NASA Image of the Day

Friday, September 6, 2019

Blanket Day for the World

My Love and I are like the Sky
A gaze met across eons
Connected in a blaze of light and glory
In an instant.

No one else
there
but
Everyone,
recovered.


Dawn M. Nevills xo

Monday, September 2, 2019

Thought for the Day

"The very first requirement in a hospital is that it do the sick no harm."

Florence Nightingale

Sunday, August 18, 2019

Nightingale

Bereft of this tactile and tacit touching
There is only swirling.
And oh, clouds......see the furor and unfurled, whirling,
the flashing eyes and tears and wails
Failed, and failed and failed......

Where is Peace? Where is my Joy? Where is my Heart, reaching and reached, even now?
Where is the Calm amidst the Tumult?

Surely, the voice that calmed the Seas
Still Lives
And all that Death would bring
Amidst the Toil and Trudging,
Defiantly Lives,
Loving.

That man moves to the Stars
And cannot allow
Joy
Is a tragedy we have
Outgrown
Outlived
Ousted and
Made
Redundant and
Irrelevant.

The Caress that is of then and Now
that brushes tears gently
Rough squeezes Arm and
Misunderstood Silence
Notwithstanding, Bereft of Bridge,

Will
Still Sing.

Waves

And in the ebb and flow of moments, then and now,
There is kindness, remembered.
The stormed sky bursts lightning white and scorched,
Emitting yester-love, renewed and promising,
And all the rain that follows - the sweat and tears of years, trailing, comet-like -
The sighs of spring.

My love, I can but know of thy breath upon my throat, seeking,
All the sigh of Heaven's Air that blows across my skin in longing,
Feeling its being, moving with its moving, my hands stretching across the sky,
Alive - flexed pulse of digit dial and flourish scroll revealed,
Oh, rumble mumble of my Desire.

Thou art my Seeking.
Pour down upon my breasts thy Light and Dark, thy wet and Fire,
Thy Adoration and thy Completion,
Till I am Moan Made and Thine Only,
Lasting and Last,
Bested and Best,
Circled.

Friday, August 9, 2019

Oar Parcel

I had been in this dark so long, swirling about me like skirts,
Wings furled, hair curled, cringing and unswung
Furtive and fleeting under distant glimmers and smiles
Remembered.
Swathed so, I had almost forgotten myself amidst the
Moaning.

Sheet blizzards encased the sound and fury,
Until,
Bleating wildly
Life erupted in
Flame and Frost
Reimagined, and
I ,
Pierced by a shaft of fierce Glow
Awakened to a
Smoking husk of
Aged Self,
Side stepped and
Violet voiced,
Triumphantly live -
Defiantly Floating.

Friday, July 19, 2019

Worlds

Impossible chasms, dissolving, in a tectonic shift so sudden
And swift
The twirls and whirls of firmer terra than me
Shake
Helplessly, overlapped and stacked neatly, like
an
Ordered carbon DaVinci orb,
Quirked and Smirked with
Speed.

Oh, where the disentangled arms, reaching forward: not yet, not yet:
Leaf from-palm and beat baby, stroking
The shadow away;
Seared sudden sun probe beamed focus,
On
Move Groove
Daily special,
Checked and charmed and
Scent sole
Scintillating meld of all things
Mattering,
Realized.

The carbon marble, joined and
churning.




Wednesday, July 17, 2019

Older Women

Reach in, reach in;

Reach down....way way down, past pretty boy phrase and flip finger smiles.

Let him know a part of that part that's hidden deep, somewhere dark and dangerous;
Somewhere where ink rarely goes, and only tenuously....tremulously, like
Untried cadence, and respectful pronouns, still capitalized.

That fire erupting and eviscerating part;
That claw back and fight-for-air-part that no one sees but him.
Let him know it exists, like you, still;

Past the fashion tips from thin cherubs who've never died twice, or passed one out of themselves,
After the stones you lived through to be able to say you did;
smug in their spaghetti straps, never fighting against gravity;
Past dire moanings of twisted pipes and pools of women-gut lives, seen and patched up and patted, rough girl style;
Let him see it shriek darkly and silently, shorn and torn
Bereft and moaning, alone, later, with a Scotch, being stronger.

