with emotions.

Sandie Angel
Reviewed by Janet Caldwell 3/30/2003
Don't ever give up on your political stance, G-D knows that we need it now. Your views are something to be honored. Much love, JC xoxoxo Damn that felt like dť∑jŗ vu
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