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~ Finding, formulating and solving life's frustrations.

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Tag Archives: life

A Cat’s a Cat & That’s That.

07 Tuesday Apr 2020

Posted by petersironwood in family, poetry, psychology, Uncategorized

≈ 24 Comments

Tags

cats, gratitude, kitten, life, love, mindfulness, peace, pets, poem, poetry

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Sirius and Mister Jones watching TV with us.

Mister Mitchell is his name.
He would rather be in my lap
Than curled up beside the keyboard
Sneaking a paw out to help me,
Tapping out a random,
(Or, seemingly random),
// here and there.

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Jones checking out the new sound system.

But //? Who knows?
Perhaps he’s trying to find some website
Devoted to the feline.
After all,
They have a TV program now for cats.

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‘Mister Mitchell’ is not a name we chose;
Rather the name came with the cat.
He mostly seems a fur generating machine
Sidling up to the Thinkpad.

orange cat foot on laptop keyboard

Photo by Александар Цветановић on Pexels.com

Yet, he is not a machine
But a living breathing system
Turning fish and turkey into more Mister Mitchell
And every one of his trillions of cells:
A miracle of masterly mechanism,
Much like me,
Getting sick and getting well,
Much like me,
Sleeping, eating, wishing the endless rain would let up
And some sun would shine at last
Much like me.

farm land during sunset

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

I’m not sure he has an opinion on the world situation,
Or of whether we’ll ever fire the Liar-In-Chief,
Or of what should be done with corporate crooks,
Or cares whether the Dow is up or down.

pile of gold round coins

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

Mister Mitchell never helps me take out the recycling
Or do the dishes or the shopping;
In reality, Mister Mitchell is not much use —
And maybe that’s the point:

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The miracle of life is point enough without a use.
People are so forgetful,
Of the miracles all around,
Large and small.

woman raising her hands

Photo by Marlon Schmeiski on Pexels.com

Much like me.

 

people in concert

Photo by Sebastian Ervi on Pexels.com


Author Page on Amazon

Other Poems on this Blog:

Race, Place, Space, Face

Piano

A Suddenly Springing Something

Hauntings Across the Time Zone

Is a Dream? 

The Most Serious Work 

The Joy of Juggling

Wristwatch

Continental Breakfast

Maybe it Needs a New Starter

The Truth Train

Sunless Sunday of Faith

Camelot

Peace

The Impossible

Ambition

America

Don’t They Realize How Much Better Off They Are Now? 

The Bubble People

 

 

Imagine all the People…

05 Sunday Apr 2020

Posted by petersironwood in America, apocalypse, COVID-19, family, health, poetry, politics, psychology, Uncategorized

≈ 82 Comments

Tags

America, collaboration, cooperation, COVID-19, leadership, life, pandemic, plague, poem, poetry, survival, teamwork

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Beyond the cloud, 

The sun still shines, 

It isn’t loud. 

It never whines. 

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Beyond the cold, 

The summer comes. 

When spring is old, 

The drummer drums.

brown wooden percussion instruments

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

The rhythm’s wrong. 

The tune is halt –

Ing, he says: “I’m strong. 

It’s not my fault!”

DCA8FC9A-F229-4538-9EA2-D9E13D4796EB_1_105_c

When virus kills,

Says: “No-one knew.

All our illness; all our ills:

The blame belongs on all of you.”

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Putin’s plan for planet earth: 

“Kill it dead ‘cause I must die.

I don’t like a spring rebirth. 

It’s hard on lethal spies

gray industrial machine during golden hour

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

Like me — who don’t really care. 

Once I’m dead; no longer me,

It’s not really fair!

No-one should be allowed to be!”

close up photography of burning woods

Photo by Tim Erben on Pexels.com

Trump is fully on board, 

He thinks you should be too! 

“A suicide pact’s the proper chord. 

If I have to die — so should you!”

person holding string lights photo

Photo by David Cassolato on Pexels.com

Putin has plans for you and me. 

He still thinks like KGB.

But we don’t have to play his heartless game.

He doesn’t even know your own true name.

photo of man and woman having fun with their child

Photo by Andrea Piacquadio on Pexels.com

Live and right your country’s wrong.

You can sing a different song.

Dance away to a different tune. 

Eschew the hate & picayune.

22FAC19F-5ABE-4C2B-8102-313BC7FAE5EA_1_105_c 

Dance instead to the stars above!

Dance instead in honor of love!

Handless holding each to each, 

A nation strong’s within our reach. 

woman raising her hands

Photo by Marlon Schmeiski on Pexels.com

Let nation’s rainbow colors show!

We will win and we will grow! 

A smile beneath a mask will show!