Let him dig deeper....past the supersized selves and armour of flesh, floating and blanketing,
Hiding coal pit parts of you, mined and scarred, from eyes with no orbs, or worlds, aching to be run through, grain by grain, like those grubs you ingested to eat you back to acceptable, insanely.

Let that part out in terrifying bursts of sunlight and gloom, living Vogue cadaver that you thought
You might be more lovable as, shamed and standing there, with your woman breasts.

Let him feel that writhing, as you cleaned out the last bit of motherhood in you, like menopause,
Happier for no more goddamned bleeding, so you could finally love the fucker
And Feel Good, praying you could live through it - so you could live it, instead of
Dreaming.

Reach in, Row Wanda girl, he says to me,
And I pull out my own guts like William Wallace, wanting, at last
To acknowledge the succession of pikes, sans fish,
Winded and wandering, that will not meet
My eyes, even now.

Come, thin-Duked girl, he whispers,
Show them the cheroot,
The rolled gold,
The tried true have-enough, labouring,
The haunted smiles and gaunt girls, wizened,
Still not rich or thin enough, but smarter:
Relegated to the shrivelled and thin enough, at last;
Guilt free and
Fitted with darts.

"Yes", you intone to the phantom everpresent behind your eyes,
You think he might be able to
Take it all,
...and you let him
Adore the restraint.

Stepping neatly and precisely out of the small flesh cave,
Torch aloft, feigning
Lady Lazarus,
You excrete
Pinache.




Saturday, July 13, 2019

Stalwart storied building

I expect that a green and lace-sprayed victory, (thrown like a warmed and cedar-scented  throw upon thy nakedness, consideration, yearning, and neural capacity)

Would be a Doukhabor shock of love to thee, standing salt stalwart, wanting.

I expect what I intend. I do what I am compelled to do. I shelter as I will, with instant and immediate lack of guile, accused of complicated sexuality; blamed for boredom; mocked for surface and facile vicissitude. I am none of these, of course. I am studied recourse, and depth, responding.

But....oh darling mouth, oh tousled fatigue....I am spark, unforgotten. I am reminder, and impetus, and breathless exercise and warmed and comforted adoration, sighing and dreaming.

Self-caged, I persist. Beaten down, I flicker, simmering; sprout, defiantly; think...decidedly.

Rave on. xo


Thursday, June 27, 2019

NEWS FLASH - GARY THE SNAIL GOES "PLANT UPGRADE"

...THIS JUST IN.

APPARENTLY "GARY THE SNAIL" PUT IN FOR AN ABODE TRANSFER FROM THE
bORING COMPANY TO TESLA.

The plant's newest arrival - arriving tomorrow, thanks to the reliable US Postal Service - will serve both as a "natural seasonal indicator" for staff (one decoration only, please per celebratory occasion) and also as Gary's swinging new retreat.

Groot hasn't said anything in tree that anyone understands yet, but in laborious snail, Gary indicated that he felt he hasn't had an opportunity to really stretch himself, and reach out and expand upon his other talent, as a motivational peeker.

Both will wish Mr. Musk a memorable and stimulating 48th birthday in their own unique ways - a coincidence we suspect may have had something to do with their timely - if somewhat furtive - arrival.

48 never looked so good.  Wink.

Glimmers

The finger points are reaching outward
Tentacles of light tentatively surging forward
As the glittering progeny are distributed, like manna
Amidst the soundless ink sky.
We look with hope to those distant star eyes...
Residual lives of burning hope - like ours: passionate, undaunted, fiercely loving and unashamed.

