Tag Archive: poetry


Pneumatological Enigmas

Pneumatological Enigmas (click to hear the poem read)

Spirit-Sophia thunders into me
shatters my specious separations
fallacious wavering hesitancies
with surrender secures
never violating
breaking my heart wide open
amor procedens vivifying

renewing empowering grace
initiates novelty
breath of life
multitudinous interchangeable
kymographic nodes
puzzle internal sacerdotal scarabs
in a chary zenith
viewed from subsuming positions
into gestalt being

self-referential prosody
breeds halophytic
warranting dirges
of the laciniate self
behold the vast mysteries
elegiac verandas groan
elliptical protasis tumbles
tensive veracity guarding
explicitly bellicose religions
floating away in the saline

self forming requiem masses
grim obscurantist phrases
offer vivace caresses
baronial cobalt gems
defame the evolute kerfs
terminating in elegant periods inglorious
obligatorily wedged sideways

she is unknowable unseen
I am unknowable unseen

philia of artist poet composer mother
imago dei spiritus creator
beneficent power indwelling
breathing blowing wind of being continues
under pneumatological ramifications
trailing labile nilpotent agnosticism
willful xenophobic fatigue
curvatures inundated by magniloquent manners
choirs crying glorias unending

Longing unshackled
from romantic notions
desire released from ambition
exigent memories of Grace and Muse
awakening experience
sweet liberation cherishing the immersion
into lost moments of eternity

Spirit-Sophia whispers
follows my impatient steps
desire of intimacy encompassing presence
immensity reaping meritocratic enigmas
overflowing sensate resistances
in a deep awareness of otherness

Note: Spirit-Sophia is the name given to the Holy Spirit in Elizabeth A. Johnson’s awe inspiring book SHE WHO IS: The Mystery of God in Feminist Theological Discourse © 1992.

Fetched Oft By Chance

Kali whispering fates swirls her tongue forming
loci for impending chaos disintegrating
she saves one child chosen as witness
to her wrenching nod poised rendering
swift judgment upon all soft creatures

she clacks geographic prophetic scripts logorrheic
fingers curled with dramatic glee
multitudes of vertiginous yawning palaces
of iron Underwood typewriters
spinning tales of harrowing crises
decrying stories permeable
some querulous left tumbling
victims fetched oft by chance

earth born bounty’s sons and daughters float along oblivious
pupation’s hopeful peels light laughter and curiosity
aubergine eyes, twirls of glorious eiderdown,
espouse rambling besotted naïve ideals
floral tempests accelerating

peering at horizons of impoverishing windmills
monstrous blades gouge perilous trenches
wind creates shimmering uplifts where children hover fixated
argon burns bright in neon telemetries of serial reflections
mudslides contentiously obliterate, shift our paradigmatic visions
hunger’s hard tacked swirling blunders rent innocents sideways
through thundering organs mangling broken starved bodies

derision forgone relegates foreshadowing in helical caverns
reams of toroidal cross capacitors quantifying dielectric constants
scanning for insulators: none found

Kali licks her lips again croaking
vita incerta, mors certissima

Posted at dVerse for Open Link Night http://dversepoets.com/
Sesquipedalianism and Logophilia Engage in Logomachy click to listen to the author read this monster
Sesquipedalianism and Logophilia Engage in Logomachy click here for the PDF which has original Word footnote formatting

Sesquipedalianism (1) and Logophilia (2) Engage in Logomachy (3)

(The definitive annotated version (forgive the parantheses but even HTML couldn’t copy the format of MS Word’s annotation) which is dedicated to Arron Shilling who laughed when I sent it to him)

ATTENTION: The part of Logophilia, written as an avatar for Arron will be played tonight by Anna (on the recording) because, well, she looks better in a dress (wait, didn’t you say on the recording?) – also, she will have to play the part of Sesquipedalianism since she couldn’t find a pompous ass to pull it off – however, stay tuned kiddies because at some point in the future Arron and Anna will role out a poetic/philosophical dialectic (4) complete with Thesis, Antithesis, and dueling Syntheses (5) which we both promise to keep short). Now without further interruption the poem begins:

Sesquipedalianism, a mathematician in his prime (6),
frets on his way to the 1.0 X 10-6 society (7) for
the infinitesimally small number of people
with über IQs, born without a sense of irony (8)

