• About PeterSIronwood

petersironwood

~ Finding, formulating and solving life's frustrations.

petersironwood

Category Archives: Uncategorized

Myths of the Veritas: Recipe…

02 Monday Jan 2023

Posted by petersironwood in fiction, Uncategorized, Veritas

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

fiction, legend, life, MOTV, myth, story, Veritas

MOTV – Recipe, Ritual, and Recitation

Shadow Walker wondered whether the sense of foreboding he felt simply reflected the cool, damp weather. He took a deep breath. It felt good so he intentionally calmed himself with more deep breaths and rather than chase after an explanation, which, in his experience often scared explanations away, he determined to be more like a hunter waiting in a blind for the prey to come. He sat on a cold flat rock and let his thoughts drift. As he did so, his eyes chanced upon the Sixth Ring of Empathy — the one that only he and his love, Many Paths, had won. Touching it often seemed to give him comfort and he tried that, grinning as he did so. He immediately felt sunnier. Better, he knew exactly why he had felt morose. Many Paths had been worried for days about the upcoming meeting among the tribes. He had felt left out of her worry. She had not really sought his counsel, and he realized that, so far as he knew, she had not sought anyone’s counsel lately; not even that of her predecessor, She Who Saved Many Lives. 

A smile came upon the face of Shadow Walker. A plan came to him and his smile broadened. Confidence returned to his step as he marched back to the Center Place of the Veritas. Immediately upon entering The Sacred Circle, he spied the younger brother of Many Paths, Tu-Swift. He and Cat Eyes spoke quietly and seriously. Beside them on an oaken table, a number of what he now knew to call “books” were spread out in front of them. They were concentrating so intently they failed to see him approach. While all of the Veritas were trained in the ability to walk silently, Shadow Walker had perfected the skill better than anyone else in the tribe. He felt no need to startle his friends, so he announced his presence intentionally. “I see you two are continuing your studies.”

 

Tu-Swift and Cat Eyes both smiled and moved so as to allow space and offer invitation to Shadow Walker. He smiled back, but rather than join them, he quickly explained his insight and suggestion. They both assented quickly. Cat Eyes nodded vigorously while Tu-Swift said aloud, “Wonderful idea! We’re leaving now. But — are you sure that’s where she is?” 

“No, not completely sure. But reasonably sure. If you find her, can you bring her back here? Meanwhile, I’ll see whether She Who Saved Many Lives will join us presently.” 

Cat Eyes glanced up at the grey clouds and decided to put the books into boxes and cover them with the rock-weighted rawhide cover. Then, the three dispersed. The youngsters strode off to find Many Paths while Shadow Walker walked over to the cabin of the Elder Shaman. Halfway there, he saw the slightly bent figure of She Who Saved Many Lives walking toward him. He chuckled. Many Paths had several times mentioned how often she had sought to find the Elder and gain her advice only to discover that She Who Saved Many Lives was already en route to her. 

Shadow Walker approached and bowed his head slightly out of respect. “Well met, Mother of the Tribe, I had something I wanted to ask you about.”

“Yes, I also think it’s time to help She Who Finds Many Paths to Avoid Asking for Help.” 

Shadow Walker was taken aback. “She Who…? Ah, yes. Exactly. But how…?” 

“Oh, my, Shadow Walker. Books are not the only things which may be read.” She said this in such a kindly tone and with such a twinkle in her eye, that Shadow Walker could do nothing but shake his head and chuckle again. “Many Paths has cautioned me that you can read minds. Now, I see she is right.” 

“Would that I could! I cannot read the mind of a tree, but if there has been no rain for days the leaves are all wilting, I know the tree wants water, and so too, do you, as signified by the Rings of Empathy you earned. I should think. It’s not much different with reading people than it is with trees. You and I both know Many Paths is rightly concerned that this upcoming meeting go smoothly. There is a time to keep one’s own counsel, surely, but now, I think, like you, it is time to stir the pot!” 

Shadow Walker offered his elbow to the Elder and they slowly made their way back to the Center Place of the Veritas. 