Sunday, June 9, 2019

Wet Back and almost fell off the Fruit Truck again Hair Girl

Oh a Big Strong Man thinks
He loves a Fruit Truck hair girl;
A Fruit Truck hair girl, a Fruit Truck hair girl:
I said a Big Strong Man thinks he loves a Fruit Truck hair girl,
And he's tellin' all the World.

Smile.

Vision

Oh, sky eyes.
If only you saw more.

Perhaps you should close for a while.

Then
I could show you stars inside
To make your heart beat
Wilder than
Any lion.

You might
speak
Real words, then.
Sing songs loudly, fiercely, defiantly.

Love gladly, wildly, honestly, truly.

Finding yourself,
You would be changed.

Burned but healed.
Bereft, but lifted.
Robbed, but renewed.
Tormented, but tended.

I think you will ever only notice surface waves,
Smiling,

I will hum, close my eyes, and feel
Again.
I will see more, still.

Thursday, June 6, 2019

Spring Rites

Green wonderful, wind surely around the metals and spikes - my fingers confusing fire; igniting flame, scattering shot like sparks of celebration in a peering sky: celebration showers; showers of glee and glow and song and search, spreading out in glittering, flaming searching arcs.

Impossibly soft moss - like a sigh - spread out the wonder of love beneath the shaded canopy
of dappled wooded solid lungs, exhaling life into the blue ball garden.

Birds, trill a trace of "lay we down a verse, and song, and moment of continuance to you, whispering
live, and languid, ye lions."

Oh, wind, move the watering sky deep amongst the fronded froth of 'spring forth', beckoning sun and shared sand wind to your brief rest, 'tween times.

Harken to the running rivers leaping and dancing, swelling buds to burst the earth, sudden petal wheels, whirring.

Here is

Wild All,

Undulating.  Here am I....waving..





Tuesday, May 28, 2019

Ho Hums

Ye me le.
The birds cavorting remind me that Sergio still hums of the circuit Universe with a smile.
Blinking Winking, meanwhile,
Tinkers with the eyes we need to
See More.
The spreading current draws in, breathes out, shimmy shake and
Linear circular expanse, at once, all electric fuzz crochet breaths.
We are black wired and
Ready.
Come, Sound.

Emergence

Earth shakes itself awake again.
The yaw maw wah of bird cries reeling across the dimpled grasses waving
Lose themselves with the latest rain, melting into drops and drops and drops.
The birds droop, waving dripping feathers and swooping lazily into trench top feeders;
Prize fighters knocking about, before the fight for worms begins.

This year, I feel differently towards them.

My egg shell - built so assiduously amidst the dark and uncertain - has cracked.

I feel the fluid movement of myself as the membrane melts and,
Tenuously,
My quiet self
Emerges,
Blinking and trembling.

Saturday, May 25, 2019

Tomorrow

In the deep quiet of the day's end
I walk into the night; uncertain, breathless, fired and impassioned;
I raise a haunted face to an ink-filled sky.
It blinks back at me,
Waiting.

Friday, May 24, 2019

sign posted on tree with small axe

BIGGALL'S WIGGLES
(fISH LURES AND CURIO ITEMS FOR THE
FISHERMAN AND HIS FAMILY)
tIRD LAKE FROM TA LEFT OF SNONKER'S
BOATHOUSE

SQUEAKED IN, ONTARIO


HEY, YAS! I JUS' HAD TO RITE YAS AND LET YAS NO
DAT DA ONE STEP UP NEAR 'TA FRONT
IS DERN NEAR A KILLER.
 ME AND MA WENT TO
BUY ONE OF 'EM LITTLE SPECKLED LOORS
WHAT LOOK LIKE PUMPERNICKEL LOAVES
(HERE DEY'RE A REAL TREAT FOR DA MUSKEY),
AND 'TA 'TING JES SEEMED TO LOOM OUT OF
NOWWAIRS, TO CAUSE ME GREAT PERSONAL PAIN.
MIND YA',
I BOUNCED A BIT, WHAT WIT' DA WEATHER BEIN' COLD, AND
                                             THE WISER'S
BEING WAR, 'N ALL, BUT STILL, YOU SHOULD
REALLY MEBBE PUT A FLASHIN' SIGHN NEAR DA
BIG PINE ON DA LEFT, WHAT TO WARN PEOPLE
                                             WIT, LIKE.