Once there he converses with the child prodigy
pontificating on the demerits of ochlocracy (9) and Fourier (10)
f(x)=a_0+∑_(n=1)^∞▒(a_n cos⁡〖nπx/L〗+b_n sin⁡〖nπx/L〗 ) (11)
Eigen solutions (12), elementary really

Then she walks in the side door
Logophilia (13), dressed to the nines
snickering in a daring act of trespass
cutting through to the alley leading
to Eudaimonia (14), the philosopher’s club next door
notorious for attracting Sappho (15) wannabees

she pauses to overhear the conversation
Sesquipedalianism is sententiously (16) spouting in the hall
“Poesy (17) as noted by literati (18) is in the antechamber (19) of expiry (20)
all the better for us” he concludes with an air of superciliousness (21)
“Poetry isn’t dead! Why just yesterday I said:
In noumenon dominion shakes
Roquentin’s nauseated theme park,
the fugitive melody – Seeping
the external drift (22)”
and so the verbal barrage continues, each
point and counterpoint escalating their logomachy (23)

as the altercation reaches a fevered pitch
Logophilia howls the club needs a higher ceiling (24)
at which point it would later be generally remarked
she took it to the mattresses (25)

Now no self-respecting pedant (26) could bear the dishonor
especially within the hallowed halls of his own club
“‘Le coup de Jarnac’ (27) won’t save you now missy
Choose your second! I choose Evariste Galois (28)”

This ain’t no ‘petticoat duel’ (29)
I don’t need a second; I was trained by Carlos Hathcock (30)
our words will manifest our weapons
upon the field of honor

Sesquipedalianism confident agrees
he shows up early to practice shots
his abstruse words conjure up
an English Flintlock Blunderbuss (31)
flared at the end, a gilded dragon thunder pipe
powder box and all
that misfires and kills his second

on the next practice shot he focuses
remembering he hung the ‘ten of diamonds’ (32)
surely he can kill a girl
and hits a bystander square in the jaw
Harry Wittington (33) winces
reloading he never makes
that third practice shot

Logophilia miles away
incants her power phrase
conjuring a .5MOA (34) 50 caliber
5000 meter range
Precision Sniper Rifle
calculates the range, wind direction,
wind velocity, air density, and elevation
with a single shot
pierces Sesquipedalianism’s brain stem

She says now kiddies remember:
‘Talent hits a target no one else can hit;
Genius hits a target no one else can see’ (35)

Or I could have avoided this confounding,
annotated, curious, satirical and long winded tale
and simply said:
Logophilia shoots Sesquipedalianism dead!
or alternately poetry beats pedantry
(or even simpler as Brian @dVerse
already knows, ‘love wins!’;)

(but where’s the fun in that?)

