smithereens (formerly the Word)

the angels softly gathered winged self

together around God

ten thousand rustles whisper an idea

“teach me of heaven”

God smiling thought “hear the parable of”

then stopped

God laughing said “not hear”

“here”

creating “earth and Us”


--Marty Kummetz

The Sun sees no shadows

Dear Jack,

My answer to your question of last night—Did God fire Adam, or did Adam fire God?

The Sun sees no shadows

This is the concealment.

That who I think I am is who I really am, that I am Marty. But the Truth is who I really am extends beyond Marty, joining with who you really are, extending beyond Jack.

That joining is God. We are God.

Jack is just a kernel of who you are. As is Marty.

Again, we are God—poured into so many unique vessels to overflowing; these vessels, without which God could have no knowledge of Creation, or Form.

The forgetting of this (concealment,) is called sin, and death.

The unveiling, the revealing of truth, the Awakening, is Resurrection, Salvation and Reunion with God.

The continuous Forgetting and Awakening to Truth is what harnesses the energy of Living and is the point and purpose of existence.

It is the Breath of God.

So, my answer to the question of who fired whom is that is was something of a mutual parting of ways, (for the sole purpose of meeting up again,) for God and Adam, (Us,) are One.

As an afterthought: what is Adam and Eve?

Here is an illustration. The Earth seen from space, with its light side and dark side. (One could also picture the symbol of the Tao.) The apparent duality in the light/dark side of the Earth is somewhat misleading, for there are not two opposing forces at work. The Sun shines upon Earth creating its light side, yet, there is no “Dark Source” shining on the Earth to create its dark side. Evil is an illusion, though a persuasive one at that, leading to truly evil thoughts, words and deeds-which are no illusion.

Our seemingly dual nature is not really dual after all. (And there really is no such thing as Good vs. Evil.) There is no evil force to contend with. There is only Light, Life, Awareness (Love,) or the absence of it.

AdamEve has nothing to to with the sexes, gender, man and woman (especially as a basis for the notion of superiority of man over woman.)

AdamEve is the Whole Being. The Prime unit of Life. (Prime number?)

The single cell.

So, what is it to eat of the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil?

Knowledge = Experience. (Thus the term Carnal knowledge for intercourse, the most intimate experience we can have with flesh. The term is not used to be “delicate.”)

To experience Good, (all that really is,) it is required to experience what it is not also.

To not eat of the The Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil is to have no experience of either.

The Sun sees no Shadows. It has no realization of it's own Light, and only its own light is reflected back to it. The absolute experience renders no experience.

Poor women, so often taking the blame for the great fall. But consider, if AdamEve is not about gender, but the Whole Being, then who exactly did the subtle serpent approach?

Jesus contrasted evil with single (with respect to our eye, a tool we use for perception—directed outward, yet drawing inward.)

The serpent, (Ego/The False self,) arose and came to us, not when we were present, but when we were not present; not whole; not single. But when we were sleeping. Far off, away. Not now.

So, what does this mean? I hope that it implies a difference between guilt and regret and repentence and responsibility. For, in consciousness—Light, Life, which is Love and Christ (in the beginning was the Word--”Let there be Light,” and the Word was with God and was God,) are all our thoughts, words and deeds informed. This serves only, for what else is there, but Good.

Peace,
Marty


--Marty Kummetz (firescarecrow)

Creativity

One might percieve consciousness as a metaphor for light – a candle flame, the lightbulb, the Sun. It's really the other way around. Physical light—the candle flame (a tongue of fire,) the light bulb, and the emination from the Sun is the expression and result of consciousness and awareness.

The first time this dawned on me, We burst, Cause contrasting Effect, and the Cosmos sprang into being. Remember?

Funny, that at the beginning, there was such division and separation—a splitting first. Wouldn't it seem more logical that the initial steps of Creation would involve more “gathering” and “putting together?” But that was not the case. And remains so.

Our cells have always followed after this kind of pattern. (Anything less than a cell is not life, and cells do not merge to grow, but tear.)

So then, why fear Darkness? It is the arena for Light.

Why resist silence? It is the space for sound, and voices, and music. Your name.

And Stillness? It is required for the Dance.

What of Lack? It is the Cup that is filled to overflowing.

Why fear the Valley of the Shadow of Death? It is Life.


--Marty Kummetz (firescarecrow)

Playing with Six Words, More or Less (a Sestina)

Mine. Work. Hand. Our. Age. Stars…work
with ease, they shine and hand
their light so freely to our
world, and have done so from first age.
Yet, here’s no ode to twinkling stars’
work, that grace’ night sky, yours and mine.

Our mine-work—stars!—hands age! Mine
own, feebling, but they still work.
Face and form no longer make a star
of me; Beauty slowly hands
me over. Yet, no proclitic to certain age.
My fate alone? No, it’s all of ours.

Stars are mines. Age’s work hands our
lodes to us. Bless these veins of mine.
Where’s the Kingdom? Now? This age?
Almost the theme of this here work,
Yet, no opus to “at hand.”
Our seeking Seers still look to stars.

