I slipped out in the darkness, fumbled with my shoes under the yellow light of the street
Lamp. A pebble picked up from the sidewalk bruised the tender skin of my heel as I
Hobbled down the middle of our street guided only by memory and the full moon’s
Shine. I imagined foxes and deer watching over me as I crept through the dark,
Waking to find myself standing in my own bathroom surrounded by clothes sorted
For washing. Perhaps I should refrain from eating spicy foods too close to bedtime.
“Winter Blossom”
I’ve tackled the Iditarod,
Sailed the seven seas,
Made a fortune in the market,
Survived the killer bees.
My art work’s in the Louvre,
Next to Munch’s Scream,
I swam the English Channel
Made the Olympic team.
Every day I run ten miles,
Uphill and in the snow,
I’ve earned a star in Hollywood,
Same as Russell Crowe.
In the tabloids I’m lauded
As the leader of the pack
I swear to you this all is true
In a world of Alternative Facts.
I looked up after completing my evening walk and saw this captivating sight. I call this one, “Sky Writing.”
There’s a new sheriff in town
I’ve heard he speaks loudly,
Carries a teeny tiny schtick
His minions denounce loudly,
Don’t mind his words
Just trust in his heart
But I’ve listened and looked
Can’t tell his intent apart
From the hate and the bile
He spews with such glee
If he expects obeisance
He won’t get it from me.
Trust and obey?
For there’s no other way?
To survive four years
Of a would be tyrant’s sway.
Pardon my dissent,
I’ll use reason and wit
Hide under the hedgerow
And gleefully resist.
Studly Doright was out of town much of last week. My days were busy, but my nights were long and empty without my favorite guy here to make sure the tv was set either on American Pickers or Sports Center. I find that I’m not nearly as fluent in the art of Remote Control Manipulation as Studly.
On Wednesday evening I took myself to see Hidden Figures, a film about the importance of a group of African American women as human computers at NASA in the early 1960’s, and the obstacles they faced while simply trying to do their jobs.
Because they were Black, these women weren’t allowed to use any restrooms other than the one in their wing of the building, often necessitating long, frantic walks to take care of basic needs. Because they were Black, they couldn’t get coffee from the communal pot in their office. Because they were Black and female they weren’t allowed to sit in on critical meetings, even when their presence might have resulted in quicker solutions.
This is a good film, and it made me furious. It should make all of us furious. When I think of all we have lost as a nation because we refused to recognize the abilities, the talents, the intelligence of all people regardless of race or gender I want to scream.
Who knows what diseases might have been cured, what inventions developed, if society hadn’t been so intent on excluding women in general and women of color in particular from full participation in society?
And what groups of people are we excluding now? What groups do we try to keep in their place? Oh, maybe there aren’t separate restrooms anymore, but our new commander-in-chief would love to discriminate against Mexican Americans and Muslim Americans. He treats women as chattel to be grabbed as needed.
My rant is over, but this argument isn’t. Get pissed off. Don’t allow trump to segregate or alienate or exclude any group of people because of his fears, his insecurities.
Now I’m going to master that damned remote control. If a group of women could figure out how to put men in space and safely bring them back to earth, I can surely figure out how to efficiently switch between multiple channels in order to avoid commercial interruptions.
Peace, people.
Love, come sail with me
To the edge of the known world
Where sea and sky kiss
We’ll find our true selves
‘Neath cerulean heavens
Far from earth’s safe shores
I’ll be your lighthouse
Your compass’s truest north
You’ll be my anchor.
https://sbalding67.wordpress.com/
After Trump’s spokesdemon, Kellyanne Conway, introduced the term “Alternative Facts” on a Sunday morning news show, the hashtag #alternativefacts began trending on Twitter. And there were some doozies:
And then there’s this:
If Trump truly wants us to give him a chance then he needs to give truth a chance. Stop worrying about who has the biggest dick, I mean crowd, and begin the real job of leading our country.
Peace, people.
I wanna be a poet, a word slinger extraordinaire. Instead I’m a mimic, pacing
Off the steps, gimping up the line behind the real deal. Authenticity has meaning in rhyme’s
World. Weighty phrases loaded with innuendo and innocent declarations of true love.
Give me shelter, hoist me high, let me trade these paltry phrases for a silver plated platter.
A rose by any other name would still wilt and die, and therein lies the inherent problem: Reality.
I follow Dixie Chicks’ outspoken lead vocalist, Natalie Maines on Twitter. My tweets to her generally go unacknowledged, but yesterday she liked one of my tweets. I feel like she just kissed my firstborn.
Praying for Eyebrowz 