1 Sesquipedalian language uses long and obscure words when shorter, everyday words would be more effective. From Instant Word Power by Norman Lewis ©1981
2 Logophile: A lover of words. Shorter Oxford English Dictionary Sixth Edition ©2007 Logophilia: Goddess of the love of words, i.e. a damn fine lover
3 Logomachy: contention over words
4 Dialectic: originally Socratic philosophical discourse or style of inquiry based on critical examination
5 Developed by Hegel as dynamic process based on Socratic dialectic Word Menu ©1992
6 ‘prime’ a mathematical joke and play on words, ding!
7 1.0 X 10-6 = 99.9999th percentile IQ society called the Mega Society, they look down on the Promethean Society and way down on Mensa
8 Oxymoron alert: these are people who are too dumb to question the validity of or ponder the original purpose of IQ tests and the pseudoscience it lent credibility to, namely eugenics, high IQ but not gifted, narrow-minded smart people
9 Ochlocracy is mob rule!
10 Jean Baptiste Joseph Fourier: French mathematician (1768-1830)
11 Fourier Series – a formula Microsoft Word can insert in the text but which WordPress has mangled beyond recognition 😦
12 Small mammalian frogs (really?) no but do you know what it is, I mean really know? Wiki says any of the results of the calculation of eigenvalues
13 See footnote #2.
14 Eudaimonia: concept in virtue ethics that translates to happiness or flourishing but contingent on ethical imperatives. The concept of eudaimonia, a key term in ancient Greek moral philosophy, is central to any modern neo-Aristotelian virtue ethics and usually employed even by virtue ethicists who deliberately divorce themselves from Aristotle. It is standardly translated as “happiness” or “flourishing” and occasionally as “well-being.”
Each translation has its disadvantages. The trouble with “flourishing” is that animals and even plants can flourish but eudaimonia is possibly only for rational beings. The trouble with “happiness”, on any contemporary understanding of it uninfluenced by classically trained writers, is that it connotes something which is subjectively determined. It is for me, not for you, to pronounce on whether I am happy, or on whether my life, as a whole, has been a happy one, for, barring, perhaps, advanced cases of self-deception and the suppression of unconscious misery, if I think I am happy then I am — it is not something I can be wrong about. Contrast my being healthy or flourishing. Here we have no difficulty in recognizing that I might think I was healthy, either physically or psychologically, or think that I was flourishing and just be plain wrong. In this respect, “flourishing” is a better translation than “happiness”. It is all too easy for me to be mistaken about whether or not my life is eudaimon (the adjective from eudaimonia) not simply because it is easy to deceive oneself, but because it is easy to have a mistaken conception of eudaimonia, or of what it is to live well as a human being, believing it to consist largely in physical pleasure or luxury for example.
The claim that this is, straightforwardly, a mistaken conception, reveals the point that eudaimonia is, avowedly, a moralized, or “value-laden” concept of happiness, something like “true” or “real” happiness or “the sort of happiness worth seeking or having.” It is thereby the sort of concept about which there can be substantial disagreement between people with different views about human life that cannot be resolved by appeal to some external standard on which, despite their different views, the parties to the disagreement concur.
All standard versions of virtue ethics agree that living a life in accordance with virtue is necessary for eudaimonia. This supreme good is not conceived of as an independently defined state or life (made up of, say, a list of non-moral goods that does not include virtuous activity) which possession and exercise of the virtues might be thought to promote. It is, within virtue ethics, already conceived of as something of which virtue is at least partially constitutive. Thereby virtue ethicists claim that a human life devoted to physical pleasure or the acquisition of wealth is not eudaimon, but a wasted life, and also accept that they cannot produce a knock down argument for this claim proceeding from premises that the happy hedonist would acknowledge.
But although all standard versions of virtue ethics insist on that conceptual link between virtue and eudaimonia, further links are matters of dispute and generate different versions. For Aristotle, virtue is necessary but not sufficient —what is also needed are external goods which are a matter of luck. For Plato, and the Stoics, it is both (Annas 1993), and modern versions of virtue ethics disagree further about the link between eudaimonia and what gives a character trait the status of being a virtue. Given the shared virtue ethical premise that “the good life is the virtuous life” we have so far three distinguishable views about what makes a character trait a virtue.