Vlad and ilk won’t ever know —

trees beside road

Photo by Mike Krejci on Pexels.com

That reaching down to raise another 

Makes us taller, Sister, Brother. 

This is how a forest stands! 

This, the key to freedom’s lands. 

earth space universe globe

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

Our globe is round and for a reason, 

It’s love, it’s love that conquers treason. 

Take my touchless hand! Stand tall!

All for one. And one for all! 

silhouette people on beach at sunset

Photo by Dana Tentis on Pexels.com

The wind is strong but we are stronger, 

COVID lives long, but we live longer. 

Take my touchless hand! And stand as one!

One for all. And all is won! 

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———————————————-

 Author Page on Amazon  

 

Fishing

29 Sunday Mar 2020

Posted by petersironwood in America, creativity, story, Veritas

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

fishing, legends, life, myths, relationships, romance, stories, tales, truth, Veritas

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Many Paths awoke with a smile. Without looking, she could feel the heat of Shadow Walker beside her. She slid carefully out from under the covers so as not to wake him. She had agreed to meet Eagle Eyes out by the river for some early morning fishing. Of course, the real reason was to talk. Both Eagle Eyes and Shadow Walker would be leaving on the morrow to follow the trail of yesterday’s unusual visitors. It was something of a compromise between following immediately — when they might be detected — and waiting too long and thereby losing the trail. The ROI raiding party that had stolen Tu-Swift had done a terrible job of hiding their trail. 

Many Paths prepared herself and gathered up her things as well as her thoughts. She hoped that she was encouraging the delay for those reasons and not simply because she would miss her two best friends. But no matter how she turned it over in her mind, Eagle Eyes and Shadow Walker would be the best two for the mission. Eagle Eyes would likely see any trouble before that trouble saw them. And, she would be invaluable in seeing whatever was needed. Shadow Walker, on the other hand, she counted on to make wise decisions under pressure. Her one concern was that he would fight when they should be running. He had assured her that his ankle had completely healed. She believed him. And, she believed that he meant it when he promised not to get into a fight against an overwhelming odds. But she wasn’t sure he could always control it. Yesterday, when the visitors arrived, she could see that he was struggling with himself to keep from killing them on the spot. 

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For his part, he could not understand how she had not confronted them about the deaths and mayhem that they had caused including, most principally, stealing her own brother! She asked him, “to what end?” Their exchange became spirited and lively, but they not only loved each other; they respected each other as well. In the end, she agreed that there was some possibility that overt confrontation would change them, but it was very slim. They had to already know that it was despicable to steal children. Many Paths wanted the ROI — or Z-Lotz, if that is what they now called themselves, to be uncertain about how much they knew. 

Many Paths strongly suspected that the man whom Eagle Eyes had described being killed with the killing sticks was, in fact, the leader of the ROI. The recent visitors had said they were now all Z-Lotz but that their leader was doing just fine. That seemed very unlikely, especially with people like NUT-PI. She thought, not for the first time, that from NUT-PI’s perspective, it had been the Veritas in general, and Many Paths in particular, who had been responsible for defeating him so badly in the battle of the three roads. The Cupiditas had been decimated. Hardly a recommendation for NUT-PI! And, yet, he seemed to be “in charge” of the entire large village of the Z-Lotz? How could that be? He must be using the Killing Sticks to threaten everyone else. They had used poison and they used fire. Now, Killing Sticks. What else might they use as weapons? 

The cheery voice of Eagle Eyes broke her out of her reverie. “It is a good dawn! Are you ready to catch some breakfast? You looked as though deep in thought. Anything I should know?” 

Many Paths smiled. She felt a tug in her heart about sending Eagle Eyes off on a dangerous mission — and with Trunk of Tree. “I was just trying to imagine what other sorts of weapons they might have. You know. The Z-Lotz.” 

Eagle Eyes took her friend’s hand and turned toward the river. She glanced over and chuckled. “You’re very well-named! Always turning things this way and that in your head. And, speaking of weapons, did you know that your brother is not only skilled with the horses, but also with the eagles and hawks?” 

“No. I didn’t even realize — I thought he was splitting his time between horses and decoding the — what I guess are called ‘books.’ So, he is also training the hawks and eagles, eh?” 

cascade creek environment fern

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

“Yes. He’s quite good. And, yesterday…I wanted to show you this. I drew these last night.” Eagle Eyes held forth two pieces of paper birch with a likeness of NUT-PI drawn on them. 

