Where is the Art in War?

author’s note:

Art has improved my vision.


WHERE IS THE ART IN WAR?

I challenge that sage
who coined the phrase:
"The Art of War".

Yes
the field general and the artist
both need courage and skill

but the general kills
whereas the artist gives life back to life.

The general’s well-designed battle plan
will deteriorate into chaos in the field.

On the other hand, the artist
can reveal the design
in what appears to be chaos.

Art adds.  War subtracts.
Art is about fusion.  War: fission.
Art joins--war divides.

Though we can’t always avoid war
we need not fight all the time

but at all times
we need to be open to art.

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© 2022, Michael R. Patton

Trying To Do the Impossible

author’s note:

I’m still a cave man.


TRYING TO DO THE IMPOSSIBLE

I still can’t see very well

though I strive every day
to improve my vision--

responding to a drive
I believe all humans share:
we want to understand

but often block that impulse
after realizing the obvious:
we’re confronting something so big
we can only see a little bit of it at best.

Nonetheless, I continue
to strain my eyes
because I like the high
that happens as
my poor primitive brain
struggles to expand.

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© 2022, Michael R. Patton

Message to a Rocket Launcher

author's note:

Some say dreams are meaningless.

I say: maybe theirs are.  Not mine.


MESSAGE TO A ROCKET LAUNCHER

When I heard the man claim
he had slept quite well
after launching that long-range attack
I remembered a dream
I can’t forget:

in the scene
I squatted on a desert plain
and from my big bazooka
shot a ball of barb-wire
at an unknown enemy
somewhere over there

and felt quite pleased
a moment later, when
I spied a poof of dust
rising on the horizon.

But then I looked down
and found a wire strung
all the way from my trigger finger
to the distant point of impact.

In frantic desperation
I tried to untie the wire
but those barbs stung my hand--
without thinking, I ran

with that wire trailing after me--
delivering hot jolts of pain
to my finger, arm, body, brain.

Waking in a cold fever
I knew I needed
to understand that nightmare
and though I often miss the obvious
I soon realized its message:

when you try to get rid of the hurt you feel
by putting the hurt on somebody else
you’re connected to the pain
you’ve created for the other.
Thus
you actually hurt worse.

From this dream, we can see
I am still an angry child

but adult enough
to be honest with you now--
hoping

this dream message will awaken
at least one other rocket launcher
to a truth so obvious
it often goes unnoticed:
  when you choose the wrong way
  to deal with your pain
  you only worsen the wound.

Maybe then
having lost his blind innocence
that launcher may stop trying
to punish the other
and instead fight to heal
his wounded self
and in that way help heal
a world filled
with bazookas and barb-wire.

The Truth of the Dream: poetry ebook
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© 2022, Michael R. Patton

Children of the Invasion

author’s note:

A poem about civilian casualties of war.  Written years ago.

When I see what’s happening today, I realize my poem didn’t have much impact.

Nonetheless, I going to keep trying.


CHILDREN OF THE INVASION

The invaded child
died for our sins.

If you haven’t heard of that child
that’s because the authorities
keep neglecting to tell us.
I think they even neglect to tell themselves.
I think
they wear those donkey heads
because they don’t dare witness

that naked body hunched in a ditch
as if in a womb of mud.

The attack was meant to protect
that child’s future
and the future
of that child’s children
--was that the idea?

Our humanity
is fragile.
Our humanity
is not guaranteed.

I say this
to those directly responsible
for that blind blunt act--
   to those
   who have made me
   indirectly responsible--
I say this:
the people will eventually reject
your well-crafted rationalizations.

I believe
the cry of the ghost child
will eventually break through
and as we wake we’ll recognize
those children in the shadows
as our own.

Then we will know:
we must find the courage
to stop destroying
all those vessels of soul.

myth steps blog
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© 2022, Michael R. Patton

The Heroine Develops Her Belief System while Waiting for the Next Contraction

author’s note:

Short.


THE HEROINE DEVELOPS HER BELIEF SYSTEM WHILE WAITING FOR THE NEXT CONTRACTION

Kinda cruel
to push a child into
a world so cruel.
I suppose I was only thinking
of what I wanted for myself.

Well, too late now.

But at least I’m giving a soul
an opportunity to grow.

Yes, we will grow
as I help this visitor find ways
to deal with the madness of our planet.

mythsteps · The Heroine Develops Her Belief System while Waiting for the Next Contraction

myth steps blog
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© 2022, Michael R. Patton

Standing in the Storm

author’s note:

We need more nervous heroes in our movies and TV shows.


STANDING IN THE STORM

Apocalyptic movies reveal:

how we thrill to imagine
some mad cataclysmic event
that sends the planet's populace running
willy-nilly--arms flailing--
through streets rocking wildly
from the rush of that panic.

But of course
those movies also reveal
our wish to be
the hero and heroine
who face the burl of fire and storm
and refuse to waver.

At story’s end
having saved the metropolis--
the nation--the world
we stand with them
in the ashes of the aftermath
and lift our eyes to the hope
of a golden dawn.

However
that big dream only lasts two hours
and when we exit
the mundane life on the street
seems so uninspiring in contrast.

But why should it?--
every day
we feel the heat increasing--
I see people fleeing
a monstrous inferno--
every day
those fiery tentacles destroy
homes, cities, farms, forests, oceans.

We have birthed the apocalypse!

Occasionally I’ll feel out of breath
and realize I’ve been running.
Then standing amid the fire and ash
I’ll know again how weak I really feel.

At such times, I begin to fear
my anxiety will soon overwhelm me.

And so, in desperation, I’ll force myself
to find the strength to remain still--
to deal with the firestorm
instead of giving oxygen to those flames
with the wind of my retreat.

Sometimes then the sun will shine
through those dark shifting clouds
and again I’ll see
how we’ve given ourselves
an opportunity to be
the better version of who we are.
The hero and the heroine.

myth steps blog
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© 2022, Michael R. Patton

Hail, The Lowly Hero

author’s note:

Thanks to Marie-Louise von Franz, Robert A. Johnson, Marion Woodman, and Robert Bly for showing me how those stories told my story.


HAIL, THE LOWLY HERO

Influenced by legends and fairy tales
I decided as a child
I should be a hero--

after all
I wanted the best for myself.

But where were the dragons
that needed subduing?
Where were the fair maidens
that needed rescuing?

Without bold extraordinary adventure
how could I realize my high ambition?

Then I remembered:
often in those stories
the grand opportunity of a quest
arrived unexpectedly
at the door of a peasant.

With that in mind,
I would hope and wait

and fill the time by doing
whatever chores I saw
needed to be done:

I planted seeds.  I pulled weeds.
I stirred a wild stew
made from what I’d grown.

That and much more, I did
as well as I possibly could

yet felt embarrassed:
should a knight errant be doing
such low mundane work?

But even as I deflated
I could feel my hands
slowly growing strong.

And didn’t those books say:
heroes must be strong?

And as I worked and waited
was I not making peace
with that dragon I felt
coiling, uncoiling, coiling
restlessly in my heart?

And by trying to save
the better me abandoned
behind the tower wall
was I not actually
trying to save us all?

Yes, I still wait
for the grand opportunity
but now I work joyfully--
imagining myself to be
a hero learning through servitude

but just one among a multitude
growing beautifully
in unseen gardens
all over this world.

myth steps blog
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© 2022, Michael R. Patton