————————

Myths of the Veritas:

The Forgotten Field

The Orange Man

The First Ring of Empathy

Stoned Soup

The Tale of the Three Blind Mice 

Poetry:

Dance of Billions 

Story-Essay:

My Cousin Bobby

Story:

Hot Dog

The Walkabout Diaries: How Beautiful and Green

03 Thursday Nov 2022

Posted by petersironwood in nature, poetry, Uncategorized, Walkabout Diaries

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

poem, poetry

You must remember

How beautiful 

How precious

Once the world was

If it all goes rotten

It still must not be forgotten

How beautiful and green

How precious and clean

Once the world was

Write it down

Photograph it 

Paint it

Tell your children

And your children’s children

Sing a song

A catchy tune

Memorize and sing it often 

All may go and all too soon

But you

You must recall the sky of blue

The clean and crystal air

You must dare

Build it into every brick

Remind your cats and dogs

Sing it with the birds 

Buzz it with the bees

You must remember

How precious

How beautiful 

Once the world was 

Once the world was 

Teeming with the Great Tree of Life

Reaching its long branches into 

Rivers, Lakes, and Oceans

Even into caves and deserts

Even into arctic snow

And even though 

I know the Tree is greatly damaged

In the daze of neon

In the days of useless plastic 

And truth denied, elastic 

Even so, you must teach the others

Nieces, nephews, sisters, brothers

How once the world was

Precious and beautiful

You must be sure to remember

And to sing of it

Often and in many ways

Through the din of days

Paint it always 

Pictures in the sky of thought

Music in the bread of naught 

Some day

Long after you and I 

And all you know are dead and unburied 

Tree by leaf and leaf by rose

Someone needs to know

How beautiful

How precious 

How utterly alive 

Once the world was

 

In all the precious places

And in all the secret spaces

Tell at least two 

What you knew

How beautiful 

How precious 

Once the world was 

The Walkabout Diaries: Sunsets

The Walkabout Diaries: The Life of the Party

The Walkabout Diaries: Life will find a way

The Walkabout Diaries: Friends

The Walkabout Diaries: Mind Walk

The Walkabout Diaries: Bee Wise

Ah Wilderness

The Forest

Gambit Disinclined

30 Friday Sep 2022

Posted by petersironwood in fiction, Uncategorized

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

Democracy, fiction, life, politics, Putin, story, truth, USA

Photo by Kevin Malik on Pexels.com

The gym stank of sweat, disinfectant, bloodstain. Vlademort shook his head; thought: stuffy stupid place for a chess tournament. Which I will win. “A silly game; a silly name,” it sang and rang inside his brain. 

Others might resign, down a piece to a stronger player; that was the “sensible” thing to do; the “honorable” thing to do, he knew.

Vlad sang instead these lines as lyrics deep inside his outsized head: 


“Check and Slay;

There has to be a Winning Way!

I am Me 

And meant to win!

I am He

So cheating isn’t sin!”

Aloud, he called in his strong, authoritative voice, “Sir, we have a problem. My opponent cheated. We must rectify the situation for the good of the Noble Game. And the honor of our School and our Party.” 

For a moment, Vlademort worried that a glimmer of smile might betray him. He bit his tongue down on his lower teeth. That usually worked, just as it did this time. As the Assistant Headmaster strode over to the boys, the man asked what the trouble was.

Vlademort’s foe, Dmitri, didn’t know what Vlad meant about “cheating.” Vlad had stepped right into a discovered check by a knight’s move that also attacked Vlad’s unprotected King’s Bishop. Vlad hadn’t seen the consequence so now he would pay the price. Very nice! But discovered check wasn’t cheating! While Dmitri pondered this silently, Vlad struck.



“Sir, as you can no doubt quickly surmise from the board, Dmitri just moved his knight here so he would check my King and attack my Bishop. A double attack. The problem is, his knight was here and we can all agree he cannot move a knight up two and over two.” Vlad locked eyes with the Assistant Headmaster and painted his face with confident innocence.

Dmitry frowned. “What? That’s the most absurd poo I’ve ever heard! My knight was here!” 