“Eagle Eyes, those — I have never seen such incredible likenesses…of anyone! How did you do this? Oh, the coins! That’s why you were so interested in the coins. But why? I mean, he’s not very beautiful. But those are great drawings.” 

sunray through trees

Photo by Todd Trapani on Pexels.com

“I wouldn’t mind making pictures of you and Shadow Walker. And of Trunk of Tree though… I’m not … I do hope he’s okay, but even if he is, I’m not sure we’re okay. I wish I could talk with him before I left. Well, if he comes tonight, so be it. Otherwise, hopefully we’ll both get back here and have time to decide on next steps.” She paused as she completed baiting her hook.  “If there are any.”  

Many Paths had finished baiting her own hook. She padded carefully to a hiding spot near an overhang, hunkered down, and waited while she watched and felt for the tug of a nibble or a bite. She reflected that many things in life were like that. Patience. Making sure you were doing the right thing. If you waited too long, the fish would simply eat the bait. If you jerked too soon, you would scare the fish away. 

Many Paths glanced at her friend. “Do you want to talk about it?” 

Eagle Eyes sighed. “Not — not right now. He’s away. You know? We didn’t leave on such good terms. I thought about … I confronted him … not in a mad way … about his advances … and he got angry.” She sighed. “He even called you a liar. Tried to make out like you came on to him. But that — I could not believe. Anyway, I don’t want to talk about that right now. Aren’t you curious about the drawings?” 

flying bird during day

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

“Well. You make many beautiful things. I am a little surprised you picked NUT-PI as a subject, but it’s really nicely made. Perhaps you could take them as a kind of gift. In case you do get found out, you could say you were merely following instructions and that this was one of the gifts you brought. Although … they are looking to meet with me. Alone? I don’t think so! I don’t trust NUT-PI at all! Do you?” 

Eagle Eyes felt a real tug and jerked the pole. “Fish for breakfast! Thank you fish! Let’s get a few of your brothers.” She unhooked the fish and put it in her bucket. “That’s a good sized one. We’ll have better luck if we’re quiet. But yes, I trust Trunk of Tree. But I don’t think he always sees things as they actually are.” 

Many Paths snorted, “I agree with you there! If he thinks I came on to him! But we were talking about NUT-PI. Do you trust NUT-PI?” 

Eagle Eyes frowned, “No, of course not! Oh. I’m not … the reason I made these pictures is this. I am going to have Tu-Swift and Dah-Nah train the eagles and hawks to attack these. I am hoping I can get them to attack the real person. If need be. If he pulls out Killing Sticks I will all the eagles to attack. I don’t know whether it would really work. But they did a number on — do you think Trunk of Tree somehow holds me — responsible — for being attacked? I mean, that would be crazy, right?” 

silhouette of bird above clouds

Photo by Flo Maderebner on Pexels.com

Many Paths hauled in a fish of her own. Once the tricky part was over, and she had again baited her hook, she glanced at Eagle Eyes and said, “Men do get jealous sometimes when there is nothing to be jealous about. I can tell you that. But whether Trunk of Tree specifically — Wait. What is your plan with NUT-PI? You are going to have the boys train the eagles to attack him by recognizing his picture? Will that work?” 

Eagle Eyes shrugged. “I do not know for certain. But I know for sure that I can recognize people. And I also know for sure that the eagles can see far better than even I can. And, by the way, they can also see fish in the water and snatch them right out! Maybe I could even train them to fish on our behalf. Anyway, I think it might work. You’d be surprised how smart they are. We will see. Anyway, I don’t want to talk about Trunk of Tree any more.” 

Many Paths smiled, looked at her friend and said, “I promise not to bring him up again, Eagle Eyes.” 

Eagle Eyes nodded and said, “Thanks, Many.” 

They fished in silence for a few minutes. Eagle Eyes got another bite and landed the third and largest fish which they judged enough for now. Normally, they would catch more fish, but Eagle Eyes was mindful that her friend wanted to breakfast with Shadow Walker. She put the top back on the fish bucket and wrapped the vine around her pole. She suddenly shook her head and looked at Many Paths. “You’re making a joke! You didn’t bring up Trunk of Tree. I did! Rascal! No fish for you! I’ll eat them all myself!” 

“Oh, you don’t want to go down that path. It’s slippery as a … as a fish! Share and care, Eagle Eyes!” 

“I will. Now, go wake your man up and I’ll clean and start cooking the fish. You’ll have to unclench when you smell the fish cooking. Or, if you can’t help yourself, you’ll just have to put up with cold fish!” 

“Hah. Very funny! I’m sure we’ll be able to satisfy all our hungers, thanks.” 

“Many Paths! You’re going to rub it in because Trunk of Tree isn’t here? Not nice.” Eagle Eyes pretended to pout. 

“I’m so sorry, Eagle Eyes! I promised not to bring him up again and yet there I go.” 