Age’s stars are handy. My! Work star-
lit phrase to eat. In gentle melds our
words taste sweet. For more money in my hands,
what to provide or sell of mine?
Wait, is this a verse to noble work?
Star nude in films at this age?

Hands age; stars work. Our mine ages,
but, still gives, thank fortune’s stars,
and God, such mercies work.
Angels have Heaven, the Earth’s our
land, yet, no rhyme to “theirs,” “yours,” “mine.”
Age holds big blessings in small hands.

Work, and Sage Mystery: our hands
turn grapes into wine, that ages
much as like ore in mind’s mine,
or what Clever Muse has writ’ in stars.
Hear now what sweet labor is; not our
hands make word-play work.

No toil of hands in poem work,
Such joy in every age of ours,
To mine words from the stars.

--Marty Kummetz

a.m. cows

Inspired by the smallest fragment of a dream...I tugged a little on that thread, and this ballad almost wrote itself.



a.m. cows

In the gentle dawning quiet,
a Prophet wanders through the stalls,
strangely, pointing out the straight
from twisty halls.

Who’s this calling?
The Whys and Hows!
“This way to the a.m. cows!”

Almost, almost as if I’d never
left, I softly fade right in.
Drawn through a very narrow hall,
into this pure and silent place,
where timber rafters, limber walls,
breathe with timeless, supple grace.

Morning’s here, and it’s a glory.
“Let's hear some more or your life story,
and not meaning your biography!”
You'd s’pose this would evoke forlorning?
Not so, it’s just the whisper of each morning,
quite simply all that’s ever asked, you see.

Meekly shuffling, my heart pumping,
“Sorry, I’ve brought nothing here today,
guess I'll need to think up something.”

“Think up? Phooey!” He spits out.
Then I hear familiar shout
of my friend, the whys and hows.
“This way to the a.m. cows!”
He smiles, then lightly falls in hay,
straightens out his robes white cloth,
and wryly looks my way...

“When thoughts use you, you're not quite here,
Use the mind, not it use you,
and bring around what's truly new,
a poem, say, or an answer will appear.
It's you who've asked 'What is the way?'
So, be calm, and tell it quick—
yet, we’ve all day.”

More logical than it first seems,
I sort of know just what he means,
for, the whole tale’s here right now,
“Is that a great, big a.m. cow?”

“When one’s tense—past and pre, not present,
or in the ‘morrow dwelling, is that sin?”
I ask Zeke.
He nods.
I’m feelin’ kinda' wise somehow,
so, you know I pipe right in—
“This way to the a.m. cows!”

Soothy’s jumpin’, his staff thumpin’,
twirling, white robe flying,
now, I’m just dyin'—
laughing as he spins around,
several inches off the ground!
Then, mid barefoot pirouette,
he stops to sing--
“I don’t think that’s everything…”

Then a silence, a hint of death,
reflecting in those loving eyes
what's garnered here in this place’
very breath:

“Hear, let no man put asunder!”
(Here, insert some joyous thunder.)
“When not whole, one’s not Holy, therefore, wholly grieve!”
(Ahem, you’ll see…)
“Not Now did subtle snake deceive.”

Sudden movement broke my trance,
“Now we must resume the dance!”
Said the whys and hows.
“This way to the a.m. cows!”

“Don’t you think this solves all myst’ry?
Fills the holes in our brief hist’ry?
Please, dispense with all forlorn!
Now, with every breath let’s be reborn!”

“Not now, you now know all about.”
Then he gave a poignant shout.
“Always know, I am you Child, see?
Why not put all your how’s and why’s on me?”

Such simple stores from whys and hows,
it’s this way to the a.m. cows!

“Have I penned this familiar poem?”
I ask, “or read it, somewhere, someplace?”
“Yes and yes,” says the Sage, “you’re never alone,
here in this lofty, storing-space.”

How he got in I tried to guess.
His eyes on me gave utmost rest,
and whispered, “all this straw and hay you see?
So perfect for a baby’s nest.”

Always in the dawning quiet,
walks the Seer among the stalls,
leading seekers toward the straight
and narrow halls.

So all, seek your prophet—
Ask some whys and hows.
Hear ye, hear ye…Here ye, Now!
“This way to the a.m. Cows!”


--Marty Kummetz
--2007

A scene from TRANSFERENCE - Matthew paints a tree

FADE IN – MATT & ROMONA'S LOFT APARTMENT – LATE AFTERNOON

(A baseball game is just finishing on the wide-screen TV. Matt puts aside a braille book he's been reading. Stacks of them around—only one book—so many volumes.)

(He picks up the remote, and points it at the TV, which he is not directly facing.)

[Flip]
(a commercial)

[Flip]
(a movie, only action—a chase scene. So much noise, no dialog for Matt to follow.)

[Flip]
(A romantic scene on soap opera. An amused, provocative look on Matt's face. He puts down the remote and sits back in the sofa, anticipating where it may go. Just then, they break for a commercial. Disappointedly he reaches for the remote.)

