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Sayin' Something
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Hello You,

And thanks for visiting my page.

Here is my first very tentative and very brief entry into the world of blog- While I have a couple of blogs I really like- www.Prometheus6.orgspamlessdm@netscape.net with your responses, criticisms, recommendation, etc. is an absolute favorite, I know I don’t have the time or patience to be surfing the web finding those delicatable items that you really might or possibly must want or need to know. I also find my own day to day meanderings and musings to be too private if they are truly juicy, or too mundane to go in a blog spot. That said, I decided to test these waters and see how I can grow this space into something that might be worth your time to read. Please subscribe and feel free to email me at

First of all my news-

I am very excited that the San Francisco based publishing house Night Shade has decided to publish my third novel Ice Journeys.

Ice Journeys is set in the second half of the 21st century, a world with no national boundaries and one world religion, a world in which every action and reaction is described in commercial terms and the language of capital. God is capital growth and theology has been revised to allow any and every action that increases capital. Morality has become meaningless in a world where only capital and its owners rule and manage. The question of what or who is a human being has been redefined to keep regents alive and well past 100 by breeding others as surrogate wombs and extra organs for the damaged, terminally ill and old. Ice has been created as “shadow” to her owner who is “light,” and light commands the womb. Light may choose to harvest the hearts, eyes or lungs of his or her shadows at any time. Ice escapes the colony and assumes the identity of the powerful and ruthless Vivian, President of Fahey Enterprises. Trapped inside the luxuriously venal empire of Fahey Enterprises, the pampered, barely literate and pregnant Ice must enlist the aid of her enemies to survive. Her desperate fight for a freedom she can only imagine takes her across three continents.

Look for Ice Journeys in 2009.

In my other recent writing I just finished a new poetry manuscript War Tears which looks at war and peace both on our streets and internationally, from soldiers to civilian and the lines which separate us and bind us together.

Here are a couple of poems from book:

sizing up the cost of war

what is left but the shoes

shoes scuffed and torn

no longer having

feet to carry them

shoes

empty now

work boots still bearing mud

from the last field

that he had plowed

with his father

empty now

red sneakers with white stripes

brought back from america

by her oldest son given

to her youngest

both of them

immediately running outside

kicking the soccer ball back and forth

the older ruffling the youngster’s head

after a well aimed goal

empty now

heavy and white they were

the first pair of shoes she ever walked in

the first she had learned to untie

so that she could wriggle out

and once again feel the sand

sift between her toes

empty now

his work boots were resoled many times

next season he would have bought a new pair

or perhaps the season after that

but these old ones darkened from the oil

had become supple and familiar

they knew his feet

grasped his ankles

and kept them strong

empty now

she had smiled when he offered

the embossed leather pumps

made for her in italy

from the pattern he

had carefully traced

around her narrow feet

long toes tapered

in perfect symmetry

empty now

regulation boots smoothed by the sand salt crystals

seeming to be so much of the desert they had walked

the inside soles showing imprints of thick heavy feet

empty now

and these hand made slippers

that were a vanity only

a grandmother’s silk flowered kiss

that never touched the ground

because as her father’s favorite

she was still carried everywhere

empty now

the red heels that she saved for

the brown loafers passed down

the sandals strapped and tied

all empty now

the flesh gone

the blood gone

the legs gone

all gone

devorah major

copyright©2008 devorah major

mother to mother

for Brendalisa

pick up the phone

your daughter

wants you to

wrap love around her name

when you hear her voice

she cries prayers into the receiver

pleads for you to hear

how he touched her

how he tore her

how he bruised her

and she knows

he is your husband

your daughter chants heartache

into the disconnected line

begging that you understand

how he betrayed her

how he blamed her

how he broke her

and she knows

he is her father

your daughter wants you to know she

does not blame you

she knows

how one can love a damaged soul

she loves him

she loves you

she is trying to learn

to love herself

devorah major

copyright ©2008 devorah major

Apart form my work I’d like you to know about an exciting even coming up in San Francisco. On May 2 at Glide Memorial Church after a week of activities a host of artists will get together to celebrate the 40th anniversary of the birth of San Francisco’s neighborhood cultural centers. Forty years ago a group of artist activists got together, organized and pushed, cajoled and finally forced the city fathers (and possibly a few mothers in there too) to give some funds for some neighborhood arts centers. Out of theat effort grew the Bayview Opera House, the Chinese Cultural Center, the Mission Cultural Center, SOMA Arts Center, and the African and African American Arts and Cultural Center (nee: Western Addition Community Center) This in turn gave birth to more organizations such as Kearny Street Workshop (recently moved from Chinatown to the Mission district), and International House- yes the hotel was torn down but a new building rose and a cultural center is offering exciting programming on the first floor, and a host of other organizations. Many artist were and are nurtured and supported in these centers and many now have established arts careers because of them. When people look at the many ethnic and cultural expressions that are a dynamic part of the Bay Area arts scene, they can work their way down the historical strands and see that the neighborhood centers were the genesis of support for this diversity. This is something worth celebrating. I’ll have more details about the entire week of activities in future postings.

