Where the wheels of poetry and prose spin ...

Tuesday, December 1, 2020

From Start to Finish (a pantoum) - POEM of the MONTH!

From Start to Finish [a pantoum]
 
From start to finish
Running for what?
Deeds to accomplish
Within time finite?
 
Running for what
Could be one day,
Within time finite?
Before doomsday?
 
Could be, one day
All is destroyed
Before doomsday,
A reality we avoid.
 
All is destroyed,
The mind is lax,
A reality we avoid,
It’s a parallax.
 
The mind is lax,
Deeds to accomplish,
It’s a parallax
From start to finish.
 
 
“Meaningless! Meaningless!” say the Teacher. “Utterly meaningless! Everything is meaningless.” What do people gain from all their labors at which they toil under the sun? Generations come and generation go, …”
-       Ecclesiastes 1:1-4a
 
Remember your Creator in the days of your youth, before the days of trouble come and the years approach when you will say “I find no pleasure in them—” … Now all has been heard; here is the conclusion of the matter: Fear GOD and keep his commandments, for this is the duty of all mankind. For GOD will bring every deed into judgment, including every hidden thing, whether it is good or evil.
-       Ecclesiastes 12:1 and 13-14

My dear children, I write this to you so that you will not sin. But if anybody does sin, we have an advocate with the Father [Creator] – Jesus Christ, the Righteous One. He is the atoning sacrifice for our sins, and not only for ours but also for the sins of the whole world.
-       I John 2:1-2
 
If we claim to be without sin, we deceive ourselves and the truth is not in us. If we confess our sins, he (Creator] is faithful and just and will forgive us our sins and purify us from all unrighteousness.
-       I John 1:8-9

Sunday, November 1, 2020

Telling Time - POEM of the MONTH!

Telling Time

I overheard a fragmented sentence
Which included the phrase "telling time" --
But I did not think of hands on a clock;
Instead, I pictured a character
Gregory Peck might have played,
Slowly dissecting a line, a thought,
In front of a small crowd:

And what would you say to Time?
Would you tell it to slow down, or speed up?
Would you ignore it? Like a passing whim,
Like a phase of your life long forgotten,
Or -- or would command it?
Order it about like a soldier,
Never allowed to question you.
Well my friends, to have such power
Over a constant of this planet
Would mean you are God.
But you are no God!
We are not! And we cannot tell time;
For we did not make time --
And neither did it make you.
I say, it is a gift! A gift --
That these hands, could give back.

~

"... whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me."
-- Matthew 25:40b

(If using a phone to read this poem, turn your phone sideways for the best view of this post.)

Monday, September 14, 2020

Dancing on the Pedals - (Tour de France Special Edition)

Dancing on the Pedals 

Welcoming arms of pine 
The fields of smiling suns 
And the rise of road to sky 
Flowers my imagination 

Spinning carbon or steel 
The climb rises in tremolo 
With the beat of my heart 
And the Divine aficionado 

Out of the saddle I stand 
On a long day suffered 
The line between pedal 
And of shoe is blurred 

Tapping out a lively rhythm 
The pace of quickened tempo 
(Or the tempo sets the pace) 
On a summit crescendo
 
I hear the roaring thunder 
Of a monumental score 
Dancing on the pedals 
This road is my dance floor


Tuesday, September 1, 2020

Reverse Polarity - a short story

 Reverse Polarity

“Scientists first observed the phenomena in the early 21st Century – the polarity of the earth was shifting. A repeating occurrence every 10,000 years. At first it was gradual. The populous was not adversely affected – until. After World War IV and nearly one billion deaths, one-tenth of the population, the earth transformed overnight as if the planet needed repentance. The South Pole and the North Pole changed positions. Reverse Polarity,” the autonomous holographic professor paused to wait for questions. None. 

“Creatures such as eels, fish, insects, and birds among other migratory species were adversely affected. Later, studies proved the abrupt magnetic change caused the alpha brainwaves in many species such a dramatic alteration they all died. It was unknown at the time if humans were tapped into the Earth’s magnetic field as the aforementioned species, but they were equally affected.

Later this event was known as 'Dar la Vuelta’ or the ‘Blip’ or ‘Balik’ – meaning the “Flip”. However it was referenced, no amount of bombs could come close to the devastation. Only one billion survived. The Equatorial nations and surrounding regions were not affected.

“Many shouted it was a message. It was mankind’s turn to repent.

