Silent Running

As we enter the days of Trump, or as I’m inclined to think of them, The Doldrumps, here’s a little pre-apocalyptic fare from Mike and the Mechanics.

The video was cheesy, but the song always chilled me.
Silent Running

Take the children and yourself
And hide out in the cellar
By now the fighting will be closed at hand

Don’t believe the church and state
And everything they tell you
Believe in me, I’m with the high command

Can you hear me, can you hear me running?
Can you hear me running, can you hear me calling you?
Can you hear me, can you hear me running?
Can you hear me running, can you hear me calling you?

There’s a gun and ammunition
Just inside the doorway
Use it only in emergency
Better you should pray to God
The father and the spirit
Will guide you and protect from up here


Swear allegiance to the flag
Whatever flag they offer
Never hint at what you really feel
Teach the children quietly
For someday sons and daughters
Will rise up and fight while we stood still.

CHORUS (repeat 3 times)

Songwriters: Brian Alexander Robertson / Michael Rutherford

Marching FOR Women’s Rights

I marched in the rain
With thousands of
Like-minded people
My tears fell as I
searched for parking

Joyful that it was
IMPOSSIBLE given the
Number of women and men
Of ALL ages and colors
Who joined their voices

In support of women’s
Inalienable rights.
Democracy in action.
My ball gown was a poncho,
My stilletos, tennis shoes.

Trump, in your ivory tower,
Heed this, our cry:
Women’s rights are Human
Rights! Liberty for one;
Liberty for ALL.

My friend Julie and I were about midway in the long line of people that stretched from Railroad Park up the hill to Florida Agricultural and Mechanical University (FAMU). Estimates indicate more than a thousand people took to the streets to express our fervent plea that women’s rights and the rights of minorities be honored in this new administration.

Rain fell intermittently, but spirits were high. Nothing could dampen the glow of democracy in our midst. 

Dystopian You

You stand on the corner of
Climate Change and Rising Seas
In the neighborhood of Zika,
Deep in the heart of
Nuclear Destruction.

Wave to North Korea’s crazy
Dictator across the Ocean of
Despair, one insult away from
Gracing us with a big, bad bomb
And a centuries deep winter.

Curtsy to Putin, our Russian pal,
His KGB ties beside the point.
Stand in bread lines with comrades
All. Take time to learn Cyrillic
Script for future reference.

Stockpile bandages and canned
Goods. Be sure to save the books and
Works of art. Listen, you won’t Remember when the boots come stomping And the knock comes in the night.

My Life in Monochrome

Monochrome memories from way back, when all my dresses were shapeless plaid shirtwaists,

Three for ten dollars from the Sears and Roebuck catalog. I was a thrifty kid, poring over the

Thrift section searching for the best buys so Mom didn’t have to. My brothers could own

Five striped cotton crewneck t-shirts for a bundled price, as well. I circled the best deals in

Crayon, then waited for the order to arrive, always hoping that at least one of my new

Dresses would surprise me by featuring a full skirt and a crinkly petticoat like Debbie Reynolds

Wore. Disappointment never interfered with my attempts to twirl in a simple cotton dress. 

My dresses were never this cute. ^^^

Where are the Heroes?

Where are the heroes?
Have they gone out of style?
I fear they’ve all fallen,
Victims to old King Vile

Where are the voices of dissent?
Have they been silenced?
Rebuffed by the bully from his pulpit
Neither fair nor balanced.

Where are the watchdogs?
Have they been blinded?
Given poisoned bits to calm their barks
No longer straining at the leash.