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Tag Archives: Democracy

Travels with Sadie 3: Gates, Doors, & Walls

07 Saturday Sep 2024

Posted by petersironwood in America, pets, politics

≈ 7 Comments

Tags

Democracy, life, politics, truth, USA

“Something there is that doesn’t love a wall.” 

So begins Robert Frost’s poem, The Mending Wall. 

I was thinking about gates, doors, and walls as I went walking with Sadie on a sunny Thursday morning. We typically walk along the sides of streets. I let her wander onto the edges, but not onto other people’s yards or very far down their driveways. Often there are gates, much like our own gate. If the gate is closed and isn’t too far from the road, I often let her walk up to the gate. The gates are there both to prevent us from entering someone else’s property and to signal us not enter the property. I could, if my life depending on it, scale many of the gates, but that’s clearly asking for trouble. The gate is meant to keep people out, not as a challenge to overcome. Sadie generally couldn’t get through the bars of the gates. Of course, a gate is no barrier at all to birds, rabbits, mice, rats, lizards, snakes, raccoons, butterflies, or bees.

 

A door seems to me to offer more security than does a gate. While a gate may prevent me from entering, it’s quite easy to see through or around most gates, to hear the noise from the other side and to smell what’s on the other side. It’s true that one may listen through a door but the sound is typically muffled. Loud music or yelling creeps through to the outside but a conversation normally stays private. 

A door also helps the inside stay warmer or cooler than the outside air. A gate has no such function. 

Among places dogs leave olfactory messages for each other, boundaries are high on the list. This includes hedges, curbs, and gates. Sadie “controls herself” well now, but when she was younger, she would often pee at the boundary of a social event. Specifically, when someone—especially someone new or someone she already liked but hadn’t seen for awhile, she’d pee. She also seems to understand what I mean when I say, “Sadie, we’re going for a ride in the car. You should go pee first and then we can get in the car.” I don’t think she “parses” the sentence and accesses the meanings of all the individual words. Nonetheless, she quickly pees and then goes over to get in the car. 

A wall is a kind of transition as well. A gate is much more permeable than a wall and a door may be opened or closed or ajar. Often walls, such as castle walls have one or more gates or doors. People on one side of a wall almost always want to get to the other side, at least occasionally. At the very least, they want to be able to move information and goods from inside to outside and vice versa. 

Why walls? The walls of a house keep you in a more easily controlled environment. A wall can provide a level of protection. That’s mainly what castle walls are for. Of course, they often fail as well. Invaders climb the walls or tear down the walls or burrow under the walls until the wall collapses. Of course, castles were also subject to sieges. Eventually, the defenders inside would run out of food. Primitive machines were constructed to hurl firebrands and large rocks in to wreak havoc and kill defenders. 

The Greeks were unable to defeat the Trojans by destroying their castle. Instead, they famously made a large wooden horse as a “tribute” to the courage and tenacity of the Trojans. Overjoyed that the long siege was over, they opened the gates and led in the giant wooden horse and began to celebrate. Once everyone was drunk or sleeping, the soldiers hidden inside the horse snuck out and opened the gates to the much larger Greek army waiting outside. 

Photo by Salih Altuntas on Pexels.com

Today’s technology is much more sophisticated of course, but walls, gates, and doors still exist. The defensive capabilities now include guided missiles, aircraft, submarines, and aircraft carriers as well as the threat of nuclear retaliation. During the so-called “Cold War” America and the USSR engaged in an “arms race” to develop the best weapons and more of them. Looking back on all the wasted energy and time on both sides, I think, “Imagine what could have been done if we had instead spent all that resource on preventing climate change, curing disease, and sponsoring science and education. 

Of course, it’s not an easy problem. One side in a standoff can only stand down unilaterally if they trust the other side. Meanwhile, none of the amazing and exorbitantly expensive weapons, walls, doors, and gates we’ve developed are worth anything at all if we accept the modern Trojan Horse.



Social media, the press, the television, and nearly half of the political candidates spew misinformation on a daily, even hourly basis. We’re locked in a political race and one of the two candidates for President is himself a Trojan Horse. Like the ancient Trojans, all our walls and armaments will be useless. 

The threat to America is, in many ways, worse than the threat to ancient Troy. The Trojan Horse that endangers us? It’s a steady steam of lies designed to induce Americans to kill each other. 

