Gathering

(Dedicated to Carrie Newcomer for her golden voice and her luminous words)

Inspire me in hope and ground me in Light.

Strengthen my resolve, and help cushion my falls.

Fill up the emptiness with wind chimes, bird trills, and the melodies of lapping waves;

Honeyed echoes of ambient sound…words of gladness and delight.

Fill me with calm, lift me with peace; teach me to guide each soul through the search.

We’ve all had losses at our tables, it is hard to gather ‘round.

But when hope guides the search, sometimes there is a hidden joy that can be found.

Ronda R. Scott-Marak

© 25 November 2016

Observations on a Stroller with Pup

"and they call it Puppy Love"

(with thanks to Paul Anka) 

Puppies and toddlers observe the world with fascination,
viewing through, eyes, ears, and noses never ending arrays of distraction and delight.

Toddlers and puppies run and play until exhausted,
beg to be picked up and carried, then sleep deeply for hours atwitch with each dream.

Puppies and children call out for attention,
whining and barking, and bawling for Mum they demand to be petted, talked to, and fed.

Toddlers and puppies hear what they wish to,
using limited language to ignore what they’re told and charmingly get what they want.

Canines and young children are easily distracted
by things that move and bright colours, all smells, all voices, stuffed toys, and warm hands.

Ronda R. Scott-Marak

©14 November 2016

The Last Time

“Well I told you once, and I told you twice but you never listen to my advice.”
(With thanks to Sir Michael Jagger and Keith Richards)


I have Republican friends. I expect them to vote Republican, even regarding issues they are against, and for people with whom they don’t always agree. I can understand that and although it disheartens me I am not shocked by their actions, but they still remain my friends.

I thought I had friends that were Democrats, but they became obsessed with conspiracies, with illusion, with fantasy. These people decided to pull the country down around our heads to make a point, thinking that out of destruction and flames a phoenix would arise and bring about a New World. 

Well, they got their wish, a brand spanking New World Order, the flames have been lit but there will be no phoenix out of the ashes; the hatchling is instead a dragon of desecration, of dissent, of hatred, misogyny, manipulation, and contempt for everything that they claim to stand for. Instead of “Of the People, By the People, and For the People” their determination to stick to their delusions have brought us “To the People, and Screw the People” with each and every Third Party vote, Write-in vote, and boycotting the vote. 

Now the American people will get what they apparently deserve, the utter end of the “Dream”, the end of “Greatness”, the contempt of the world with the exception of Russia, North Korea, and China, the losses of every gain made in the last eight years; every platform for which their political messiah stood has no chance of being enacted. Their hallucination has become our national nightmare. 

Those true believers are no longer friends of mine and I despair at what will come, but look with perverse delight at their eventual realisation that their obstinate votes against the ‘System” brought us chaos, anarchy, and apocalypse. I blame them, and I blame their arrogant knight in grizzled armour for striking the flame; I hope they’re all pleased with themselves.

9 November 2016
Ronda R. Scott-Marak

Some People

“Some People think they’re always right, others are quiet and uptight”

(With thanks to Julian Casablancas)

Some people project their worst behaviours and thoughts onto others.

They react to slights that were never considered, to attacks that didn’t exist.

Some people take every other person’s words and deeds as personal affronts and accusations.

They see fingers pointing at them; hear allegations when no blame was attached.

Some people see the worst in other people because they see the worst in themselves even if they can never admit it.

They perceive questions as attacks due to unacknowledged feelings of guilt.

Some people cover pain, and discontent with anger using incivility as armour.

They can never see their own unhappiness is the result of their self-imposed isolation
but they are certain to impose it on everyone else.

Ronda R. Scott-Marak

© 27 October 2016

Harmonic Resonance

"They say that all good things 
must come to an end..."
"Wish you didn't have to go"
(With decades of thanks to 
Chad Stuart and Jeremy Clyde)

Sounds… scattered vibrations, 
calming influences, soaring,
synchronised melodic splendour; 
dulcet chords in minor and major scale soothing hearts by way of pricked ears.