“No, Sir, with all due respect, I clearly remember asking myself why he would move the same knight so many times to get in this position when, as you can clearly see, his bishops are completely undeveloped. It seemed strange at the time. I guess…I hate to say it, but maybe that’s what he … I don’t know. What does it show, Headmaster? I’m at a loss.”

“Vlad, I’m not the boss; I’m the Assistant Headmaster. You boys are going to have to work this out for yourselves. I don’t get paid enough to settle all your petty disputes.”

Dmitry’s face reddened with fury. He clenched his teeth. 

Meanwhile, Vlademort nodded and said in an even tone. “Yes, I’m sure we can work it out. Dmitri? Do you want to move your knight back to where it really was, resign, or just play again? Tell you what. You can have white this time. Deal?” From the outside, Vlad seemed serene but the inside scene was a scream of joy. He had used them both as toy. He felt no wrong; he sang instead another song inside his head:



“I am Me! 

Victory!

I’ll show mom and daddy too

What I can do.
You killed my puppy;

You evil two!

You will see:

Everything belongs to me!”

He sang it as he lied. As he sang, dissidents died. He sang it as he bombed and killed. “I am me and so strong-willed. You will see! It all belongs — belongs to me!” After being deposed, tried & condemned, Vlad’s song of wrong and might — still felt right.

The song so strong it rang and sang; inside his bullet-riddled head the last thing it said:


“I’m me 

And all will see

It’s all a victory!

For me!”

His blood about him lay.

He’d no more lies to say.

—————-

Essays on America: The Game

Donnie Learns Golf

Dick-Taters

Con Man’s Special Friend

American Dream 2

Absolute is not just a vodka

Poker Chips

Stoned Soup

The Orange Man

Three Blind Mice

Where does your loyalty lie?

The Stopping Rule

The Update Problem

Wednesdays

My Cousin Bobby

Gifts for Worms

Freedom!

Thrumperdome

Life Will Find a Way

Dance of Billions

To Relish the Steps

23 Friday Sep 2022

Posted by petersironwood in psychology, Uncategorized

≈ 3 Comments

Tags

dogs, gratitude, life, mindfulness, pets, story

Sadie is our Golden Doodle puppy (half poodle and half golden retriever). So far, she looks a lot more like a golden retriever. Anyway, a few short weeks ago, she learned to ascend and descend the stairs to our deck. She typically does that once or twice a day as part of our general walk around, exercise, and potty break. As she grew and became more practiced, the stairs became more and more easily scaled. 

Until today.

She started up the first step and began sniffing every inch of the step. Same for the second step. How could she have lost so much skill? She scrambled up to the third step and began sniffling at every single leaf and bit of random detritus. 

Then, it hit me. She could sprint up the stairs, hindered only by my own oldish legs. She had always viewed the stairs as a means to and end, but now that she had mastered it, she wanted to experience the stairs in the way that she most likes to experience everything — with nose and tongue. 

It took her about two weeks to realize that she had forgotten to properly explore the stairs which she did today…

Photo by Polina Tankilevitch on Pexels.com



Or, 

It could be that the guy who cleans the pool once a week, and himself has a dog, came today and it was his scent that she was particularly interested in. 

Or, both. 

In any case, it made me wonder how often people think of their career ladders, or personal journeys as something to be instrumental; e.g., to get to the top of the stairs. There are advantages to being at the top of the stairs. You can see farther. And, you’re closer to the kitchen. But there are advantages to being at the bottom of the stairs as well. 

Do we ever take the time to really experience and explore the steps along the way? If your whole life is using everything as a means to an end, then in the end, it all means nothing. What of all the opportunities to explore the steps?

Photo by Reza Nourbakhsh on Pexels.com

Corn on the Cob

You Must Remember This

Ah Wilderness

A Cat’s a Cat & That’s That

A Suddenly Springing Something

Sadie Sonnet

Sadie is a Thief

Sadie Shadows

Take Me Out to the Ball Game

Bee Wise

Life Will Find a Way

Peace

Rainbow of Flowers

24 Wednesday Aug 2022

Posted by petersironwood in poetry, Uncategorized

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

Democracy, diversity, flowers, poem, poetry, rainbow, Resistance, USA

Photo by James Wheeler on Pexels.com

Flowers white 

Suffused with light

Subtle, quiet they delight.