No number of fighter jets; no cache of assault rifles; no armada of submarines; no hordes of fighters will save us from the Trojan Horse. The Trojan Horse is armored with something far more powerful than iron, steel, or depleted uranium. The Trojan Horse’s armor is your own mind. 

Only courage will work to save you. It is not the courage to face an army. It is the courage to admit that you’ve been conned; that you were wrong; that you have been led down a garden path that leads nowhere near where you ever wanted to go. 

Find that courage. 

———————————-

The Mending Wall 

My Cousin Bobby

Where does your loyalty lie?

The Stopping Rule

The Update Problem

Guernica

What About the Butter Dish?

Dick-Taters

The Game

A Profound and Utter Failure

Roar, Ocean, Roar

Plans for US; some GRUesome

They Lost the Word for War

Author Page on Amazon

Travels with Sadie 1: Lamppost, Sign Pole, and Fire Hydrant.

23 Tuesday Jul 2024

Posted by petersironwood in Uncategorized

≈ 15 Comments

Tags

Democracy, dogs, life, pets, politics, truth

Did you ever read “Travels with Charley” by Steinbeck? “Charley” is the name of Steinbeck’s dog who travels with him on a car trip across America, or at least the first 48 states thereof. My wife and I—and our dog Sadie— recently met up with my cousin-in-law (is that a word? I guess it is now). Cousin-in-law Timm loves dogs too and suggested I should do a similar journal called “Travels with Sadie” and this is, indeed, the first chapter of “Travels with Charley.” 

I chose this topic while reflecting, as I often do, on what the world is like for Sadie and her kin. Sadie, like most, is thrilled to meet other dogs. If she can’t meet them in person, the next best thing is to sniff the spots where they peed. Although she hasn’t yet reached estrous, in the last few months, she’s been behaving differently with respect to the pee residue of female dogs on the ground and male dogs, which are on bushes, trees, lampposts, sign poles, and fire hydrants.   

It seems that the males inordinately prefer lampposts, sign poles, and fire hydrants over trees. That, to me, at first seemed curious. After all, trees have been in the picture for dogs and their ancestors for millions of years. These manufactured artifacts are brand new. 

Here’s my hypothesis. In the long-ago days of dogs, some dogs took it upon themselves to signal their presence by peeing on manufactured posts while others preferred trees. A post has fewer distractions—visual, aural, and most importantly, the olfactory sense. Thus, the post-preferring peers had a more impressive social presence resulting in more mating and more envy—higher ranking in the pack. Over time, the post-preferring peers proliferated and prospered. 

Over time, and perhaps even initially, the individual dog itself could “learn” that it had left a more salient and more lasting impression. How? Because they go back to the spot they themselves peed in, often repeatedly. Thus, they would learn that make a splash in the dog world, you’re better off with a human artifact. The fact that it smells like a human when it is first put into place may well “seed” the site as a place to exchange messages—perhaps a kind of canine Facebook—only not really the face. 

It also turns out that lampposts, sign poles, and fire hydrants signify three essential functions of a society. Lampposts are to shine light on reality. Medical research, science research, education, public service announcements, and books. To some extent, our laws are also a kind of lamppost. “Look people, we’ve learned the hard way, that it’s not good to steal. Don’t do it.”

Well, if that’s not clear enough, fine, we’ll write 100,000 pages of clarification. 

Sign posts include, to me, norms and customs, as well as directions of various sorts. There’s often a tension between lampposts and sign poles. The sign poles take work to design, manufacture, transport, and erect. That stop sign down the street didn’t just fall off the coconut tree. Similarly, customs, for instance, separating the work of men and women so that all nurses were women and all men were doctors, take work to implement and to enforce. People will not always stop at a stop sign and especially if they are never ticketed. Similarly, there will be individual women who desire to become a doctor and men who want to be nurses. There will always be tension in such customs between the norm and the individual desires. 

Photo by Midory Pho on Pexels.com

Imagine after a lot of work has gone into putting up the stop sign, the lamppost function of government sponsors a study that shows it would be much better to put in a traffic circle (roundabout) rather than the four stop signs. More traffic gets through faster and there are fewer accidents. You can easily imagine some resistance. The people who profit from making the stop signs, for instance, and the police officers who ticket those who only come to a “rolling stop.” The drivers may also object. Many of them aren’t used to traffic circles. Some initial awkwardness is predictable. 

