writing is sorrow; having had written is sublime
It used to be fun, and, quite frankly, quite therapeutic to release a rant or two around here back in the good ol’ days.
Any guesses to as when I’m referring to the “good ol’ days?”
Yeah… exactly.
BCET
Before the Catastrophic Era of Trump
But now, in these far less than good ol’ days…
One rants at one’s own risk.
Literally…
There's nothing Fixed that can't be Broken Praise Jove, for without them, the Broken And all the Hope and Possibilities for which they allow There is nothing Redeemed There is nothing made New Again Beam of Sun meet Fall of Rain Aye, mourn not the absence of the Sol Relish instead the cool quenching of the Aqua And the Unbounded Inactivity for which it now allows For it is that, the Idleness, the Nothingness of Inactivity And the Silence, the Stillness found within it That beckons forth the Dreams And the Inspiration The Dreams and Inspiration of the Marrow The Dreams and Inspiration for the Morrow
Let us none forgive
For, afore forgiveness
Must comes the blame
And from the blame
Must come the shame
So, be not more forgiving
In its stead, blame less of thee
And blameless strive to be
Then together
Forgive none shall we
I love my pets, don’t get me wrong. Anyone who’s spent even a little bit of time around here knows Zeno and Aurelius are a huge part of my life. And I love and respect animal adoption centers and those who run them and support them. But every time I see a post on Conspiracy Theory Central, aka facebook, with a cute puppy or kitten in need of a human to love them, and I see a lot of them — that’s a good thing — I can’t help but wonder how many little humans are out there in need of the same…
While technically no longer referred to as orphans, The Dave Thomas Foundation for Adoption pegs the number of children in U.S. foster care at a staggering 443,000, more than 123,000 of whom are considered to be waiting children available for adoption.
How Many Orphans in the U. S.?, ADOPTION.COM, April, 25, 2019
#prayforthelittlehumansinneed
god’s creation
procreation
fornication
population
isolation
mass migration
and starvation
revelation
supplication
congregation
holy nation
manipulation
inquisition
forced conversion
Many of the haiku and other poems in Short Verses & Other Curses were written as a therapeutic balm in response to my cancer. I don’t know why or how I survived all that nonsense but I suspect writing the poems helped at least a little.
Recent events make it seem to me that my country is suffering such a life-threatening and cancerous disease so I was naturally drawn to some of the poems I wrote for the collection. To some degree they helped again, if only as a temporary distraction from present reality.
I doubt if these poems have any healing power potent enough for all the ills sickening my nation; however, it is out of love and desperation that I shall share them with you now.
For the next day or so, please feel free to download the collection. If any of the poems move you in any way, I ask that you share your thoughts here in the comment section. If you have any other poetry that you believe will help relieve a troubled soul, I ask that you also share those with us as well.
You may download the collection by clicking on its book cover.
Peace.
Thank you to all who downloaded a copy of the book and especially to those who left me such kind, encouraging comments. They mean very much to me.
When I first began articulating this post in my head, it was framed around the question, “When will it all end?”
But after just a few seconds of contemplation around it I quickly realized that question is quite ridiculous.
Obviously, we are no where near a point in which we can even begin speculating about the end to all this madness.
And after last night’s shootings, I am quite sure we are actually at a new beginning.
A tragic new beginning with an ancient foundation of seemingly immovable hate.
Not just for the other’s race, or the other’s politics, or the other’s finances, but a hate from where all other hate stems.
A hate for ourselves.
We Americans are like the spoiled, bully rich kid who, because he’s always had everything given to him, it is impossible for him to see that everything is all there is.
He wants more and if he can’t have it he is going to whine and kick and piss in his pants and make it a living hell for anyone and everyone around him.
We Americans have it all.
But it’s not enough.
Guns in our society are a problem. But they are not the problem.
We are the problem.
And we know it.
And we hate ourselves for it.
#lookwithin
#stopthehate
#startthelove
#blacklivesmatter
PARIS
by elizabeth stokkebye
Seventeen and in Paris on my own.
It was my first encounter with the city of love and I was fortunate to stay with an aunt and uncle, who both being workaholics, left me with oceans of time to explore. I hurried out the door to experience the vast world of Paris with its majestic architecture, its towering cathedrals, its world-renowned art collections, its peaceful parks, and its crowds of people.
The air was spring like, mild and sunny, although I was spending my Christmas holiday away from my home in Denmark. Traveling by myself in a foreign world filled me with a sensation of pure freedom. I remember how my breathing felt different: effortless and silent but steady and consistent. It was breathing devoid of depression and anxiety. I breathed without past or future and let the air be present.
Walking along grand boulevards beneath a blue sky sporting white clouds I felt my loving heart circulate blood through my veins.
On my way past one of the many cafés lining the wide sidewalk, my sway caught the attention of a street performer playing his violin. As I danced by him he let go of his instrument and started to sing Ne me quitte pas. I stopped, turned around, and listened to his chanson. Was he performing especially for me?
My youthful disposition was romantic and I was attracted to him. At the same time, I could hear my mother’s voice: “I’m so proud to have brought up a good girl!” I didn’t move. When he was done with the song, he waved me over. I blushed but followed his hand. He grabbed mine and kissed it. I felt the touch of his soft lips. My skin everywhere reacted by turning prickly and my breathing intensified.
