Tamar and Yehudah

I wish I were Tamar

Who kept her pledge

And cast her net

wider than Yehuda’s,

whether he liked it or not

Who are you, Tamar?

“A lethal woman,

methinks”,Yehuda’s

delusory prejudice.

Beware the fatherless

widow’s oppression.

Disgrace.

I know who you are,

whether you like it or not

Chagall-Tamar_the_daughter-in-law_of_Judah

-Who are you, veiled

woman?

– Don’t you know?

For money, but a kid

shall do, you may know

me better. No kid, no mo-

ney? I bet you can pledge

thy seal, cord and staff,

whether you like it or not

-Who do you think

you are, Tamar?

You show, my girl

A harlot methinks,

and only fire may pur-

ify thy offense. Pray,

Who’s the father?

-The Man who  pledged

this seal, cord and staff,

Whether he liked it or not

-Whether you like it or not,

You are more in the right

than I, Tamar: I did not give

you to my son Shelah.

Who am I?

I am Tamar, a woman of

valor who, to establish seed,

no shame, no scruple

may stop at hollow men,

made him swallow

hook, line and sinker,

so his sons

find their way home

and fulfill his pledge

Amen

Happy Heuristics

Image credits

http://www.rogallery.com/Chagall_Marc/Book-Lithos/Drawings_Bible/chagall-tamar.html

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Scheherazade

Scheherazade

I wish I were, the daughter’s vizier,

sly Scheherazade,

Who wished she’d never had

her nakedness to hide

from king Shahriyar,

with one thousand

and one veils.

 

For, as the Persian story intim-

ates: ardent King once bitten,

three thousand shy, slaughters

bride, after bride, after bride,

after bride, until the kingdom,

Shahriyar’s bleak landscape,

of noble virgins runs dry.

 

Queen! Must always deceit and

intimacy pair to make

hearts in the end unite?

 

Ours, was love at first sight,

but oriental intimacy un-

veiled a two stories house

encumbered with,

at the bottom,

your Mum and Dad’s apart-

ment, your boyhood room

atop, tear our alcove apart.

 

Only bedtime stories,

veiled parables, intim-

ideation will the ancestral intim-

idation, one veil at a time,

strip off, un-

till our souls coalesce.

 

 

For Rim A.

Happy Heuristics

The Feminist Icarista: Ana Mendieta

Last Silueta

You fell into the pit of Cuban revolution, first exodus

And you were told: “it’s no good lingering over the pit

In war anything and everything goes, if you want to fit”

Peripheral excavating of thy heritage wills your uprising

 Pedro Pan girl in American exile, won’t states’ plaything

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Hyperdialectic: A Structural and Structuring Heuristics

Dynamics of Opposites: Hyperdialectic

What
 we
 call 
hyperdialectic 
is 
a
 thought…that
 is
 capable
 of 
reaching 
truth 
because 
it
 envisages 
without restriction 
the
 plurality 
of 
the
 relationships 
and
 what 
has 
been 
called ambiguity. The bad dialectic 
is
 that 
which
 thinks
 it 
recomposes
 being 
by 
a 
thetic 
thought, by 
an
 assemblage
 of 
statements, 
by 
thesis,
 antithesis,
 and 
synthesis; 
the
 good 
dialectic
 is 
that
 which
 is
 conscious 
of 
the fact 
that
 every
 thesis
 is 
an
 idealization, that
 Being 
is
 not 
made 
up
 of
 idealizations
 or 
of 
things
 said, 
as
 the 
old
 logic 
believed, 
but 
of 
bound
 wholes 
where
 signification 
never 
is 
except 
in tendency*, where the inertia of the content never permits the defining of one term as positive, another term as negative, and still less a third term as absolute suppression of the negative by itself. (Merleau-Ponty The Visible and Invisible)

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Scenette

Looking back. What is harmony? between man and woman, between personalities, between nations, between generations… How to create harmony? Through disharmony?

happyheuristics

Bruegel_IcarusShe opened the coffee table book and stopped at the reproduction of Bruegel’s “Landscape with the fall of Icarus”

He: Found something interesting?

She: Is it sunset or sunrise?

He, from the corner of his eye, handing her tea: More like sunset. What’s the difference? Who cares anyway?

Who Cares

The self-absorbed ploughman ploughs the bountiful soil

Expensive ship cruise the rocky shores: life’s at its height

The bemused shepherd muses: perfect day, no spoil

No one can care less when Icarus reaches twilight

The selfish fisherman lounges to fish on the sea shore

End of a journey: the sun does not shine so bright

Icarus’ legs clown like the legs of Belmer’s whores

Daedalus’ stellar son was not prepared for such a flight

Belmer_Cephalopode

Who Cares

The fantastiKarus must fall

Forever

http://kincinaitis.blogspot.co.il/2011_09_08_archive.html

He, taking the book of her hands and She not opposing resistance: You’re so absorbed!

She: Why doesn’t…

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