The remnants of a body in an open grave. A shadowy figure feasts on the skull.

I awoke from this dream Sunday morning, March 21, trembling and fearful. In my journal, I wrote: This dream reports/foretells the dire consequences of the Obama/Democratic health insurance legislation the House is voting on today.

The misleadingly named legislation, the Patient Protection and Affordable Care Act (PL 111-148), which President Obama signed March 23, entrenches the corporate dominated health insurance industry — WellPoint/Anthem/Blue Cross/Blue Shield, Humana, Aetna, United Health — and the big pharmaceutical companies, possibly irrevocably, in the U.S. health system. (The Health Care and Education Reconciliation Act, PL 111-152, which Obama signed March 30, is a companion to PL 111-148.)

Negative Pattern

Another sell-out, another massive transfer of U.S. taxpayer dollars, this time under the guise of health insurance premiums, to these corporations exempt from anti-trust laws.

Congress, with the White House orchestrating, wrote the legislation with enough loopholes to drive a Hummer through. The failure of Obama and the Democrats to honestly fix the broken system will also jeopardize viable health insurance programs like the State Children’s Health Insurance Program (SCHIP) and Medicare and derail hope of real reform.

But Obama and the Democrats cleverly used the Republican opposition and faux cries of socialism and communism as cover, while handing insurance and drug companies another key to the Treasury. This is “historic” legislation, not as the White House and media equate with “sweeping reform,” but because this massive over haul is a giant step toward fascism.

Truth-in-Labeling

Fascism is business controlling/dominating government. Communism is its polar opposite — government controlling business. Socialism is state ownership of industry, of capital.

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painting © by Claudia Chapline

In a dream, I’m standing on a ladder painting a large (American) flag. When I awoke the next day, I sketched the flag in my journal and then I made a small painting from the drawing/dream. The stars resemble exploding bombs, the stripes, missiles. A skeleton’s head emerges from the war machinery.

For me, the flag painting symbolizes the discrepancy between American ideals and manifest American policy.

March 11, 2006*
Claudia Chapline
Artist, activist, Gallery owner
Stinson Beach, California

* Around the time of the dream, marking the third anniversary of the U.S. bombing of Iraq, the U.S. invasion and occupation had killed  hundreds of thousands of Iraqis.

~~~~~~~~~

THE PEACE POETRY OF CLAUDIA CHAPLINE

March Wind in February

Roaring dark branches crash against the house
weather strips whistle wind songs sunbrellas
flap white caps yellow chairs in the lagoon
pine trees wave hello crane pulleys sway overhead

aluminum thoughts plastic words fly in and out
say goodbye dreams fragment gates open
between sleep and waking I wheel out and in
outside a feral cat cries

elsewhere a flag shreds the far groaning
screams in a wind of fire I see it a flag of
death red stripes of blood dripping on the
white ribs of civilizations the stars fiery
sparks from bombs bursting in the blue black
night of lands destroyed in this wind of war

but here now in Eastcoot Creek wild salmon
still spawn between the willows
here the camp the captain time being what
not forever spilling seeds of life in silver mist.

October 10, 2001

On the anniversary of my mother¹s death
the United States is bombing Afghanistan
they are bombing Afghanistan
to rid the world of evil

To rid the world of evil
the U.S. military
is killing Afghan civilians.
food drops onto landmines.

my tears are falling
on the anniversary of
my mother¹s death.
it is Arts Day in California.

How They Strut

High mucky mucks decorate each other
with ribboned medals of valor for service
in the war of their making

women of the world
raise your voices against their wars

I see the goddess Kali dancing with them her
dance of death she wears a necklace of skulls
she holds a bloody head in her left hand a
burnt child in the other

women of the world remove your rings
that sparkle with African tears

how they strut those high mucky mucks
preserving freedom to kill for oil

women of the world join hands
in a circle of love

how they strut smiling those
greedy killers patting each other¹s backs

walk together toward a necklace of peace
women of the world

how they strut those old men with pendulous bellies
while their young civil servants sons of other fathers
fall and die in their War on Iraq

how they strut while the world cries
for the voices of women
the voices of love.

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