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Politics for Poets

Wow, I don't like it when Yosemite is really burning! The National Park Service has put out a video of The 2013 Yosemite Rim Fire. This is a hypnotic watch, very spooky, timelapse forest fire with the stars rolling by. You see sattelites pass. Meteors.

If there is a mountain and some can't get up it on their own, they're might be some who put up a rope-tow. You grab on. It pulls you up the mountain. The thing about it is that you have to know when to let go. If you don't let go at the appropriate time the rope tow will hurl you into a guard and then will have to let go due the great force of the collision.

And so, maybe some people can't afford the skis. So they borrow a pair. Or they can't afford the lift ticket, so someone else springs for the cost. They still need to know when to let go of the rope. There isn't anyone who can make them let go except for themselves.

If you make a revolution of soul, and retain humility, no one needs to know what goes on inside your heart and mind. No one has to hear you talk of 'oh how holy these truths have made me'. They will just see the change in you. You won't need to brag about how you did it. The same Spirit that loves you loves them too, whoever they are, be they rivals so you think, or be they the sweetest of friends lost in their dissipation and spitting hate because you direct abstemiousness.

August 31, 2013 (8-31-2013)

well . . .

I think I've blogged enough today.

"I'm all blogged out."

Content quickly gets stale, wicked, so it is always updated. Some content is hit with updates more often. Also: some of the content here is of a much higher quality than other content here. So if you don't like something: hey dude, whatever.

~ OK Now.

They say we are 'silent'. What should we do? We have noticed the devolution. Do we put ourselves at risk by talking down the cause of the psychopaths? Would anything we do be heroic? These forces, they've been set in place, and those who do the marching . . . are often not bad guys.

Praise God!

You put out
forest fires are devistation
  of the world by the forces of
         fire and wind.
    The world burns into churning clouds,
     rains back down as a damp ash,
 all the fire burns all the water
     away, it churns their in the far away sky.

  If we stay far enough back,
     it maybe won't singe us, it
       burns the world, if we let it rage.

  But you can't hit at it hap hazzardly.
      If the force must be put forward
           to put it out, put it out
   in a big way, these guys aren't making
         a token effort, it's not just for show.

  but sometimes the world
      is burning too hard.
           We have to step back. 
      Don't let the tower fall on you
             if it's slated for demolition
     all the people will be kept back.
         All the people should be kept back.

   It wasn't very long before you could
          read the stories
     If you heard them on a bus, overhear, and
       you think like someone who pejoritates 
                everyone who disagrees with 
         his common delusions, it
     must be like this, this much sugar, this much butter,
      so much oil and chocolate, gelatin, so many eggs.

  She had but twelve dozen eggs to feed the school.
        So she let them all hatch
  and become a flock and gave a few to
      each of the kids
        and taught them
     how to collect eggs.

      Thus was the school fed.

     Somewhere the world was still burning
      but at least these school kids
   learned how to feed themselves.
 
      

The following poem is fresh, whipped up, off the cuff.

  

     This throw away world
    she took like a pill as a lark
          and fell down.

  No body knew what went wrong
      they brought some EMT's
     who couldn't help.
   
 but then they found the vile in her purse.
     they could make it better, not just make it worse.
  Cause what she'd taken, they had it written down.
     So she was able to get up off the ground
       all by her self with an antidote
     all made possible by the little note she wrote.

  So write a note, confess what you have taken.
     Or is it better that your life be forsaken?
         using words that one isn't really sure about
     sure makes the grammartarians rant, and fuss, and shout.
   
 
  Praise God!
  









Wake up!