JESS BEIN' A CONCERNET CITIZEN. also, I
LOST MY HAIRPIECE, WHAT MA GOT ME, TREE
CHRISTMASSES BACK, AND IT SORTA' FEELS
LIKE A LONG TRIP ON A COLD NIGHT, IF YAS
KNOW WHAT I MEAN.....GETTIN' PERSONAL, LIKE.

sincerely, THE FIDDLIN'S.....WHAT LIVE OVER NEAR
                                                TA OLD ROCK JUT.

Thursday, May 23, 2019

Bag Lunch, Delivered xo

The exquisite gift of someone bringing you lunch.
What does this bring?

     A picnic into monotony
…...:respite in the midst of the processed and mechanical: evidence of greenery,
        wild frond flinging and Amazonia roll for joy,  amidst the incessant steel of intellectual erection, realized.

And you thought it was just a BLT.

Wednesday, May 22, 2019

Thought for the Day

All the world's a Stage,
and the Earth is
Adam's Cage.

Wednesday, May 15, 2019

Optical callusion

Exquisite air absent matter...
Removed, but replaced within cortex flash:
Orb transmit;
Shudder-shimmer-shake..
Complete.
Enveloped within, without, in
Murmur murmured more against eyes, ears, mouth, neck, hand:
Breath,
Met.
...And still, a twirl-whirl-furl of stars inked white hot
In ebony sky:
Present, absent, present, absent,
Finding
Space
Matter meaning in
Current, realized.

Friday, May 10, 2019

Progress

The mist is risen;
I see its mysterious fingers curling slowly around the greening, waving trancelike
In grasses and fronds profusely undulating.
I feel the greening in me, wishing it
Sanely
In the soil's
Eyes.

Thursday, May 9, 2019

New Day

We seek the matched exquisite inner unknown,
Finding Other, and
All.

Monday, May 6, 2019

Joy

Oh, to move the sky aside,
That I might kiss your
Eyes.

Wednesday, May 1, 2019

Current

Ah, Hugoesque.
Ballet point perfect, Sala Sadler, the stars peer knowingly, grey twinkle in shared glow, floating
In a balanced
Never, fossil remnants untouched.
Theirs is a shared conviction,
Gliding.

Sunday, April 28, 2019

Meta Smeltics.

I used to wish myself wispy.

There were days - when I was very young and apologetic about feeling awkward with my womanly body - when substantial, or presence, or "robust" seemed words more appropriate to …..someone else, that didn't want to be Twiggy. I wanted to be Twiggy.

Twiggy has to be explained to some girls...mostly blue collar, strangely. The other collars have to be coached to eat: the oddest dichotomy in a world of plenty, in a veritable insanity of .
Reversed irony.

I grew into my breasts - the symbol and signatory mothering indicator, corporeally, of God;
bestowed upon woman with bodily inhibitor and functions tasked with
Continuance.

Eventually women learn that the size of them is irrelevant. Men learn this, too. This comes with a respect for the sacredness of the human body, as vessel, rather than an idea about its ideal.

Women spiritually and physically despise themselves when there is a meltdown in this area, as a result:
by default, programming - and an excruciating acknowledgement of a part of themselves dying, unknown, (though felt). For some, it is breast. For some, it is embryonic extension. For some, it is the loss of self within layers of soft and comforting flesh, in which self is lost, and there is safety from pain. 

The self loss is wordless, faceless, and leaves a chasm - in miniature.

Nothing fills it: food, drink, toning, pummeling (by yourself and others), proper diet, getting over it, under it, on top of it, beside it, around it....you have an area of space that inhabits you, inside, afterwards. Space: as in.....elsewhere. You connect to all the universe, through loss and the reopening of yourself to Nothingness. Even when the loss is automatic, instantaneous, triggered, accidental, occidental, or expected....Space and You are One.