To me, the fire hydrant represents the protective aspects of government. There are many! There are agencies, like the FDA, that ensure the cleanliness of our food and water. (Believe it or not, there are some providers who are so greedy, that they would actually sell you tainted food or drink if it would make them richer.) There are the Armed Forces, the Fire Departments, the Police Forces. In a way, Social Security and Medicare also fall into this region. It is a protective function of government. 

Sadie, meanwhile, is sacked out on the couch across from me. She’s had an active day; two long walks, zoomies, swimming, and ball playing. Our dog, like many, is very loving. She’s wary of anything new. But soon, she’ll be head over heels in love with another person.

The very greedy people who would have you kowtow to them while they steal the fruits of your labor love to use the rationalization that it’s a “Dog eat dog world out there.” It isn’t actually. Neither humans (for the most part) nor dogs (for the most part) are out there eating others of their own species. We are both pack animals. We both love and protect our families. Is there competition? Sure. But it’s all done in the scope of a cooperative society.

The natural tension between conservatives and liberals has a lot to do with how quickly one wants to see lamppost findings supplant existing psychic and physical infrastructure. And it is a very legitimate debate to have. Most do not want the extreme that every new finding in, say, medical research should instantaneously turn traditions and practices on their heads. Also, most do not want to ignore all new science and discovery and keep everything static forever. 

Photo by Stephen Andrews on Pexels.com

What is not a legitimate debate is for one side, like a spoiled toddler, to insist that if they don’t get their way, they’ll burn our civilization to the ground. Sadie wouldn’t do that. Nor would I. Nor would most Americans. 

Dick-taters

Absolute is not Just a Vodka

Essays on America: The Game

The Ailing King of Agitate

The only them that counts is all of us

Dance of Billions 

Author Page on Amazon

Who Won the War?

24 Sunday Mar 2024

Posted by petersironwood in Uncategorized

≈ 21 Comments

Tags

Democracy, history, life, news, poetry, society, USA, war

Photo by Avery Nielsen-Webb on Pexels.com

The war begins and we begin to count

The dead and wounded: such and such and much.

We scrutinize the numbers as they mount

We dare not feel the shattered dreams they touch.

We analyze and matricize results.

Declare a victory when none exists.

The thought that someone wins a war insults. 

This myth through every fog of war persists. 

The would-be poet, teacher, engineer.

The father, mother, uncle, nephew, son.

The old, the young, the crooked, straight & queer.

The war hurts you and me and everyone.

 

Division and subtraction do not build. 

No souls are filled with joy; no gardens tilled. 

In each armed conflict both sides lose. Such waste!

Humanity needs everyone! Make haste!

Photo by Denniz Futalan on Pexels.com

———————-

Turning to prose: 

One of the things that the “winning side” of a war loses is the opportunity to spend those resources spent on war instead spent on making life better for its citizens. Even if the “winners” have a very quick and lopsided victory, they will have contributed to world-wide pollution and global climate change that will negatively impact nearly everyone on the planet including most of the people on the “winning” side and their descendants. Many of the soldiers will have died, but in almost every single case, many more innocent people will have died. In some cases, those will be minimal for the “winning” side, but not always. Meanwhile, soldiers who returned to society, even if they are not physically impacted permanently are surely impacted psychologically. Among other things, if they were successful, they killed other human beings. Some of those human beings were almost certainly innocents, but even the other soldiers were mainly people forced into fighting.

In a way, they will be carrying seeds of some very bad experiences and some of those seeds will undoubtedly leak out into that person’s environment impacting, his friends and family, as well as random strangers. But the war mentality is not limited to serious effects on fighting soldiers. To some small extent, everyone is damaged. There is more stress for everyone. There is always the threat of reprisal or that someone you care deeply about will be maimed or killed. Not only are people’s sense of fear heightened; typically, so is their hatred and anger. For many, this will be directed far beyond those actually most responsible for starting a war. 

During a war, people will be asked, or ask themselves, to view the killing of a whole bunch of their fellow humans as the best course of action. Some will embrace that with relish and a side order of over-generalization. Others will embrace the killing with reluctance. Few will object outright. So, after your victory, you will be living in a society that rationalizes killing others more often and more easily than they did before. Of course, it’s generally even worse for the “losing” society. Both sides lose. The “losing side” loses more and that keeps the war fueled as long as possible. But make no mistake. Both sides lose. 

