Tag Archives: Shi Sai

Sunday’s Week in ReVerse – 28 October 2018

Most Sunday’s I reflect on the previous week. But it is deeply painful to reflect on this week’s events. How does one make sense of madness? It’s not possible. The only thing I do know is that it must stop. I don’t know how to fix this. How to reach across the aisle to those who see me as the enemy, an abomination, “the other”. All I do know is that we can’t keep killing each other with mistrust, insults, exclusion, discrimination, hate. There is no “other”. There is only us. As true as that is, it is also true that we are the only ones who can save us from ourselves.

My heart holds everyone touched by violence and threats of harm in love. Go gently my friends. Go gently.


Sunday’s Week in ReVerse – 28 October 2018

take care what you wish for, keep it simple, less is more
heaven is waiting
first frost, silent dawn, wondering where the crickets have gone
it’s a poison devouring
There were people hiding behind trees everywhere.
change changes us, we learn to bend; that it’s not the end
thin as skin, the veil
pride comes before the fall; the deadliest sin of all
if you think you’re crazy you’re likely not…like a fox
They shout MAGA, crooning la-la, the world’s gone gaga!
birds on leafless boughs swoon underneath a pale moon
the earth murmurs
overthinking life
broken; their joy

~kat

A ReVerse poem is a summary poem with a single line lifted from each entry of a collection of work over a particular timeframe and re-penned in chronological order as a new poem. Unlike a collaborative poem, the ReVerse features the words of one writer, providing a glimpse into their thoughts over time. I use it as a review of the previous week.


Sunday’s Week in ReVerse – 21 October 2018

Ricky Gervais produced a film back in 2008 called “The Invention of Lying”. I highly recommend it. It’s a tale about a world where no one is able to tell a lie; where trust was the way of life. Imagine it if you will. When one dude figures out he has the ability to bend the truth, all hell breaks loose, as you can imagine. Of course everyone believes his lies, because, well, why wouldn’t they in a world where everyone is hardwired to trust, where there is no such thing as a lie. But as a consequence of his invention trust took a beating. It was a new reality, the idea of mistrust. It was the price to pay for lying, no matter the gain. A sobering lesson for us all.

Fast forward to 2018. A bit of an alternative reality check, if you will…

Once upon a time there was a world where truth did not exist. In fact everyone lied. No one could tell the truth. The bigger the whopper, the better. Of course no one believed anyone. The level of mistrust pitted parents against children, friend against friend, foe against…well, as you might expect everyone was a potential foe in a world without truth. People got along not because they trusted each other, but by gravitating to the lies that felt good, because those lies got them what they wanted. Lying was a means to an end.

Then one day a strange fellow uttered an incredibly powerful word…”but”. After shaking off the gasps and stares of those around him, he stepped up on a soap box and found the courage to go with it. One truth led to another and another. No one could stop him. “But that doesn’t sound right…” “But they said this only three days ago…and now they’re saying this! Look, I have video.” “But that’s not what the facts show…I have proof.” The crowd grew deadly silent, everyone staring at him, wide eyed, mouths agape. And then it happened. The crowd burst into uproarious laughter. “Good one dude!” “You really had us going!” “Proof? Facts?! They are unprovable. Everyone knows that!” “You don’t even sound credible!” “Truth? What is truth?” A group of crooners broke out in a stirring rendition of “La…la…la…” Of course no one believed him. Why would they? How could they? Mistrust grew even more. And anger…not at being duped, but at the mere suggestion that truth could possibly exist. It was unthinkable. Clusters of lie lovers organized into tribes around they’re favorite reality. It felt good there…safe. They built walls to keep truth from invading their tiny minds, which grew smaller by the day. And trust never returned. Because as everyone knows, once trust is lost, it’s over.

You expected a happy ending? I wish I could have given you that. I really do.

I’m often preaching to the choir in this place so it goes without saying, if you are a seeker of truth like me, keep seeking and speaking it. Even if no one believes you, because why would they? Why should they when their lies feel so good? At the very least, at the end of the day, you’ll be able to look at yourself in the mirror without wincing, and you’ll be able to sleep at night. Truth has its perks too. It preserves one’s soul. Peace my friends…peace.


Sunday’s Week in ReVerse – 21 October 2018

do you think me strange?
sweet dreams begotten fade to mist at dawn forgotten
cool breeze, crickets peeping…the night is set for sleeping,
Sounds scary!
Everyone believed it.
a thought for a penny, no more, gets what you pay for
polyglots who bang out
crumbs are not enough to sate the starving, doomed by fate
shorter days, growing shadows, a time for letting go
a cool nip frosts the aged leaves cleaving to the trees
dreams of cool cats fiddling
a thousand wishes fill
us…hot breath, wild eyes,
they will never see
when lies become a means to an end nobody wins

~kat

A ReVerse poem is a summary poem with a single line lifted from each entry of a collection of work over a particular timeframe and re-penned in chronological order as a new poem. Unlike a collaborative poem, the ReVerse features the words of one writer, providing a glimpse into their thoughts over time. I use it as a review of the previous week.