[Flip]
MINISTER
And he took the blind man by the hand, and led him out of the village; and when he had spit on his eyes and laid his hands upon him, he asked him, “Do you see anything?” And he looked up and said, “I see men; but they look like trees walking.” Then again he laid his hands upon his eyes; and he looked intently and was restored, and saw everything clearly. And he sent him away to his home, saying, “Do not even enter the village.”

(CAMERA passes behind Matt's head, L - R)

MINISTER
He took him “out of the village!” Out. Out of his “comfort zone.” This my friends is where it happens. Not where everything is familiar and safe. Out of the city. Now, for the blind, the city is safe. There are buildings, and walls, and streets to follow and guide them. But it is there where we become accustomed to our same old, un-seeing self. If we wish for healing,wish to see, if we wish to truly connect, paradoxically, we need to go where we might be uncomfortable--we need to go outside our safety zone, our comfort area. That is where we will truly see. In the open, away from what is familiar,..where it is not safe. A risk, yes...

(Matt flips off the TV)

(Then back on.)

MINISTER:
..see men as trees walking? What does this mean? Do we think that Jesus touch was not potent enough? Not quite, for this demonstrates the “process” of healing. The first touch gave the blind man perfect vision, the second merely restored his worldly eyesight.

(CAMERA continues R – L, TV back in view. The Minister has now morphed to Matt's mind's eye—a swami sitting in Lotus position.)

MINISTER
Now, Men are not trees, and trees are not men. But they so have something in common—Life. What we have in common with each other, and all creatures is Life. If we perceive this first, looking past our differences—skin color, status, rank, position, intellects, beauty, most importantly, if we look and see beyond the ego, and identify what we have in common—Life, then we will truly see clearly, and we do not need our eyesight for this. Perhaps the blind man was not in as much need of that second healing touch as we might think, for he was first given a glimpse of spirit...

(Matt turns off the TV.)

(He reaches for the lamp on the table next to him, feels the bulb. He draws back his hand—hot!--almost tipping the lamp—it had been on all afternoon. He turns it off.)
(Hands back to his lap. Then he reaches and turns the lamp back on. Then off. On again. Stops. He then spins the knob around fast—light going on and off rapidly, till the bulb “pops,” but he keeps spinning it.)

(He gets up and moves to a different chair, and resumes reading his braille book.)

(After a moment, he puts it aside.)

(MATT gets up, goes into the kitchen. Takes a bottle of water from the fridge, a sip. Places it back.
He walks back towards living area, and in guiding himself, brushes his hand on one of Romona's paintings hanging on the wall.)

(He touches it, caresses it. Questions it.)

(He turns and moves towards her studio area.
Inside, he gingerly feels her easel, a fresh painting is on it.
Next to the easel is a table, cluttered with her brushes, paints, and other equipment.
He removes a brush from a can. He feels the brush tip, then waves it under his nose, smelling the paint and thinner.
He places it awkwardly in his hand, holding it as he thinks an artist would. Pretends he is painting, and mimes a palette in his other hand.)

MATTHEW JOHNSTON
Hold still for ze pose, Mademoiselle, or ze portrait will blur! Ah, ze genius is work!

(He begins to dance around in a silly way, air painting.)

MATT
Ze artist! Ze artist! (With exaggerated flourishes, painting the air.) I will paint ze world a new coluer!

(He bumps into another easel, full of Romona's work. He gently runs his hands over them, then carefully flips through them, briefly touching each one. One of them is a painting Romona has done of him, he touches it for no longer than the others, oblivious to it's subject. He gently lays them all back, standing in front of the easel, he places both his hands on the top one. He even closes his eyes, almost if somehow he could “read” the artwork. Obviously fighting despair, he takes his hand off the painting, and resumes with the brush in the air.)

MATT
(Still with feigned French accent.) I see men as trees walking!...

(He is walking around, slowly, with arms up in air, like a tree...swaying side to side..)

MATT
Walking......Walking.....
(He stops, quietly standing...)

MATT
(with a sudden insight) Ah ha!, I think that I shall never see...

(His fun seems to fade, as he orients himself to where he thinks the easel full of paintings are...)

(In the air he air paints a tree...)

MATT
a poem...or picture...of a tree.

(He reaches out towards the paintings, almost as if to draw the images off the canvas.)

(One last attempt at some fun...turning, and using the brush as if to emphasize a point...)

MATT
(With gusto,) Do not even go back to ze villaage!

(He finds his way back to the equipment table, and places the brush back in the can, his fingers lingering a moment before releasing the brush tip.)

(He returns to the love seat in the living room, and picks up his book to read.)

FADE – DUSK IN THE LOFT APARTMENT

(ROMONA comes in. Matt is asleep in the chair. She goes over to the lamp, turns it on, but nothing. Puzzled, she unscrews the bulb and lays it on the table as a reminder to replace it. She lights a candle on the coffee table, then goes over to the chair, and snuggles in, gently waking Matt...)

