3WW CXCX

Dear Gentle Reader,

This week the 3WW writing community received these three words to ignite inspiration: drink, feeble, and predict.

I find these three words difficult, but, I proffer three haiku (OK, senryu), each with an American Sentence title.

So, without further ado... drink, feeble, and predict....

Drinking in her honey pot is better than in your cups, but, beware...

Drink in her curves, but

I predict her tequila

laced honey's feeble...

**A paraphrase of the title could be "If you are going to get drunk, make love not war, but, be careful..."

For English as a second-language readers, a honey pot can be an attractive woman, but, really, it is a synecdoche as the honey pot itself refers to the salty-sweet sexual centre of a woman.

To drink in a honey pot could mean to gaze at a beautiful woman. It could also be something more visceral, more graphic.

The second half of the title, being in your cups, refers to drunken fighting (from the Apocrypha, I Esdras 3:22 "And when they are in their cups, they forget their love both to friends and brethren, and a little after draw out swords:").

From there, after a title exhorting us to, when drinking, make love, not war, is a warning to be careful of the company that too much alcohol may bring...

Sneering command to the old to stand aside and die, ignored, forlorn.

Fade, senescent shade--

predict thine obsolescence;

drink feebly to death.

Leary never dreamed of chemical precogs, but fascists did, with glee.

Drink the future! Pre-

-dict, -pare, -judge, -kill. Keep: future

crime feeble; us safe!

**Timothy Leary (1920-1996) was a futurist and an American countercultural icon who is best known in the popular press for his advocacy of LSD (it was legal when he started his experiments in consciousness-raising with LSD) and for the phrase, that he popularized, "Tune in, turn on, drop out".

Though Dr. Leary was anti-establishment, the establishment took note and undertook its own tests on hallucinogenics to see how they could manipulate patients' understanding of reality.

This poem looks at the concept of a class of chemically-induced precognitives (precogs) and the use that they could be put to in search of pre-crime investigation, enforcement, and punishment.

Tschuess,

Chris

And... ...the music for today is...

Click to hear Jean-Pierre Rampal, on flute, and Lily Laskine, on harp, play 'Kojo No Tsuki' ('Moon over the ruined castle') from 'Sakura - Japanese Melodies for Flute and Harp'.

Amazon, to buy the same...

Tschuess,

Chris

To return to the Monday Poetry Train click here.

To return to 3WW click here.

Postscript about Haiku and American Sentences

First, technical definitions of the poetic forms I play with.

The English language version of the haiku is grammatically stricter (though semantically looser) than the original, Japanese form of this poetical form.

English Haiku are usually required to have three lines with 5 syllables on the first line, 7 syllables on the second line and 5 syllables on the final line.

The American Sentence is a poetical form structurally closer to the Japanese haiku format in some ways. It requires 17 syllables in one sentence and was created by the American poet Allen Ginsberg.

Yes, I know that there are content issues regarding what topics are permissible in Japanese haiku (Yes, I know that I write senryu, not haiku, subject-wise.) and that Japanese poets don't count syllables as they are generally understood in English.

I am not overly concerned.

If you are, I am sure I have discussed it sometime before. Check the haiku topic listing and have fun.

3WW CXCIX

Dear Gentle Reader,

It is 3WW and, after a four month absence, I am back.

Hopefully, for a while.

This week the 3WW community received these three words as prompts:

abuse, cramp, and hatred.

As usual, I proffer three haiku, each with an American Sentence title.

So, without further ado... abuse, cramp, and hatred....

Runner's cramps felled her, felled her dreams; she blamed her trainer, not her drinks

cramps hit her mid stride

crampled she crumpled, bellowed

abuse, wild hatred

Heshiveredinthedarkcrevasse, searched for his wits, way out and ice axe.

Abused crampons cracked,

slid off... ... Red.Redhat.Hatred...

Blooddripswet,freezes.

**A stunned climber who fell down a crevasse might work his way from red, red hat, hat red to realising he has a bloody head. Or, at least, a bloody hat...

'Papa' gave kids balloons, then injected death straight into their small hearts.

Hot hatred cramps thoughts;

cold hatred cramps grace, begets

horrific abuse.

**Oswald "Papa" Kaduk was a butcher before the Second World War began.

He became a totally different butcher before that war had ended.

Oswald joined the SS, fought on the Eastern Front, and, injured, ended up at Auschwitz-Birkenau as a guard and moved 'up' the ranks.

The Final Solution was the Nazi plan to rid the world of the "lebensunwertes Leben", those considered by the Nazis to be unworthy of existence. Nazi ideology included gypsies, homosexuals, mentally handicapped people, and, of course, Jews in the list of peoples undeserving of life.

As part of the "Final Solution", 85% of the Jewish population of Europe in Nazi controlled lands were to be murdered as quickly as possible. The other 15% were to be worked to a point just before death and then murdered.

Infamous Auschwitz and lesser-known Birkenau were significant cogs in the Nazi "Final Solution".

Auschwitz warehoused around 30,000 victims being worked to death at any given point in time; adjoining Birkenau warehoused around 100,000 more victims.

