“Do We Censor Ourselves in What We Write?”

 

Very recently I received an email asking to be ‘friends’ on facebook.  The person was a woman I knew slightly during Y2K.  Our relationship wasn’t close and she wasn’t a literary friend. I have no problem adding friends to fb, but when I told her I was a writer, she asked me if I ‘wrote dark things.’  That question startled me.  Apparently in the ‘60s she had a nervous breakdown and couldn’t tolerate ‘dark things’.

I thought about this.  Hell, yes, I write about ‘dark things’.  “Olsen’s Pond” is an example of dark things.  But further, I am not responsible for the mental stability, comfort, etc. of readers.  I don’t think this woman would want to be ‘friends’ with me on fb according to her standards. And frankly?  I don’t think I would be interested in her.

I have come across this sort of censorship before.  When I published my first book (“A Seasoning of Lust”) there were a few rather comical stories with sex mentioned.  Not full bore sex but a dusting of this issue.  My mother’s opinion was this: “ I  was a pornographer, would always be such, and I would live in the gutter.”  Thanks, mom.  But this is the opinion of a woman who writes little and when she attempts poetry, it’s sentimental mush.

I remember a woman in ERWA (Erotica Readers and Writers Assoc.) who styled everything she wrote after a silly, demented ‘dom’.  He was a hack at this site and frankly, people started to notice his projection of horrendous sadism in his work posted there.  She didn’t notice there was a rumble around his work and just continued to style her work after his.  She was rather stupid.  But it did raise the issue of censorship.  His work was so vile, so misogynistic it outdid deSade.  He projected a sense of power but I did meet him.  He was a small, whiny man, with nothing that would appeal.  He hid behind his words and they were pretty awful.

In that case, he should have censored himself.  But he was insane.

 

Censorship is something I have struggled with.  Do we do this to ‘please’ potential readers?  Are we afraid our ‘dark things’ in verse and story will isolate ourselves?  Last year I posted “Olsen’s Pond” and some people wrote that they ‘refuses to read this poem because it would depress them’.  Well, they must have read some of it to have that opinion.

I have written a lot of Japanese stories and poems.  Some in the tanka form and most not.  Some readers have no information on shibari, something I studied for a year or so because it interested me.  It was such a strange-seeming, alien practice but I kept reading about it to at least have some clarity before I ditched the whole subject.  People again were horrified that a woman (or man) would allow oneself to be tied with rope.  Some called it barbaric, some called it ‘oppressive’.  I have read one translation of the word ‘shibari’ as ‘tying up the heart’.  This was enough for me to write some comical pieces (Metamorphosis series) and some not so comical works.

So, Hell Yes I write about dark things.  War is Hell, especially on children and perhaps my “Children of Aleppo” is a dark thing but it points to hope. The light doesn’t show unless the darkness appears.  And I hope that I continue to not be swayed by those who are afraid of life.  Those who are need not read my blog.

Below is a Haibun.  “The Punishment”.

While binding me for his pleasure, I uttered displeasing words. With a level glance he considered options and too soon decided my fate. Grabbing my hair, he pulled me to my feet, opened the shoji, and forced me out in an early spring’s snow.  A lavender sky tinted the snow purple, gray in the shadows.  Ordering me to kneel, I obeyed, shivering in the cold morn.  Drawing an early cherry blossom from his sleeve (a gift that was to be mine), he threw it down.  It was his pleasure for me to feel the sharpness of the morning until the soft snow covered the blossom. I, who a month ago would not have cared what I said, now trembled with remorse, feeling more than cold air.  My nakedness revealed my shame.  A crow in the cherry tree laughed scornfully.

When love grows deep and the heart overflows, one submits and becomes a slave.

The snow soon covered the blossom at my knees.  Fearing I would die, he picked me up, carried me to the brazier and tucked me deep amongst his robes, singing softly of the foolish maiden who would die for the last word.

–

A swirl of blossoms

Caught in the water’s current

Begins the season.

—

 

Jane Kohut-Bartels

Copyrighted, 2018

“The Punishment”, a haibun for d’verse.