Sunday’s Week in ReVerse – 7 October 2018

It’s been an exhausting week. Without planning it, today’s ReVerse sums it up quite well. Too well.

Oh I know there are those who see the culmination of this week’s events as a victory. It’s why they voted for trump after all, knowing full well what a misogynistic, racist, greedy, narcissist he was. He was a means to an end. This end. The highest court of our land is now stacked in their favor. It’s a gift from their god, surely. The one who judges and condemns women, minorities, foreigners, the poor, the sick, children, the weak. Yes, that god, praise Jesus. They are reaping the just rewards for their idolatry. One step closer to the heaven on earth they dream of and pray for each night.

I know you’re thinking, tell us what you really think, Kat. Ha! Am I right?!

Well, I’ll tell you. What I really think. What I know. The god they so piously claim to worship? He is not god…his son is not Jesus. The Jesus I know loved the outcast, the sinner, the poor, the weak. He gave women a voice and included them amongst his disciples. He listened to them, confided in them. It was a woman he first appeared to when he returned. If you believe in the stories written about him. It’s okay if you don’t.

I’ll admit I do not believe in the god of those who call themselves christian. I stopped warming a pew long ago. I could not stomach the lies, self-righteousness judgment, and hate that spewed from the pulpit and festered in the hearts of loyal congregants who gratefully thanked god, their god, for saving them from being like… well, you know, us…the others…the fallen…the lost.

In fact, I feel lost right now. I like to think that there is a god somewhere who cares. That Jesus is real. That all the sages of the ages who speak of love and mercy and forgiveness were on to something. That there is a god who asks us to love one another, to help the foreigner, to visit the prisoner, to feed the hungry, to heal the sick, to welcome the outcast…because that’s the kind of god he (or she) is. Yeah, that would be a god worth following, worth believing in.

As I write this I am sitting on my porch in the cool darkness listening to crickets and city sounds droning in the distance. I think about those who are suffering tonight. Those who were hurt this week. Those whose memories of injustice were dredged from the darkness, laid bare, and trampled upon by those who are celebrating a win this weekend. My heart breaks for us all, and I know I am not the only one who feels this way. And that gives me hope. I still believe in the goodness of those of us who feel. I believe in that spark of compassion that I see in those around me. God may not be some white haired dude sitting on a throne smiting the unchosen after all, but I’m more than okay with that. I see god in the gentle, the compassionate, the weak, the outcast, in all living, breathing things; I feel god in the wind. I can believe that god. The one who is. I can believe in us. I can believe in you. There you are. I see you.

Sunday’s Week in ReVerse – 7 October 2018

i rise like air
listen…there is birdsong
I hearsay, hearsay’s not proof for true seekers of truth
silence
no one would know
weaving threads of silken lace she lies in wait and waits
face toward the light so shadows fall behind, out of sight
death interrupts our planned existence in an instant
trust is fragile, easily lost, regained at great cost
when justice declares her verdict…
saying you believe, but…reveals a mind that is shut
She was a bitch.

~kat

A ReVerse poem is a summary poem with a single line lifted from each entry of a collection of work over a particular timeframe and re-penned in chronological order as a new poem. Unlike a collaborative poem, the ReVerse features the words of one writer, providing a glimpse into their thoughts over time. I use it as a review of the previous week.


Sunday’s Week in ReVerse – 30 September 2018

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There is an air of despair and hopelessness, as bitter old men ram through a questionable candidate for the highest court in our land, to reign over us for a lifetime. 

Our nation was riveted to ‘credible’ testimony laced with accounts of a lifetime of pain resulting from trauma and responded to with pent up privileged rage. It left us tearful and aghast, this spectacle that summed up the chasm between us. It left us with more questions than answers and a clear view into the soul of an elite powerful class in the final throws of power. It revealed to us that there is nothing the powerful will not do or say to keep their power, the rest of us be damned. 

There is a pattern to the assaults on equality, dignity, and fairness that has transpired over the past few years. Among those in power are the privileged, old white men and their fawning little women, and evangelical pro-lifers who are happy to sell their souls if it means edging them closer to a dystopian heaven on earth a la Gilead (see Handmaid’s Tale). Those who suffer abuse at the hands of this power base are disproportionately female, young, sick, poor, marginalized, ethnic, immigrant, or people of color. Heaven, it seems is only for the chosen and we are all painfully reminded daily who is chosen and who is not. We know them by their fruits as their tome reminds us. Rotten to the core, but ever righteous according to this twisted doctrine, their transgressions covered in the blood of the lamb (aka the meek). That referenced verse is ironic in a terrifying way. 