Flowers red

Fierce and fiery floral head

With love and lust are wed.

Flowers all a golden glow

They seem to simply know

Their seeds I indirectly sow.

Yellow bloom

Lights delight in every room 

Dispels the glum; dispels the gloom.

A flower green 

Magic, mythic and unseen

Hidden in the in-between.

The blossoms blue

A royal choice for royal hue

Who celebrates what’s truly true.

Purple shines of dignity 

Reflecting our infinity

Tells that there are limits to our liberty. 

The blackest flowers 

Tilting turret twisting towers

Protect us in our needful hours. 

Every flower large and small

Reminds us all it’s all for all

Cranny, flower, and the wall. 

We walk this earth some little while

May we feel the heartfelt smile

Let flowers sing their silk beguile. 

Let flowers flash their silky smile

As we go walk our final mile

With them, we go; we go in style. 

—————————————-

Author Page on Amazon

Dance of Billions

Life is a Dance

Tools of Thought

Take a Glance Come Join the Dance

Guernica

After All

Listen, you can hear the echoes of your actions

Walkabout Diaries: Bee Wise

Walkabout Diaries: Sunsets

Walkabout Diaries: Life of the Party

Walkabout Diaries: Friends

Walkabout Diaries Mind Walk

How the Nightingale Learned to Sing

You Must Remember This

The Forest 

A Cat’s a Cat and That’s That

The Scratching Post

15 Friday Apr 2022

Posted by petersironwood in Uncategorized

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

death, life, love, nature, poem, poetry, USA

In the clawing of the cat, 

In her scratch upon the post, 

In the cawing of the crow,

In the yearning yellow glow. 

I find peace in all of that.

For all of that’s my friendly host.



In the light upon the lake,
In the dawn upon the hill,

In the waves upon the sea.
I see at once what I will be.

It’s make, remake, again to make.
It’s all a spinning spinal thrill.

It’s all okay, this hour on earth.

It’s all about the giving part. 

It’s Love that fosters Life, you see. 

And Love is what Life needs to be.  

To share a dance, a chuckle, mirth:

That is Life and That is Art.  

Author Page on Amazon

Pattern Language for Collaboration and Cooperation

The Myth of the Veritas: The First Ring of Empathy

Life is a Dance

Listen – You can hear the echoes of your actions

Dick-Taters

The Siren Song

Choose your Weapons!

Choose Your Weapons!

06 Wednesday Apr 2022

Posted by petersironwood in Uncategorized

≈ 8 Comments

Tags

beauty, essay, flower, flowers, guns, photos, USA

“Choose your weapons.” 

An expression that perhaps goes back to the Roman Coliseum or “gentlemanly” dueling. What is a weapon? What can it mean to say, “The pen is mightier than the sword.”? 

A few years ago, I decided to try a little experiment. I knew that studies showed that owning a handgun did not, in general, make you safer. Actually, it was the reverse. Nonetheless, I thought perhaps I would feel safer. For one week, I imagined that my cellphone was a lethal weapon. I could pull it out and cause someone else horrendous pain or to end their life or both. As you might imagine, I did not feel more secure or safer. I felt more paranoid about others but also afraid I might accidentally shoot someone. 

In the middle of Monday night, one of our cats turned over some cat bowls and made a huge ruckus. I immediately yelled bloody murder and jumped out of bed. I would not want to have a gun if I’m awakened like that. My body is primed for action and my mind is not yet anywhere to be found. I literally have no idea as to what’s going on. It only last a few moments. But those few moments are enough time to grab a gun and shoot someone. And that someone is far more likely to be someone in your family than a home invader. Maybe they left a book in your room and couldn’t sleep so they came into your room to retrieve it. I don’t really think an error like that is self-forgivable. Your mood would be altered much to the negative for the rest of your life. The only alternative would be to shut off your feelings so completely that you literally became a heartless monster. 

