Machines making miracles manifest
as realities resolutely remold;
faded facades of fallacy attest
that stacks of souls have already been sold.
So keep your wits — don’t be twits! Stay tuned,
because a real world still waits in the wings
to play its part for skeptical hearts soon
sick of these clown car clashes of (so-called) kings.
A solitaire calls:
“that’s a wrap!”
no stage fright afoot.
Nobody‘s fool
fearlessly facing
its laden plate
Nervous sweat falls as
the mourning do,
their grief feeds the root.
Fighting back
the impulse to wilt
at this state
Thriving as the living do
Surviving as we fight too
Searching for a pulse
to elucidate events
unfolding today.
The charm of this noxious weed
is an opportunity.
Stamp it out,
if we were able;
is it hate,
or is it a wish
for greater control?
Fighting nature:
one hand pounding,
one hand reaping,
one hand clapping . . .
silence will fall
and weeds will thrive —
never perfect,
but running wild
with nature’s plan.
Love will survive.
Icy, irascible impetus
of this continued chronic cold;
wars with what we wish to will
into existence: a
rival — a return
to warmer wits
warranted
fresh, new . . .
spring
I’m not a fan of these day shift working weekends. Aside from working three days in a row, I log in to WordPress to find that I had three views yesterday, which means the seething masses of my adoring fans were looking for a Saturday Jams post that I am unable to post, which is why I’m shooting for one every other week.
Here in North Dakota, the weather seems to have a huge problem with changing its mind; in fact, March came in like a lion, and now it seems to be going out coughing up a hairball that looks suspiciously like a wet lamb. And here I am, talking about the weather again.
So on a day like this I’m lucky to be posted in the one spot where I can find time to write. I’m listening to surf music: The Gasolines, out of Brazil — A little wild with just a hint of world influence. And all in all, it’s not a bad end to a long weekend at work.
Not to mention, I just found their label’s website, which is selling digital albums for $5 USD, including a 63-track Brazilian surf compilation, each song by a different band. Not a bad deal at all at less than eight cents a track!
Today we’re firing up that tasty rainbow Saturday Jams EQ for our After the Flood edition of your favorite music video blog periodical!
What is greatness, but
A tree on earnest soil,
roots of reverence —
long limbs’ labors limitless,
largely spent honing its heart?
Looking to the sky . . .
yearning to find a way up
without letting go,
deeply desiring to dream
and to be dreamt of in art.
reach down through the earth . . .
never stopping, never cease!
Break the foundation,
probing paths for prospective
propagations to start.
Cultivate —
communicate —
Reflection.
Reverence.
Growth.
And here I am again, doing the hard work.
Of course, I never meant for this blog to hibernate, coming back to find so many lost to the donnybrooks of the past several years — the politics and pandemic, so many things that left a bad taste in my mouth and left my mind feeling infertile. I really wish people could just work together to make the world a better place for everyone. Looking back, I believe that in response to these growing situations I stopped trying. I stopped putting down my creative roots to take care of a growing rot in my life, and by the time I had it squared away I had forgotten that I had put my writing in the backseat, and it is so hard getting back to it.
I DESERVE TO BE GREAT.
That is my mantra, which a fellow blogger inspired me to formulate. I had almost forgotten: that is why I moved forward with my plan to change my life in the first place. Not that I feel so great all the time . . . rather, I feel more precarious than ever at times, and I hesitate to move on opportunities because I don’t want to lose out on what I already have, or because I find the process uncomfortable. But I deserve to be great, and I need to aspire to be great in the things I do for this world — locally, and globally. I need to stick my neck out in very real ways if I want to help.
So yes, I DESERVE TO BE GREAT. But “being great” doesn’t happen by itself. I have to make the choices. I have to push for making decent choices, professional decisions . . . to do the right things in life.
Is this what I’m supposed to put on the table when I’m interviewing for a position in the patrol division? It sure sounds good, but I’d really have to sell it. I have to internalize it. Because I do deserve to be great. But I have to make it happen; nobody is going to hand me greatness on a fancy plate because I don’t deserve it for free. We work for everything and we get what we pay for in sweat and blood and honesty.
I keep trying. I keep moving forward, and I’m not perfect. I make a poor judgment call here and there. Even those times are a bridge to being great, and becoming greater still.
We all deserve to be great, don’t we?
My hands hold an earthenware crusethat ’til recently held some good booze;the first taste was like skunk,but the more that I drunk —came to realize I’d just been confused! Whilst looking for rhymes that were tasteful,I passed up many that struck me as wasteful;after hours … Continue reading Make mine Irish — 2022.03.17
Today we’re firing up that beautiful rainbow Saturday Jams EQ for a special Spring Flood edition of your favorite music video blog periodical!
A vibrant landscape
smothered beneath arid dust
of fallen castles,
and our legions march, lockstep,
toward the next horizon —
crossing that dry bridge
between shrinking oases
as winter sets in.
Evaporate,
Justice the Ideal;
let us thirst,
left baking
under stars we invented
to honor Progress.
Twilight looms,
the only promise.
Follow the links in the poem’s text if you would like to scour the sources of my prompts: Fandango and the Ragtag Community. In their comments sections there is much more to discover!
Harried by the wind
and grasping for precious life,
persistent chaos
reigns last year’s leaf that shudders
to consider letting go . . .
Clutching, while near spring
Hastens the defrosting ground;
And facing that fall —
Open to options that lead
Somewhere other than earthward . . .
Inevitable
decomposability
inadmissible;
Unassailability
undisguisedly denied.
Follow the links in the poem’s text if you would like to scour the sources of my prompts: Fandango and the Ragtag Community. In their comments sections there is much more to discover!
Rob's Surf Report 