According to eudaimonism, the good life is the eudaimon life, and the virtues are what enable a human being to be eudaimon because the virtues just are those character traits that benefit their possessor in that way, barring bad luck. So there is a link between eudaimonia and what confers virtue status on a character trait. But according to pluralism, there is no such tight link. The good life is the morally meritorious life, the morally meritorious life is one that is responsive to the demands of the world (on a suitably moralized understanding of “the demands of the world” and is thereby the virtuous life because the virtues just are those character traits in virtue of which their possessor is thus responsive (Swanton 2003). And according to perfectionism or “naturalism”, the good life is the life characteristically lived by someone who is good qua human being, and the virtues enable their possessor to live such a life because the virtues just are those character traits that make their possessor good qua human being (an excellent specimen of her kind). Stanford Online Dictionary of Philosophy If you actually read this footnote it is quite possible you are living a eudaimon life or maybe have too much free time. This is the reward you’ve gained (sorry no extra credit). If you didn’t read this entire footnote then you won’t know we’re calling you names like Fred, lazy, or solipsist behind your back.
15 Sappho ( /ˈsæfoʊ/; Attic Greek Σαπφώ [sapːʰɔː], Aeolic Greek Ψάπφω [psapːʰɔː]) was an Ancient Greek poet, born on the island of Lesbos. Later Greeks included her in the list of nine lyric poets. Her birth was sometime between 630 and 612 BC, and it is said that she died around 570 BC, but little is known for certain about her life. The bulk of her poetry, which was well-known and greatly admired throughout antiquity, has been lost, but her immense reputation has endured through surviving fragments. Or so says Wikipedia. @expoetics joshuA says: On Sappho […] born of eros[ion…] resin and ruin […] who is what Time did to her […] the fragment suggests […] ineffable who[le…] ©2011 vandalized today
16 Sententiously – delivered in a pompous or moralizing manner – like this poem
17 Poesy: poetry darlings
18 Literati: fancy people, not you or me, who read the right books and discuss them, they hang with the intelligentsia, also now a variant of Scrabble™
19 Antechamber: vestibule
20 Expiry – a frilly way to say death
21 Superciliousness: feeling or displaying haughty disdain says the free dictionary (free source=questionable data?)
22 From Arron Shilling’s excellent Atomic Charade to which I commented, “I have not read Sartre’s Nausea but now I am intrigued and must do so. Antoine Roquentin is liberated, as I understand it, to engage in creating his own meaning in the world. A real existential crisis is apparent in this work. These lines feel seared into your being (sorry if the narrator is not you but a fictitious ‘I’ for effect) perhaps the Atomic Charade of the title. The cognitive dissonance is at a frenetic pace here: if the resurrection is fallacy, is entropy the only legacy of life? Where is integrity at the atomic level, ethical action birthed, when all you’re left with is emetic phenomenological concerns? Is Kant’s neumenal world real just completely unknowable or are we left with no beyond the knowable? You’ve certainly sparked the desire to reread and read new philosophical arguments. Your poem is finely wrought, heartbreaking, and it seeps all the way to the quarks.” You see how I am qualified to write the part of Sesquipedalianism ;).
23 Summation because this poem is long enough as it is without adding pages of dialogue, you’ll be happier I didn’t in the end
24 IQ tests have ceilings, the higher the ceiling the greater its ability to discern the upper echelons of intelligence. Presumably the society club they fight in would have the highest ceiling (ha! though maybe you don’t enjoy jokes that have to be explained)
25 “Take it to the mattresses” Godfather © 1972 During mafia wars it isn’t safe to sleep at home.
26 I’m getting tired of these notes! You’re getting tired think of the poor reader. Pedant: noun 1. a person who makes an excessive or inappropriate display of learning. 2. a person who overemphasizes rules or minor details. 3. a person who adheres rigidly to book knowledge without regard to common sense. 4. Obsolete . a schoolmaster. Sayeth dictionary.com
27 ‘Le coup de Jarnac’ a legend arising from a French duel that lead people to believe there was a move an amateur swordsman could pull on a master to win.
28 Evariste Galois a mathematician who, at 20, died in a duel under suspicious circumstances!
29 The Petticoat Duel was fought 1792: Lady Almeria Braddock versus Mrs. Elphinstone – don’t believe me then look it up – them bitches took it to the mat!
30 Carlos Hathcock trained snipers at the Marine Corps Scout Sniper School in Quantico after distinguished service in Vietnam.
31 England 18th Century; a blunderbuss is a muzzle-loading firearm with a flared, trumpet-like barrel and is the predecessor to the shotgun; known for its inaccuracy.
32 ‘ten of diamonds’ is the nickname given to the VP of Iraq Taha Yassin Ramadan who was hanged for his crimes. In 2002 he suggested that President George W. Bush and Saddam Hussein resolve their differences though a duel
33 Harry Wittington was shot in the face by Vice President Dick Cheney in 2006 (no, I am not making this up)
34 MOA = minute of angle
35 Arthur Schopenhauer (Who? Oh, go read a book.)