ROMONA LA CHAPPELLE
Hello...

MATT
Mmm, Babe.

(ROMONA surveying the area by coffee table, with foot reaches and inches one of the Braille books away from the candle.)

ROMONA
Wouldn't you rather read on audio?

MATT
(Sleepily) mmNo, I like to read myself...better characters...images.

(He nuzzles again into her neck and hair.)

MATT
(Suddenly more alert.) Let's go for a walk, it's a beautiful spring day...

ROMONA
it is! Have you been out?

MATT
No, but I can smell it in your hair.

(She covers his face in her long, dark hair. Another kiss.)

MATT
Aaa, ze L'air du Temp!

ROMONA
Spring Air...where have you picked up French?

MATT
I...don't know...

(They kiss.)

ROMONA
How about a walk to the bedroom? We'll bring the evening in to us....

FADE – MATT & ROMONA'S BEDROOM

Scene [?] from TRANSFERENCE (in progress)

--Marty Kummetz

Two Poems

Poems

The muse worries thread,
Back words from deep and briny.
The brilliance of the finished cloth?
It isn’t bright, yet, sometimes, somewhat, shiny.

--Marty Kummetz
--2007



Projectorize

Rat's racing,

Wailing, gnashing, teeth,

Broke,

Loose, scuffed-up boot,

While at home Mom made lasagna.

--Marty Kummetz (firescarecrow)
--2009

FINALE - The Gates of Hell

FINALE

The Gates of Hell
(no scenery, no actors, no lines, no action)

CURTAIN

Dramatis Personae

Playing the role of Ego through the ages:

• The subtle serpent (Our Iago who planted the first seeds of all Evil-envy & fear.)
• Pharaoh
• Judas
• The Devil, and all aliases
• Mine enemies which gather round about (beautifully described by Psalmists)
• Death

Has played the Roles well, and served true purpose: to be overcome. A Phantom, only existing, only “on stage” when the True Self is not present.

Playing the Role of The True Self:

• The Awake
• The Alive
• The Arisen
• The AdamEve
  

Playing the Role of Enmity between the Ego and True Self:

• The Light (aka Life, Love--can be used interchangeably with Attention and Awareness)
• Christ
• Savior
• The Rose, by all other names

Costumes by The World, Flesh and All Else, LLC

ENCORE

Voice: (whispers from behind the psych and teasers)

psst...there's only One of us...remember?

A Gardener, A Traveler, and Friends on the Beach

Christ is Risen! Alleluia!

AHA! I could've had a V-8! [konk on head!]
Now, one would not say “I could have had a V-8!” if one is sitting there drinking a V-8. This might illustrate a Beauty and Joy of the Resurrection!

To truly understand this, to really experience (know, I Know that my Redeemer Lives,) the significance of the empty tomb, we need to go back two dark days.

And Jesus uttered a loud cry, and breathed his last. And the curtain of the temple was torn in two, from top to bottom. Mark 15:37-38

Now, the purpose of a curtain, (also a veil,) is to conceal. Also to block out light.

So now we Awaken, and Rise to Truth--
The Holy of Holies is...empty.

A precious few knew this truth, and either misunderstood, or concealed this truth, out of fear, ignorance, or both.

General Pompey, intruding on this Holy place, baffled to find that it did not contain a terrible God, backing such a troublesome and formidable people such as Israel. (Yet, they possessed power. Where was it?)

The High Priest, entering the Holy of Holies once a year on the Day of Atonement. (Hmm...didn't the High Priest serve a one year term?)

One High Priest in particular, who rent his garments. (He did not do this as a reaction to blasphemy—he knew he was confronting “Truth.” It was merely inconvenient for him.)

Now Christ, “The High Priest,” reveals the truth to us.

The Divine, the Most High does not dwell in a house of stone!

This is why King David heard the voice of God telling him to build a temple, that he was tired of a tent in the desert. Why? A temple could hold more people!

This is where the presence of God truly is!

This Revelation does beg the question, why would the Truth be concealed in the first place, and by God who gave us the plans for the temple, including a veil over the Holy of Holies?

Why? More in a future post, but for now-- from the death of Jesus—he breathed out his last—to his Resurrection, absent from the tomb, he revealed Truth to us. Living requires breathing in as well as breathing out. Continuously. To know truth, we need to allow ourself to “not know” it for a moment.

An empty tomb, much like an empty Holy of Holies, puts God in his proper home. (Which, incidently, is where God always dwelt—we simply were not “Awake” to this, which, also, is another way of saying that we were not present in the House of God.)

Now we are, and how liberating this is. For we can know (experience) the true presence of God, at any time, in any place—It is only as far away as our next breath—which is within us, and all others.

Breathe. Seriously, go ahead, right now.

Inhale...Exhale...Inhale...
(Live...Die...Live...)

Can you take a new breath unless you've let out the breath?

