Flying Dutchman (music video)

A song about a legendary Huey pilot in Vietnam called the Flying Dutchman.

For some reason, civilian medical rescue "medevac" helicopter pilots, and especially medevac pilots who flew in Vietnam, are powerful, inspiring symbols to me.

When I was growing up, I'd stand outside looking up at the summer sky, and realize that I was not just looking at the flat "roof" of the sky, as if it were a painting, but that I was looking "out" into eternity. This realization of eternity was a heart metaphor for a glancing inward, and this was how I would describe my sense of God, there but somewhat distant, but not necessarily a person.


Things were pretty turbulent for me in high school; I came to a spiritual transition and eventually developed a different view of God - my cultural paradigm was sort of classic rock/60's/counterculture, which included the backdrop of war and the desire for peace - and out of this and in conjunction with spiritual searching came a new regard for God. I came to appreciate the aesthetic beauty of the idea of a powerful god reaching down in humility and love to make an artistic statement, performance art as it were, to meet us and show what kind of love we can have for each other, through the symbol of sacrifice.

So for some reason the idea of a pilot flying through the bullets to rescue his friends was powerful to me, and the song shows some of my musical influences, including Jimi Hendrix. In my searching in high school, I was influenced by his music, and also by a poem he wrote just before he died:

---

The Story Of Life

The story of jesus
So easy to explain
After they crucified him,
A woman, she claimed his name
The story of jesus
The whole Bible knows
Went all across the desert
And in the middle, he found a rose

There should be no questions
There should be no lies
He was married ever happily after
All the tears we cry
No use in arguing
All the use to the man that moans
When each man falls in battle
His soul it has to roam
Angles of heaven
Flying saucers to some,
Made easter sunday
The name of the rising sun

The story is written
By so many people who dared,
To lay down the truth
To so very many who cared
To carry the cross
Of jesus and beyond
We will guide the light
This time with a woman in our arms
We as men
Can’t explain the reason why
The woman’s always mentioned
At the moment that we die
All we know
Is God is by our side,
And he says the word
So easy yet so hard

I wish not to be alone,
So I must respect my other heart
Oh, the story
Of jesus is the story
Of you and me
No use in feeling lonely,
I am searching to be free

The story
Of life is quicker
Than the wink of an eye
The story of love
Is hello and goodbye
Until we meet again

--

> So the chorus of "Flying Dutchman" wraps it all together I suppose: (A "hot LZ" refers to a dangerous landing zone.)

(Chorus)
Flying Dutchman in a hot lz
trying to land, so he can rescue me
flying through the bullets like a bat out of hell
like jesus christ with rotors and an olive green shell

I Am Strong

(This is a poem I co-crafted; I was helping a friend from Bosnia to express herself. Little do we know the likes of which people experienced in the Balkans in the early 90's. If you want just a taste, netflix "Shot Through the Heart", an HBO movie, or ask your library to get it.)

I AM STRONG
I am strong
I was born in the jungle
I designed a house so stable
that a hundred bombs weren't able
to destroy it

I sat on the roof
and drank tea with a ghost
I got bored in awhile
so I went back inside
I gazed as I stood
just thinking of spring
and the beauty of heaven

I am strong
I was born in the jungle
I designed a house so stable
that a hundred bombs weren't able
to destroy it

For my sister's birthday
I gave her a ring
she liked it so much that she planted a tree
just for me
but my dad is silent, across the river
he has no trees
it's hard to breathe

I am strong
I was born in the jungle
I designed a house so stable
that a hundred bombs weren't able
to destroy it

I stood there and watched him
I sailed across the river
to find a cure for me
but never reached the other side
I am so happy, so alive
I mean, I am so alive
that I don't think I could die

I am strong
I was born in the jungle
I designed a house so stable
that a hundred bombs weren't able
to destroy it

Heartwind (unearthed from the archives)

spark that ignites
fingerprint touch
wind that urges onward

starlight pinprick
distant sun's surface
thermonuclear bloom

solar flare flower
warm blood blushing
passion, rushing

Song: Darlin' please put that cigarette down

I can't believe I wrote a country song yesterday. It's not a personal anecdote per se, but was at least inspired by some people I love who are smokers. Lord knows I don't judge smoking or drinking, but since I love these friends, I can't help but want to spare them the lung cancer, the lymphoma, and I may be idealistic, but do believe there's a quality of life that can be had without them.

The song is about a guy who knows a girl from hanging out at a local bar, and inviting her to join him in setting aside the lifestyle they've both been living, of killing the pain with alcohol, coping with cigarettes, sleeping around, and he finally gets up the courage to ask her to marry him. I might turn it into a short story sometime, and if I do, some of the unwritten lyrics will wind up in it - because the guy is basically saying, let's both put our cigarettes down, I want to grow old with you, I want to have a quality of life with you and it will tear me apart if I'm sitting at your bedside someday and you have lung cancer - it's not just about you darlin, and your coping - it's about me and you. I don't think our life will be ideal, but I love you; let's stop killing ourselves; let's try to make babies, and I do want to sit by that bedside.