Men who survived, after arrival, the selection of the 'lucky' 15%, statistically, survived for six months to a year. Women who survived selection generally survived for four months.

Children almost invariably were not selected and would generally die within an hour of arriving at the camp.

Almost a quarter million children were slaughtered at Birkenau.

Oswald Kaduk (1906-1997) was nicknamed "Papa" because of his 'love' for kids.

Papa gave children who arrived at Birkenau a balloon.

Then Papa would inject a needle, and phenol, through their chest and into their heart.

Papa did this ten times a minute; one child murdered every six seconds.

All for cold, calculating, racial hatred.

Tschuess,

Chris

And... ...the music for today is...

Click to hear Min Hui-Fen (閔惠芬), play 'Song Of Birds In A Desolate Mountain' on the erhu, the classical two-stringed Chinese folk violin.

OK. I couldn't find Min Hui Fen on Amazon, but this website sells other cds and tracks by Min Hui Fen...

Tschuess,

Chris

To return to the Monday Poetry Train click here.

To return to 3WW click here.

Postscript about Haiku and American Sentences

First, technical definitions of the poetic forms I play with.

The English language version of the haiku is grammatically stricter (though semantically looser) than the original, Japanese form of this poetical form.

English Haiku are usually required to have three lines with 5 syllables on the first line, 7 syllables on the second line and 5 syllables on the final line.

The American Sentence is a poetical form structurally closer to the Japanese haiku format in some ways. It requires 17 syllables in one sentence and was created by the American poet Allen Ginsberg.

Yes, I know that there are content issues regarding what topics are permissible in Japanese haiku and that Japanese poets don't count syllables as they are generally understood in English.

I am not overly concerned.

If you are, I am sure I have discussed it sometime before. Check the haiku topic listing and have fun.

3WW CLXXXII (3WW3)

Dear Gentle Reader,

It's 3WW time, again.

This week the prompt words (for prose or poetry) are brazen, hunger, and nuzzle.

...I think I know what Thom, keeper of the words for 3WW, was thinking about this week...

Your starter is a titled picture with, as always, a description if you run your mouse over the image.

Then, as usual, I serve up three haiku/senryu, each with an American Sentence title.

Sometimes the poetry is annotated, in green (sometimes heavily, sometimes not).

For dessert, a musical offering.

If you're like me, have dessert first and enjoy it while reading.

So, away.

...I have to get back to unpacking...

...And rebuilding furniture...

...And moving boxes only to move other boxes in a maddening, real-life Tower of Hanoi puzzle in Hong Kong...

We are in the midst of moving and we have too much stuff.

At least the Internet was reinstalled today...

And, with that, let the games begin with brazen, hunger, and nuzzle...

Glance, gaze, hunger; eros pants, desire trips up logic, andweleavequick

slicksideslipslideslicks

brazennuzzlelovehunger

...and the night's still young...

Better than a cup of no tea is a breast with no cover; pop Zen.

Tantric zen hunger;

Zen--bra or no bra (zen-ness).

Nuzzle breasts. Or not.

I have had fun playing with (the ideas of) religions for the last few years, and am heading off, shortly, for Japan, land of Zen and Zen koans.

The Japanese, like your humble scribe, have been known to enjoy both fleeting moments and the expression of ideas regarding those moments.

From the Zen practice 'The Art of Tea' we get the famous Japanese saying "Ichi-go ichi-e" which relates to the idea that every moment is transient and that mindfulness is important as after a moment has passed it is gone forever.

Even the art of drinking tea allows a Zen adept to found schools of thought devoted to simple moments, like making or consuming tea... the Art of Tea.

After all, mindfulness allows one to find beauty and awareness in everything, even in the preparation and enjoyment of tea.

The Japanese love their tea; one Japanese proverb is that "If a man has no tea in him he is incapable of understanding truth and beauty".

In Japanese zazen philosophy, words are encumbrances to the expression of thought. The idea itself is considered central and physical experience can no longer be adequately expressed by words--or be as powerful as the ideas about that physical experience.

This is where I, sometimes, part ways with Japanese zazen philosophy.

The concept of ideas trumping experienced reality is why zazen monks extol the virtues of drinking, and savouring (in their mind), a cup of no-tea.

These monks are concentrating on the essence of tea without worrying about the minutiae of actually drinking tea.

I know that these are monks, but what would they think of sex? This is what I want to know.

So, I started wondering, as one does, and as I was playing with words for 3WW, what tantric Zen sex would be like.

Would Zen monks even need to touch?

Would they enjoy the idea of sex as much as the Zen adept enjoys his cup of no tea?

And how much enjoyment would that really provide?

Would the idea more than compensate for the actual experience?

I, Gentle Reader, know that I would never accomplish this--I like the real thing.

I know my limitations.

I would play with Zen but stay with sophistry and try to trick girls out of their bras, insisting that the Zen bra, the idea of a bra negating the need for a 'real' bra, was sufficient.

(I think that a young Plato might have appreciated this idea in the dark cave of his mind...)

And, then, I would likely leave the monastic life once I had convinced young women of the beauty of no Bra.

And that was the sole point of this particular haiku.

Much ado about nothing, some would say.

Or about everything, as I might say.