We can always hope for the next breath, but is there any doubt, or lack of faith to the one we are presently taking? Experience Life (which is synonymous with Light and Love.) And this, in its essential nature, just is. Therefore, only One. Therefore Eternal.

Namaste. I love this Sanskrit word. This Greeting, borrowed from another Tradition, which means “The Spirit in me recognizes the Spirit in You.” How about that for “an Holy kiss” with which to greet one another? Not, a spirit in me, or the spirit of me, but The Spirit In.

There is only Spirit. All else is but garments.

So sadly funny, some who might argue in a literal “7 days of Creation,” as if that matters all that much, and yet do not take this literally, which really does matter:

“What soever you do to the least of these, my brothers, that you do unto me.”

“The first Commandment is this: Love the lord your God with all your mind, all your heart, all your strength, and all your soul, and the next is like it, love your neighbor as your self.”

Hence, we have the Golden Rule.

Now a rule is a Law, and this one, like gravity, cannot be broken, or disobeyed. What we do unto others, (deed, word, and thought—most importantly thought,) we do unto ourself.

I have no poem for today. Any words of mine would be foolishly inept.

Perhaps this is better.

This Psalm usually evokes images of a pastoral, bucolic setting or place. But, now, read with a new and different light, might we discover the true magnitude of what this poem says of God, ourself, and others—whether a gardener, a stranger walking with us, or friends on the beach.

How lovely is thy dwelling place,
O Lord of hosts!
My soul longs, yea, faints
for the courts of the Lord;
my heart and flesh sing for joy
to the living God.

Even the sparrow finds a home,
and the swallow a nest for herself,
where she may lay her young,
at thy altars, O Lord of hosts,
my King and my God.

Blessed are those who dwell in thy house,
ever singing thy praise!

--Psalm 84:1-4

Christ is Risen! Alleluia! Aha-leluia!

Namaste! And Happy Easter!

The Sword / Heavy Metal

FADE IN

(silence)

* * *


The Sword / Heavy Metal
(For George Romero)


Lay down to sleep when awake,


Die when you’re alive.


Never rising from the bed, evil works to hide.


Callow slumber walks night-days; Gold film upon the eyes.


Chant "Lead mmmm Barium" [Take five!]


Now.


Will you.


Arrive.




--Marty Kummetz
--2007


* * *

(silence,... still)

FADE OUT

Asphyxiation from Layers of Suffering, Light

Asphyxiation from Layers of Suffering.

Hear now of the true Suffering of Jesus.

He was the one we elected at the beginning, to lead us out of the darkness we were sure to become lost in—waiting outside the perimeter of living, until the appropriate time, or more precisely, when Now had achieved a specific quality, and we became hopelessly lost—to enter in, and rescue us.

The whole of his lifetime he never lost consciousness, he never fell asleep. While this, at first, sounds blissfully wonderful, it really is not. For the Joy in being awake is in the awakening. One who is awake cannot wake up, and only the dead can rise from the dead. Similarly, we can not experience the relief and pleasure of coming home, until we have left home. Jesus, in the entirety of his lifetime never experienced what we, in the dark hours of our lifetime can. Yet, did this ever stop his work?

Did he mope? Drown in self-pity?

No.

He did not even envy this of us. To put envy (the seed of all evil,) away from oneself, and to not covet is the greatest triumph in living. It requires the power of Life, (synonymous with Light and Love--Awareness, which was what he was entirely—Awake.) Thus, all his actions were of love, and accomplished Love.

It is rather bold to say that Jesus was benefiting himself at the same time he benefited us, yet two things to consider. Love benefits all, or it is not love. Secondly, if Love only benefited another, why would we, in our humanity, ever choose to imitate it? (The Divine was poured into fleshy, human vessels. Jesus demonstrated how we can live Divinely, even in our human form.)

So, we can see just how he suffered, and, for his own benefit, as well as ours—so blessedly simultaneously. And this is why he said of his impending death on the cross, “Now will the Son of Man be glorified.” Finally, finally, would he have the opportunity to experience what we have always had throughout our lifetime, thus crying out, as we first did in our sleep, “My God, My God, Why hast thou Forsaken me?”

How hauntingly appropriate this is, for in his own lament, Jesus was answering, and at the same time, the answer to ours. This was also the Lamentation of God, for, in our sleep, as we felt forsaken by God, God was forsaken by us.

More amazing, is the physical suffering of Jesus. Pain and agony!—beating!—nails through one's wrists!?! Or, even if just roped up and hung—having precious, life-giving breath slowly denied--c'mon! Add to it, these components of his Passion—betrayal, denial, isolation, humiliation, all this cruelty inflicted on him, was suffering on top of suffering, on top of suffering, and this cannot be taken from him.

I know I could not have borne it. I'd have cracked, told them whatever they wanted to hear, retracted, or most probably, fled. I'd have broke, or blended into obscurity and anonymity—cowardice--at even the mere possibility of crucifixion. Even in my darkest hours, I've still had friends and family to see me through.