This is how I know that there is much beyond this life, and that there is God.

Beyond this Strange Pain, there is inexplicable Comfort that is internal balm, realized. Even when it is not your fault, you can Forgive
Your own
Imperfection, and "Gestational Retardation" - (as in, "the ability to do so" -  a kinder accusation, recalled and uttered by what I now refer to as "The Deceased Causal Factor")
and Live.

There are those who love Space, too.. It is what is unseen that they love, and recognized, instinctively and inexplicably, when there is genuineness beyond the carbon-based urgings.

This, too, is from God: two splices of God, remelding. Many welders like this analogy.

I call it "Metallica Love"...without a hint of rancor or dyslexia.

Here endeth the Smelting Moment. Long live Metallurgy.

Friday, April 19, 2019

The Story of GOOD FRIDAY

New Testament:

1. PETER -  Chapter 2,  Verses 22 and 23  

2. MATTHEW   Chapter 26,  Verses 1 - 75       and
                           Chapter  27,  Verses 1 - 66

- These explain the events of Good Friday, and Christ's Passion. You may never have really read the story before, though you thought you knew it. It will shock you.

…..This Good Friday, reread "the story like no other", as we approach the Passover, and Easter, with new eyes made thoughtful,  by the acts of a Man - a Being -  like No Other.

 

Friday, April 12, 2019

flying thought for the day

"For God gave us a spirit not of fear but of power and love and self-control." 2 Tim.1.7

Boo ya.

Wednesday, April 10, 2019

Promise

Oh, wondrous spring!
The sleepy headed jut of tulip shoot edging forth,
Sworded leaf bursting bonds of winter sleep,
Cradling the gentle egg of petals
Yet unfurled, and eager
For Light and
Life.

Monday, April 8, 2019

Thought for a Sunday, April 6 - Jude Verses 3-25 And Revelations Chapter 3 Versus 19

 "Beloved, when I gave all diligence to write unto you of the common salvation, it was needful for me to write unto you, and exhort you that ye should earnestly contend for the faith which was once delivered unto the saints.
  For there are certain men crept in unawares, who were before of old ordained to this condemnation, ungodly men, turning the grace of our God into lasciviousness, and denying the only Lord God, and our Lord Jesus Christ.
  I will therefore put you in remembrance, though ye once knew this, how that the Lord, having saved the people out of the land of Egypt, afterward destroyed them that believed not.
*   And the angels which kept not their first estate, but left their own habitation, he hath reserved in everlasting chains under darkness unto the judgement of the great day. *
  Even as Sodom and Gomorrha, and the cities about them in like manner, giving themselves over by fornication, and going after strange flesh, are set forth for an example, suffering the vengeance of eternal fire.
  Likewise also these filthy dreamers, defile the flesh, despise dominion, and speak evil of dignities.
  Yet Michael the archangel, when contending with the devil he disputed about the body of Moses, durst not bring against him a railing accusation but said, "The Lord rebuke thee."
  But these speak evil of those things which they know not: but what they know naturally, as brute beasts, in those things they corrupt themselves.
  Woe unto them! For they have gone in the way of Cain, and ran greedily after the error of Balaam for reward, and perished in the gainsaying of Core.
  These are spots in your feasts of charity, when they feast with you, feeding themselves without fear; clouds they are without water, carried about of winds; trees whose fruit withereth without fruit, twice dead, plucked up by the roots;
  Raging waves of the sea, foaming out their own shame; wandering stars, to whom is reserved the blackness of darkness forever.
..And Enoch, also, the seventh from Adam, prophesied of these, saying, Behold, the Lord cometh with ten thousands of his saints,
  To execute judgement upon all, and to convince all that are ungodly among them of all their ungodly deeds which they have ungodly committed, and of all their hard speeches which ungodly sinners have spoken against him.
  These are murmurers, complainers, walking after their own lusts, and their mouth speaketh great swelling words, having men's persons in admiration because of advantage.
  But, beloved, remember ye the words which were spoken before of the apostles of our Lord Jesus Christ;
  How that they told you there should be mockers in the last time, who should walk after their own ungodly lusts.
  These be they who separate themselves, sensual, having not the Spirit.
  But ye, beloved, building up yourselves on your most holy faith, praying in the Holy Ghost.
  Keep yourselves in the love of God, looking for the mercy of our Lord Jesus Christ unto eternal life.
  And of some have compassion, making a difference:
  And others save with fear, pulling them out of the fire; hating even the garment spotted by the flesh.
  Now unto him that is able to keep you from falling, and to present you faultless before the presence of his glory with exceeding joy,
  To the only wise God our Saviour, be glory and majesty, dominion and power, both now and ever. Amen."