“Ma Cherie,” he whispered.
All of a sudden my body felt heavy and I pulled away. Caught between wanting to leave and wanting to stay, I sat down on a bistro chair.
“Please, I need a minute,” I uttered.
“Bien sûr!” he smiled.
He put his violin to his neck once again and with closed eyes, he played the sweetest melody riding through the air and penetrating the toughest disposition.
Paralyzed, I tried to think. Should I leave or should I stay? My sense of freedom had slowly vanished which made the decision so much harder. The guy was cute, romantic and talented.
A waiter came over and I asked for a café au lait. As more people gathered around to listen to the soft music, I started to relax. He didn’t sing again which made me feel special.
Immersed in the music, I let go of time. Slowly, the morning faded, noon hour came around, and with his violin case full of money, he sang out:
“La dernière chanson!”
From his slender body came Que je t’aime and I didn’t know where to look. My gaze fell on a young woman advancing hurriedly towards us and embodying a sense of pure joy. She stepped right up to my singer and kissed him on the mouth.
HAVE YOU SEEN THIS?
Friends and new family members, that is…
While we have quite the cat already – Jack Kerouac – whom I introduced some time ago and can be found as part of Photography page’s gallery collection, I am and always have been a dog man…besides, Kero-chan will have nothing to do with me as he is wholly devoted to the lovely and loving wife, and who can blame him.
But that is fine by me. As a true dog man I can remember clearly all my dog buddies who were there for me all throughout my life. My first dog as a child was an old hound dog named Mickey. I remember with fondness how his tail would always slap at me whenever he was happy. And while all my dogs were great friends to me, my bestest of best friend of all was our last dog Shikibu, a tiny little snowball of Maltese magic.
We knew we wanted a rescue puppy (it had to be a healthy puppy as I have enough issues of my own for my lovely and loving wife to attend to) and we knew we were going to be patient in the process. I did not realize, though, just how patient we’d have to be. I did most of my puppy searching through www.petfinder.com – it’s a very helpful place as it allows targeted search options. Still, I had no idea there are so many dogs in need out there. It took a lot of time. Always getting close, but never getting the cigar, so to speak. We’d find a pup we all could agree only to find that it was either too far away or that someone had just adopted it or any other multitudinous hurdles of a reason. It started to become tedious so we decided that we were going to wait until springtime to continue the search. That way we wouldn’t have to potty train a puppy in the snow. But a couple of days ago I just fired up the link on a whim and right away I came upon “Stella’s Boys” and that was pretty much all she wrote. We found exactly the pup we were looking for…the mostest cutest Plott Hound mix puppies you’ve ever seen
I wanted another hound dog, in honor of Mickey. One son wanted a Retriever for their loyalty and playfulness. And the other son wanted a brindle coated dog because of their unique look and cool name: brindle ~ Brindley …get it? And the wife did not want a horse-sized dog. All these desires came together courtesy of the awesome folks at the Delaware Puppy and Pet Rescue, Inc. Remembering the other pups we lost out on because of delay, I quickly filled out the online Adoption Contract and waited hopefully for the call back, which came on Saturday in the form of an email from Dianne, a hero and angel of a foster mom to the puppies, and many others, saying that we had passed the background check – a call to the references I provided and our local Vet – and invited us to her home to meet with the boys.
Yesterday we made the beautiful two-hour drive to Landenberg, Pennsylvania. If we hadn’t been on such a mission, the wife and I could have easily spent the entire day taking pictures, as the countryside drive was so pleasantly pastoral. But we were on a mission and as soon as we got to Dianne’s home and I saw all the cute puppies, I knew we were coming home with more than one.
And we did. And now I once again have my much needed and appreciated canine companion…thankfully so.
While I can pretty much guarantee you won’t be seeing many more, if any more, pictures of Kero-chan here, I cannot make that same guarantee about the newest members to our family. And while she will always be my bestest of friend and I will forever miss her, I’m pretty sure Shikibu, up in doggy heaven with Mickey, Kipper, Colonel Kish, Juno, and Sebastian, is perfectly okay with that.
Now whether Kero-chan is okay with the invasion…well, that’s a different story.
Let’s pretend
That the world is new
And all decisions to make
Are up to you.
You can make your world
How you want it to be.
Where will you begin?
I can’t wait to see.
The world is yours. What will you do?
Let’s pretend
That math is zoo.
And monkey = 1
And tiger = 2.
Giraffe = 3
And llama = 4.
Subtract lion from bear
And you’ll get zebras galore.
What’s your answer for leopard + π
Let’s pretend
That ground is sky,
And we no longer walk–
All we do is fly.
Better keep your head down–
Looking up might hurt.
Cuz when it rains
It’s raining dirt.
If ground is sky, then what is Neptune?
Let’s pretend
That the man on the moon,
Was not a guy named Neil
But a gal named Soon.
She went to the moon
To prove her brothers wrong:
They said the moon is just for men
And that women don’t belong!
If you were Soon, would you make a stand?
Let’s pretend for real
That peace is at hand,
And that the Golden Rule
Is the rule throughout the land.
If we all pretend
Then the angels might sing.
If the whole world pretends
Is it still pretending?
From Poem Man