Peach blossoms in the back yard. Spring

 

While binding me for his pleasure, I uttered displeasing words. With a level glance he considered options and too soon decided my fate. Grabbing my hair, he pulled me to my feet, opened the shoji, and forced me out into an early spring’s snow. A lavender sky tinted the snow purple, gray in the shadows. Ordering me to kneel, I obeyed, shivering in the cold morn. Drawing an early cherry blossom from his sleeve (a gift that was to be mine), he threw it down. It was his pleasure for me to feel the sharpness of the morning until the soft snow covered the blossom. I, who a month ago would not have cared what I said, now trembled with remorse, feeling more than cold air. My nakedness revealed my shame. A crow in the cherry tree laughed scornfully.

When sentiment grows deep and the heart overflows, one submits out of love.

The snow soon covered the blossom at my knees. Fearing I would die, he picked me up, carried me to the brazier and tucked me deep amongst his robes, singing softly of the foolish maiden who would die for the last word.

–

A swirl of blossoms

Caught in the water’s current

Begins the season.

 

Jane Kohut-Bartels

Copyrighted, 2016

 

An email from Jingle Nozelar Yan (JP at Olive Grove ):

“when you post on word press or blogger, you do not have to pay or ask permission in person. which is what we count for.”

Every poet and poet group I frequent would find that surprising!  There are Copyright Laws in the US,  Jingle. Even in China. But bless your little  heart.

Please  don’t read my work on her site. If you care about literature, you will go to the original source and bypass Jingle Bells.

 

Jane

“The Punishment”, for OneShotPoetry

http://microstoryaweek.blogspot.com/.

STEVE ISAAK HAS VARIOUS WRITERS:  GARY RUSSELL, NICK NICHOLSON, STEVE AND MYSELF SUBMITTING SHORT 500 WORD STORIES…OR COLLECTIONS OF THESE.

MY “METAMORPHOSIS’  FLASHER SERIES IS BEING RUN BY STEVE ON MICROSTORYAWEEK.

THE WRITERS ARE EXCELLENT AND THE READING IS GOOD!

LADY NYO 

Four years ago I discovered shibari.  In Japan, it means the tying of something, usually packages, but an earlier meaning is “the tying of the heart’.  It has a long history in Japan and was used to secure prisoners.  In the West, it refers to the practice of rope bondage, and the word shibari has become common for this practice.

Shibari is a powerful practice.  It can be abused and misused.  In my experience I came to understand that shibari was a many-layered issue.  I have written about Shibari, in “The Shibari Series” in my first book, “A Seasoning of Lust”, and also numerous essays on my blog.  Some can be found with a Google search on Shibari.

“The Punishment” was a poem written from that time.

Different  opinions abound on rope bondage.  There is the issue of control and power, but this entry is not the place to discuss that topic.  I have had different experiences with shibari, but one thing I do believe:  the intent or the expectations of either the binder or the person bound are trumped by what I call “the power of the ropes”.  To the Japanese, in the religion of Shinto, everything has a spirit.  It is called Kami.

From a writing on Shinto religion:

“Kami  is the sacred or mystical element in almost anything. It is in everything and is found everywhere, and is what makes an object itself rather than something else. The word means that which is hidden.

Kami have a specific life-giving, harmonizing power, called musubi, and a truthful will, called makoto (also translated as sincerity).”

I don’t believe in much mystical stuff, but I do believe in kami, especially as it pertains to the practice of shibari.

I have experienced them.

Lady Nyo

–

THE PUNISHMENT  (Shibari Series)

–

While binding me for his pleasure

I uttered displeasing words,

And with a level glance

He considered his options.

–

Too soon he knew

What punishment to apply!

Grabbing my hair

Twisting it in his hand

He pulled me to my feet

And opening the shoji

Pulled me out into

The spring’s snowy morn.

–

Telling me to kneel,

This time I obeyed,

shivering in fear.

Drawing an early cherry blossom from his sleeve

(a gift that was to be mine)

He threw it in the snow.

It was his pleasure for me to feel

The sharpness of morning

Until the soft snow had covered the blossom.

–

I, who a month ago would have not cared

What I said,

Now trembled with humiliation

Feeling more than the cold air.

–

When sentiment grows deep and the heart is overflowing

One submits and becomes a slave to love.

–

I knelt in the snow,

my nakedness and tears

Showing my shame to the courtyard.

A crow in the cherry tree

Laughed without mercy.

–

Fearing I would die

The blossom now covered with snow,

He came and

Picked me up in his arms-

Carried me to the warm brazier,

Tucked me deep amongst his robes

And sang a soft song of the foolish maiden

Who would die for the last word.

–

Jane Kohut-Bartels

Copyrighted, 2008, 2011