On Perusing a Dictionary of Modern English Usage as It Pertains to Suffering

black and white book browse dictionary
Photo by Snapwire on Pexels.com

Deferring to the OED, Fowler’s* tells us not
To spell “inure” as “enure” for variant
Spellings are not needed; even if “inure”
Has two meanings, it is still only one word.
But who ever heard of “inure” relating to
Anything but some form of suffering?

Something quite beautiful and useful
Might well be put “in ure,” which just
Means we like this well enough to
Make a habit of it, and that cheers
Me up a little, as I had become inured
To “drudgery and distress” (Fowler’s
Example) and need reasons for joy.

You are thinking the primary usage
Became the primary usage because
The world has more misery than
Benefit, but maybe it is the other way
Around. Maybe language defines
Reality after all. If we had inured
All the good things all along,
Maybe we’d be in a better place.

If contemplating stuffy usage guides
Had inured, perhaps I wouldn’t have
Missed so many opportunities to be
Cheerful, to glide blissfully through
A life of Best Practices. Instead, I grew
Inured to heartbreak and dreary poets
Clamoring on about their lost loves.

*Fowler’s Modern English Usage, by H. W. Fowler, a handbook for pedants and arrogant copywriters.

Learn to Take a Joke, Young Man

people at theater
Photo by Monica Silvestre on Pexels.com

Lately I’ve been hearing people talking about how the young people need to learn to take a joke, because, one supposes, people back in the day were never offended by anything. Of course, people back in the day were offended by quite a lot of things, and we older folks know that, because we can remember just how offended our contemporaries have always been, so it isn’t immediately obvious what these old geezers are on about.

I mean, come on, Lenny Bruce was arrested for being obscene. The Smothers Brothers were fired for being political. Comedians have been offending people for as long as comedy has been around. Except, I think I know what they’re on about. What they mean is that they used to get away with saying things they are no longer allowed to say, and they don’t like being told to stay in their lane. They used to make jokes about women, racial minorities, and LGBTQ folks without fear of any sort of reprisal.

From their explanation, you would think this is because women, racial minorities, and queers used to just laugh along with them. I don’t think that’s true, and I don’t see how anyone can possibly think that’s true. Imagine a gay kid laughing at a dad joking about killing his kids to prevent them from growing up gay. I don’t think that ever happened.

Rather, I think what happened is that these marginalized groups did not feel empowered to speak up for themselves, but now they do, and I for one think that’s a good thing. I think it is really good that gay people (and anyone who thinks gay people deserve respect) say they are offended when someone jokes about killing them. I think it is good that trans people say a man in a dress isn’t obviously the funniest damn thing in the world. I think it is good that women feel empowered enough to say they don’t think jokes about rape are part of a good time.

Comedians have every right to make any joke they want, and the audience has every right to tell them they are assholes for making them.

The Armadillo Grants Spiritual Preservation (#poem)

armadillo
Image by Cheryl Holt from Pixabay

As I messed around with a compound bow and arrow,
Getting the hang of aiming the dang thing,
An armadillo walked into the path. Releasing
The bow, I flushed with regret, shame, and panic.

Armadillos don’t hurt anyone.
They shuffle through life slowly,
Just taking things one at a time.
They don’t move fast, but this one vanished.

To my relief, I found the arrow
But no sign of the living target,
No corpse, no blood, no condemnation.
My reprieve was born only of moral luck.

This may be evidence that I needed to improve
My aim, but I never tried, never practiced.
Some people consider armadillos pests,
Because of what they do to gardens,

But I’m happy to let them forage around
For whatever they can find in the soil.
I’m happy to let them just get on with life
Because one once restored my soul.

Poetry and the Cross-Pollination of Artistic Platforms (#poem #NaPoWriMo)

person jumping photo
Photo by Fröken Fokus on Pexels.com

When people see a spectacular dancer,
They say, “Oh, that’s poetry in motion!”

And then they might see a moving painting,
And say, “That painting says it all—It’s like a poem!”

And good musicians are just considered poets.
I mean, Bob Dylan won a God-damned Nobel Prize
In literature, didn’t he?

But it doesn’t stop there. I’ve heard motorcycle
Races described at “pure poetry in action.”

It seem like any time something is done really well,
People think of it as poetry. Really, “poetic” is like
A synonym for really freaking fantastic.

If you were an outsider and heard people saying all this,
You might get the idea that everyone reads and cherishes poetry.

Goat Man Tries to Save the World (#prose #poem #NaPoWriMo)

grayascale photo of goat
Photo by Sabina on Pexels.com

I used to hear stories around Houston of a Goat Man who would terrorize people from time to time. This Goat Man had a muscular body and big horns like the ones you see on a Dodge Ram truck commercial.