Sophia Celeste

Please note: This poem is not about abortion or adoption but the decision not to have children for ethical reasons.

Click here to listen to Sophia Celeste read

Awakening
Oil on Pigment Print 2004
Anna Montgomery


A supreme act of love,
to spare her this world
not creating her
immersing her
in the vessel of embodiment
to set foot to damp earth
breathe electric air

Traversing from emergence
to denouement of swan’s song

A kindness, a blessed mercy
leaving my Sophia Celeste,
heavenly wisdom,
a disembodied cherub

My darling girl
I couldn’t expose you
all the destruction
abuses, famines and disasters
both personal and impersonal

Unleash you consuming
onto a ravaged world
clamoring among billions
to delineate your lot
suckling a weary breast
I knew the sacrifice
willingly paid to ethics

So often I miss you
yearning for the demulcent
tuft of your hair
gentle slope of your nose
cradled in the curve of my neck

It is a physical wrenching
a phantom birthing pain
this separation from you, my beloved

My baby love, sweet angel
whose effervescent wisp
the merest hint of whom
invokes requiem verses
laments of agony resounding
in a refrain of abandonment

I left you in the gilded cage of imagination
never to awaken

Hobbling Abstract Elaborators (click to hear it read)

pernicious megalomaniacs devise exquisite sadistic acts
eliciting agony in bastions of dwindling alchemical fathoms
calculating the depths of moral depravity

while syncretic estimable scholars follow acculturating phantoms
inspiring concurrent bemoaning pendulous festers
plodding behind a famished gargantuan aureate ouroboros

examination reveals microscopic mercury lined alabaster
hobbling abstract elaborators while sanity runs
from blistering half jealous pasquinades
requiring unilateral crisp redaction on papyrus
buried under protracted undercurrents of revolutions

underclasses vociferously stalk calcifying ineffectual leaders
spiraling deep hostility toward jangling hues of
striking athodyd pariahs grasping

patchwork visages of astute tricksters
grand mummified calliopes pound insights surpassing
ever widening abysses hewn raw, mouths agape

elocution marred by coral tinged lecherous frolics
words winnow and parse jagged ideologies
with accusations recriminations thundering down upon happenstance
like the lilting verisimilitude of Dogma 95 films
defiles ideal images of humanity

Factory refiners turn their attention
acid testing the gold
How pure; how valuable?
Most malleable and ductile of the metals
a procession of children moves along
to be processed by workers that search
for the few; the gifted and talented
prices go up with scarcity

Ill defined – a broad spectrum
99th percentile of IQ,
require tests with higher ceilings
crafting the bell curve,
a golden ratio

Mix potential with achievement
now the battery of tests changes
these will act like keys
to the socio-economic hierarchy
society as quality control beating down
the girls and minorities
so they won’t make it through,
the golden rule

The students are molded into bars
‘Gold Standard’ and branded with a seal
complete with certificates,
inert, reliable, exchangeable, interchangeable, and secure
the brightest from the system are displayed
baubles for the world to ogle and exploit

If the children are bored
teach them inquartation and parting
so they may become refiners and certifiers
if they are emotionally unequipped
take them to the markets
so they may be deified and learn how being
valuable and useful is more important than love
if they are damaged simply polish them up
if they are contaminated remove them from the floor
along with all the other pyrite

Teach them to internalize
a version of the fascist state
an over active ego driven by reason,
the golden mean

Prevent self-actualization, the embrace of specificity
keep away liberation, multiplicity, or human expression
(the factory demands quality controlled assurances)

Indoctrination is a process of reducing raw ore
to its purer, more precious form

 

‘O Holy Wisdom, Soaring Power, encompass us with wings unfurled, and carry us, encircling all, above, below, and through the world,’ giving voice to ecstatic melismas of avidity eternal.

Calligraphic signifiers rouse masterful enumerators while language seduces inscribed astral bodies listening with striving attention eons churning the refrain avidity eternal.

Pneuma is piqued by enraptured subtleties caressing phosphorus membranes
upon gentle ascetics performing ignoble traversals over Gaussian eliminations of avidity eternal.

Stumbling fearful lacrimose tender utterances filled with fatuous genuflections
upending ornate tables in art’s gilded sanctuaries finding and seeking anew your avidity eternal.

Bold succulent hedonists nuzzle watchful questioning contrarians into a tremulous daring surrender
lapping nectar buoyed by shocking desire penultimate game of avidity eternal.

Jousting firm convictions encircling kyriarchy infatuated with a once pellucid order
nesting in suffocating ruts blown apart in the mysterium tremendum casts avidity eternal.

Whispering bouquets of adoration and certitude unending: concede, merge, meld
suck wonder and lyrical promises floating in ephemeral delirium swirling avidity eternal.

Beacon of unadorned fidelity no soul cage yet an ever patient dove over shore less seas
encountering spirit rapt longing in glowing sensual unraveling hosAnnas avidity eternal.

Note:

‘O Holy Wisdom, Soaring Power, encompass us with wings unfurled, and carry us, encircling all, above, below, and through the world,’ Hildegard von Bingen —O Holy Spirit, Root of Life

Mutable Barrier

She felt intimate remembrances sleeping, murmurs

I wind the licorice rope
tightly around the candied button
at the entrance to the sugar castle

I must bind taut the defenses

Babel Tower dystopia
Baba Yaga’s home
insidious seeping dread

fleeting sense of the stillness of hidden spaces

A child, dead,
tethered to a post
startles from the courtyard
I fear his ghost
push him down the well

