Above Ground Testing #42

Christmas

    The Season of Lights
    of joy, peace and hope
    now is before us.

    We raise a glass, a voice and song
    of praise and thanks
    to warmth in the coldest night
    and light at the darkest time.

    Peace on the earth
    goodwill to all
    of angelic song to be heard again.

A thought for Hanukkah

    To remember the miracle of sacred oil
    the light now burns to remind the care
    Jehovah brings to His Ancient people.

It's the Christmas season. Many have talked about the difference of this time of year to years past. Since September 11th, we in North America have been dealing with a sense of sadness and the shock realization that it is a very nasty world out there. Much has been written about the long holiday from tragedy we have been going through.
Coupled with this is a recession that while not deep has lingered like a headcold to dampen the enthusiasm for the season of gift giving. Then we add to the fact the weather, at least in my corner of the world is both unseasonably warm and wet, so we can't even use the natural indicators of snow to get the mood going. Then again, perhaps this may be a good thing. For too many years the spiritual significance of Christmas/Hannukah has been drowned out by the rampant consumerism of our present day society. Do we need to be reminded of its true significance, yes indeed. A culture without a deep spiritual root is both superficial and in serious trouble. We need to reflect what does this season truly mean. This time of year has had a deep spiritual importance to many cultures over the long years of human history. In fact, our may be the first culture to attempt to divorse the spiritual from the celebration. We need to return to the importance of this time of year.

Book Review

It's been a while since I typed out a review. You may consider this a "gift suggestion from Paul". Regular readers will know I'm a fan of Douglas Coupland. Over the course of the years I've reviewed a number of his books. For this issue I want to look at his latest; "All Families are Psychotic". The Drummond Family, a clan of Canadians from North Vancouver are gathering in Cape Carnavaral to celebrate the flight of their daughter on a shuttle mission. They are not, to quote one of the characters, your average NASA family. I don't know about the blanket statement, which does come from a minor character in the book, but it sure fits the Drummonds. To give a list of the dysfunction performance; the husband and wife are no more, their daughter is a thalidomine baby, their eldest son has HIV/AIDS and has passed it on to his mother through a shared gunshot wound. The eldest son has also infected the father's new younger wife, by the usual method. Son number 2 is a bit of a radical and has a relationship with a radical who is pregnant and plans to sell the child to a couple in Florida, although she tells Son #2 that she will be aborting the baby. The husband of the daughter is having an affair with the wife of the Shuttle Mission Commander, and the commander and the daughter plan to copulate in space. Throw into this mix a bit of international intrigue, some suggested cloning, kidnapping and a few other things, you have a family that can never be described as "boring". And I've not said anything about the eldest son's wife or his activity.
    If you think this is all confusing, trust me when you're trying to process all this in the first couple of pages you may be shaking your head.
    Once you get all the foibles straight it is a well-written and at times humourous look at a very strange family. If the book does anything it will cause you to stop and ponder the state of your own family life and you will say a prayer of thanks because as bad as you think your family is, your family life is normal.
    I looked to discern if there is the continuation of Coupland's spiritual quest; it is there but its very subtle and you have to look for it and I will not give you any hints this time. If you are a long time reader and fan of Coupland's, you will take the time to sit down and read it. If its the first book of his you read, it may be confusing, but on the other hand, I was talking to some people and they enjoyed it and it was their first exposure to Coupland's writing. My copy is autographed by the way ( gloat mode), I stopped in this gallery in SOHO, Totem Design and they just finished a show on his furniture and scupture. I had a delightful time talking about Coupland's writing with the curator and the assistant.

Poetry
Through it all, inspiration continues to exist, read these works and warm your soul.

Lynette is a new poet to this ezine. She comes from South Africe and I hope to see more of her work in the future.

4 Seasons

Love is a bubbling brook of clear water
Sometimes, most times, careless and free
Wonderfully plain and yet soothing
Peaceful and serene

Flowers bloom beyond sight
and smile up at shadowless trees
Spring is there with mighty glee

Winter comes and all freeze down
Autumn destructing the lovely sight
Fastly can turn upon one self
Not knowing where to go, not what to do

Turn the back of life itself upon the one with love
Love is just a word, four letters explaining nothing
Wanting to explain the worth of people
Not getting, not groping, not doing

Destruction is upon the meaning of love
Love is not to be for no one
For love itself is so destruction, is it not
What does people do with love?