--

She sat in her seat at the bar on the corner
I drank up her beauty, which gave me the courage
to walk straight ahead and look deep in her eyes
and say what my heart has made me realize

(chorus)
darlin please put that cigarette down
take my hand and i'll twirl you around
and I'll hold you real tight cause I love you so much
I like how your skin feels so warm to the touch

darlin please put your whiskey away
give me your hand and I'll whisk you away
and We'll make sweet love and raise kids of our own
and we'll reap what we can from the seeds that we've sown

--

She said honey I'm flattered but far from a flower
I'm just off from work and I sure need a shower
But I said you're the rose of the evening to me
now stop all your fussin and listen to me

--

(chorus)
darlin please put that cigarette down
take my hand and i'll twirl you around
and I'll hold you real tight cause I love you so much
I like how your skin feels so warm to the touch

darlin please put your whiskey away
give me your hand and I'll whisk you away
and We'll make sweet love and raise kids of our own
and we'll reap what we can from the seeds that we've sown

--

she started to smile and my heart felt like thunder
she gave me her hand and I felt ten years younger
and now we just dance by the moon and starlight
and grow old together and share every night

--

(chorus)
darlin please put that cigarette down
take my hand and i'll twirl you around
and I'll hold you real tight cause I love you so much
I like how your skin feels so warm to the touch

darlin please put your whiskey away
give me your hand and I'll whisk you away
and We'll make sweet love and raise kids of our own
and we'll reap what we can from the seeds that we've sown

Obama Speech in Cairo

Obama in Cairo, to young people. "You more than anyone, have an ability to re-imagine this world. To re-make, this world."

It seems to personally that he said exactly what needed to be said.

I went to college w/Todd Beamer, who died on 9/11. Since then I've been trying to think in small ways of how I could help make the world better, and one of the areas I've been interested in learning more about is Middle East issues.

I think Obama's hopeful Cairo speech may be one of the most important speeches you may ever have the opportunity of seeing. It's not that the speech can do much in and of itself (although it has had good effect and is an important statement), it's that it represents a sensitivity and historical understanding of issues important to Muslims, and represents an opportunity to work towards making peace.

The entire speech can be watched at: http://www.whitehouse.gov/blog/NewBeginning/

(If the link is no longer available someday, the YouTube video is at https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NaxZPiiKyMw)

Poem - Hope Supernova

This poem was written in 2007 to honor the efforts of One Laptop Per Child, an organization that makes computers for kids in the developing and developed world. I've also blogged a bit about OLPC from time to time; there's a nice anecdote about a farmer father in Peru, which shows some of the impact: http://www.sugaros.org


---

Hope Supernova

This unfolding hour
this blooming dreamflower
such breath-taking beauty
my mind is on fire

I capture that butterfly
and hold it in my heart
thank you *so* much
for playing your part

I gather the sleep
and the moments you've lost
with children and family
so precious, such cost

From this seed comes a flower
a blooming sunflower
a hope supernova
and the world is on fire

---

III - Holding a Child

This poem was written in May of 2008 - I ended up putting in a sequence with 3 other poems, a sequence of darkness, healing and wanting to heal others. | This poem came from a dream I had of holding a child in hell, and the child reached up and touched my forehead.

---

Holding a Child

I want to go into: Sudan, Palestine, Bosnia, Iraq, Iran, Afghanistan

I want to go to hell, and bring some heaven along
I'm going with humility, to learn, to listen to the song

Sitting at the top of the heirarchy of needs
I stood at the cliff in a stiff winter breeze
Jumped off the top and dove down deep
I pray the lord my soul to keep

suffering suffering all around
but someone to love can always be found
the worm that wandered into the street
the child that is starving at my feet

everyone just wants to be held
so I held the child I found in hell
they touched my forehead and opened my eyes
as the death squad lost us to heavenly cries

II - Thousand Year Reunion

This poem was written in October of 2007 - I ended up putting in a sequence with 3 other poems, a sequence of darkness, healing and wanting to heal others. | The image of ice in the poem comes from an event, historic or legend I do not know – Saladin was an Arab who led several responses to the Crusades, and at one point, there was a battle near Jerusalem where the Templars ran out of water, and were defeated, and when their leader was brought to Saladin, Saladin gave him a cup that had ice in it. The poem is on the theme of a reunion between English and Arabic speaking people. I suppose it is addressed to the Middle East, anyone whose mother tongue is Arabic or Farsi. There is a version that has Arabic and Farsi translations at http://tinyurl.com/1000years

---

Thousand Year Reunion

The river runs dry
like a desert

cherishing the memory
of water falling into sand
drops from Saladin's ice
and Jesus' side
now deep underground

I love you my brother, my sister
my tears will join that reservoir

I fall asleep, dreaming
in the distance I see a garden
I'm running, rushing towards it
like a waterfall, over the edge
and into your embrace

there's a river in my heart
your children, my children
are swimming, playing in it

it's so nice to see you
I haven't seen your smile
in a thousand years

forgive me
my brother, my sister
I love you so much

my eyes are growing dim now
let me hold your hand
and just look at you
like a flower, flowering

there's an ocean in my heart
your grandchildren, my grandchildren
are sailing, exploring together

I - The Void

This poem was written in March of 2006 - I ended up putting in a sequence with 3 other poems, a sequence of darkness, healing and wanting to heal others.