Revelations

Chapter 3 - V. 19
  As many as I love, I rebuke and chasten: be zealous, therefore, and repent.



----------------

….and so, though Richard Dawkins would wax rhapsodic about the superstition that comes of religiousity stunting science, and all manner of winded remonstrations denuding a sense of the unseen, I would say this:

     I would say that Elon Musk's efforts to create non-damaging vehicles, transportation systems, and the means by which we could transport our inferior efforts at energy production (i.e. nuclear waste and nuclear weapons, both of which could wipe out humanity, without depending upon the rock of the Canadian Shield to protect us from an accident, or leaching into the pristine salvation of our species - WATER ),much like the man, are efforts to be supported and valued greatly, along with his very driven sense of courage and humility. Noah was very much like Elon Musk.

     But I would say this, too, notwithstanding the caution about "abandoning that first estate" - firstly, that "first estate" being  the Garden of the Earth, literally and corporeally, and secondly, on an intimate scale, that "estate", or state of being, being our own bodies, as God-given bodily vessels - either through false spiritism, the lure of Artificial intelligence and enhancement, or supplanted robotics or cloning, as part of a calculated, and innately deeply distorted disrespect for the shell that houses our spirit: it has been proven by our own Astronauts that prolonged time in Space away from the celestial Garden that is our home as a Species, has detrimental and degrading effects. I believe that Space exploration - including journeying to Mars - and other uses for the Moon, particularly as a practical and logical venue for the disposal and movement of  nuclear and toxic waste out of our immediate environment - waste which we have neither the time, nor the intelligence to dispose of properly before it kills us, until such time as we are bright enough to recycle our "creative stupidity" - is both a useful, and helpful  exercise and effort by some of the Brightest Minds of our time, and it may just save our Species.

     I do not, however, think that, by default, it precludes a deep sense of responsibility for reviewing our role as Caretakers of the Earth, having been supplanted here by that same Creator, and charged with that responsibility. If the same sense of concerted effort were put forth to recycle plastic waste into affordable dwellings in the third world, we would have no slums in India, or barrios in South America.....so there has to be somewhat of a shared focus, here, working in tandem.

   Thus, it is with a deep sense of caution that I consider the casual pursuit of these, as "the dalliances of empowered and enabled Men", both financially and intellectually, without proper purpose, or a misplaced sense of both purpose and priority, in the doing. But that is where you and I come in.

  Not one to deter, degrade or delay the seeking Mind, in its pursuit of making use of innate capacity, capability wise,  it is an old saying, but a good one, which might well guide the situation:                                                  "It is always wise to get one's house in order."
           …. And our "house" needs some serious work, lest the plumbing, the garden, the crops and the living - both animal and human - are lost in a potential furnace, figuratively, literally, and socio-politically speaking, into which we seem perpetually ready to contribute an endless supply of fodder - starting with ourselves.  

                                              Food for thought, remembering Manna.  