Alignment of merged voices in counterpoint,
together and separate, 
united richness of timbre and tone; 
forlorn or joyful, bluesy or folky, with opinion, or humour through their music… we muse.

Ronda R. Scott-Marak
© 20 October 2016

Constricted

If you're lost you can look and you will find me...
(With thanks to Cyndi Lauper)

Knots in my muscles,

Knots in my gut,
Snarling, entangling, entrapping my thoughts;
knotty problems a’twist in my mind.

Struggling with Angels, wrestling Demons,
Struggling ‘gainst conflict, with myself as the foe;
endlessly fighting my body, my instincts,
trying to unravel double knots in my brain.

Ronda R. Scott-Marak 

© 18 October 2016

Drive-Time Thoughts

"Me myself, I've got nothing to prove"

(Thanks to Tracy Chapman)

My mother has frequently said that my blessings are my empathy, my strength, my compassion, and my forgiveness, as well as my knack with words, open mind and generous heart.

She also has stated that my most dangerous qualities were my empathy, my strength, my compassion, and my forgiveness, as well as my knack with words, open mind and generous heart; I do not hold grudges, but tend to hold injuries and hurt close and silently inside. I do forgive... I just never forget!

Today’s analysis:

On both counts my mother is right.

RSM

14 October 2016

U’Netaneh Tokef

On this Yom Kippur Eve… My reflections based on High Holiday liturgy

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(On Rosh Hashanah it is written, and on Yom Kippur it is sealed.

How many will pass and how many will be created?

Who will live and who will die?
Who in their time, and who not their time?
Who by fire and who by water?
Who by sword and who by beast?
Who by hunger and who by thirst?
Who by earthquake and who by drowning?
Who by strangling and who by stoning?
Who will rest and who will wander?
Who will be safe and who will be torn?
Who will be calm and who will be tormented?
Who will become poor and who will get rich?
Who will be made humble and who will be raised up?
But teshuvah and tefillah and tzedakah (return and prayer and righteous acts)
deflect the evil of the decree.)

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

This has been a year of Destruction, a year of dissolution, a year of devastation.

We have watched lands crumble, waters rise, air gyrate;
seen friendships disintegrate, families collapse, and lives ruined.

What part have we played in this maelstrom?

People are in pain, loss, fear, sorrow…
What role have we played in their relief?

For any share I have played in their misery…
Forgive me, Pardon me, Grant me Atonement

I want, I try, I need to forgive them in turn for any unhappiness others have brought to me by their actions, words, deeds.

We have allowed people to barely survive in squalor, 

ignored those reaching out in need.

We have not been concerned for those whose lives were nightmares, dying with their dreams unlived.

We have given no thought to those who lived without beauty in their lives, dying with their music unwritten, their art undrawn, or their words unscripted.

We are obliged, as human beings to repair the world, especially as we are the most avid destroyers of her. Tefillah (meditation), Teshuvah (efforts to change ourselves and repair our relationships), and Tzedakah (charity) as well as Gemilut Chasidim (deeds of loving kindness) are our tools for that healing.

Look inward; strive to be, give to others of help and your compassion, and be an enlightened soul…

Ronda R. Scott-Marak
©11 October 2016

10th of Tishrei, 5777

“Every day, several times a day, a thought comes over me”

(With thanks to Woody Guthrie)

I feel like the little Dutch boy trying to keep the dyke from collapsing;

I can hear the roar, and feel the power
behind the steady drip and gush around my too slight fingers.

There is a never-ending torrent behind the crumbling wall,
the crack of looming collapse, the rush of catastrophe and ruin.

So much, and so many depending on my slowing down the storm, turning the tide;
my hands and shoulder press uselessly against the fissures.

I am not strong enough, not brave enough, not wise enough, or patient enough;
I fear going under.

