Riding on fires and flares of exploding stardirt
Melting into the ice of comets
orbiting through dark and deep.
brewed in sunheat,
Organized by chaos
Tempered by flame and cold
Lightly touched by an amino.... I wiggle.

DSS

Wolves

Oh Moon shine on
Still the night, shine on
They, on wild haunches
They, the wild watch
Shine on - the Moon.

They think, they watch,
They wonder.
Oh Moon shine on,
They howl.

DSS

Among the jumbling mumbling mode
the Racker Thatcher crumbs his creel.

his back's crunched bent
- his chrome's thrust spent,
fingers palms thick tough as heel.

upon the humbling rumbling ride
the Racker Thatcher moves his way.

his voice's grunt gone
- now electron's song,
teared eyes movewink what to say.

within the mightling thinkling mind
the Racker Thatcher spins his rhyme.

smiles gum and tooth
 - speaks Universal truth,
of our, A Brief History of Time.

DSS.

We, the People, we who remember.
We are the pushed, the shaken and the torn.
The good are taken from us,
some taken to lead, some to do our bidding,
some to succeed, some to die.
We, the People, we who remember.
We are the hard working and the builders,
the unspoken, the wholehearted.
We, the tolerant, the patient,
the taken advantage of.
Quiet with ideals too deep to express,
We, the People, we who remember
the good of every man,
of every good cause, of every dream.
We, the Children of the Mother of Exiles,
the mother who stands with silent lips.
 
DSS.

". . . corporations have no consciences, no beliefs, no feelings, no thoughts, no desires. Corporations help structure and facilitate the activities of human beings, to be sure, and their 'personhood' often serves as a useful legal fiction. But they are not themselves members of “We the People” by whom and for whom our Constitution was established."

             ~Supreme Court Justice Stevens, January 2010

 

DSS.

I am too damn lazy today. I am going to do only things that I have done before. I will rewash the cars, recut the grass, ask that my favorite argyle socks be included in the weekly laundry rewashing. I may, if I really feel lazy, reclean the garage and recycle a few items at the local landfill. The way I understand it, when that landfill turns into landfull, they plan on reusing the area for other things. I would like to think that I contributed to that.

So, being lazy, I am just going to repost a couple poems I wrote about a year ago that I would like to reread.

Saturday June 4, 2011

Beware the robin's look
The chirp and stare of protecting life
Perched not far away
Demanding attention onto a dying branch.
How far can be flown to gather,
leaving blue eggs to cool
and to tempt the curious.
Does she know what has been nested
or is she as curious as we,
wondering what life has wrought.

DSS

Wednesday May 18, 2011

We have wandered among the green fields,
on the open prairie and in the foot hills.
On the roads, we've worked with the tired and the weary.
For days we've worked for Saturday's pay
and for the quenching of our thirst.
Under the summer sun with orange flags and hot oil
our purpose is directed.
Each wet steaming mile under foot is our goal.
To slowly provide a smooth ride
for the cool and the fast. 
Look into  the eyes of the sunburned.
Stare into the dark glasses of the sun blinded
as you wait and then slowly pass.
Long are our days
Long are our roads
Follow our tracks as we spend our day.

DSS

May 5, 2011

Watching the rain, I recede from the day
And I have paused
Outdoor plans will wait
Other things will be done today
Simple tasks that have waited for this morning
Human things thought unimportant while skies are clear
A day that words may be read and written
A time for pacing and patience
Listening for the wind
And watching round ripples on shallow pools.

DSS

I am thinking of the bird's nest built on the spring season wreath hanging on my front porch at home. The eggs will surely be hatched by the time I return. Perhaps the young birds, mouth wide open, will still be begging a meal from mother robin and stealing a bug or two from their nest mates. Or if I am long coming  home, maybe they will have flown the nest, placing their trust in the thin air as I am today traveling far from my home.

It is always sunny here on top, above the clouds. As the wisps of mist clear to thin clean air, we break into a hidden world above the cloudy day. Towering columns reach high but try as they may they still are below us. Our earth thousands of feet down is now only white vapor and rain and covered by sunshine.
 
One hundred and five minutes, that's how long it will take to travel what would take my four wheeled conveyance eleven and a half hours. I'm traveling seven times faster but there is no breeze to my face or rumble at my feet. And as far as I know, no one on my bumper, to the left or right of my lane or rambling too slow ahead of us. How can others sleep while I am wide eyed. I have traveled 8700 miles by air this year so far. I have never kept track of the miles in earlier years. Tell me, how many miles does it take until a guy is able to read a newspaper, play a computer game or sleep while being 35000 feet in the air and traveling 450 miles an hour? How many miles until you are deadened to the marvel of it all? Keep the orange juice, forget the peanuts, don't bother me, I'm looking out the window and wishing I was up front.

Nothing better than being on the way home. Check your bags, who cares if you'll never see them again. No reason to drag your dirty laundry in the tightly packed, neatly tagged and tiny wheeled canvas Samsonite. Sure, keep the computer and camera but pack the little black bag so you are traveling lightly. You need at least one hand to drink the Tim Hortons or Starbucks. Worry about balancing the coffee and watching the scenery, not balancing two bags and keeping sight of your replacable possessions. Don't waste your time and energy protecting your "stuff". You are miles from home and seeing things that you may never have the chance to see again, even if it is just a pretty girl or a set of 4 year old twins carrying a complete boxed set of Matchbox cars that Dad gave them on his way to war.

DSS

I was told by a friend once about the Sleepyman
The long legged Sleepyman, 2 AM slumber preacher
Wide awake counter of the thousands of fence jumping sheep
Planter of sequential thought patterns and soother of unpleasant dreams
He works nights, the 11 to 7 shift
When we feel the urge to toss and turn he's there to prod us
He's where the blankets and sheets go when we feel too hot
He's the guy that messes up our hair and imprints wrinkles in our face
The Sleepyman, Shhhh! I think I see his shadow.

DSS

Dim lighted clouds follow the drizzle rain,
streets are cleaned with brown muddy wash.
But purple spring buds remain tightly wrapped
and the still trees wait for saps nourished life.

This day's chill air suggests felted coats
and gloves to warm stiffening hands. 
For Winter's grip holds us strong,
refusing the way of Spring's gentle touch. 

But keep a hold on the disappearing dreams
of Summer's warm yesterdays.
The long hours will come of blazing sun
and the labor of baked yellow clays.

DSS

As we walk through the iron gate,
hinged on the brick fence of glazed tile,
I find the glow of sun in your cheek
and the soul of garden nymph in your eyes.

New cotton lace shades your tan arms
 and covers your shoulders as a rose trellis shawl,
You skip in the grasses' dew with bare sculptured feet
held in silver latchet sandals. 

We say nothing, hold finger to lips, without sound pass the sleeping hound.
Not a word is spoken as we fade into the latticed alcove.
Alone, embraced and chilled by the cool breeze and blown ocean mist 
We whisper of each other's dreams. 

DSS

The Slow Dance

Please play the slow dance
Let me smell her Taboo
feel her soft hand and sweet Breath on my shoulder
Touch
Let me touch her waist and follow the outline of her form
And bring her closer to me
Let the weakness in our knees cause us to brush our thighs
The swirl in our heads turns our bodies in step
We will slowly move.
Please play the long slow dance

DSS