“After several brief months of chaos and a communications blackout the South America nations united, led by Ecuador; as did the African nations led the Congo; followed by the southern Asian islands led by Indonesia. Three new world powers. Once established, the military forces from Ecuador and Columbia along with Brazil – known as the Republica de Amerigo – migrated north to the old United States. Purpose, to control the infrastructure and obtain superior weapons. But this was a waste of time. The Dar la Vuelta had disrupted all pre-existing electrical devices north of five degrees latitude – the same was soon discovered south of five degrees latitude. They returned to their respective nations. But later on, they returned with their own equipment and weapons in order to take advantage and protect of her resources. United under the same banner, it was decided not to disclose this discovery to the other world powers. The intention – allow them to waste time and resources. Once the same was discovered by the United Indo-Islands when similar attempts were made in old Russia and North Korea and the Chinese Communist Regime, the Congo-Kenyan Empire’s spies relayed this intelligence to their superiors – they retreated from their attempts to control the old Iranian nuclear stockpile. Instead, Europe was their new resource target. And like their Amerigo counterparts, they figured out to occupy and utilize land to their north and south by spreading their own technologies across their newly acquired respective regions.

“Despite the distrust, there were no wars. No territory disputes. There was plenty of resources. Even the old cartels, the old militia and the old Triad realized the new abundance and a peace was agreed. But this was viewed as a temporary pacifier to a yet another new era. An era of over-population like not previous experienced prior to the Dar la Vuelta.

“¿Any questions, comments?” The professor asked his surprisingly attentive class – aside from one.

“¿Por que’?”

“¿Why what? Senorita.”

“¿If we won, why do we need to learn all this mierda?”

The holomatrix of the professor fluttered. “That is a question for anyone who intends to repeat history.”

“¡That’s not an answer!”

“On the contrary. It is. ¿Shall I continue?” The class removed their eyes from the solo disturbance and redirected their attention toward the professor. “Once the three super-powers began to repopulate the planet, the disputes began. Trade disputes. Resource and territory disputes. War. Population decrease. Population increase. War. ¿Would mankind ever turn from this vicious cycle? From one age to the next it seemed this destructive pattern was predestined.”

“That would require an Intelligent Designer.” One student stated as he stood, and politely returned to his seat.

“You are correct Senor.” The professor scanned the classroom. “¿But – is it possible to be predestined to change?” No one answered. “Back to the history lesson. ¿And where are now? Victors in the last war. ¿But at what cost? Two billion. 10% of the population,” a raised hand caught his eye. “Yes Senorita.”

“We were defending ourselves.”

“Yes. That is how history will be recorded,” silence. “¿And how will history record our current events?”

The professor initiated the two-dimensional holo-screen which emitted from the ceiling. News reports from around the world. “The greatest migration of anyone who can manage the cost or beg, or other unsavory means left their homes for safety. Lines of refugees. The various militaries from numerous nations are moving their respective equipment and weapons across multiple boarders by ground and air. Of course, this is causing chaos and conflict to erupt particularly since Union Ecuatorial is not prepared for this influx and has vowed to defend her borders around the globe,” a news anchor’s voice-over reported. “As the planet continues to increase its pace of reversing poles – which according to prominent scientists throughout the world, predict is any day now – the exodus from the northern and southern hemispheres toward the equator is massive and unprecedented in human history,” she continued to report.

The professor pressed mute, as was his class. “Predictions indicate approximately only one billion people will survive,” he paused. “¿In the aftermath, will the survivors respond in the same fashion as our planet?

“Will this be on the test?” A voice from the classroom blurted.

“It will be on the most important test of your existence.”

~

"For the creation was subjected to frustration, not by its own choice, but by the will of the one who subjected it, in hope that the creation itself will be liberated from its bondage to decay and brought into the freedom and glory of the children of God. We know that the whole creation has been groaning as in pains of childbirth right up to the present time.”

       Romans 8:20-22

 ~

Note: Artistic license was taken in writing this story. The reversal of the poles is theorized to take place every several hundred thousands of years. The actual reversal is theorized to take over several hundreds of years. Please see the following article for more on this topic. For the purpose of this story the reversal is every 10,000 years and occurs over night, which allows for a more dramatic affect. 