Ronda R. Scott-Marak
© 25 August 2016

Roll Call (Sound Off)

Not even a week past Independence Day and just look at the wake of violence, of murder, of hate!

We are born to die,
but first we are actually supposed to live:

Infants and elderly, parents and children,
travellers and home-bound, scientists and wildlife,
students and teachers, shoppers and merchants,
performers and attendees, players and workers,
police force, and fire-fighters, judges and juries,
homeless and wealthy, fortunate and needy,
doctors and nurses, flight attendants and pilots,
civilians and military, first responders and injured.

Black, white, red, brown or yellow, mixed race or ‘pure’,
native or ex-pat, indigenous or migrant,
Christian, Muslim, Hindu, Buddhist, Atheist, Agnostic, Pagan, Pantheist or Jew
all deserve to live in safety before their ultimate finish.

No one anywhere should have the right to determine when and how another ends.

We may be born to die, but we have taught ourselves to usurp Death’s purview.

This has got to end before we retrogress and guarantee Humanity’s untimely End!

Ronda R. Scott-Marak

© 8 July 2016

No Satisfaction...

(With thanks to Keith Richards and Sir Michael Jagger)

I can’t anymore:

Can’t think

Can’t cope

Can’t act

Can’t hope

Can’t fantasise

I wish I could lose the ability to dream:

Can’t rest

Can’t heal

Almost awake

Unceasingly just feel

Always on the edge of achievement

I want to stop waiting:

Waiting for calm

Waiting for ease

Waiting for order

Waiting for peace

Waiting to actually live and not subsist

Ronda R. Scott-Marak

© 23 June 2016

Animus

“Momma always said that hate was a strong, strong word."

"Poppa always said that words of hate should not be used.”

(With thanks to Tyrone Wells)

I am so tired of hatred.

I am exhausted by name calling, shit slinging, vein emptying, sabre rattling, and cross burning.

I feel beaten down by duelling liturgies, witnesses and testimonies of faith and doubt.
I have become distrusting of conviction, troubled by fealty, 

and wary of true believers.

I am afraid of the undertow;
I am horrified by the lessening of compromise, 

and the evermore rapidly rancorous rhetoric.

I want a return to caring about each other, 

a place where people actually communicated,
to a time when people realised there were others on the other side of the phone, 

the screen, the argument, the World.

We lost that long ago… the ability to converse, to commune, 

to share… or to politely disagree.

Ronda R. Scott-Marak

© 15 June 2016

”Within you…Without you… Tomorrow Never Knows”

(With thanks to George Harrison, John Lennon, and Sir Paul McCartney)

Close your eyes and open the inner recesses of your mind.

What do you find in its shadows;
pockets of doubt, pockets of fear, pockets of hate?

Do you feel the presence of loss, of peace, of love?

What do you hear in the silence;
oceans, birdsong, tears?

Do you seek answers, or questions?

What season, what place, what time;
yesterday, tomorrow, or today?

What do you sense in the darkness;
Danger, sadness, calm?

Does the quiet overwhelm you, or are you lulled by the rhythm of your heart?

Is it darkness that hides behind your eyelids, 
or do you see the explosive colours of Life?

Do you breathe out, or merely breathe it all in?

What do you see; are you still looking out, or are you truly looking in?

Ronda R. Scott-Marak

©12 June 2016 (after Orlando)

Compline

“’Lullaby of Birdland’ whisper low”

(With thanks to Sir George Shearing and George David Weiss)

Why do birds sing at night?

Morning chorales and evening reprises trill avé and valé to the sun;
but now the chorus starts just past dusk in the dimness of first dark.

There must be a reason they sing contentedly after fall of night.

They do not greet the moon as she has not yet risen
or the stars as they flicker faintly from aeons lost.

Is it a lullaby they chirp before putting their tiny heads beneath their wings, mayhap they chant their evening prayers,
or do they cheerfully rehearse their sunrise song?