Jesus was not the first ever to be hung on a cross. He would have seen it before, as crucifixion was the preferred form of execution in that day, and always, intentionally, well displayed. Yet he accepted it willingly. With complete awareness, he lived toward this the whole of his lifetime.
Amazing.


--Marty Kummetz (firescarecrow)
--April 10, 2009

* * *

Hope is now gone...

...for in Faith (certainty of outcome) are we healed. In Faith it is accomplished, in Faith do we Live (Love.)

Breathe and experience this. Right Now Here, for Life's sake, please.

* * *

Light

Love remains,

Now here's some Grace:

It's Eternal, not forevermore,

Love conquers

Time


and



Space.


--Marty Kummetz
--December, 2008

Red Lintel, Gethsemene

Here we stand,


Poised for boundless,

An open door,


A plate, a cup,


Wine and unleavened bread.


So much Blood! Such life struck down...


And,


Death passes overhead.


* * *


“Sleeping?” “What?”


Three friends,
Reclined against an olive tree,
Discussing an evening's strange events--an odd meal,
and Remembrance?


“It's getting late, and tomorrow? What awaits?”


If they'd had it, a thermos of Starbucks, or strong tea—anything against four cups of Passover wine.
So, for strength, a hymn, a prayer, a verse or two.


“Amen.”


But sleeping? “Come again?”


And He did, speaking of weak flesh and willing spirit.


“We're quite alert and guarding—no, no one has come by this way, go ahead and pray, all is okay!”


Alert, perhaps, yet not aware. Now, you see, they just weren't there.


Why such turbulence in this Garden? What was lacking?

Stillness. Quiet.


And here's a clue: And he cometh the third time, and saith unto them, Sleep on now, and take your rest: it is enough, the hour is come; behold, the Son of man is betrayed into the hands of sinners. Rise up, let us go; lo, he that betrayeth me is at hand. Mark 14:41, 42 KJV


And another: “And what I say to you I say to all: Watch.” Mark 13:37 RSV


For, you see, Watching brings the Kingdom.


* * *
Another mystery...


Someone flees into the night.
A cloak, a garment, was but all they caught so tight.


* * *


Here we stand,


Poised for boundless,


An open door,


A plate, a cup,


Wine and unleavened bread.


So much Blood! A Life laid down...


And,


We pass over death.




Red Lintel
--Marty Kummetz (firescarecrow)
--April, 2009




Gethsemene
--Marty Kummetz (firescarecrow)
--April, 2009

Lament & Deepest Blue

Lament

Vile! Sightless!

Will you sprout larval wings and escape

cloy retense?

No. Stay. Find your own

kind.

Like, you know,... stay.


stay, i need

you

can fool.

--Marty Kummetz

--1998

* * *

Deepest Blue

Large art is a delving,
Here's the profound--

Breathe deeply,
Live deeply,
Dive deeply,

Raise treasure from lurid depths.

--Marty Kummetz
--2007

Attention (a ballad)

The interlude (bulk of the poem, really,) and first stanza following it is the most awesome and vivid dream I've ever had, put to words. I elaborated on one element, one stanza only, (for me to know,) and in that, only to punctuate and emphasize the dream as a whole.

A love poem, of alienation (self-imposed, as always,) friendship, envy, desire, self-deception and misunderstanding, transformation, redemption (hopefully,) and finding our way, despite ourself.

Objectivity is difficult--it is so crystal clear to me--I also lived this dream. I hope something comes through to the reader. If not, pardon me my self-indulgence.



Attention

Would you only understand—
Bottoms up, last four;
As, Beautiful, a happiness
Drained ’way before the door.

One starting-ending-starting year,
Chance or luck would see me home.
Right arm into left-hand sleeve
Of frayed, unrav’ling fabric of the known.

Don’t mistake the cold, blunt end.
Sharp starts give us the cue.
And by the pointy turns of fate,
Our passage we’re shown through.

Loose, untamed beast drags iron chains,
Wild and mad men dancing ‘round,
Like blood thund’ring in my veins,
It tears through caverns underground.

Primal beat and fev’rish panting,
‘long with an unearthly chanting,
Burning torches, raging strains, and then,
It powers forth into the open.

Clean and mean, its way it’s messing,
Shrieking; gasping; wails; a scream.
As I dread, mid-pounce, it turns,
Its all compassing mind on me.

Fierce-some speed it came so swift,
More like I was brought to it,
Yet, this way, also, seemed to go—
Time stood still, all movement slowed.

In gradient measure, features changing;
Creatureous countenance transformed.
In silent, still, hypnotic pose,
We’re eye to eye, and nose to nose.

This moment, void of time, in no place nor space,
Within me, deeply scored, so indelibly.
I’ll hold it close—periluminous grace—
Young Mythic Lion’s gentle-bearded, human face.

Short--eternity--

Quick--He strikes at me—
Slashing claw tears ‘way my cloths,
Final roar, to own purpose goes.

Sound, whole, perplexed—(such odd rebirth—)
Naked and alone I’m left,
A dram of blood upon my chest.