Democracies have often gone to war against each other. But far more often in modern times, war has been instigated by dictators. They rule by hate and fear. Having an enemy is an entry fee and a talking point. If there’s no-one else around, they’ll simply pick on the vulnerable within their own society. Through constant repetition about extremely rare cases or even just outright lies, people can actually be made to hate people who have, in reality, done them zero harm. 

Time to wake up. 

——————

Stoned Soup

The Orange Man

Three Blind Mice

The Ailing King of Agitate

Plans for us

Dick-taters

Absolute is not just a vodka

Cancer always loses in the end

Dance of Billions

Meeting With Da Da

14 Thursday Mar 2024

Posted by petersironwood in America, politics, psychology

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

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

When facts are hidden, the imagination blossoms. The facts of meetings between the former guy and Vlademort Putrid are known. You may have forgotten. I have not. 

https://www.washingtonpost.com/world/2019/10/04/trump-has-spoken-privately-with-putin-least-times-heres-what-we-know-about-conversations

What we do know is that the former guy’s body language consistently shows that Putin is the dominant of the two. The former guy often looks a lot like a whipped dog. His eyes are downcast. His head is down. His shoulders are hunched. He contorts himself to look lower than Putin. 

His statements about Putin (and other dictators) consistently show his admiration for brutal, cruel, murderous dictators. That is in contrast to his statements about democratically elected heads of state and American politicians, including those in his own party.

We also know that the former guy was born rich; lost a fortune; then begged his daddy for more. The former guy was not daddy’s favorite child, at least initially. TFG’s mother was often sick. If the American public knows this, you can be sure that former KGB officers knows it as well. 

What follows is fiction. It is fiction in the sense that American citizens have no way to find out what actually happened in the secret meetings between Putin and the former guy. 

Here is a link to a series of four fictional stories. As time goes on, however, it seems more and more probably that something like this may well have happened. 

Plans for us; some GRUesome.

Here’s a link to another earlier blog post that seems resonant today. 

Trumpism is a New Religion

Now, let’s turn to the dialog. 

“No, Mister President, don’t worry. I can speak some English. And I have my translator here. Given that you’re such a smart guy, I’m sure you probably picked up few words of Russian. You know word for yes, da?” 

“Yes, President Putin. I mean, da!” 

“Good. Excellent. I don’t understand how the people in your country fail to realize how lucky they are to have someone as competent as you. And realistic. Not hung up on silly abstractions. Don’t you agree?”

“Da! Da!”

“And, just as you get a lot of unfair criticism, so do I. It’s jealousy. People in other countries are jealous Russia’s strength and progress. So, they tell lies about people I supposedly murder. You know it’s all lies, right?” 

“Da! Da!” 

“You know, it’s odd. Your English slang word for father, ‘Dada’ sounds lot like the Russian words for ‘yes, yes.’ And, that reminds me. I heard a rumor that your dada favored Fred Junior. But you got the good genes. Eventually, your dada figured out that you were the smart one—the one destined for greatness. Isn’t that right?”

“Da. Da.”

“By the way, did you know my people call me ‘Papa Putin’? Wouldn’t it drive liberals and your other detractors crazy if you called me Dada?” 

 

“That’s a great idea! It would drive them nuts! Serve them right, Dada.” 

“Yes, indeed. I know some people may try to rein you or make you behave like normal President. Don’t do it! Keep acting cra—unique. Keep acting unique. Different. That way, your fans have no way of knowing where you stand except by listening to you that day. And when you say something crazy—unique, I mean, like ‘pollution is good for you’  your fans will instantly repeat it. They will vie for most followers or most likes and for retweets by you—best prize of all. And liberals? They’ll go nuts. And you know what they’ll do? They will also repeat what you say! It’s amazing. They’ll say: 

You know what crazy guy just said? That pollution is good for you! How stupid do you have to be to think that pollution is good for you? It kills! Ridiculous to think pollution is good for you!

“And, so Donald, do you know what people who delude themselves that they are independents will remember from those antics in three months time?” 

“Yes. I mean da. Da. Da! Dada. Pollution is good! Pollution is good! Which is also a good excuse to give tax breaks to the rich.” 

“My God, Donald, you are smart! Too bad your people don’t realize. Well, many do of course. Eventually, once you gain power, the rest will join your ranks. Everyone will know.”

“Da! Da! Dada! I should get you something! What would you like?” 

