what’s going on?!

that is a question many of us have had over the summer…maybe, even longer than that–maybe, for years now…

what is going on in our society?  what is going on in our criminal justice system? is what we’re seeing, what we’re being shown…the whole truth?

it seems like, when we consider the violence and death that has been at the forefront of american life this summer, there’s nothing short of 1000 teachable moments, important things–that we could impart to our children in these times–for them, for us, and for the future of our society in the united states…

personally, while all of the stories of the summer were unfolding (and continue to develop), i had a lot of different feelings and thoughts about what i was seeing…and i wanted to write about it (criminal justice)–especially, since it is the subject that i teach (at high school and college)–but, to be completely honest, the herding cats space didn’t seem quite right for that kind of thing, you know…

so, with that, i have started a new blog…one that goes a bit deeper than what we might see in the mainstream media…

importantly, if you’re like me and have an interest in these matters and want to take a closer look at what’s going on — then, please join me in this new endeavor (though, i think it will be a bit more intense and hard-hitting than what you see here)…

the new site is called…

detteronomy – a private investigation…into law, crime, and justice in america

and you can follow it at…

https://detteronomy.com/

now, don’t fret- this blog – herding cats – will go on…so, all you loyal followers out there–stay with me!!!  and, “thanks in advance” for continuing the journey!!!

thank you!

cheers!

dave dettmann.

domestic violence awareness month

i would like to dedicate the poem below to the victims of domestic violence…

[i don’t often write poetry, but when i do…it comes out in a style that best resembles ‘spoken word’ or ‘slam poetry’…not sure how it happens…i mean, in my dreams i’ve fancied writing like whitman, lawrence, or kerouac–what student of poetry wouldn’t want to write like those guys? but, in truth, i could never write like that, not even close…it’s all kind of amusing because i rarely listen to spoken word/slam poetry or even hip hop music, for that matter–it’s nothing personal, i’ve got nothing against hip hop or rap…i was just raised on the radio (in the 80s)–and my music tastes are still trapped there–in the long, spray-matted tangles of the hair bands…anyways, i originally wrote this poem for an exhibition called ‘blind date’ that my friend craig joseph created and organized in ohio…i think it’s worth another look on this occasion]

The Heart of Abigail Lowe

I

Abigail Lowe clutched
the totem
in her hand
she held it
tight
white knuckles
bright
she raised it
to her brow
and began to pray

Lady Trinity,
come with your power
deliver me

II

She looked at the
picture
of her wedding day
spinning on
the dance floor,
full of life
back when she was young
and beautiful-a prize
back then she had
a great vision and wonder
as she looked up
to the moon and stars and skies
about her life
and all the good times
that would surely arrive
at her
doorstep
but years came,
and years went by
her time spent
brutally chastised-
didn’t take
too long to
realize
that all those pretty
day dreams
well, they just
up and
died

now
when she looks
in the mirror
the faced framed
before her
is not alight or alive,
instead it
holds the portrait
of one darkened and
deprived
with her only two
mementos
of this life-
a pair of
black eyes

III

He had boarded up
her heart
and drove nails through
her soul
stripped her bare
so far from whole
left her hollow
like a
black hole

now
a space exists
where a
dark star sits
where no glow
emits

where her human light
used to jump and glimmer
like fireflies
on a warm
summer night
but tonight,
looking at her
insides
is like
looking
at a jar
filled
with lies

IV

The police came
a few times
and took him to jail
but he was back
the next day

then later
she ran to shelter
far away

but it didn’t last

people whispered
behind her back
couldn’t understand
why she always
went back
but like most things
it was so simple
to say those words
from a safe distance
hard to see
that she was trapped
like a magnet
to the dark
force
that always
pulled
her back

V

A friend came by
the other day
said she knew what
could fill the blank
inside

she had a Bible in her hand
and told her ‘bout
a man
that would save her
right where
she stands

but she politely declined,
and said,
‘It’s nothing personal-
but, I ain’t running
to no man
of any kind-
to rescue me
from this
dead-end life’

VI

So, she went
upstairs
above the kitchen
to the bedroom

packed her
suitcase
with all her favorite things
clothes and
an old coat
pictures, shoes and
faded notes

sat on top
and clicked it
shut
lay down
naked
then looked
up

and she prayed

Lady Trinity,
today, I’m
leaving
the bad place-
can’t wait
to look
upon
your smiling face
know you’ll
pull me close
let me feel
warm and safe-
and hold me there
forever
in your
eternal embrace

Lady Trinity,
I am coming, I am coming.

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