Ronda R. Scott-Marak

© 25 April 2016

A Solitary Woman

(with thanks to Neil Diamond)

Always alone, though rarely ever lonely;
Never giving in, while always giving out.

My strength is formed ‘round a core of staunch denial;
determined to provide where I am needed,
resolutely finish what I start.

The path is often one-way only, with a roadblock at its end

but the goal shifts ever further;
green fields and a nap always ‘round the second next bend.

Ronda R. Scott-Marak
17 May 2016

“Through the Mirror of my Mind”

(with thanks to Holland, Dozier, Holland)

I long to be somewhere else, someone else,
I need someone to talk to who’ll listen in silence;
to hold me close, hold me upright,
support me ‘fore I fall.

Sometimes I feel so terribly alone;
thoughts and dreams ricocheting ‘round my mind.

I am an echo of myself, a ghost-walker.

I only exist in the mirror… writing.

Ronda R. Scott-Marak
©22 April 2016

I am Me

"I am he as you are he as you are me as we are all together" 

(with thanks to Lennon and McCartney)

Introspective, empathetic,
strong of opinion, teeming with doubt,
sensitive, determined,
passionate, apprehensive,
cerebral, intuitive,
deeply compassionate
philosophical, eclectic;
I am me… who are you?

Ronda R. Scott-Marak
© 18 March 2016

When the Rain Comes…

(With thanks to John Lennon, Paul McCartney, and Sir George Martin)

Rain in spring is different from rain in fall or rain in summer; 
it heralds life as it percolates to roots; 
freshening the air, and washing the upturned faces of new growth.

In autumn rain glues fallen leaves to pavement, 
drives life indoors as we hope for just another warm and sunny day; 
as we shiver on the edge of sleet.

Summer rain washes out festivals and games; 
it soaks the sands as much as the surf, 
bending plants, and saturating the air with oppressive discomfort.

Rain in winter melts snowdrifts, cleans out frozen gutters, 
and changes the clouds to a different colour grey; 
a blessing or a curse depending on how one views a midwinter snow.

Rain is a bath for the world, mother’s milk to the earth; 
puddles to splash, a reason to join forces 'neath a  'brolly, 
no need to ‘run and hide your head’ unless it’s pouring sideways into your eyes.

Ronda R. Scott-Marak

© 9 March 2016

Leap Year

“Now I’m Wondering Where the Day Went” (with thanks to Sunni Pompeii)

Age changes our perceptions, our perspective;
it reveals a different view in the reflection of truth.

Mirror, Mirror on the Wall…
is the fairness to which we now aspire that of physicality or justice?

Do we still strive for beauty of face and form
or is our desire for beauty of heart, and excellence of character?

Are the pleasures of flesh defined by sexuality and luxury
or rather good food, comfortable surroundings, and a lack of physical discomfort and tenderness?

Does time bring neediness or expansiveness, softness or brittleness, bitterness or appreciation?

Which is more important: being adored or being loved, getting or giving joy, being right, or being true?

Is the echo of our childish desires mimicked in our grown-up yearnings
or have we outgrown the looking glass of our youth?

Ronda R. Scott-Marak

© 29 February 2016

“The World through a Tear”

"Now here am I, no one standing near; it's a lonely world, such a lonely world."

(with thanks to Neil Sedaka)

I can no longer read or listen to news, opinions, or commentaries without wanting to bury my head;
the blatant malice, viciousness, cruelty, and its underlying hatred and ignorance is suffocating.

No longer does my Voice speak out, it reverberates within my head screaming for release;
but I cannot speak my mind with any peace of mind.

I am so accustomed to petulance and brutishness that any clarity of thought or kindness leaves me in tears.

Any minor innocuous comment made is attacked with vulgarity, scorn, or unwarranted vitriol;
friend, foe, or total stranger attack without thought or compunction.

No longer is there concern as to truth, reality, or forethought, only the venting of spleen, defensible or not.

