T.L. Morrisey

Friday, October 27, 2023

The apologists for evil

 



       

        

To listen to the apologists

for evil, they have become

evil themselves, with excuses,

doublespeak, and out and out

lies; all the lies they tell, 

these will come back 

for them, like terrorists

    (for every lie

    is a terrorist

    killing truth)

--these apologists

for evil will be visited

by evil, they will know

what they've done

as they drink tea

or coffee, as they sit

in their homes

with the doors exploding

letting in the terror 

and war cries 

celebrating death, the terrorists

with faces covered, 

with their guns 

& holy books,

with their conviction 

in their beliefs,

their absolute conviction

in the order of life

they adhere to, with

their absolute conviction

and belief in killing anyone

who stands in their 

way--

                25 October 2023

"False Prophet" by Bob Dylan

 

In 2008


Another day that don't endAnother ship goin' outAnother day of anger, bitterness, and doubtI know how it happenedI saw it beginI opened my heart to the world and the world came in
Hello Mary LouHello Miss PearlMy fleet-footed guides from the underworldNo stars in the sky shine brighter than youYou girls mean business, and I do too
Well I'm the enemy of treasonEnemy of strifeI'm the enemy of the unlived meaningless lifeI ain't no false prophetI just know what I knowI go where only the lonely can go
I'm first among equalsSecond to noneThe last of the bestYou can bury the restBury 'em naked with their silver and goldPut them six feet under and I pray for their souls
What are you lookin' at?There's nothing to seeJust a cool breeze that's encircling meLet's go for a walk in the gardenSo far and so wideWe can sit in the shade by the fountain-side
I've search the world overFor the Holy GrailI sing songs of loveI sing songs of betrayalDon't care what I drinkI don't care what I eatI climbed the mountain of swords on my bare feet
You don't know me, darlin'You never would guessI'm nothing like my ghostly appearance would suggestI ain't no false prophetI just said what I saidI'm just here to bring vengeance on somebody's head
Put out your handThere's nothing to holdOpen your mouthI'll stuff it with goldOh, you poor devil, look up if you willThe city of God is there on the hill
Hello strangerA long goodbyeYou ruled the landBut so do IYou lost your muleYou got a poison brainI'll marry you to a ball and chain
You know darlin'The kind of life that I liveWhen your smile meets my smileA something's got to giveI ain't no false prophetNo, I'm nobody's brideCan't remember, when I was bornAnd I forgot when I died

Wednesday, October 25, 2023

"October" by Robert Frost

 

Gilbert Layton Park in October 2012


O hushed October morning mild,
Thy leaves have ripened to the fall;
Tomorrow’s wind, if it be wild,
Should waste them all.
The crows above the forest call;
Tomorrow they may form and go.
O hushed October morning mild,
Begin the hours of this day slow.
Make the day seem to us less brief.
Hearts not averse to being beguiled,
Beguile us in the way you know.
Release one leaf at break of day;
At noon release another leaf;
One from our trees, one far away.
Retard the sun with gentle mist;
Enchant the land with amethyst.
Slow, slow!
For the grapes’ sake, if they were all,
Whose leaves already are burnt with frost,
Whose clustered fruit must else be lost—
For the grapes’ sake along the wall.

Tuesday, October 24, 2023

"No More Lockdown" by Van Morrison

 

In NYC


No more lockdownNo more government overreachNo more fascist policeDisturbing our peaceNo more taking of our freedomAnd our God-given rightsPretending it's for our safetyWhen it's really to enslaveWho's running our country?Who's running our world?Examine it closelyAnd watch it unfurl
No more lockdownNo more threatsNo more imperial collegeScientists making up crooked factsNo more lockdownNo more pulling the wool over our eyesNo more celebrities telling usTelling us what we're supposed to feelNo more status quoPut your shoulder to the wind
No more lockdownNo more lockdownNo more lockdownNo more lockdown
No more lockdownNo more government overreachNo more fascist policeDisturbing our peaceNo more taking our freedomAnd our God-given rightsPretending it's for our safetyWhen it's really to enslaveWho's running our country?Who's running our world?Examine it closelyAnd watch it unfurl
No more lockdownNo more threatsNo more imperial college scientistsMaking up crooked factsNo more lockdownNo more pulling the wool over our eyesNo more celebrities telling usHow we're supposed to feelNo more status quoGotta put your shoulder to the wind
No more lockdownNo more lockdownNo more lockdownNo more lockdownNo more lockdownNo more lockdown
No more lockdownNo more lockdownNo more lockdownNo more lockdownNo more lockdownNo more lockdownNo more lockdownNo more lockdown

Friday, October 20, 2023

Honey bees and asters

    It’s October, summer has ended and with it early daylight. I noticed these asters full of honey bees and decided I will plant asters in my garden next year. 








Monday, October 16, 2023

On a life of fearless writing

 


I've spent a lifetime writing: a diary I've kept everyday since January 1965, books, poetry, book reviews, criticism, and correspondence.  Why did I do so much writing? On one hand, I enjoy solitude and being creative. On the other hand, there were things that happened in my life that I understood better in the act of writing; writing helped me to understand something about life and expressing this in a poem was both to discover something new and to have a numinous experience.

    This writing I am talking about has to be fearless, the writer is going to a place that is marked with signs saying "No Trespassing", "Do Not Enter", and "Enter at Your Own Risk". The important things in life are not easy and they aren’t free, they are a lot of work. You may be afraid to write something down, or afraid to follow where your thinking is going, you may be inclined to censor your writing; just remember that no one else need ever read what you are writing, you can tear it up after you've written whatever you want to say, but you need to have courage and be fearless to do the writing. How could it be otherwise? Writing has to be a precise expression of what the soul has to say, what the soul perceives; this is more difficult than you might think.