Through mild absorption one can lose itself
One can get broken beyond repair
Always starts off with nice words and flowers
Ends in a thunderstorm of hurt and pain
Unforgiving and unmerciful

Love is just a destruction brewing inside us all
No one can live with out, but everyone that has
Been through the hell, wants to live not at all

But the circle of life is stronger than us all
Like 4 seasons never cease to exists
Love again, will come and bloom
smile at pain to give them bliss

11/07/01

---ooOOoo---
Lynette


Our friend Taylor is back with some great work. Enjoy reading.

LIGHT-SHOW

With a mini-mag and an empty tea-ball
you’re casting stars against our ceiling
in the dark. After all these years
I find a genius-
tinker redefining
my kitchen.

Now you’re cackling like tomorrow’s
breakfast over a single silver egg
that looks a lot like a tea-ball
but is fresh-laid joke and
over-easy, full
of stars.


A HERON BETWEEN HERE AND HOME

Totally trucked-out by morning,
we’ve ended here for lunch
at the edge of swamp (they call it
bayou) a waitress pushing gumbo
($4.95 a bowl and that means okra).
Down the linoleum line, some-
body’s tabletop jukebox bursts
out Beausoleil, a form of French
border-beat.  Everything smells
of catfish. So far from home,
outside the smudgy window,
a great blue heron lifts off.
Ponderous wings, he’s gone.


PROCESSIONAL

She was thinking how they stepped
into dual space, a purse
full of change from which
no priest or doctor could save
them, slipping toward a venture lovers
share, the brief hazard
of the opening door, permanent
and graceful as the folded wings
of a marble angel.


ENNUI

The rain is coming down dark, and later,
snow about a tumbledown old cabin, chinked
with moss, the lower logs already merging
with loam and laced with roots, whence
(he intones) the traveler never returns.
She turns the other way and sighs,
wishing to be walking threadbare in plain
daylight when a dry wind blows the town empty
on some trendy sidewalk in San Jose.


UNANSWERED PRAYERS

What does he do with them all?
this closet full of shoeboxes
tied with twine, one labeled
Unnecessary, another Misguided
and a third Not Yet? Perhaps
he pulls a box out, opens it
and riffles through the letters,
tear-stained, crookedly jotted,
or in a young girl’s careful
rounded script and edged
with stick-on angels. Shall he
consider the arthritic knees
that punctuate this prayer,
the hedged breath of that one?
So many wistful notes begging
for an autograph, a signature
on the bottom line that makes,
just this once, everything right.

And in the black back corner
of the closet, he lifts
out the box he will not label
and shakes the silence
for its prayer: Almighty,
slay the enemy, topple
every heart to its dry-rot,
bring their souls to despair
of ashes. How shall he answer
that one?


Taylor Graham
piper@innercite.com

 Jan Houston has graced us with some more of her fabulous work. You may

remember her poem "We the People" from the November issue, she has sent me

a newly formatted version, so follow the Link and download it, it's in the

.doc file format.

  The work "things I learned from my children" is the work of a mother from

Texas.  Have a good laugh.

HAIKU ~ Catskills November ~

WARRING SEASONS

Voices of unclothed branches

hum the hollow wind

lulling my ears blind to change

Rain blows raw and unannounced

stings the fresh chilled air

first harbinger of winter

Silent cloud battalions steal

past the warring moon

severing ground control

Cloud ninjas smother the moon

desolating stars

erasing the Milky Way

Surprise attack of rainwind

overthrows the autumn

mountain hollow shrieks

Star fleets jet steady dawnward

o're a sleeping earth

pulling the banner of time

PROMISE

I'm told the Milky Way

abounds somewhere

above my head

strewn behind moonlight

Alone I watch

the night clouds swirl

in curls of peace-pipe

smoke-like vaporous

shape shifts

framing the frozen moon,

breathe clarity and wonder

this masked mummer

where the deer abide

and where sleeps Olaf?

where did the Red Man go?

what promises the dawn?