People believe the worst of everyone, they accept every conspiracy theory available without research
or concern as to whom they damage by the repetition of lies.

Strangers feel free to attack inoffensive personal opinions regarding art, music, literature or even food.

No longer can one feel safe to state a bland observation on the weather, or a pet’s name without being called vile names, or threatened with bodily harm.

We have truly lost our way when friends and family can no longer discuss anything without ranting hatred, and complete breaking of personal ties.

The Dark has won the current battle for our collective souls and convinced those espousing the Light that greys are more evil than complete and utter malevolence.

I can no longer bear to watch our determined, self-imposed, collective doom,
so I anticipate going forward alone for my sanity’s sake.

Ronda R. Scott-Marak

© 22 February 2016 

Anticipation 'Just Facing some Finer Day'

(With thanks to Carly Simon)

It gets more difficult for me to concentrate
too many concepts, too many concerns, too many knives to juggle.

I want to spend some time without mindful thought
nothing to decide beyond which book to read, 

or what to have for tea.

I want sentience to be less an encumbrance and more of a gift;
time to be embraced, not an endurance marathon.

I want to choose my expenditures with determination and joy
not with caution and dread.

I want to sleep until I wake, relish each moment;
exuberantly alive ‘til I rest.

Ronda R. Scott-Marak 
© 8 February 2016

Clowns to the left of me, jokers to the right Here I am, stuck in the middle…

(with thanks to Stealers Wheel)

I am so disheartened by the civil war around me:
friend against friend, family against family, rather than united against foe.
The sky may appear blue, my blood may seem red but neither truly is;
All I see is dingy with internecine thrown mud, crimson with fury, and black with hate.

What has torn apart connections after years of struggling together for a common goal?
Why do people care more about ideology than actually pulling together to win?
Why has intransigence and intransigence become the norm, locking arms against each other when previously we locked arms for strength in numbers and safekeeping against the abhorrent?

When did we decide loathing each other and name-calling 
were better strategies than standing together?
When did dogma become so gargantuan in size and scope that must cast us all into shadow;
tearing apart alliances, friendships, and shredding respect and reason?

At what point did it become safer and healthier to speak to people with whom I mostly disagree 
then to those with whom I thought I had common ground?

Ronda R. Scott-Marak
© 1 February 2016

Cosmosis

"And therefore as a stranger give it welcome.

There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio,

than are dreamt of in your philosophy."

Hamlet Act 1, scene 5, 159–167

The globe is a microcosm of life;
a veritable encyclopaedia of ideas,
Oxford and Larousse dictionaries worth of words,
all of Bartlett’s Familiar Quotations,
and a compendium of knowledge worthy of the Smithsonian Institution, British Museum, Hermitage, Newberry Library, Bodleian, and Alexandria.

Why are so few ideas acceptable, why so few words in use?

We are woven into Life’s structure;
animal, vegetable, mineral
Air and Water our warp and weft.

We are enmeshed in sundry networks
of nerves, veins, and mass.

We are formed from and into each other,
stardust to ashes, mineral to sand, tears to oceans,
labouring from birth to last laboured breath.

How is it we gather like magnets around iron;
remaining in opposition to any other cluster?

Why is each sub-group convinced of their superior rightness
the unfailing Truth of their own righteous beliefs?

If Humankind is animal what says we are better than the other beasts?

If vegetation grows towards the light, bathes its skin in rain and dew,
appreciates words and music how are they lesser lifeforms?

If we are all made of minerals what makes our compilation worthier than the content of salt and sand?

Ronda R. Scott-Marak

© 13 January 2016

“I Read the Posts Today ‘Oh Boy’”

(with thanks to Lennon and McCartney)

Lies
Cruel world and words
Grey deeds;

Venom

Broken promises

Rash acts;

Enmity

Brittle silences
Harsh rejoinders;
Spite

Brother against sister,
against friend;
Tears

Ronda R. Scott-Marak
© 4 January 2016