Wednesday, May 30, 2012
Monday, May 28, 2012
---by Purple Mark 052612
- “Karin thinks there should be some image of reconciliation. I say, well, if one occurs to me I’ll put it in.” Hanif Kureshi. London Kills Me. (Penguin Books, 1997), Page 151.
- “He’d railed at Jamila and accused her of adultery, incest. betrayal, whoredom, deceit, lesbianism, husband-hatred, frigidity, lying and callousness, as well as the usual things. Jamila was equally fine and fierce that day, explaining just who her damn body belonged to.” Hanif Kureshi. The Buddha of Suburbia. (Penguin Books, 1997), Page 134.
- “he had finished and feigned, and what a face, alluring and presuming to nourish and disdain the masculine,...” Luigi Ballerini translated by Jeremy Parzen. The Cadence of a Neighboring Tribe. (Sun & Moon Press, 1997), Page 55.
- “Three Things: Three black things follow me, shape a memory. One black horse, two black cats, and all black crows.” Joan Byers Grayston. The Creek With No Name and Other Poems. (Frayn Printing Co., 1979). Page 20.
Sunday, May 27, 2012
Friday, May 25, 2012
Mute. Deaf. Blind.
Copyright © 2012 by Afzal Moolla
Thursday, May 24, 2012
Saturday, May 19, 2012
I may have written this or Ahmed Teleb may have written it. It probably is my work. The bj microphone image is something that I would've tried and work into a poem. I am juvenile that way. Ahmed's writing is much more syllabic and sound orientated than mine is. So, yes, I think this is my poem. But the word Homophone is a word he used as a prompt.
Friday, May 18, 2012
Remember us when you pass this way.
Copyright © 2012 by Afzal Moolla
Thursday, May 17, 2012
---Purple Mark, 05/12/12
- “His eyes burned: his mind grew troubled.... Misshaped monsters flew past him in herds.... All went round in his head,” (from St. John’s Eve). Nikolai Gogol. The Penguin Book Of Witches And Warlocks. (Penguin Classics, 1989) Page 102.
- “When he had sufficiently savored the sight, he hurriedly scattered about exotic perfumes, exhausted his vaporizers, concentrated his strongest essences, gave the rein to all his balms and Lo! the stifling closeness of the room was filled with an atmosphere, maddening and sublime, breathing powerful influences....” J.K. Huysmans. Against The Grain: (A Rebours). (Dover Books, 1969) Page 112.
Saturday, May 12, 2012
Thursday, May 10, 2012
Layers of help
Color the world
Be prepared to
True colors layer
into new worlds
the simple bliss of
the linen of that last
---William James, 05/03/2012
Wednesday, May 9, 2012
---Purple Mark, 05/05/2012
- “Noble ladies, wives of officers on duty far away, actresses and women of lower classes sought the rough, humiliating caresses of the Moujik. Making love to the unwashed peasant with his dirty beard and filthy hands was a new and thrilling sensation.” Robert K. Massie. Nicholas And Alexandra. (Dell Books, 1967) Page 207.
- “Know you not that all fireless peoples can see in the dark? Having no lamps we are forced to train ourselves to travel through the blackest night, lightless.” Hugh Lofting. The Voyages of Doctor Dolittle. (Dell Books, 1967) Page 203.
- “All deities reside in the human breast —William Blake.” June Singer. Androgyny: Toward A New Theory Of Sexuality. (Anchor Books, 1977) Page 233.
- “It was as if London had thrown off its opera houses and art galleries, its vestiges of civilization, like a discarded cloak.” Alice Thompson. Justine. (Counterpoint, 1996) Page 119.
Friday, May 4, 2012
Chiming, ringing, peeling, bonging, The vibrations set up by Bells have always made them Objects of Awe. When their sound was analyzed in the Late Nineteenth Century, it was discovered to indeed be peculiar: Three notes in Octave, One, a perfect Fifth and the other note the one that gives Bells their mysterious thrill, a minor Third above the Middle Octave.
In Ancient China, certain Bells of State or Temple would require a requisite Soul to perish and so be part of the casting of the Bronze Bells so that it would ring with a human voice into the gulfs of Eternity. Those in charge of ringing the Bells would do so at certain times and thus the Watches became associated with the wearable Time-Keeping devices whose time has mostly come and gone,
Much like the Comers and Goers of the park today of which I was but one of a number of its colorful Characters: there was the group of brightly colored and costumed Anima or Manga-inspired youths doing a Photo Shoot. When they saw my Pinkness one girl shouted out “You’re the most Masculine Man ever!” I laughed because it was true though not in the way she may’ve thought.
Pink used to be the Male color after the redness of the men who worked outside and were reddened by the rays of Ra during the days and Blue was the Female color after the pallor which caused their veins to give their skin a bluish tinge from being kept inside all day. Then somewhere in there, the inversion happened in different places, at different times. During the downfall of the French Aristocracy Blue became the color of the Common Man and thus babies swapped their traditional palettes.
Here in America, it changed over around the time of the Civil War, but there were holdouts up until the Forties and Fifties. After that time Pink had become associated with being less than desirable and has suffered an increasingly downgraded status as the color of little girls and Gay men. Then comes the Scientific evidence that Pink doesn’t exist as we see it. Instead it is a color that the mind makes up in order to fill-in a perceived gap in the Color Wheel.
Thus I was the most Masculine Man ever by both wearing very bright shades of Pink, traditionally a girl’s color and asserting my Masculinity by my comfort in doing so, something that some confuse with being Gay. For me it is simply the love of Color, Pink being one of many colors that I wear like the previous week when I had been Yellow which a man on a bike had to show me on his phone of my saffron self behind a Pink flowering bush.
Then there was the little brown dog who came by and left his urinary message to the other Park dogs on the near corner of the cement curve where I sat at North of the Volcano while trying to write out my poem. Carla came by then and got settled into selecting her prompts. My next interruption was an inebriated man with a bottle of wine in each hand who came by and sat down full of talk of the Hunger Games, though due to his description of it I would avoid at all costs and his confused talk of his band and Arrowsmith.
At last he left and I made yet another attempt, but I had simply had too many interruptions and I gave up trying to construct my poem whose threads had gone astray. The relative warmth of the Spring day had brought out all manner of Characters to be activated by the lack of rain, the occasional moments of sunshine and a breeze which brought the random droplets of water from the Volcano flying, as well the beacon of my Pinkness which brought these Characters wending our way to deal with as we tried to put thought to page.
---Purple Mark, 04/28/2012
- “The vibration set up by bells has always made them objects of awe.... In the late Nineteenth Century the sound was analysed (sic) and discovered indeed to be peculiar,... There are five principal partial tones to a bell’s ring: three notes in octave, one a perfect fifth and the the other )the one that gives bells their mysterious thrill) a minor third above the middle octave.” Margaret Visser. The Way we Are: Bells. (Faber & Faber 1994), Page 109.