What occurred to me tonight taking pictures of flowers, as one is wont to do, is making a much better use of the iPhone than a gun for home protection is. For one thing, if you own a gun for home protection, you hopefully rarely use it. I use the iPhone nearly every day. The statistics say that you’re actually more likely to die in a home invasion if you have a gun, but let’s say, no, in your particular case, you did manage to shoot two people dead. And, that’s that. 

Except of course, it isn’t done at all. You will find out that those two people you shot didn’t think it was so cool and they may sue you. Or, you may find out things about those families such as how desperate they were to make enough money to feed their kids that they turned to crime. Of course, you don’t want to hear that. They broke the law. And, indeed, in many states, that can be enough to get you off the hook. 

The “hook” of the law, that is. But that’s not the only hooks there are. There’s the social hook. How do you think other people would view you? Maybe some will view you as a hero. But certainly many will not. You might end up being much more annoyed at those who view you as a hero that at those who view you as a villain. Either way, your life will never be the same. Those changes are much more likely to be negative on balance. 

There’s another social hook. How would you feel about someone you care about marrying into a family where someone killed two young lads? Better protected? Or, might you be worried about how that gun might be used in the future, in say, a marital dispute? (Although, of course, suicides and accidental killings should also be on your mind, but those are always a possibility with a gun owner. But in the case of the dual killer, we don’t just know he might kill when provoked; we know he will kill when provoked. Maybe you think a home invasion is sufficient reason for murder. But how about a marital dispute? Surely you’ve noticed that even couples who love each other can come to a point where they are too frustrated to think clearly. I don’t really see how a gun helps a situation like that. 

Lastly, there is your own hook. That may be the sharpest and deepest cutting hook of all. You will second guess your actions on the night of no matter what. That’s just human nature. Some dark, rainy evening, when that re-run is playing for the 13th time, it will hit you that you knew damned well they were unarmed. Another part of your brain screams “Bullshit!” And, so you block it out. Until several weeks later, you discover your cousin’s preferred brand of weed is way stronger than what you’re used to. And, as that snuff movie replays itself yet again, it occurs to you that you not only knew they were unarmed, you thought: “So what? Nobody’s going to put me in prison for it. In this state, they’l think I’m a hero.” Again, you hear the booming voice: “Bullshit!” Only this time, you realize that isn’t your voice at all. That voice is the one he used to destroy you when you told people about his molestations. That’s not you. Or is it? You might, at some point, find yourself depressed by this debate, perhaps riddled with self-doubt. At other times, maybe you’ll come to peace with your actions. But the debate will never stop. 

I take pictures of flowers. They are for anyone to enjoy or ignore. No regrets. That’s my “weapon” of choice. 

————————————

Author Page on Amazon

Family Matters

Stoned Soup

Clarence but not Darrow

Con-Con Man’s Special Friend

How the Nightingale Learned to Sing

The Walkabout Diaries: Bee Wise

The Walkabout Diaries: Sunsets

The Walkabout Diaries: Friends

The Walkabout Diaries: Life will find a way

Ghosts of Flowers Past

Mind Walk

A Walk in the Park

Unobtainium

28 Monday Mar 2022

Posted by petersironwood in Uncategorized

≈ 3 Comments

Tags

fiction

After the sign in and introductions, I started in:

Photo by LinkedIn Sales Navigator on Pexels.com

Last Thursday, right after I had obtained my weekly shipment of unobtainium and resold it for a little bit more than usual, I discovered.… Well, after all, unobtainium is getting to be harder to obtain. They’re charging me more so I pass it along to the hoi poloi. And a little left over for myself. Maybe another 10% profit. Who cares? We’ll just blame some politicians! Not my fault. I’m just trying to make a buck. Or two. Or a trillion. You know what they always say: squeeze ‘em till they hurt. Then, they won’t have the time or energy to figure out who’s really screwing them.

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com



But hey, forget all that because I was about to say that I was walking the three blocks home, when it began to lightly sprinkle. And, there was this odd smell. And it reminded me of something but I couldn’t remember what — not at first. But then, I knew. It was the smell of fresh air. Just like I had when I was a kid. And that reminded me of playing different codes so that parents wouldn’t know what we were saying. Most kids learned pig-latin, for instance. But there were many variants. We played one where we would just say the opposite of whatever we really meant. 