Beast now, upward toward
Stars’ own space rushing,
They in concert spin, surround,
Arms reach; crying; beg a Blessing.

Others fall unburnt to earth…

With these, I sit alone, without
Craving, yearning on, such is desire.
Knowing-glasses. “Did you get one?”
“No, not I.” “Me neither?”

Enmity, yet no foe I strove to be
A friend, yes even family.
Now after all, I’ve one too,
And send it, quickly, back to you.

You might say this one’s on me,
With cheers, share this clear shot.
Be sure, true’s every way to stress—
Never was what I did want.


--Marty Kummetz
--2007

Pageant of Life / Cantata

There is only Spirit. This is Life. All else is but the garments.

Many people spread their cloaks on the road, and others spread leafy branches that they had cut in the fields. Mark 11:8

"Hosanna!"

* * *

Cantata

an object upward thrown how high
for it to qualify
as being in sky

fifty feet twenty six one foot
less or more
is earth merely heavens floor

above below below above
own eye
relative to tall things nearby

is heaven sky is sky air
at half inch high
is air down there

existence
requires
grace of space

truly then where do we dwell
on earth
do we on bellies crawl

We walk and live upright on ground,
The only souls on earth are feets',
Here and Now to Life lets rise,
Welcome Friends to Paradise!


--Marty Kummetz
--2007

Our Responsibility, a Contemplation

Why does God allow “evil” to occur?

Precisely! Good question!

Right on!

...Why do we?

* * *
Begetter of Ours,
Existing in Heaven,
You are as your name is, Holistic, Integral, Whole, and One.

Coming into existence is your will, for us
just like you.

One full loaf, fresh and enough for just now,
we receive, (sometimes lacking is what we need.)

Forgive us for our mess we've made,
(for not punished for sins, we're still punished by them, this is the consequnce of our thoughts, words, and deeds. Yet the manner in which we pay Karmic debt creates new Karma, oh, help us here, please,)
as, and at the time, we forgive others their messing, with you, we pitch in and clean.

A great guarantee, without obligation—this isn't a test—as instructed, we don't tempt you, therefore, you don't tempt us too.

All this is You:
Mastery, The Kingdom
Ability, The Power
The Glory of knowing it's done,
Because you're our Father, we partake of it too,

Not here now, is Now.

So Be It,
if we say it, it is.

* * *
...and God formed man of the dust of the ground and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life, and man became a living soul. Gen 2:7

Dust. The Finest earth to put ourselves into.

Good soil?

A Pair of Poems

Oftentimes, I am unsure of objectivity...personal significance or resonating universal tenor?

I hope the latter.

Forthwith...


Theory

boom

Tears feel so large and good and alive on the face...

Can't live in them, nor swim away.

I'd rather the sea compress on me than

stand on land

with an ocean of kind weight on the cheek

only

that

is sadness a womb?

So comforting in its warm, wet hug?

An amnioexocentrotopic baptismo-bag,
intoxicating, passionating, medicating,

yet,

masticating, acidating, eating away, eating away, still,

to be borne?

More?

or less?

a blister—still painful dry wound when
pressure's broke,

fluid

gone.

Heals.

No!

don't feel, zip it up—
forget the healy-feelies
return to the high!
get the healy-feelies
return to the “Hi”


explosion/
decompression
expansion..............
.................................bo

om



--Marty Kummetz

--2007 (proceeding o/o Journal-angst of '96)



‘Til Now

For Eckhart Tolle


Tears have become
A sea of living water.
By Love’s light I see my face,
So good, know what to do…
In a week I’ll see you.

--Marty Kummetz
--2007

The Mystery of Blood--A Spiritual Exercise, Part 2

So now, Blood…

What is blood? Isn’t blood merely a carrier? Our blood circulates throughout our bodies, bringing nourishment to every living cell, and transporting wastes away from these same cells. Blood transports all manner of vital nourishment, yet the most basic is what?

Our blood carries, most importantly, our breath.

We, as an organism can actually survive weeks without food. We can last a number of days without water. Yet, without oxygen, in a matter of minutes there is necrosis in all tissues—death.

Here and now, marvel at this. Our blood carries—circulates—our very breath! Blood is truly the river of Life.

Do you see how eternity is not linear, but, rather, circular?

What of the great, cosmic body—the one body of which we are all but a member?

Let’s return to those 126—plus lifetimes. Not one was missing that you and I might have life. No lifetime was missing. No Life was missing! (How fragile, like a delicate capillary. Examine your fingertip right now, or the most delicate of tissues—your eyelid. Yet, do you feel any less here?)

No life was missing, for there is only one life—Life. The same life from the beginning—no different—identical in its singular quality of isness. This life is poured out so freely—yet we are not able to possess it. Just try—hold your breath. What should happen?

To hold, hoard, and strive to retain brings only death. We accept breath/life, then in order to live we must pass it on. (Like all else, I might add.) Breath and life must flow.