“Donald, do you remember how cool it was when you were kid and it was America versus the USSR? Olympics! UN! Foreign wars! Two sides! To USSR, you were evil. To us, you were evil. Wonderful times. Now, you’ve got these terrorist groups, lots nations with H-Bombs, and for what? It’s hell for everyone. See what I mean?”

“Da. Dada. I do.” 

“And, you know, we’re like favorite band that split up. We just want to get back together band. For instance, part of Russia we call ‘The Ukraine.’ It’s actually part of Russia as you know. You do, know that, right, Donald?” 

“Da! Da!” 

“Good, well don’t forget in case—they are just sort of people incite us to war. We might have to liberate Russians inside Ukraine. You are smart man. You will know enough to back us up. Right?”

“Da. Da. Dada.” 

“Donald, you know what? You are favorite among all world leaders. We’ll rule together long time.” 

“Da.” 

Photo by Denniz Futalan on Pexels.com

—————————————-

Absolute is not just a vodka

Poker Chips

Dick-Taters

The Ailing King of Agitate

The Truth Train

All we stand to lose

Dance of Billions

Author Page on Amazon

Family Matters: Part Four

13 Wednesday Mar 2024

Posted by petersironwood in family, nature, pets, psychology, science, Uncategorized

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

Democracy, family, family-reunion, life, truth

When we see that word “Family” most of us think of a relatively small number of people. Maybe when you saw it, you thought of your family of origin. Maybe you thought of your family of generation. Maybe you thought of the people who live in your home which may include some of each. When I was a kid, we had “Family Reunions” which included the extended family of my maternal grandmother. It did not extend to my maternal grandfather’s family nor to my dad’s relatives. Typically, there were 30-40 people who showed up. I know of “Family Reunions” which are much larger, involving hundreds of people. Years ago, when I wrote in this blog of “Family Matters” I mentioned a subset of people who attended my “Family Reunions.”

Occasionally, people think of humanity as their family. I have been lucky enough to visit a respectable number of countries (28) and I’ve met people from over a hundred and in every single instance, it’s very easy to see that they are basically like me both physically and mentally.

Like many people, I was brought up in a religious tradition that reinforced the idea that all of us are in this together. Beyond my personal experience, it is just plain fact that human beings share most of their history (4 billion years) before we began diverging slightly a hundred thousand years ago. Beyond that, we are all sharing the planet. While, borders may keep some people out (or more commonly, keeping them in), in the long run, the water, air, and pollution is shared world wide across all “boundaries” of religion, philosophy, or nation.

It may be difficult for some to accept that all humans are part of their extended family.

The truth is that our actual family is far broader and wider than the 8 billion people on the planet today. We share more than half of our “family history” with every single creature and plant on earth today. When you think about vertebrates, for instance, we have similar bodily systems. We mate. We eat food. We eliminate wastes. Even those who live in the water actually breathe air that’s dissolved in the water. We learn. We flee. We are curious. We are aggressive. We solve problems.

Photo by Tom Swinnen on Pexels.com

The earth is basically covered with living organisms. That is our family. It can be a source of inspiration and comfort if you let it be. And, you can love that family.

It’s up to you.


Family Matters: Part One

Family Matters: Part Two

Family Matters: Part Three

Life Will Find a Way

Math Class: Who are you?

Dance of Billions

Life is a Dance

The Walkabout Diaries: Bee Wise

The Forest

Author Page on Amazon

Orange Margolade

06 Wednesday Mar 2024

Posted by petersironwood in Uncategorized

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

Democracy, poem, poetry, politics, truth, USA

When down in the gutter,

There’s no time to stutter. 

He feigns a proud strutter.

His nonsense is utter.

“I’m strong!” He screams weak.

His pants show a leak. 

We don’t get a peek.

He struts like a sheik.

 

He plucks on the strings; 

Of hatred he sings.

He crushes the wings. 

Division he brings.

Photo by Min Thein on Pexels.com

He sucks on men’s souls. 

He states no good goals.

He’s as wobbly as foals. 

His “logic” has holes.

 

He dwells in folks’ necks.

Our nation he wrecks. 

All hands on the decks!

To stop Putin’s hex.

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

 

Or things won’t end well.

In slavery we’ll dwell. 

No Liberty Bell

Rings inside of hell.

Photo by cottonbro studio on Pexels.com

Author Page on Amazon

The Ailing King of Agitate

All We Stand to Lose

The Truth Train

Essays on America: Wednesday

Essays on America: The Stopping Rule

What about the Butter Dish?