Sunday, April 7, 2019

ELON MUSK AND THE KNIGHTS OF THE GREEN SHIELD AND THE HEART OF THE ORANGE VESTS, PRESERVED, GRAIL-LIKE

In response to Elon Musk's assertion that cars would be "automated":

….... As he said in an interview in Dubai to representatives of the UAE, he foresees a future where there will be very few jobs that a "robot couldn't do better."

What might save us all, then, is a new kind of corporate ethos and model - indeed, which also embraces and rewards a standard in production and operation which embraces - not detracts - from the sustaining recognition of the VALUE OF the presence of humanity, and the edifices and devices which support and encourage our furthered - not replaced - existence.
   
It is a new kind of "capital growth": one which challenges the creative force to INCLUDE, instead of REPLACE humankind in the face of massive profit. As Dofasco says, "our product is steel: our strength is people." Those words, as a steel-city girl, still ring in my ears, like the sight of my father, my uncles, and those "firm lunch box men" file out of the plants whose profits hinged upon the sweat of those men.

It is the kind of investing that ensures that new ventures also INVOLVE and SUSTAIN a human workforce, and ensures that automation AUGMENTS the human capacity in any scenario, without replacing it. This is our gift to each other, as human beings, and - in terms of ethics - as I once discussed with a community college colleague - insists upon, in terms of its ability to keep pace with science and technology.

 What we "are capable of doing", and what we "actually do" are tempered - albeit with a deep sensibility that comes from these ethics , and, as Wordsworth says, an ability to "see into the life of things" - with our deep, renewed, and quieted and somewhat humbled respect for OURSELVES, and human life itself, beyond excessive wealth without conscience, poverty, and disease.

      This simply does not preclude the capitalist mode; indeed, it challenges it anew.

      However, it sets clear priorities, too: challenge, change and OPPORTUNITY.

 Including human beings in the model is part of that "challenge of tomorrow": there is no reason - nor any excuse, therefore - for a world where the disabled are not "enabled", by means of the same technology that brought us the brilliant mind of Stephen Hawking in a failing human shell, for as long as natural form, and supportive technology, was able to grant to him a comfortable, challenging, capable, and deeply meaningful, existence. This is quite a shift from the current attitude about how technology is pushing us, in the workplace - and how we are letting it do so.....right out of the picture.

Although I balk at the idea that humanity must become a "sustained and supersocialist" model, if we begin to recognize that we ARE worth saving, perhaps in discussing it, in earnest terms, and with a heretofore unchastised knowledge of life and death, as we battle E-bola, Aids, hunger, poverty, and pollution, it is a very different species that sets out, refreshed and ready to "do business differently.
I have great hope that with this shared earnestness, and our renewed respect for each other, and our selves, we will begin to do just that - starting with our Greatest Minds.

No Cyborgs, just yet, my dear Elon. There is dancing to do....perhaps TO the stars, as well as with.....smile.  Perhaps the ancestors will reach beyond watching over us, and "reach out and touch the face of God" - by means of the very technology with which we seek such an earnest connection, and which artists have dreamed of for centuries. Now THAT would be some Da Vinci code.

Sunday, March 24, 2019

Disaster Relief

After a huge storm wrecked the inside of their small home, a pastor and his wife endured
two weeks of living on their porch in a dining tent, while refurbishment work and restoration made their home liveable once again.

However, after one steady downpour, inside walls revealed that the renovators had done a poor job, cutting corners on supplies, patching things haphazardly, and slapping one coat of paint down in some places, in their eagerness to get on to the next, higher-paying job.

The pastor, not one to mince words, or settle for poor workmanship, when it was obvious that the work had been shoddy, stared hard at the man he had called back to review specific areas in need of immediate improvement.

The workman hung his head, sheepishly acknowledging that they had rushed the work, and used a portion of the materials indicated on the manifest.

Not missing a beat, the pastor heaved a huge sigh, and intoned,

"Repaint, and thin no more."




Tuesday, March 19, 2019

mudded

In truth, whene'er errant winds of chance
Alight upon faceless mounds
They await intermingling
of Divine Tingling...
Claymoored.