You’d hear all different stories, of course, but the one that stuck in my mind was of a couple walking out somewhere near the Sheldon Reservoir when this goat-headed man jumped out of the woods making some really awful and threatening noises before throwing a car tire a hundred yards in their direction.

Now I guess that would give you a fright, all right, but the goat man seemed fairly subdued to me. I mean, If he could throw a tire that far, I reckon he could have hit them with one if he’d really tried. So, I’m guessing he was just trying to scare them away, and hats off, because mission accomplished.

As far as supernatural creatures with superhuman strength go, I think I’m rather fond of the goat man. I mean, he just lived in the woods and objected to people disturbing him by throwing their old tires and other junk in his home, and I can’t find one reason to blame him.

And maybe he was trying to warn us, too, about what was coming. I mean, he was probably screaming, “Y’all gotta stop throwing all this trash around, or the world’s gonna heat up and take revenge on ya!” You know, he was a supernatural environmentalist.

And he never tried to kill anyone walking around the Sheldon Reservoir, even if the gators did.

On the Failed Attempt to Prevent Miscegenation in Polk County, Texas (#poem #NaPoWriMo)

love people romance engagement
Photo by Katie Salerno on Pexels.com

“I don’t want you to be mean to nobody, now.
When you go into town, you should wave
And smile and say, ‘How y’all doing?
Nice to see ya.’ Be nice and friendly
And respectful and then be on your way.
They have their lives to live, and you
Should just leave ‘em to it. You don’t
Need to be in their houses, and you
Damn sure don’t need to bring ‘em
Into mine. ‘Cause if you bring ‘em
Here again, you and me gotta problem,
You got that, boy? And you don’t wanna
Have a problem with me. If you wanna be
Welcome in my house, you better just
Let your new ‘friends’ go their own way.”

With that, he poured another coffee, lit
Another cigarette, and went out on the porch.

It didn’t involve the child listening from the next room.
Nothing in the world changed, except a boy’s heart.

At Ease, Disease (#poem #napowrimo)

intravenous hose on person s hand
Photo by rawpixel.com on Pexels.com

The day 19 NaPoWriMo prompt was to write an abecedarian poem. Not my favourite thing, but needs must.

As
Before,
Chill
Down
Everyone.
Forget
Going
Home.
Indeed,
Just
Kindly
Leave
My
Only
Persistent
Reddening
Scars
To
Unleash
Vaporous
Waves,
Xerotic
Yellowing
Zymes.

High Peak Vegan Market – 4 May 2019

high peak vegan market 4 mayThe next High Peak Vegan Market will be 4 May 2019 from 1 – 4 pm in New Mills, Derbyshire, in St. George’s Parish Hall, SK22 4NP. We will have food from Randy’s Vegan Tex-Mex, Shakahara Gujarati Goodness, Pepino Deli, and The Pie Parlour and Bakery. We will also have products from Amanda Tropic Skincare, Planet Happy ecofriendly cleaning products, and Heart and Mind Programme: Yoga Meditation and Self-Compassion.

For more info, write randysvegantexmex@yahoo.com.

 

The Best Way to Grieve for a Child (#poem #napowrimo)

brown bear plush toy beside pair of toddler s brown and white shoes on ground in selective focus photography
Photo by Max Schwoelk on Pexels.com

They never changed that room.
Dolls, teddy bears, trains,
And transformers all hold space,
Lock time in perpetual stasis.
When death comes life stops.

Family said they should pack
Things away. It’s too hard
To be reminded day after day
Of a future lost in the past,
But a room can be a memorial.

It’s a museum of childhood,
Until a child of a later
Generation discovers it with
Glee. New memories are
Born of innocent ignorance.

As the teddy bear rests again
In loving arms, life continues and
Memory grows sweeter and
Stronger through squeals,
Taunts, laughs, and hugs.

On Bodily Autonomy and Geriatric Femininity (#poem #NaPoWriMo)

grayscale photography of man carrying baby
Photo by Silvia Trigo on Pexels.com

They never ask, the old ladies.
They just hug, pinch, kiss and
Cuddle at will. Babies are theirs,
You know, and they do love them
So much. I guess it isn’t their fault,
No one ever told them they aren’t
Free to touch at will. I once told
A woman to get her hands out of
My hair, and she said no man
Had ever asked her to stop
Touching him before. As an old
Lady, I’m sure she became another
Of the baby grabbers, the snogglers,
The unwanted snugglers, making
Babies turn away and stretch
For Daddy’s protection and loving
Embrace. And the Daddies will say,

“Don’t touch the babies. They are not
Yours to soil with dry lipstick and crepe
Paper skin. You may have thought your
Hands were never unwelcome, but
My babies know the master of their fate.”