Saturday, August 1, 2020

Love and Fear (and the Confusion in Between)

Love and Fear (and the Confusion in Between)

Love and fear
And the confusion
In between the lines
Of unbelief and faith
Led down by a green mile
Of self-incarceration
With thickening walls
Trapped in the prison
Cells of our brains
Is the inability
Or unwillingness
To act prudently
Stumbling on shortsighted
Hope rotting and wilting
From social commentary
Swinging tongues of swords
In the mirk and mire
Of an endless grudge
Drawing lines
In the sandbox
Of prideful pillars
Or too quick to fall
Into passive holes
With frightened minds
Preying on fractured hearts
Led by false wisdom
Bowing to the gods
Of pseudo peace
And circular reasoning
Strangled by a noose
Of isolated imagination

In the wild dance across
The temples of blindness
Crying against the chaos
Lies an increasing
Chasm of fear
Blurred by fists filled
With a disturbing
Indifference for our neighbor

When all this time
On the opposing cliff
Above the confusion


[Also published in this month's Synchronized Chaos.]

If only perfect love could spread as quickly as a pandemic. - David A. Douglas


Monday, June 1, 2020

Toy Maker (Extended Edition) - POEM of the MONTH!


Toy Maker

Toy Maker! Oh, Toy Maker!
Why did you create me,
Create me the way you did?
For I can reason with all I see! 

I understand I am flawed
Even to the point of this pen,
My own strength fails me
Unable to reach your perfection.

At first look, it’s obvious:
I am missing my strings,
And I cannot reach the sky;
But, my mind has wings!

I have a heart made of wood
And dreams which float
From here to there, and ev’ry
Which way I turn to gloat.

I can boast of all I do,
Because I am a taker!
I may walk wherever I want,
All, without the Toy Maker.

A seemingly innocent walk;
Yet, I am aware of the source
Of the wind shifting from here
To there, all with gentle force.

It’s apparent I have a back,
Many times it’s facing you;
And I have a dynamic voice,
As if this solely gives me value.
 
Toy Maker! Oh, my Toy Maker!
Why do I have this knowledge?
Because what puzzles me most
Is, I am carved in your image!

Be still, I hear your whisper,
Listen. Listen above the curse –
I am carved in your image
Because you loved me first.


The Original "Toy Maker" written in 2010.

Saturday, May 2, 2020

Butterfly Legacy - POEM of the MONTH!


Butterfly Legacy

Consider Darwin died before adulthood
And “Origin of Species by Means of
Natural Selection, or the Preservation
Of Favoured Races in the Struggle for Life”
Is never written … in a State of chaos
Hitler is drawn to a different ideology ...

~

Butterfly Effect: (with reference to chaos theory) the phenomenon whereby a minute localized change in a complex system can have large effects elsewhere.
The same localized change can have catastrophic effects worldwide. The full title of Charles Darwin's infamous book is, "Origin of Species by Means of Natural Selection, or the Preservation of Favoured Races in the Struggle for Life". Adolf Hitler embraced the ideology of Darwin's book and the contents therein, which resulted in selective breeding and the elimination of "inferior" races.

What legacy will you leave behind?

Sunday, March 1, 2020

Streams - a short story


Streams

Ninety percent of all household dust consists of dead human skin cells. The perfect transportation device for a virus.

Suriv Anoroc stood on a flake of dust. Airborne. His view was dim and blurred. One day he floated into a stream of sunlight. When the edge of shadow met the light, he saw millions of others like him as they floated on their respective dust flakes. He was alone. The faces of the others were painted with fear. He imagined his face portrayed hope, but the light caused the same emotion as the others. He and his kind were afraid of the light. Afraid of the reflection mirrored in their faces. But, as quickly as he entered the stream, he left it. Safe from the light. From truth. But truth as he knew it was provided by the darkness. He who was. Destined by the current, he wondered if he would see the others like him again, despite the terrifying light, to know them beyond instinct. Soon shadow turned to utter darkness. 

For the first time he could remember, he landed. The surface seemed unstable and barren. The black void eliminated his ability to see, but he felt at home in the dark. What was this place? A tremor of instinct permeated his body. But it was more than a need to survive which engulfed his being. He stood on the edge of his dust flake and maneuvered down to the surface. The further he wandered, the more he wondered about his purpose.
"COVID-19 Virus" by Trinity Care Foundation 
is licensed under 
CC BY-NC-ND 2.0.

Suddenly, he felt a tremor and he quickly scurried back to his dust flake which took flight on a new current. He started to feel weak, and slowly drifted off to sleep. Dormant. And he dreamed. Dreamed of a battle. A battle in which he fought and killed. He woke up and screamed. I am not a killer. He trembled at the thought as he floated in the shadows.