Also for you web folks- Have you been towww.SecondLife.com ? It’s quite an alternative cyberspace world where you can meet folks from all over the world, listen to music, go to clubs, shop, in short, live a second life. I recently read Charles Platt’s Silicon Man which envisions a somewhat frightening expansion of this concept. For now though, you can create an avatar, buy property and build houses, or simply tour the globe in a world where violence is not allowed but capital runs free. If you get there please check out my son in law’s space named SOREAL (http://slurl.com/secondlife/Quargar/213/184/756)

Well if you actually read this far I thank you very much. Do please subscribe, respond, and if you think it has any value send folks to my page www.redroom.com/devorahmajor

Yours with the word,

devorah major

 

Comments
3 Comment count
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Welcome!

I'm so pleased to see you've decided to break into blogging here at Red Room. I'm looking forward to reading your posts.

Huntington Sharp, Red Room

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Welcome

Thanks. I'm going to try and get at least two a week up. I'm going to start with things that are very writng or write specific and then see how it grows.

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In Ambush (predation beyond bigotry--a lamentation of life)

 

In Ambush
  

The couple entwined; they kissed as they strolled
 
through the summer night in the park.
 
Late still, sweet warmth, whetted their passion
 
as they coalesced on the starlit path.

 
Scudding purple clouds dimmed the gibbous moon
 
as fireflies wisped mid leafy silhouettes.
 
Just enough light illumed the lovers' way,
 
this flagstone swath over fragrant earth.
 
  
His new-chosen love, for a lifetime perhaps,

 embraced him as he embraced;
 
her hand at his belt, her thoughts at its hitch
 
their panting welled in duet.
 
  
Her moans bid haste, passion's peak had arrived;
 
nothing be gained by tarrying now.
 
Better sites ahead would remain second best;
 
she'd scrabbled his buckle undone.
  
 
Mammoth oleander, a world itself,
 
loomed up, bidding the path to swerve,
 
as his eyes scanned o'er the sylvan floor,
 
in search of a nuptial berth.
  
 
At once, both gasped. Both froze mid-step,
 
as a being stepped forth from the bush;
 
the towering thing stood fierce in black robe,
 
a full seven-foot to its crest.
  

Shoulders wide, like two men side by side,
 
its massiveness barred their way.
 
Darkling, they saw a shocking skull mask,
 
fronting the gap in the hood.
  
 
Arms interlocked from sleeve into sleeve,
 
this behemoth loomed in menacing stance,
 
as its breath hissed harshly through hush.
 
She cleaved to her partner-in-doom.
  
 
In quiver, he bid, though boggled in awe,
 
to the mountainous shadow before them,
 
"We have little money!" He cited so thrice,
 
each repetition more quaverous and thin.

>
> "Ha," its laugh a stentorian laugh,
>
> "Were I in need, your pittance would do."
>
> Surreal and chilling, its voice rumbled forth,
>
> propelling their terror transcendent.

>
> In respite for thought, he reasoned to ask
>
> "Then you don't stand a robber before us?"
>
> Her mind jumped ahead; she mewled as she pled,
>
> "Don't let him take me, I beg it!"
>
>
> Checking reflex to run, he mustered a dare,
>
> "You'll not touch her, not a hair, not a hair."
>
> Silence that followed unbraided bravado:
>
> "Are you here alone?" he then ventured.
>
>
> In illusion, the skeletal grin seemed to broadened.
>
> Its answer, "Such might requires no aide.
>
> But ha! You're presuming, brave lad,
>
> in assuming I'm just here for her."

>
> His fear flared the more, sickened to the core.
>
> "Let's back away," he whispered at tresses.
>
> Yet it heard him. It heard him, but how?
>
> Hooded head slowly gestured a no.

>
> "How callow," it bellowed in mocking,
>
> "to think fleetness of foot can defy me."
>
> As one, they stepped back but stopped at one step;
>
> instead of retreating, they approached it!
>
>
> Two more to the rear, two paces the nearer,
>
> he darted a glance at their feet,
>
> expecting to find a conveyored path,
>
> but only immovable flatstone beneath.