Finding the Mustard

Happy Talk Lies

Where does your Loyalty Lie?

Absolute is not Just a Vodka

Stoned Soup

Three Blind Mice

The Orange Man

The Dance of Billions 

Author Page on Amazon

Listen Only to Me.

04 Monday Mar 2024

Posted by petersironwood in Uncategorized

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

America, Democracy, fascism, national-security, politics, USA

Listen Only to Me.

Excuse me. Can I trouble you to listen to me for one minute? Yes? Fine. Just wanted to warn you about a danger you might not be aware of. 

Snakes. Sharks. Poisons. Drugs that addict you. Diseases that afflict you. 

You’ve heard of these. Did you know the government is doing it? No? Where do you think it all comes from? You’re a smart man (or you’re married to one). You don’t do stupid things, right? It isn’t your fault there are snakes, sharks, poisons, drugs, and diseases throughout the land. Of course not! Is it your family? No. Of course not. Is it your neighbor? No. Of course not. It’s foreigners and their liberal enablers.

Did you know that? They are hurting you on purpose.

Luckily, there is a solution. Oh, yes. A final solution. Once and for all, I can rid you of snakes, sharks, poisons, drugs and violent crime. Protect you forever. Of course, the government will try to stop me. But you’re too smart to let that happen. Just give me a little of your money. And give me your vote. 

They will try to hurt me because I am your protector. But I won’t let that happen. I will protect us both. I just need you to help me help you. I just need, just for a little while, to be above the law. Then, I can be effective as your protector. And get everything we both want. We’ll get rid of all the people trying to hurt you. The bad people. They’ll be gone. The different people. They’ll be gone. The liberal people. They’ll be gone. 

And when they’re all gone, of course, you’ll have far fewer problems. Far fewer. And, if your woman gets out of line, you will have the power to fix that right away. Put her where she belongs. She won’t have any choice. She won’t have any voice. It might take a little while, but not too long. I’ll fix things the way you like ‘em real fast. 

Hey, you want in on the action? I need some folks to beat up some of the bad people. Can you do that for me? You can? That’s great. That’s great. You won’t be sorry. We’re going to take this country back for the real folks like you. 

There we go. Wasn’t that fun? It’s kind of a waste to have two political parties, isn’t it? There’s no need. We all know what’s what. You’re a businessman, like me. Tired of taxes? No problem. I’ll cut them. Tired of rules and regulations? We’ll get rid of those too. Oh, your business will do so well!

See? Just like I said, your profits are soaring. A lot. So much, you might want to give me a little more of them just to keep things perfect like they are. A little more. Yeah, but you’ll still be way ahead. Say, that’s a cute receptionist you’ve got there. Want her? Well, now you can have her. No problem. None of that bull about consent. We know they all want it, right? 

You know, your daughter’s kind of cute. I’d like to hire her myself and show her the ropes. Of course, I’ll treat her with the same respect as though she were my own wife/daughter. 

What do you mean, she said I assaulted her? Nonsense. She’s not really my type. You know, for a white guy, your skin sure is dark. You’re just tan? Is that your story? No problem. We’ll just do a little DNA test. Well, look there. You’re actually not so very white after all. Well, the test doesn’t lie. We did the test. Afraid you’re going to have to be shipped out to the camps for people like you. No, don’t worry. We’ll take care of your wife and daughter. Oh, don’t worry. We’ll take care of your business too. Just sign everything over to me. Or, not. I can sign for you. What do you mean, that’s not your signature? Of course it is. I say it is. That’s the end of the debate.

What do you mean, you’ll vote for someone else next time? That’s treason, you know. You didn’t know? It doesn’t matter. People in the camps can’t vote anyway. Good bye. What other country? No, you can’t leave to go to another country. Don’t be silly! 

Photo by Denniz Futalan on Pexels.com

We have walls to keep you in. And lots of guards. Lots and lots of guards. With searchlights. And machine guns. And trained dogs. We know what’s best for you. You just need a little re-education in our camps. So you remember better who is in charge of your life now. For your own benefit of course. You might get out eventually. Or you might get poisoned or beaten to death. It all depends on how loyal you are. And whether your family can prove their loyalty. To me. To me. Me. Me. Me. Me. Me. Me. Me. Me. Me. Oh, how I love the lyrics of that song. Me. Me. Me.