Suriv could not remember the last time he ate. In fact, he could not remember his first meal. He wondered if he was born to starve. He hungered for the truth. His survival instincts became primal. Without warning, a large mass approached his position. It wasn’t long before he and his flake of dust were transported down a long tunnel. In some strange manner he passed through a nearby wall and was quickly swept away by a red stream. Immediately, he was certain of his purpose – search and destroy, and then feast. But he was reminded of his dream. The conflict boiled within him. He felt the stream begin to heat up. Without warning, he found himself surrounded by white objects much larger than he. They began to attack him. He defended himself but he was in foreign territory. As the battle ensued, his strength faltered. In a desperate move, he saw a tributary downstream and he steered himself to the right of the fork, away from danger.

He fought the urge to kill, but he felt the life drain from his senses. He looked upstream and saw others like him killing and feeding. The white army were in pursuit. He remembered the stream of light. But the red stream provided him with the necessary prey to survive. Instinct. Fear. Death. Make death or avoid it. He struggled with the morality of it all. They were at war. Again, he was faced with an approaching force as the white army closed in upon his position.

Self-preservation, or somehow cooperation. He attempted to rally the others like him – including their attackers – in order to persuade them to seek an alternative to this violence. He shouted out his resolution. Nonetheless, his comrades continued to fight. He defended himself, but to no avail. The battle lasted all night, and the white army was victorious. Just before he died, Suriv wondered if it was the white army who were the defenders, protecting their stream from his army of darkness.

His remains soon exited the red stream. Shortly thereafter he floated on a small yellow pond which soon began to swirl in a clockwise direction. And Suriv was swept away by yet another stream.


(Written March 2019)
#coronavirus

Saturday, February 1, 2020

Without a Cure - POEM of the MONTH!


Without a Cure
(Love Song)

The sun fell on my heart
When you gazed in my direction
Causing immediate symptoms
Which radiated adoration

Soon it burned into devotion
Like initials on an oak tree
Or the gold smelted into rings
Worn in passionate symmetry

Without a cure
My love is without
Without a cure
Your love is without

Decades of yearning discovery
In the warm sun or cold satellite
Even with occasional absence
Our flame still shines bright

Enjoying the nights by candlelight
And feasting on noonday pure
Thrilled the sickness of our love
Came without a cure

Without a cure
My love is without
Without a cure
Your love is without

Without a cure
Our love is without
Without a cure
Our love is – without a cure

~

"How beautiful you are, my darling! Oh, how beautiful! Your eye are doves."

"Like a lily among thorns is my darling among the young women."

Wednesday, January 1, 2020

Second Chances - POEM of the MONTH!

Second Chances

I wish second chances were like dimes.
If only forgiveness and grace could be easily found
like the dimes on the sidewalk
where I inadvertently bumped into you the other day.
I was just carrying my groceries to my car.
But instead of picking up the clearly visible currency of love, 
you lashed out with colorful metaphors and questioned my parentage.

I wish second chances were like dimes.
If only I had picked up a few
from the cup holder in my car as I approached your 
front door only to discover you stood me up. 

I wish second chances were like dimes.
If only you had a pocket full of them when I yelled at you.
You only forgot to take the trash out ...
what was I thinking when a slurry of saliva spewed
from my mouth along with the superlatives which
sent you into a spiral of sadness.
Even though I eventually asked you for a dime,
we didn't speak the rest of the day.

I wish second chances were like dimes.
If only I had taken the time to grab a handful
when you borrowed my car without asking
and crashed it into my ego.
If only I picked up the dime I saw in the hallway
after you struck me down by the slander of misinformed gossip.
If only we could see through our drunken display of insults
at the last wedding we attended a decade ago,
as we both needed to exchange this valuable currency.

If only, ...

I wish second chances were like dimes.
If only we could go to the bank and withdraw them in rolls
so we'd have plenty for those close to us; and when out 
and about interacting with the other humans.

It's quite possible I offended you at some point.  
I'm sure I took your seat,
or that choice parking spot
or I flashed a condescending grin after hearing your poem.
Or to you, I'm sure there's something you're stewing over.
Perhaps a lack of greeting
even though I did spread salutations to the rest of your table,
or maybe I cut in front of you in line,
or maybe I have yet to pay you back.

Hey! I'm just like you.
Full of holes in my pockets and sometimes lacking a dime.
I'm just one of the many other human beings
on the streets and in the cafes of any given city ...

"Hey mister, can you spare a dime?"

~

Epilogue

For Heaven's sake, I know someone
with an endless pocket-full of dimes!