---

The Void

I'm here for the forgotten people
The ones who don't belong
The lonely, downtrodden, hungry and sick
the ones who might never embrace hope
but who need an embrace nonetheless

how can we sit in our throne cocoons
with suffering going on all around
and the tears of god washing up like waves
to lap at the edge of our castles of sand

is it not so much more firm and right
to venture out into the night
and light up the darkness with good intent
even if the light does flicker and fade?

i came back to myself the other day
on a rainy sidewalk, en route to class
with adult concerns, a childish mess
and saw a little worm crawling there

at first I thought I'd walk on by
and then I thought, "but who am I?"
I'm still the child who picked up worms
and threw them back in the grass to live

the childish mess is six feet tall
and there've been times I feel like I can only crawl
and cry at the computer
with my eyes shut tight
and typing by touch
right into the night

from whence do they come
the tears of today
I don't know where
it might be the weight that I carry inside

Thank god that the sun can shine through a void

Facing the Widowmaker

On a field of battle
underneath these wintry stars
in a nightmare of gloom
gazing at the shadows, the advancing doom

I'd find honor in standing firm here with you
facing that voracious darkness
holding fast with any that were foolish enough to fight
and wise enough to know that we must not give flight

those who'd rather wake and know they've tried
than yield to let the heart grow cold

defend the widows and fatherless
choose substance over emptiness

25,000 Kids

This is a poem I decided to write, late at night. I was thinking, ok, I can either watch a DVD, or write a poem for you. So I decided to write a poem. It's a bit surreal. The 25,000 figure may not be precise, but for some reason sticks in my mind as the number of children who die each day around the world from preventable diseases and the like.

I wonder sometimes if we may risk bringing judgment on ourselves, when we learn about poverty, and then don't try hard to help people lift themselves out of it (for example, by supporting organizations such as Opportunity International).

There's a reference in the poem to an ancient story about judgment, where people painted a red x on their door, and a death angel came through town, and spared those who had this mark on their door. Some people believe in angels, and that they also sometimes deliver judgment. So the poem is meant to be kind of a ghost story.

Update 9/1/09: recently the image of 25,000 kids has been coming back to me, but stretched over time - where you can recognize the past, and the lives that have needlessly passed into shadow, but where you can also make sure to be mindful of the kids who are still alive, and the hope that action can bring, such as attempts to bring education, like Sugar Labs, or Intel Teach. So it might be a kind of duality or paradox, like in physics - is light a wave or a particle? Are the 25,000 kids outside our door dead, or alive? And I think the answer might be decided by what we choose to do. Scary, yet amazing.


25,000 Kids

I've got 25,000 kids
in a pile, outside my door
a stadium full of children
who won't sing anymore

But thankfully, I'm ok
Thankfully, I'm able to ignore
the 25,000 dead children
in a pile, outside my door

My powers are tremendous
my mind, of infinite strength
and I've been able to hold these dead kids
at an infinite arm's length

Sometimes the dust creeps out
from under the carpet
in a corner of my mind
I know I could, I should do more

But then I'd have to change my life
the amount I spend on things
do you have any idea of how much it costs
to live like a relative king?

I really hate guilt trips
so don't throw one on me, ok?
I have enough to deal with
how can one person make a difference anyway

Thankfully, I'm ok
Thankfully, I'm able to ignore
the 25,000 dead children
in a pile, outside my door

A motorcycle gang cruised by one time
"Apollyon's Angels", with their black leather jackets
their engines idling, a dark silent roar
moving so slowly, like a funeral choir

One of them saw me and gave me the chills
he wanted to paint an X on my door
the next time they'd pass me over
if I chose to help the poor

But thankfully, I'm ok
Thankfully, I'm able to ignore
the 25,000 dead children
in a pile, outside my door

X

Scrabble with Mom

Tonight after a long hiatus I thought it might be fun to try playing scrabble over the Internet with mom, who is back in New York State. We had tried an electronic version based on CDs awhile back, which was fun, but it didn't work - presumably because our computers are connected to wireless modems and routers and whatnot that block direct access from computer to computer (not necessarily a bad thing; good for security).

Then I remembered hearing about Facebook scrabble - the unofficial version was down, but I wound up on scrabble.com and found my way eventually to this link, which will invite you to install the "official" Scrabble application on Facebook: http://tinyurl.com/btbgo7

And it seems to work pretty nicely, and I like the idea of being able to invite friends or family into a game.