Category Archives: Poetry

We Got Into the Leaf Festival

We got into the Leaf Festival. I was unaware of how much I was pulling away from faith, mysticism and the Truth until I watched this video. I have been worrying about bills, money, and bullshit and forgetting about miracles, beauty and truth. Logistics are a lie. I am blessed and amazing and God is good. I’ve got nothing to worry about.

Everything is better than okay. I got into the Leaf Festival and have nothing to fear but fear itself.

:]

-Mushpa

You are Oceanic

Soutrik Das
Artist Soutrik Das

 

All she wanted was to find a place to stretch her bones.

A place to lengthen her smiles

and spread her hair

a place where her legs could walk without cutting and bruising

a place unchained.

She was born out of ocean breath.

I reminded her;  ‘Stop pouring so much of yourself into hearts that have no room for themselves

do not thin yourself, be vast.

You do not bring the ocean to a river.’

– Tapiwa Mugabe, You are Oceanic

Feeding the Wolves

A grandmother imparting a life lesson to her grandson tells him, ‘I have two wolves fighting in my heart. One wolf is vengeful, fearful, envious, resentful, deceitful. The other wolf is loving, compassionate, generous, truthful, and serene.’ The grandson asks which wolf will win the fight. The grandmother answers, ‘The one I feed’ .feed two wolves

Beautiful

To celebrate Mushpa y Mensa’s new Vimeo amazingness, which is sooo much fresher than YouTube (we said it), we are posting this fantabulous montage. It is a compilation of final shots from multitudes of films to the song, “Gathering Storm” by Godspeed You! Black Emperor.

It is all about jumping, moving, living, breathing. There is an amazing world out their waiting for your journey.

– Mushpa y Mensa

Here is the breakdown of the shots and what each grouping is about. So cool.

PART I: Awakening/Creation

00:02 – Tree of Life
00:13 – Vanilla Sky
00:16 – Immortals
00:18 – 12 Monkeys
00:21 – McCabe & Mrs. Miller
00:24 – Julia’s Eyes
00:33 – Solaris
00:39 – 2010: The Year We Make Contact
00:42 – THX-1138

PART II: The Natural World

00:47 – Badlands
00:51 – Up In The Air
00:56 – Samsara
01:00 – The Sea Inside

PART III: Youth

01:07 – The World According To Garp
01:11 – Billy Elliott
01:15 – This Is England
01:17 – La Dolce Vita
01:19 – Au Revoir Les Enfants
01:23 – Dead Poets Society
01:26 – A Serious Man
01:30 – L.I.E
01:34 – Gasman
01:38 – The Sweet Hereafter

PART IV: Love

01:44 – Bram Stoker’s Dracula
01:50 – Moonstruck
01:56 – Beginners
02:03 – Rushmore
02:08 – Garden State
02:14 – Rocky
02:20 – Oldboy
02:25 – Departures
02:30 – Amelie
02:33 – Tron Legacy

PART V: The Journey

02:38 – The Graduate
02:43 – Good Will Hunting
02:47 – Boys Don’t Cry
02:50 – Tron
02:55 – The Quiet Earth
02:59 – The Searchers
03:03 – Ghost
03:06 – Cube

PART VI: Triumph

03:12 – Beasts of the Southern Wild
03:19 – Chariots of Fire
03:23 – L’Auberge Espagnole
03:26 – Amadeus
03:30 – The Red Balloon
03:36 – Frida
03:39 – Adaptation

PART VII: Celebration

03:44 – My Left Foot
03:46 – Fearless
03:48 – City Of Angels
03:50 – The Breakfast Club
03:52 – Rescue Dawn
03:56 – Rudy
03:58 – The Hurricane

PART VIII: Transcendence

04:01 – The Wrestler
04:03 – Thelma & Louise
04:06 – The Right Stuff
04:08 – Love (by Angels & Airwaves)
04:12 – Close Encounters of the Third Kind
04:14 – Star Trek: The Motion Picture
04:15 – Superman
04:17 – E.T.: The Extra Terrestrial
04:21 – Starman
04:24 – Naqoyqatsi
04:26 – Akira
04:28 – Stargate
04:34 – 2001: A Space Odyssey
04:44 – The Last Temptation of Christ

Reverie

Michelle O’Sullivan reads ‘The Orchard’ from her first collection The Blue End of Stars.

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JqGkfkv1V3U&w=420&h=315]

Yesterday I decided to clean out my e-mails, including my drafts and in doing so I came across this poem, “Reverie” my friend Michelle O’Sullivan, an amazing poet, wrote. This poem says so much to me as an artist. It inspires me. It’s beauty undefined.

Reverie

The muse doesn’t tempt or ask,
she whispers lightly as she opens
the door, touches your earlobe,
the soft curve of your neck.

She doesn’t beckon or whinge
but takes your hand in hers,
sings low at the side of your face.
Everything, she says, bring everything.

– Michelle O’Sullivan

Michelle was one of the first people I ever let in my life for real, and we may live on other ends of the world now, I in New York City and her on the west coast of Ireland, but I have never lost my connection to her. She is my soul sister, before this life and in this life to the next. I am so proud of her publishing her poems in her new book, The Blue End of Stars, but not surprised.

I love you my friend, through thick and thin, always.

– Mushpa aka Cara

The Turtles are Free!

“Yertle The Turtle”

dr seuss

On the far-away island of Sala-ma-Sond,
Yertle the Turtle was king of the pond.
A nice little pond. It was clean. It was neat.
The water was warm. There was plenty to eat.
The turtles had everything turtles might need.
And they were all happy. Quite happy indeed.