It’s not for me to say who’s telling the truth. The fact is, truth doesn’t really matter. What I do know is what cannot be unseen…the spectacle of this candidate for a position on the Supreme Court’s performance. It smacked of his being temperamentally unhinged, rage-full, vindictive, and blatantly partisan as revealed by his own words when he repeated wild conspiracy theories against democrats. If he is pushed through to that esteemed seat on the bench, will we ever be able to trust in the wisdom, justice and impartiality that our founders envisioned? I think not. Of all the tragedies that have resulted from this week of blight, this is the worst and most far reaching damage anyone can imagine. It is stunning to witness. Democracy unraveling.


Sunday’s Week in ReVerse – 30 September 2018

and the moon’s made of cheese
there, waiting in the dark…
to feed your narcissism
if you remember all who came before you
life has a way of surprising us.
thoughts, words mean nothing
when tossed into a cesspool
tick tock so very slowly
she weeps fallow fronds,
as smoke with no fire
truth hid, on holiday
morning will never bring peace
never too late for a do over
dreams never end
believing a thing,
wounds too deep to heal unaided,
it just was’t in the cards.

~kat

A ReVerse poem is a summary poem with a single line lifted from each entry of a collection of work over a particular timeframe and re-penned in chronological order as a new poem. Unlike a collaborative poem, the ReVerse features the words of one writer, providing a glimpse into their thoughts over time. I use it as a review of the previous week.


Sunday’s Week in ReVerse – 23 September 2018

This video/soundbite…because I need it again and again…


If you followed me this week, you know I spent an unacceptable amount of time working. Mind you, I am not an executive, but I assist one who never stops. Because of this, when the rest of the staff head home to their families…to their LIVES…I remain behind putting the final touches on tomorrow’s presentations compiled last minute by others who hit send as they were walking out the door. My only solace is the overtime that will pad my paltry wages. But this doesn’t compensate me for the life I forfeit to a corporation who demands more and more while stripping resources to save overhead.

I hear you mumbling…quit, get another job, change careers. Oh, that I could. But the truth is, I am 5 short years from retirement, unless they push the age closer to grave. To the government it’s economics of course. The Social Security powers that be, namely congress who diverts our hard earned contributions into tax breaks that pad the pockets of their wealthy benefactors…but I digress. As I was saying, surely they are hoping most of us will die before we dare try to collect the money we’ve paid into the system for decades. And who am I kidding. After raising 4 children on a secretary’s wage, supplemented by forays into furniture and jewelry sales, waitressing and cashiering, I’ve not amassed a sizable enough retirement nest egg to sustain me. I’m not alone. There are millions of people like me. The best I can hope for when the time comes is downsizing in order to afford living on a reduced income and landing a mindless gig greeting shoppers at a big box store to pay, if republicans have their way, for the preexisting conditions that healthcare won’t cover. Forgive me for breathing. I’m getting too old for this shit. Is it any wonder I vote for the other side. I’m no snowflake!

Sorry for the downer. It’s raining and I am exhausted. I spend Saturdays sleeping and Sunday’s dreading Monday. And I wonder what did I do wrong to end up here. The answer of course is nothing. A lifetime of hard work, honesty and loyalty only pay off for a select few. And most of them don’t need to work. those of us at the bottom do the heavy lifting for them.

And yet, I find time each night to write. It has saved me many times. It doesn’t pay my mortgage or keep the lights on, but it feeds my soul. In the end that is what matters. And no one can take that away from me. Those beautiful, beautiful words are mine to do with as I please!

So, hang in there. (I say to myself as much as anyone who is listening). None of are getting out alive, but there are moments to be savored while we still breathe.


Sunday’s Week in ReVerse – 23 September 2018

soft murmuring
barrels of booze
the one thing I know
give it time
I hope you’re listening
fill the darkness with music
oh what tangled webs we weave
writing quells the madness
in fragrant wisps, our savagery
too short, two days, deadlines looming
rainfall is a beautiful sound
it came, then vanished into sawdust
apathy’s minions

~kat

A ReVerse poem is a summary poem with a single line lifted from each entry of a collection of work over a particular timeframe and re-penned in chronological order as a new poem. Unlike a collaborative poem, the ReVerse features the words of one writer, providing a glimpse into their thoughts over time. I use it as a review of the previous week.


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