Photo by Dave Colman on Pexels.com

And that reminded me about how unobtainium, while hard to obtain, is obviously not actually unobtainable. If it were, no-one would have discovered it and therefore no-one would have ever named it. But someone did name it and why did they name it as they did? Is it just because “hardtoobtainium” is too long? I don’t think so. I think some marketing guy figured out that if it were called “unobtainium” it would sell for a higher price right out of the blocks. I think that’s pretty clear from Marketing 101. But then, I got to thinking. Hey, we get a bump every time the price changes! Yeah. The name “unobtainium” makes our suckers — I mean customers — our suckers always fearful that we’ll run out of unobtainium so we can always kick up the price a bit more whenever the “hard to obtainium” becomes “harder to obtainium” but always remember it’s called “unobtainium.”

Photo by Trace Hudson on Pexels.com



But then, I had an even more troubling thought. What if almost all the things we were taught to try to attain because they’re hard to obtain or even unobtainable — what if the things that are obtainable are equally valuable? What if some of the obtainable things are even more valuable than the unobtainable things? What if the whole reason that those things are designated as very difficult to obtain is that they aren’t worth attaining if they mean giving up all the things that are easier to obtain. I mean, I’m rich so what else matters, right? So then I’m thinking why am I even having this conversation with myself. I need people to think unobtainium is unobtainium. That’s part of what makes me rich! So that’s why I called you. So fix me from this crazy thinking. Being rich enough is okay? Give me a break. That’s plain disgusting. You gotta fix me.

The “All Me” Bee

How the Nightingale Learned to Sing

The Dance of Billions

Author Page on Amazon

Their Dead Shark Eyes

28 Monday Mar 2022

Posted by petersironwood in Uncategorized

≈ 10 Comments

Tags

Democracy, Dictatorship, peace, poem, poetery, politics, war

Photo by Ben Phillips on Pexels.com

Don’t fall for shark-eyed demagogues. 

They feign to care; they steal our share.

The name of game is always same. 

Divide to rule; play fear and hate. 

Gerrymandering allows politicians to stay in power no matter how bad a job they do for *all* their constituents; those who voted for him/her or those who didn’t. All suffer from divide & conquer.

Pretend to care; they steal our share.

Pretend to be a thing they’re not. 

Divide to rule play fear and hate.

Addict your mind to happy lies. 

Pretend to be a thing they’re not;

Eventually steal all you’ve got. 

Addict your mind to happy lies.

They make believe and then devise; 

Photo by VisionPic .net on Pexels.com

Eventually steal all you’ve got. 

You need not be a polyglot.

They make believe and then divide;

Hold out for deals that aren’t unfair.

You need not be a polyglot,

But take a look around this earth.

Hold out for deals that aren’t unfair. 

Regardless of your wealth or birth. 

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

Please take a look around this earth. 

Don’t fall for shark-eyed demagogues. 

Regardless of your wealth or birth, 

Don’t fall for shark-eyed demagogues. 

Photo by BROTE studio on Pexels.com

—————-

Dick-Taters

Absolute is not just a vodka

Drumbeat of Feet

Essays on America: The Game

Vlademort Sonnet

Poker Chip

The Ailing King of Agitate

Poppa goes the Weasel 

All for One and None for Most

Siren Song

Happy Talk Lies

The Stopping Rule

The Update Problem 

Where does your loyalty lie? 

My cousin Bobby

Con-Con Man’s Special Friend

The Orange Man

The Three Blind Mice

Stoned Soup

The Power of the Unbrella 

P is for Politics

A Little is not a lot

Trickle Down Your Spine

Freedom

A little is not a lot

At least he’s our monster

The Dance of Billions

24 Thursday Mar 2022

Posted by petersironwood in Uncategorized

≈ 45 Comments

Tags

peace, poem, poetry, war

We dance our green, 

We dance our blue, 

We dance our gold, 

Our dance is true and big and bold.

Our dance is seen

Unseen, unsold, 

It grows its widening arc. 

