Tag Archives: music

A Poem for Memorial Day: Flower War

 

flower war collage mr blick twk

Collage by Mr. Blick

Flower War

Tlachinol xochitli
zan iyyo tonequimilol
yahoxochitl

Flowers of fire;
only they can be our garments:
Flowers of war.

Put down your weapons, soldiers.
The flowery god,
the plumed serpent

is gathering spring blossoms
in green meadows
and mountain gorges.

He is gathering fresh fire,
the little flowers
that bloom from spent shell casings.

Put down your death spitters,
ugly and depleted.
The god will give you weapons more beautiful

and honorable—Lances,
tipped not with the dark glitter of obsidian,
but with bright plumes.

Tlachinol xochitli
zan iyyo tonequimilol
yahoxochitl

Flowers of fire;
only they can be our garments:
Flowers of war.

Take off your helmets and armor.
The god will cloth you in fire,
flowers of fire, the bright rainment of flower war.

In the flower war,
you can be heroes,
you can be the champions.

The gods will be nourished,
the people will celebrate your sacrifice,
the glory in your capture.

you are the teotl ixiptla,
the divine images,
the flower warriors.

In flower war,
there is defeat with honor,
death will not sting, death will drink

for you are rich with octli,
the nectar and pollen
of divinity.

iwo jima flower war mr blick

Collage by Mr. Blick

The Importance of Being Michael, Redux

Given the variety of comments I have received on my short post on Michael Jackson, here and elsewhere, I evidently did not make clear what I thought was a relatively simple point:

Michael Jackson, as a public personality and as an artist, transgressed racial, gender, and other societal bounds, and was so successful in doing so, that some of those boundaries and catagories were in effect blurred or erased in mainstream popular culture, particularly for people who were children when he was at his zenith in the late seventies and early eighties.

As I wrote in that post, I was never a fan of Michael Jackson–Neither of his style or his music. At the time he was most popular I was listening to Leonard Cohen, the Sex Pistols, Iggy Pop, Neil Young, Elvis Costello, Suzanne Vega, Patti Smith, Gamelan music, David Bowie, Tom Waits, John Fahey, Miles Davis, Glenn Gould playing Bach, and a lot of other stuff, but no MJ. I didn’t watch much MTV, because for most of that time I didn’t have cable or even own a TV.

I don’t care about his music. I don’t care about his effect on the music industry. (The music industry no longer exists as far as I’m concerned.) I don’t care whether or not he was a pederast or not, a vic or a perp or not. I’m supremely uninterested in the sordid details of his wretched life.

Michael Jackson was (and is) of no interest whatsoever–to me. For me, he was just a passing sideshow, a flash of a pale face mutilated by plastic surgery–the King of Celebriabsurdity. 

But I was not writing about Michael Jackson’s effect on me, but on the degree he first expanded toleration of oddness in the general society, and later made things like, say, gay marriage, or transgendered people, or teen vampire romance novels for that matter, and real sideshow geeks, seem downright normal and wholesome in comparison. As a cultural phenomenon, Jackson opened up possibilities for people on the fringes, whether the fringe was in their heads or on their jackets.

In spite of the long, slow motion train wreck of his life, and the hurts done him and the hurt he may have done to others and himself, his effect on opening up mainstream society to new styles of behavior and being yourself in public was, in my opinion, positive.

Since I’m not a fan of his, but am very odd, I wanted to acknowledge that.

As mom used to say, that’s all there is to that.