I might not be mindful of every moment, but some... well... enough said.

Every day, every hour, desire consumes, hunger wracks mind, soul, body...

Clean Hunger. Honest

greed, desire. Brazen nuzzle.

Sucks teat, milks Mom's love.

Tschuess,

Chris

Ah... and the music for today is...

Click to hear Danny Elman's 'Etiquette Lesson' from the 1990 film 'Edward Scissorhands'

Amazon.com

Tschuess,

Chris

To return to the Monday Poetry Train click here.

To return to 3WW click here.

3WW CLXXXI (3WW3)

Dear Gentle Reader,

It's 3WW time, again.

This week the prompt words for prose or poetry are pulse, shard, and weary.

Your starter is a titled picture with, as always, descriptions if you run your mouse over the image.

Then, as usual, I serve up three haiku/senryu, each with an American Sentence title.

For dessert, a musical offering.

If you're like me, have dessert first and enjoy it while reading.

So, away.

I have to get back to packing.

We are in the midst of moving and we have too much stuff.

So, sorry if I try to store some words here, on the web, but there is no room in the stables tonight...

And, with that, let the games begin with pulse, shard, and weary...

On safari, the carnivore rules over all--- ROWRRR... (sob) ...CruNCH ... ... ... ... ... ... (...no pulse...)

shards of meat (and bone)

but, no pulse (legume, bean, pea)

weary vegan pales...

The origin of glass, a Western, or a Near (not Far) Eastern, tale...

Pliny's Phoenicians

found proto-shards where weary

sailors' fires throbbed, pulsed.

What is this poem all about?

Well, Gentle Reader, a circuitous explanation ensues. Sorry.

You ought to know, by now, that your humble scribe is (currently) based in Hong Kong.

Hong Kong is right beside China.

Hong Kong is even in China, if you believe the Mainlanders rather than your visa requirements.

Hong Kong is certainly within the media orbit of modern China.

Recent Chinese 'historical' pop culture movies (Red Cliff, for example) extol the fact that ancient China invented almost everything.

Like soccer. (A specious claim, at best).

Your humble scribe and Heroine find themselves amused to note that almost all things are Chinese these days.

Soccer/football?

Surely Chinese.

CERN and the Higgs Boson?

Surely Chinese.

The alphabet?

Mmmhmm.

Crime?

Vice? ...

...Well, those are obviously foreign.

...Especially when you read or hear the news, in China...

But, glass?

Glass is definitely not Chinese.

Glass is one of those areas where, if you are a Westerner, you can hold your head high on the origins of innovation front because the ancient Chinese did not invent glass.

The Chinese 'discovered' glass only from overland traders sometime in the end of the Spring and Autumn period of Chinese dynastic history (770 BC - 476 BC) or in the beginning of the Warring States period (475 BC - 221 BC).

Pliny the Elder (23-79), however, gives us the historic/mythic origin theory that Phoenician sailors (Phoenicians are those Fertile Crescent trading folks whom most Lebanese claim as their forebears) discovered glass sometime around 5000 BC.

Pliny's Phoenician sailors/merchants were cooking their meal of reconstituted pulses in pots over fires on the beach as they rested their weary bodies...

Those Phoenician pots, in turn, while cooking the pulses, rested upon blocks of nitrates which the sailors/merchants were carrying.

And, as those blocks of nitrate melted, from the heat of cooking fires, the melted nitrate fused with silica, the sand on the beach, to form 'ur-glass'--the original man-made glass.

This originating glass was not only clear(ish) but, when the half-melted nitrate trading blocks were forcibly removed, this proto-glass would have resolved into shards of glass...

...which would have engrossed the attention of sailors, weariness forgotten, with sharp shards of a novel, transparent solid in front of them and their bellies full of reconstituted pulses.

See how easy this fit into today's 3WW words?

3WW even allowed me to point out Western technical/innovation prowess.

Even Mesopotamian prowess.

For, despite Pliny's tale of the Phoenicans of around 5000 BC, the first archaeological record of glass comes to us from pre-Bronze Age Mesopotamia--from the pre-Sumerian Uruk Period (4000 BC - 3100 BC ).

Sure, this is almost a thousand years before my beloved Akkadians spring to prominence in Mesopotamia, but, for once, I can write about something that was not invented first in China.

Thanks, Thom (Keeper of 3WW and provisioner of words).

Words like these make my day.

(Although, Thom, I would love the challenge of an x, y and z themed 3WW, too--as you suggested on your prompt page...)

To the victors go the spoils, and thanks, of royalty; to the writers...

pusillanimous;

lacking heroes' pulse, courage.

Weary shards of men...

(Of course, today, the writers get royalties.

But, not if they publishes on the web...)

There you go, hepcats.

Maybe when I am less bone weary the haiku will pop out easier.

Tonight, well, this is better than nought.

I hope.

Ah... and the music for today, as I talked of reconfigured history, is...

Click to hear a reconfiguration of Billy Idol's 'White Wedding' by the folk ladies 'the harvey girls'

the harvey girls are found here...

Tschuess,

Chris

To return to the Monday Poetry Train click here.

To return to 3WW click here.