All around the love-filled globe.

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

Some prefer the sun

And some prefer the strobe.

And some prefer the dark.

It’s all a part of rainbow’s arc. 

The music is the blossoms and the blooms.

The joy jumps in arching rooms

Beneath the sky on windswept plains;

Beneath the pour of cleansing rains. 

Jungle deeps and bright bazaars, 

Piano, flute, and gold guitars. 

Photo by Prime Cinematics on Pexels.com

The people’s joy won’t be contained;

Creativity is not constrained. 

Trust and love and gratitude 

Fill skies once filled with smoke and choke and attitude. 

Elders, children, even dogs and cats, 

Begin to join us in our song. 

Begin to join our growing throng. 

A thousand soon becomes a million strong. 

A million grows to billions and erelong, 

We garden back the planet once we trashed. 

We weave together what we smashed.

The steps are small;

But dance is all; 

Soon, everyone is standing tall.

As all are dancing, all for all. 

We can do this, you and me.

We and all humanity.

Wake at last from stupid war.

Enjoy instead what life is for.

We can do this, you and me.

We and all humanity.

Just Frends Dance Academy by Marina Moldovan is licensed under CC-BY-NC-ND 4.0



We can dance in maize and blue. 

It’s just what we are meant to do. 

Help and learn and farm, invent.

War is something we’ll prevent. 

———————————-

Author Page on Amazon

Index to Pattern Language for Cooperation and Collaboration

Myths of the Veritas: The Forgotten Field

Ripples

The Echos of Your Action

Take a glance; join the dance

How the Nightingale Learned to Sing

← Older posts

Subscribe

  • Entries (RSS)
  • Comments (RSS)

Archives

  • January 2023
  • December 2022
  • November 2022
  • October 2022
  • September 2022
  • August 2022
  • July 2022
  • June 2022
  • May 2022
  • April 2022
  • March 2022
  • February 2022
  • January 2022
  • December 2021
  • November 2021
  • October 2021
  • September 2021
  • August 2021
  • July 2021
  • June 2021
  • May 2021
  • April 2021
  • March 2021
  • February 2021
  • January 2021
  • December 2020
  • November 2020
  • October 2020
  • September 2020
  • August 2020
  • July 2020
  • June 2020
  • May 2020
  • April 2020
  • March 2020
  • February 2020
  • January 2020
  • December 2019
  • November 2019
  • October 2019
  • September 2019
  • August 2019
  • July 2019
  • June 2019
  • May 2019
  • April 2019
  • March 2019
  • February 2019
  • January 2019
  • December 2018
  • November 2018
  • October 2018
  • September 2018
  • August 2018
  • July 2018
  • June 2018
  • May 2018
  • April 2018
  • March 2018
  • February 2018
  • January 2018
  • December 2017
  • November 2017
  • October 2017
  • September 2017
  • August 2017
  • July 2017
  • June 2017
  • May 2017
  • April 2017
  • March 2017
  • February 2017
  • January 2017
  • December 2016
  • November 2016
  • October 2016
  • September 2016
  • August 2016
  • July 2016
  • June 2016
  • May 2016
  • April 2016
  • March 2016
  • February 2016
  • January 2016
  • December 2015
  • November 2015
  • October 2015
  • September 2015
  • August 2015
  • May 2015
  • January 2015
  • July 2014
  • January 2014
  • December 2013
  • November 2013

Categories

  • America
  • apocalypse
  • COVID-19
  • creativity
  • driverless cars
  • family
  • fiction
  • health
  • management
  • nature
  • poetry
  • politics
  • psychology
  • satire
  • science
  • sports
  • story
  • The Singularity
  • Travel
  • Uncategorized
  • Veritas
  • Walkabout Diaries

Meta

  • Register
  • Log in

Blog at WordPress.com.

  • Follow Following
    • petersironwood
    • Join 644 other followers
    • Already have a WordPress.com account? Log in now.
    • petersironwood
    • Customize
    • Follow Following
    • Sign up
    • Log in
    • Report this content
    • View site in Reader
    • Manage subscriptions
    • Collapse this bar
 

Loading Comments...