He must not be seen

exploring the home, foreign but intimately known

reuniting with the other boy
reviving pliant keys
they open my eyes
to the greater danger

the lurking wraith
eager to devour
to destroy the girl beside me

She must be secured from within

searching for those abandoned spaces, promises of protection and gnosis

warning’s radioactive signal
bluebeard burning in my head

her secret place, her secret self

the boys twirl their knives
act threatening
small curved blades

the heroic brothers
come to save their sister
from truth?

flooding her awareness, revelation of fear

They must forget their place

retrograde amnesia fails to save me
I remember why I don’ t want to know

the wraith, diaphanous

I must refrain from seeing

paradox to remember what I forgot
denying what was there
in the purlieu of the psyche
distorting memories loom
delicate and pernicious confections

the reason for all this cryptic architecture

spirit unfurling truths unleashing
here before me with his knife stabbing

I will drown in the well

mouthing outcry no sound forms
voice stolen by the echo

she’s gone on ahead without me

Casting Hollow Precipices

He nevertheless produced backdated “self-forgeries” both to profit from his earlier success, and as an act of revenge—retribution for the critical preference for his early work.

This is a post for the dVerse prompt on artist Giorgio de Chirico.

Casting Hollow Precipices (click to read the poem read)

Querulous forming bodies gesticulating
specious melancholy turns flickering ivy wilting bowers
casting hollow precipices of venial autophagy

jumping lascivious shelters along tantalizing downspouts
while frivolity and hope cavort
illuminated by broken serrated wine gardens

licking poisonous frills up vestments
of nouns arborous consuming limitless
Prussian blue snuffers frothing magnanimity

sliding deconstructed zoological gathers
while populating quips radiating aspect ratios
lined parallax of jinxes or bemoaning victorious

tumbled traits unconscious on smothered nauseous florid grandiosity
bailing sensitive assurances with galloping crowns gilded
hampering flotillas of bawdy helium didactic formal art perched

dying in vitriolic plumes of xeric tomes unending

Bas Jan Ader ‘I’m too sad to tell you’

Brutality Between the Lines (<—click to hear the poem read)

“I don’t really like human nature unless…”

requiem for the unsung
Phillip Glass scores
obsessive tracks
drama at river Ouse
mourning, death grimace
cataleptic rigidity
art forms suicide note

Bas Jan Aders
missives of pain
I’m too sad to tell you
broadcast without expatiation
Rothko’s emanating spirituality silences

she fills her overcoat pockets with stones
sexual abuse knocks mental illness
click and add the weight
there are more
you won’t drown with less
art as consoler
doesn’t transform the pain
allures with vows of immortality

Pol Pot slaughtered millions
driving toward the tabula rasa
an entire society stripped
cinematic epic can’t revive
or ferry spirits home
from killing fields
burnishing aesthetic pall

this poem is a postcard
sugared and heating on the stove
thermometer ready
poisonous confection
Helen Chadwick’s golden locks
entwined with sow’s intestine

“You see, I can’t even write this properly.”

Ars memorativa; parlor tricks
trauma plays on the mind
positive bias memory distortion
works its illusions on all:
holocaust survivor
recovering addict
aspiring artist

schema of selective processing
regulates the current state
cooing emotional well-being
smoothes the heinous crimes

stories we tell evolve
voyeuristic titillations for consuming masses
molding the world into utopias of art
ignorant of the price

products worth infinitely more
than the life that birthed them
aftershock of naïveté

Adeline Virginia Stephen had a name before she was
“…all candied over with art.”

Notes: “I don’t really like human nature unless all candied over with art.” Virginia Woolf. “You see, I can’t even write this properly.” is from her suicide note. She drowned in the Ouse River. Bas Jan Aders was lost at sea while performing “In Search of the Miraculous”. His body was never found. Mark Rothko overdosed on antidepressants and slit his wrists. His estate was contested in a 10 year court battle know as the Rothko Case. Helen Chadwick died from a viral infection contracted at the hospital while shooting ‘Unnatural Selection’, a series on IVF embryos rejected for implantation. Killing Fields won 3 Oscars (nominated for 7), 8 BAFTAs (nominated for 13) and grossed $34,609,720 US. Haing Somnang Ngor, who won both the Oscar and BAFTA for his performance, survived the Khmer Rouge only to be murdered in Los Angeles. After the release of The Killing Fields, Ngor had told a New York Times reporter, “If I die from now on, OK! This film will go on for a hundred years.”