>
> Its vile grin iced the marrow of his bones.
>
> "Very well, damned, demonic thing.
>
> Declare your wants, your extorting demands,
>
> then let us continue along on our way."

>
> "Just my just due," came with sibilant wheeze,
>
> "and not a single iota more."
>
> His fingers flipped the wallet from his hip,
>
> flicking it to the feet by the bush.

>
> "Take mine as yours; note she bears no purse."
>
> "Ha! Material wealth, be damned," it cursed,
>
> "a mere trifle in the scheme of things.
>
> True value I measure in pain."

>
> Her clasping grasp held him to ask,
>
> "What then be enough this time?"
>
> It paused, then charged the torpid night,
>
> "Her comely face, her nubile grace, be mine."

>
> Her sob she pressed against his chest
>
> as the colossal specter spoke on,
>
> "Good lad, as well your handsome self as such."
>
> Its trailing laugh electrified their psyches.
>
>
> "Pervert!" he spit, "Use the cash in my cache
>
> to buy you our likeness in seamy town."
>
> It mocked them again, "Where too they'll be mine,
>
> it's only a matter of gauging their time."
>
>
> His ire nudged dread and indignant he said,
>
> "Reach out for ourselves, and I'll battle."
>
> Her tremble dissuaded not even a little,
>
> as he attempted to push her behind him.

>
> "Futile, most futile of all that is futile,"
>
> it laughed, "for battle but abets my gain.
>
> Opposing omnipotence be folly, my boy."
>
> Alas, its conviction convinced and constrained.

>
> Discouraged, his courage drained off and away.
>
> Ceding, he said, "State specific decree.
>
> Express precisely what tribute's enough."
>
> She gasped in fear of duplicity.
>
>
> Again, its laugh, "First, that thickly mane,
>
> you sport like a chip on your shoulder."
>
> "My hair?" he queried, his puzzlement wary.
>
> "Yes. And, anon, your keen sight and hearing."
>
>
> "What riddle is posed in this inane joke?"
>
> But his quiz sank in the spate of its terms.
>
> "...And I'll take the elastic resilience of your skin
>
> and the very calcium cementing your bones." 
>
>
> Such madness, he thought, was surely pursued
>
> by authorities around in the dark.
>
> "Tell us, O' highwayman of bodily parts,
>
> do your tastes shun favor of carnal fun?"

>
> "Passion understandably rules you, lad,
>
> but, alas, one day I shall have it, too."
>
> "No, demon, if you do subdue this flesh,
>
> still my fire will never be yours."

>
> The tenebrous hood gave a jocular nod,
>
> "Oh, alas, but it sure shall be mine,
>
> and quickly, more quickly, too quickly,
>
> before even you realize its wane.

>
> "Please," she pled, "say this tryst is your jest."
>
> "'Tis so, in truth," it grinningly sighed,
>
> "but not the least for your own delight.
>
> The pleasure weighs all with mine."

>
> "Do we stand here now in peril?" she wailed.
>
> "Deeper the joy of usurper," it said,
>
> "when foreknowledge heralds the act."
>
> Misconstruing, she buried her eyes.

>
> "Is there a way you'd leave us be?" she choked,
>
> "Perhaps departing till some later time?"
>
> "Never," it spoke. "I shall caress you both
>
> each moment forth as each moment behind."

>
> Nonsense, he thought, fear none so deluded,
>
> then he recalled their ill-done retreat.
>
> "What trickery enables your uncanny control
>
> such that fro footsteps move to?"

>
> "Ha! 'Tis fact, every motion approaches,
>
> never receding, ever conceding
>
> to natural law, Draconian pure.
>
> All will be mine, becomes mine for sure."

>
> Desperation vying trepidation,
>
> he begged, "Accept this visit tonight
>
> to suffice you for this one lone time,
>
> in lieu of our beings and reason."

>
> "Sweet youths, apprehend I mean for it all:
>
> your youth, your passions, your minds.
>
> I accost you along this darkened lane
>
> as a shepherd would eye butcher lambs.

>
> "Madman," she cried, "an asylum awaits you."
>
> "My lovely," its laugh most sinister now,
>
> "Be it most ironic that nary a one,
>
> not a single asylum awaits you, though.

>
> Hiatus in the nimbus opened o'er the moon.
>
> Pale glow dappled through leafy pall
>
> where macabre stood ere the embracing pair;
>
> lit clearly, it wore no mask at all.
>
>                                             Dennis Shay