ModPo

One day walking home from work My feet spoke to me.   They said:   “Ray, we don’t want you sticking us in your fancy              brown custom-made dress shoes from Portugal.              They are tight, and our toes can’t move around freely." "OK," I said, "let’s try an older pair tomorrow, something more worn, more broken in." My feet said,   “OK, but if we don’t like it, you won’t like it either.”   I said, "OK, tomorrow we will wear the ECCO’s, the Baghdad ECCO’s that are well-worn and broken in." The next day my feet apoke to me again.   They said,   “Ray, we don’t like the ECCO’s either.   We discussed it among ourselves and decided we want the brown leather Saucony’s, you know, the running shoes." I said, "but I can’t wear running shoes to work with a Suit." They said,        ...

A purgatory of my own conceit and choice – wherefore a Mephistopheles? The first half of shahada got it right: There is no small-g god. In the Baptist church where I was raised, between the end of Sunday School and the start of the 11 o’clock service, the old ladies in big hats sang the songs of old. We would giggle and call them slavery songs But we listened, and sometimes, we sang along. They sang: Halleluuuuuuuuujah….. Halleluuuuuuuuujah….. You know the storm is passing over, Halleluuuuuuuuujah….. They sang in low tones and in flat notes… They sang: There’ll be nooooo moooooore weeping….           Nooooo moooooore weeping           Nooooo moooooore weeping over me… And before I be a slave I’ll be buried in my grave And I’ll go home, home to my Lord, and I’ll be free… They sang in high notes and sharp tones… They sang: That’s alright, that’s alright That’s alright, that’s alright As long as I kno...

I would come to miss the great time we had in Luanda. I would miss the music, sunset on the Ilha, dancing the kizomba... I would miss the taste of zindungo      (a hot, spicy sauce you put on everything). I’d miss the smooth harshness of freshly roasted Angolan coffee. I’d miss the syrupy sweetness of overripe pineapple sold at inflated prices by the women on the street who swear it will last until tomorrow…      (can I change some dollars for you, Senhor Administrador?) I’d miss the soft bitterness of gimboa fried with onions and olive oil... More than anything else, though, I’d miss the effusive enthusiasm of the local staff, their willingness to learn, their dedication and commitment, their loyalty. Finally, while I didn’t fully recognize it at the time, I would certainly come to miss the support DCM Jeff Hartley and Ambassador Joe Sullivan always extended to all of us. Telephones didn’t work half the time. There was no e-mail to the Admin annex, Casa In...

Attempting to save this video to my poetry blog so I can share with friends who are not in the ModPo class, especially the merry band of translators and interpreters I was privileged to work with in Baghdad in 2008.  

of a proportionate depth of insight of a thousand heartbreaks of awe and dread; Of chance and happenstance and foiled romance. Of eager reception… Of everyday travail, I take a pause Of expectancy of having made love to you... Of life once vibrant, cocksure, confident. Of love was sweet and tender, not the salt Of morals will sustain us… Of my affection, Of my dedication. Of my devotion, Of one who loved and lost of passioned pursuit. Of poets who still sing the sonnet’s song. Of sadness at the thought of those who've missed of society. of strength, of love the gods bequeathed to gods Of talents borrowed from the Muse of song and word and deed of tender feelings unexpressed Of the burning desire Of the coming of the hour. Of the earnest enthusiasm Of the goal. There're happy ones who feel the tinge of the internal forces which Of the silent longing Of the verses that we write, Of time.  Friendships and associations of zero and unity.

to a fleeting moment of awe and dread to a world that’s paranoid… to alight and pollinate-- to assimilate 20th century ideas To attain the final, greatest goal? to avert the difficult question. To be denied, too pure to not be sure To be seduced by the appetites and desires to break the chains of sin and immorality. To bring us to this time and place? To call my father’s gods, subdue To choose one is to choose them both: to close my eyes to come into existence, to survive to convert filth in the atmosphere to correct the incorrection - to dance to; but I fake it, trying to stay in step, to desire your company To earn by birth what we had been endowed. to ease their conscience – to escape the bonds of slavery mentality, to everything’s reality. To glory and to honor, let not the fleeting summer’s wrath To God, to plead for strength to understand to grow, to learn all, to comprehend To guide, to entertain, and to enthuse. To heal itself, be born anew. To help us in our need…” to integrat...