Photo by Wendelin Jacober on Pexels.com

Author Page on Amazon

Donnie gets a tennis trophy

The Ailing King of Agitate

All We Stand to Lose

Dick-Taters

Absolute is not Just a Vodka

Where does your Loyalty Lie?

What about the Butter Dish?

My Cousin Bobby

Wednesday

The Truth Train

The Crows and Me

The Dance of Billions

The Gods of Old

30 Tuesday Jan 2024

Posted by petersironwood in America, poetry

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

art, Democracy, inspirational, life, love, poem, poetry, politics, USA

The gods of old had seemed to lurk and shirk.

The people bowed instead to cons who screamed:

“To solve your problems won’t take thought or work!

King ME and you’ll have all you ever dreamed!”

“For ME you kill and die! I never lie!”

So many played the stupid game of crime.

So many named the crime ‘a loving sigh.’

So many ate the fearful hate filled chyme.

Photo by Ben Phillips on Pexels.com

And when (as always) karma killed them dead,

They had a glimpse (but far too late) that hate

Can never plant a flower bed; instead,

It opens wide a hellish galling gate

It tears apart the bonds of love and life;

It teaches each that no-one dared or cared.

Like ravenous wolves in endless strife that’s rife

With treason, lies and dead-eyed stares; teeth bared. 

Photo by bigworldinalens on Pexels.com

Yet far in the distance a different song wafts on the wind.

The sigh of the evergreens sings from the souls of the dead:

“Oh, please don’t be fooled yet again by the lies that are ginned.

Don’t feed on the meat of the losers who lie and instead:

“Join up with the legions of peace and of love and of light.  

Regain your adulthood and hold with the healers of hearts;

With rainbows and those who are weaving a world of delight;

Just love those around you; surround you with builders and arts.”

And thus at long last, world peace came to pass on this earth;

The days routinely filled with joy and mirth. 

The people felt a planetary birth.

The water flowed in bubbling crystal streams.

The air smelled clean and fresh and filled with dreams.

The dancers danced; a million hugs it seems

Went round this green and loving earth that teems

With trout and robin, spruce and sparkling gleams.

Photo by Trace Hudson on Pexels.com

The Dance of Billions

All we Stand to Lose

How the Nightingale Learned to Sing

The Only Them that Counts

Life Will Find a Way

After All

Math Class

Take a Glance; Join the Dance

The Forest

The Crows and Me

So Much More

Guernica

Who Can Tell The Dancer from the Dance

Author Page on Amazon

Somewhere a Bird Cries

20 Saturday Jan 2024

Posted by petersironwood in America, poetry

≈ 60 Comments

Tags

Democracy, Dictatorship, general, life, love, peace, poem, poetry, USA, war, writing

Somewhere a bird cries. 

Perhaps it is a lonely crow. 

Though, in truth, a cawing crow most often brings more crows. 

To scare away a screeching hawk, 

Or share to feast on bits of broken life 

Scattered willy-nilly on the rocks of a crumpled building. 

Stone quarried and hauled and put in place and now in ruin.

Now in ruin.

Photo by Denniz Futalan on Pexels.com

Somewhere a baby cries. 

Trapped beneath the rubble. 

The baby does not know; cannot know

What happened to mommy and her warm milk. 

The She of all that warmth and smile and love 

Inexplicably gone forever. 

Gone forever.

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

Somewhere an old man dies, 

Perhaps of sepsis from the jutting bone 

No-one left to help him hobble to nowhere

For nowhere is exactly where the care he needs persists

Just as likely, he dies of a broken heart; he had hoped

Hoped for a better life for his children and his grandchildren

But he sees that is not to be. 

Not to be.

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

Somewhere a young woman sighs, 

The gray day’s rain runs in rivers through the ruins 

Of her village and her dreams in streams and she sees 

In the screen behind her eyes the soldiers laughing as they

Ravage her too young body her too raw love that now

Will never come again no more dreams 

Only nightmares.

Only nightmares.

Somewhere a so-called ‘Strong man’ does not cry;

Does not sigh. His fingers sport a manicure.

He merely issues orders; plans another massacure. 

He spouts his lies and promises and promises and lies

He terrifies the people and the people will believe

He enrages the people and the people scream their hate

He has them rushing headlong into yet another turn 

Of the Wheel of War and the people attack the people

And the game of checks and slays continues on and on and on and on.