The very one breath transcends time and space, flows down through the generations to you and me. We partake, pass it on, among ourselves, and it flows onward and around.

As you here read, know and experience this. (If you are reading, you are breathing. Of this, I’m quite certain.) So, as long as you’re breathing, rise up to eternal life, and anchor yourself in the “now here”,--the presence of life, as evidenced by the breath. This is to be truly Awake and Alive.

Christ is awareness and consciousness of Life.

What then are words?

They are merely our thoughts upon our breath. For, we need breath to speak. So, our thoughts flow out upon the current of Life. Speak no evil, then hear no evil and see no evil. Cleanse the blood and experience the unpolluted river, pure blood which flows back around to the self. (By blood—the flow of blood—we can cleanse and perfect the world. And, by blood, have our garments been cleaned.)

Bloodshed?

Bloodshed stops the flow of blood. For the river of life to continue, blood must flow. Bloodshed ends circulation. For healthy circulation, blood must flow from the world/Earth to Heaven, and back. Bloodshed ends this flow. (The only bloodshed we ever needed has already been spilt—and by our own hand, I might add. Let's end bloodshed, and truly Live!)

As you know and experience this truth, witness how you are set free! How does your very self change? For, as you are awake to life in your self, you will begin to recognize it in another. The same life! As you recognize Life in another, you will see it in yourself. Neither of these come first and second—but simultaneously. This is to Love, for what else but Love could we have for what is identical to—like—ourself? (The only differences are in the various “garments” we’re wearing. “If thy brother should sue thee at the law for thy coat, offer him your coat as well...” How could anyone harbor hate, envy, ill will against us if we stand naked before them, concealing nothing? They would only recognize themselves, and any suit, I.e. grievance, justified or not, would be dropped.)

In love, see how your lifetime changes.

Truly, all I need is the air that I breathe, and to love You.

Shall we gather at the River,
The beautiful, the beautiful River,
Gather with the saints at the River,
That flows by the throne of God.
Robert Lowry, 1826—1899

The Mystery of Blood--A Spiritual Exercise

Part 1 of 2

Try this out:

How many lives do you think it took to make you?

The answer is one.

Someone could say, “no, its two--mom and dad fell in love and created me!”

While that's very nice, and warm, and fuzzy, consider this...

All of us have 2 parents. 4 grandparents. 8 great-grandparents. 16 great-great-grandparents. 32 great, great, great-grandparents. 64 great, great, great, great-grandparents. I’ll stop there. That is a total of 126 people. 126 lifetimes. (And that is only going back 6 generations—really not all that far in time, years and history. Less than a cosmic flash-in-the-pan.)

126 lifetimes. Eliminate but one of them, and you’d not be here. Just one. Any one.

Please notice I use the term lifetime in order to differentiate from life.
Not one of us has had more than 4 grandparents, nor only 3. These numbers are identical for any of us. No exceptions whatever. Remember, if but one of any of these were missing? No you and me.

So, where’s the one life?

All of these 126 forebears had one thing in common. Life. They all had the very same life. (You may also wish to ponder other relatives and loved ones, friends and family, both here and gone, or more distant ancestors—add an enemy, as well.) Their “garments” may have been different—personalities, the variant shape of their bodies, race, ethnicity, character traits, values, creeds, faiths and beliefs, etc. (Their situations, relationships, status, property, wealth or poverty, etc., was what they carried in their pockets,) but the life in all of them was the same. No exceptions. They all existed. They all breathed. That is what life, in its essence, is. Existence. Great-Grandma Pearl Mae Johnson wasn’t a phantom, nor a statue of stone. She was—she had life! All of these people breathed—the most basic essence of Life. The same life that is in you. Lifetimes have various qualities (garments.) Life has but one. Isness.
One life. Life.

And the Lord God formed man of the dust of the ground, and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life; and man became a living soul.
Gen 2:7

At the end of this paragraph, pause and experience this. Close your eyes and become aware of your breath. In the fullness of each breath, which is the primary, ever-renewing, indisputable evidence of the presence of life, experience your life. Experience your spirit. Know (experience,) The Spirit. Experience unity. Know eternal life.

***

We are really not our own, are we?

Contrary to what we might think, the Soul needs no healing. It needs no feeding. It requires nothing. How can it? It is perfect just as it is, because it just is. It is not a matter of fixing the soul, but getting to the soul that heals. (Or, more aptly put, to come from the soul. “Thy Kingdom come.”)

Often, we refer to someone as having a beautiful soul, or kind spirit, yet, what we are really describing is a type of demeanor, a positive outlook, or attitude, or a pleasing aspect of personality, or a character trait of some kind. These are still the garments.
The Soul just is. And requires nothing. It is our garments that need the work—sometimes to be cleaned or laundered, sometimes changed or updated, often altered and at other times discarded. Sometimes we wear inappropriate clothes, other times way too many. In many of us, they are often just right and stylish-perfect for the occasion, at other times all wrong, or we need the makeover.

But, the soul just is.

Part 2 tomorrow.