    What I am saying will mean very little to most people, but this is not meant for most people, it is meant for poets. A poet wants to write an authentic poem, a poem that is authentic to what the poet wants to say, to be true to the poet's inner being, and this requires years of writing and rewriting poems. All of a poet's work can be seen as one long poem, it is the poem of one's life, continuous and unbroken. You don't just sit down one day and write something you call a poem and think that makes you a poet, there is a lot more to it than this. 

    Writing poetry is not an obsession or even a compulsion, it is that there is no alternative but to do the writing that presents itself to you; it is what one does and to do anything else is to deny the Call to do this work; if you deny the Call you have betrayed your life, betrayed your mission in life. Not even God is as important as your soul, you can live very nicely without God but if you betray your soul you will have no life at all, just confusion and denial. Don't worry, God will forgive you for not believing in Him, He doesn't need your belief, He doesn't even need you. To see life, the particulars of life, and to express them, is to communicate things of the soul and poetry is the voice of the soul. Writing is always a movement in the direction of wholeness and understanding, of creativity, of making something new. It is a triumph of formulating and expressing in an exact way the thing you want to write, it is the achievement of wholeness over division. So, at the basis of writing is finding wholeness, truth, and Oneness with life. That's how important writing is to a poet and why poets need to be fearless when writing poems.

Saturday, October 14, 2023

Return of the window flower box





You don't see many window flower boxes anymore. I remember my mother standing at her dining room window and planting flowers in the flower boxes beneath the windows. Not many people bother with flower boxes today; maybe the awkwardness and possibly dirt of leaning out of a window and planting from inside one's home is a part of the lack of popularity of window flower boxes. 

    This flower box (pictured) is outside of our kitchen window that faces the street. The brackets holding up the box have been there for at least twenty-six years, that's how long we've lived here and the brackets were there when we moved in. For years I looked at these brackets and thought I would like to have a flower box there and, finally, this last spring that's what I did. I know it's not the most beautiful flower box, it's just a plastic box from a big box hardware, some bagged soil left over from previous years, and some geraniums and a few marigolds not planted elsewhere. The plywood was something I found in the basement workshop and I cut it to size in a few minutes. Not a big job at all but it has given me a lot of pleasure and happiness. Now, when I do the dishes (always by hand) I can see red geraniums just outside the kitchen window. Maybe I'll paint the plywood base if I can get around to it which, knowing me, is unlikely. 







    This flower box gets no direct sunlight and yet the plants were thriving all summer and into fall. It was a very rainy summer so maybe that has something to do with how well they've done. Even the simplest, most crude flower box will give a lot of happiness. It increases the space you have to plant flowers, and it helps beautify you home. It is also an extension of container planting, but the container is attached to the wall instead of sitting on the ground. A flower box at an upstairs window requires watering from inside the house. Hanging plants need to be watered every day, or every week depending on the weather, and during a hot summer they will dry out in a day; so be sure to water them. I don't think you want too many flower boxes, it might look ostentatious and over the top, but it's your home so you decide what you want. They have flower boxes that attach to railings on balconies, I don't really like the look of these but you might give it a try if you live in an apartment. Having flowers is always better than not having flowers. A flower box is a small thing, like a bird bath, but, as I keep saying, it gives a lot of happiness.   

                                         



    And, finally, an inside view.



Wednesday, October 11, 2023

Remembering Veeto (2)

A few years ago, after the death of her mother, Veeto sent me this photograph of the family dining room table where we used to play "space command" when we were children. We lived in the same fourplex, one of Hoolahan's flats on Oxford Avenue, we were at 4614 Oxford and Veeto (Audrey Keyes) was three doors north in the same building. When I was four to maybe ten years old I used to go to her front door and Mrs. Keyes would answer, "Can Audrey come out to play?" I would ask, or we would stay indoors and play in their flat, either in the living room or dining room under this table, or Audrey's bedroom. It was all "let's pretend", it was all the imagination, it was a wonderful innocent time of life. I guess Veeto inherited the table and had it shipped to Australia where she lived. 

My cousin, Linda Morrissey, who lived a few doors from us, walked Veeto to the Villa Maria School where both were students. I wonder what Linda remembers of Veeto, Veeto was Audrey Keyes in those days. I was walked to school, to Willingdon School, by another girl, Mimi, who lived on Oxford but a few doors in the opposite direction to Linda. I was not the greatest student and I would play hooky from school, either feigning illness and then I might stay at my grandmother's home on Girouard Avenue, or hiding out in my bedroom, one day hiding under the bed. Other people have fond memories of school, I don't have those memories. But I have fond memories of Veeto. 


Below the dining room table


Sitting outside of our respective homes

Audrey and her lovely mother, Mrs. Keyes; in 2006 at the residence
corner of Sherbrooke St. West and Landsdowne Avenue


It’s pretty sad losing an old and dear friend. Veeto was so full of life, to walk down the street with her was to have the street transformed by her presence. She sang and gave everything new life, new meaning, a new presence. What a special friend she was, what a special person to share one’s childhood with. I was blessed by her presence as was everyone who knew her.



Tuesday, October 10, 2023

Remembering Veeto

When I was growing up on Oxford Avenue, in the mid-1950s, Veeto was the little girl next door who was my first friend in life. We moved from Oxford in 1963 and while I heard a few things about Veeto, that she had moved to Australia, it wasn’t until around 2006 that we met again. She was an extraordinary person, one of the important people in my life. I will never forget dear Veeto.

    Photos of Veeto (Audrey Keyes) taken on 30 June 2009 at Cote des Neiges Cemetery, Montreal. Veeto's mother died in February 2008 and the funeral was a few months later; these photos were taken probably the following summer, in 2010. Both of Veeto's parents died on February 28th, her mother in 2008, her father years before.