On and on and on and on.

It is indeed a wondrous game, the Wheel of War.

It crushes old and young. 

It crushes hopes and dreams. 

It blackens every sky and even flowers die. 

It fouls the crystal water and the air that people breathe. 

It is indeed a wondrous game, the Wheel of War. 

The Wheel of War. 

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

For everyone loses and no-one wins. 

Except for the manicured man with plastered hair.

Except for the man with the painted face. 

Who crushed the dreams and spun the Wheel of War. 

His victory is gray and shallow and he knows he’s lost 

He’s harmed the very Tree of Life

Because he could not win the game of Love

Because he could not win the game of Life

He chose instead to spin the Wheel of War

That spills and kills; undermines; explodes; crushes. 

He destroys in minutes what took centuries to build. 

What took centuries to build. 

Long after the ‘strong man’ is dead:

Beneath the orchard burned to char,

In broken buildings near and far, 

The Tree of Life sends shoots of spring.

And birds again will take to wing. 

And hope and love will rule the day. 

And no-one, no-one wants to play

The dumbest game—the warring way. 

Photo by Lucas Pezeta on Pexels.com

The parasites who prey on fear

Who ruin the rainbow with a jeer

Inside their weakness gnaws and grows.

They cannot see the glow of rose. 

They cannot feel love’s warm embrace. 

They truly fear and hate it all. 

They’re too afraid to play fair ball. 

The only game for them is hate.  

They long ago locked every gate. 

They want to kindle fear in you.

And train you up to hate the few.

Somewhere a joyous chorus sings. 

All the bombs and guns are ground to dust. 

All the people finally feel the shame. 

All the people finally see the sham.

All the people finally know 

What is weak and what is truly strong. 

And the giant Wheel of War 

Falls to shards, never to be spun again.

Never to be spun again. 

Never to be spun again.


The Dance of Billions

All we stand to lose

The Only Them that counts

After all

Only the Crows

How the Nightingale Learned to Sing

Essays on America: The Game

Absolute is not just a vodka

Dick-Taters

Life is a Dance

Life Will Find a Way

Author Page on Amazon

The Walkabout Diaries: Natural Variations

20 Wednesday Dec 2023

Posted by petersironwood in design rationale, nature, science

≈ 17 Comments

Tags

Democracy, flowers, life, nature, photography, plants, trees, truth, Walkabout Diaries

Weather in San Diego is typically nice almost every day. Today is no exception, but that doesn’t mean that the weather is boring. There is a lot of natural variation. There is variation in the humidity, in the wind, in the position of the sun, in the heat, in the (fairly rare) precipitation.

Reflecting on this reminded me of another kind of natural variation: the variation in organisms of the same species. Without that variation, evolution would be far less effective.

It also reminds me of several of the characteristics of natural beauty and good design that Christopher Alexander writes about.

Things that have zero variation are mechanical, predictable, repetitive, and generally not very pleasing aesthetically. Mindless, endless repetition is aligned with death. Variation is aligned with life, freedom, creativity, growth, and joy.

Among things that are non-living artifacts, there is still a variation in how variable they are. Walls made of stone, are by their nature, “rougher” and more variable (and more beautiful) than walls made of bricks. Walls made of bricks are more irregular and beautiful than one made of solid steel. Similarly, at least to me, fences made of wood are more variable and beautiful than fences made of metal.

Building elements that make up a wooden deck show grain and irregularities in the surface of the deck. In addition, however, they even have interesting variability below the deck as shown here.

You can also see in this photo below a variety of materials. The stucco, by its very nature, more interesting and variable than steel or plaster.

In these photos, you can see variation within leaves, among the leaves of a particular plant, and also among the plants themselves. Each plant and each part of the plant grows in accordance to its genetic blueprint. Except a “blueprint” is itself too fixed and unbending to be an appropriate metaphor. The growth will depend on the context–water sources, light sources, nutrients in the soil, other nearby plants and rocks will all play a part in how, precisely, a particular plant grows.

It would be absurd for one plant to say to itself: “Every plant should be just like me! I have a plan based on what works for me and everyone should do exactly what I do!”

Fifteen Properties of Beauty

Absolute is not just a vodka

Life is a dance

The Orange Man

Three Blind Mice

The Walkabout Diaries, symphony

The Walkabout Diaries, how beautiful

The Walkabout Diaries the life of the party

Author Page on Amazon

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