They were… until Yertle, the king of them all,
Decided the kingdom he ruled was too small.
“I’m ruler”, said Yertle, “of all that I see.
But I don’t see enough. That’s the trouble with me.
With this stone for a throne, I look down on my pond
But I cannot look down on the places beyond.
This throne that I sit on is too, too low down.
It ought to be higher!” he said with a frown.
“If I could sit high, how much greater I’d be!
What a king! I’d be ruler of all that I see!”

And Yertle, the Turtle King, gave a command.
He ordered nine turtles to swim to his stone
And, using these turtles, he built a new throne.
He made each turtle stand on another one’s back
And he piled them all up in a nine-turtle stack.
And then Yertle climbed up. He sat down on the pile.
What a wonderful view! He could see ‘most a mile!

“All mine!” Yertle cried. “Oh, the things I now rule!
I’m the king of a cow! And I’m the king of a mule!
I’m the king of a house! And, what’s more, beyond that
I’m the king of a blueberry bush and a cat!
I’m Yertle the Turtle! Oh, marvelous me!
For I am the ruler of all that I see!”

And all through the morning, he sat up there high
Saying over and over, “A great king am I!”
Until ‘long about noon. Then he heard a faint sigh.
“What’s that?” snapped the king,and he looked down the stack.
And he saw, at the bottom, a turtle named Mack.
Just a part of his throne. And this plain little turtle
Looked up and he said, “Beg your pardon, King Yertle.
I’ve pains in my back and my shoulders and knees.
How long must we stand here, Your Majesty, please?”

“SILENCE!” the King of the Turtles barked back.
“I’m king, and you’re only a turtle named Mack.”

“You stay in your place while I sit here and rule.
I’m the king of a cow! And I’m the king of a mule!
I’m the king of a house! And a bush! And a cat!
But that isn’t all. I’ll do better than that!
My throne shall be higher!” his royal voice thundered,
“So pile up more turtles! I want ’bout two hundred!”

“Turtles! More turtles!” he bellowed and brayed.
And the turtles ‘way down in the pond were afraid.
They trembled. They shook. But they came. They obeyed.
From all over the pond, they came swimming by dozens.
Whole families of turtles, with uncles and cousins.
And all of them stepped on the head of poor Mack.
One after another, they climbed up the stack.

Then Yertle the Turtle was perched up so high,
He could see forty miles from his throne in the sky!
“Hooray!” shouted Yertle. “I’m the king of the trees!
I’m king of the birds! And I’m king of the bees!
I’m king of the butterflies! King of the air!
Ah, me! What a throne! What a wonderful chair!
I’m Yertle the Turtle! Oh, marvelous me!
For I am the ruler of all that I see!”

Then again, from below, in the great heavy stack,
Came a groan from that plain little turtle named Mack.
“Your Majesty, please… I don’t like to complain,
But down here below, we are feeling great pain.
I know, up on top you are seeing great sights,
But down here at the bottom we, too, should have rights.
We turtles can’t stand it. Our shells will all crack!
Besides, we need food. We are starving!” groaned Mack.

“You hush up your mouth!” howled the mighty King Yertle.
“You’ve no right to talk to the world’s highest turtle.
I rule from the clouds! Over land! Over sea!
There’s nothing, no, NOTHING, that’s higher than me!”

But, while he was shouting, he saw with surprise
That the moon of the evening was starting to rise
Up over his head in the darkening skies.
“What’s THAT?” snorted Yertle. “Say, what IS that thing
That dares to be higher than Yertle the King?
I shall not allow it! I’ll go higher still!
I’ll build my throne higher! I can and I will!
I’ll call some more turtles. I’ll stack ’em to heaven!
I need ’bout five thousand, six hundred and seven!”

But, as Yertle, the Turtle King, lifted his hand
And started to order and give the command,
That plain little turtle below in the stack,
That plain little turtle whose name was just Mack,
Decided he’d taken enough. And he had.
And that plain little lad got a bit mad.
And that plain little Mack did a plain little thing.
He burped!
And his burp shook the throne of the king!

And Yertle the Turtle, the king of the trees,
The king of the air and the birds and the bees,
The king of a house and a cow and a mule…
Well, that was the end of the Turtle King’s rule!
For Yertle, the King of all Sala-ma-Sond,
Fell off his high throne and fell Plunk! in the pond!

And today the great Yertle, that Marvelous he,
Is King of the Mud. That is all he can see.
And the turtles, of course… all the turtles are free
As turtles and, maybe, all creatures should be.

by Dr. Seuss

—–

He’s got it.

-Mensa

Blood on His Hands

Obama Blood on His Hands

American “Citizens” being killed overseas?

By our own government. No trail. Just Boom. It’s a dirty war.

This Big Bro is watching you, me, and us. 

Sometimes I really just don’t know.

And that is what scares me.

We don’t know.

Today in the news, 10% of elementary schools

(the Separate but Equal Blacks and Browns)

in Chicago are closed down. No funds.

Mo’ Money for the Duurty wars.

Money for a little Gitmo, in a little island will keep them shut.

No law, no man’s lives. And 100 days of hunger? Force fed like foie-gras.

Mr. President Hussein, may I call you by your Middle Name?

You have a dark stain in you slacks. 

That law. That pen. Just Exploded in your pants.

Why do you use red ink? Phew! No worries Administrators!

It blends in.

And the stain in your hands?

It’s permanent ink.

——————-

This is how I feel.

-Mensa