Til thoughts like ghosts

beyond the clearing

I'm become

sudden send me reeling

bolted shivering

toward doors, hoping

to savor temporary refuge

warm this corporal illusion

by a licking fire

and remember I am still

the living night

- 30th October 01-

For those who already have children past this age, this is hilarious.

For those who have children this age, this is not funny.

For those who have children nearing this age, this is a warning.

For those who have not yet had children, it's not too late

The following came from an anonymous mother in Austin, Texas.

THINGS I'VE LEARNED FROM MY CHILDREN...(HONEST AND NO KIDDING):

1. A king size waterbed holds enough water to fill a 2000 sq. foot

house 4 inches deep.

2. If you spray hair spray on dust bunnies and run

over them with roller blades, they can ignite.

3. A 3 year olds voice is louder than 200 adults in a

crowded restaurant.

4. If you hook a dog leash over a ceiling fan, the

motor is not strong enough to rotate a 42 pound boy

wearing Batman underwear and a superman cape. It is

strong enough, however, if tied to a paint can, to

spread paint on all four walls of a 20 by 20 foot

room.

5. You should not throw baseballs up when the

ceiling fan is on. When using the ceiling fan as a

bat, you have to throw the ball up a few times before

you get a hit. A ceiling fan can hit a baseball

a long way.

6. The glass in windows (even double pane) doesn't

stop a baseball hit by a ceiling fan.

7. When you hear the toilet flush and the words

"Uh-oh," it's already too late.

8. Brake fluid mixed with Clorox makes smoke,

and lots of it.

9. A six year old can start a fire with a flint

rock even though a 36 year old man says they can only

do it in the movies. A magnifying glass can start

a fire even on an overcast day.

10. Certain LEGOs will pass through the digestive

tract of a four year old.

11. Play Dough and Microwave should never be used in

the same sentence.

12. Super glue is forever.

13. No matter how much Jell-O you put in a swimming

pool you still can't walk on water.

14. Pool filters do not like Jell-O.

15. VCR's do not eject PB&J sandwiches even though TV

commercials show they do.

16. Garbage bags do not make good parachutes.

17. Marbles in gas tanks make lots of noise when

driving.

18. You probably do not want to know what that odor

is.

19. Always look in the oven before you turn it on.

Plastic toys do not like ovens.

20. The fire department in Austin, TX has a 5 minute

response time.

21. The spin cycle on the washing machine does not

make earth worms dizzy.

22. It will however make cats dizzy.

23. Cats throw up twice their body weight when dizzy.

The mind of a six year old is wonderful.

First Grade.....true story. One day the first grade

teacher was reading the story of the Three Little Pigs

to her class. She came to the part of the story where

the first pig was trying to accumulate the building materials for his

home. She read, "...And so the pig

went up to the man with the wheelbarrow full of straw

and said, "Pardon me sir, but may I have some of

that straw to build my house?'" The teacher paused

then asked the class, "And what do you think that man

said?" One little boy raised his hand and said, "I

think he said 'Holy Crap! A talking pig!'" The teacher

was unable to teach for the next 10 minutes!

announcement

Must See band!! Separated is a new and upcoming band that is taking the MP3.com charts by storm. Help
the band to continue its success over the Internet and stop by and listen
to a few of their songs in streaming audio. www.mp3.com/separatedonline

closing Words

Let me wish all of you a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year. The prayers continue to go to those who grieve loved ones in all nations as a
result of the tragedies that continue to be a part of our world.
For next month, I will either feature the work of Christine Fellows or
the issue will deal with the theme "Random Acts of Poetry", an idea that I
want to share with you all. This idea has come from the recesses of my mind and I hope you enjoy the concept.
Please continue to send me your work, encourage others to do the same and
this ezine will continue to grow and prosper. Remember all work is copyrighted by the various contributors.
Send the mail to pabear_7@yahoo.com