The two of them were still laughing when they returned to the Center Place. 

Eagle Eyes grinned at Shadow Walker who apparently sensed the arrival of Many Paths and leaned out the door and greeted them. “Ah. There you two are. Can you come here for a bit, Many Paths? There’s something I need to discuss.” He smiled. Many Paths strode a few steps toward their cabin, turned and smiled at Eagle Eyes, and then turned again to enter their cabin. Fish? That was the last thing on her mind. 

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Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

————————————————-

Author Page on Amazon

Start of the First Book of The Myths of the Veritas

Start of the Second Book of the Myths of the Veritas

Table of Contents for the Second Book of the Veritas

Table of Contents for Essays on America 

Index for a Pattern Language for Teamwork and Collaboration  

Wristwatch

23 Monday Mar 2020

Posted by petersironwood in America, apocalypse, COVID-19, poetry, politics, Uncategorized

≈ 4 Comments

Tags

celerity, ecology, environment, life, mindfulness, poem, poetry, politics, time, truth, virus

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What is this?

A gift. 

A wristband watch.

How convenient.

For someone.

For me?

I wonder…

It’s a kind of a band

(A bit like a slave band)

A bit of a rift,

Between me and me

men s suit and accessories

Photo by malcolm garret on Pexels.com

If you see; 

Get my drift.

It’s kind of sand

In my shoe

Keeping me from other things

And it rings

In my ear

That a land

Where all that stands

Is the least pernicious example

Is but a silly sweet example

Of things to come.

“Hurry to the hippodrome!

Never mind the cost.”

Never mind what’s lost

Never mind what land

We conquer to expand

The land that … sorry….

Didn’t mean to mention that…

The land of the free…

I hope that is an okay phrase,

An acceptable phrase.

Because the thing that worries me

Is not forty-five per se, 

Oh, 

No.  

I know.

No.

What bothers me is this:

That a part of me says, “hiss”

On cue.

And then I say “Boo!”

And either way, 

It’s Putin’s day. 

men in black and red cade hats and military uniform

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

Oh, yes.  We are quite the quintessential conquestadoro.

Les hommes mucho macho

Let’s salsify the nacho

Let’s wolf down some state or other.

Sorry, meant to say steak or other…

1DCFDDF6-6B3F-434F-97F5-4C6C090667DC 

Slyly, slyly, you may perceive

That I, 

Much like our current reality,

Make no sense.  

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Granted, 

But I have no pretensions of being

Chiseled into Mount Rushtoomuchmore

Just because I gave away 

The U S A 

To those who hanker-danker for oil.

“Oil.”

Isn’t that a lovely word?

I like the sound.

Silky, deep, and dark. 

gray industrial machine during golden hour

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

“Oil.”

I love the stuff. 

Titusville, Pennsylvania as I recall

Was the happening place to be.

Nearly, West Virginia and Ohio 

Came to blows over it.

But we got over it.

Clear over the rainbow.

All the way to where the sun don’t shine

To where instead monkeyshines

Rule the day,

And check 

And slay.

Say! 

My watch alarm now is screaming: 

woman holding burning newspaper

Photo by Jhefferson Santos on Pexels.com

“Way past time to play! 

All hands on deck! 

You’re making a wreck

Of every day! 

Your addictive greed

Grew a wicked weed!

Thoughts flash between sulcus and gyrus

Showing us how to beat the virus,

We must hunker down and work as one

For just this once until it’s done.

Then, we go and green this globe 

Let’s use once more that frontal lobe!”

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———————————————-

Author Page on Amazon

Start of the First Book of The Myths of the Veritas

Start of the Second Book of the Myths of the Veritas

Table of Contents for the Second Book of the Veritas

Table of Contents for Essays on America 

Index for a Pattern Language for Teamwork and Collaboration  

 

Jennifer’s Invitation

22 Sunday Mar 2020

Posted by petersironwood in America, story

≈ 3 Comments

Tags

assertiveness, birthday, fiction, gift, grade school, life, love, party, relationships, short story, shy, shyness, story

sakura tree

Photo by Oleg Magni on Pexels.com

When I grew up in Northeastern Ohio, my birthday came in the spring —  real spring. This business about three months of spring is absurd. In Ohio, spring lasts about three weeks — the time from the first onion grass, crocuses, and daffodils shoot green through bare black dirt, through the greening of the willow switches, the white exploding dogwoods and cherry blossoms, till at last, every tree’s gold and red has turned dark green — that takes three weeks. And, square in the middle of nature’s renewal comes my birthday. At the age of nine — now more than sixty-five years ago — it seemed so lucky — yet, so right that this my birthday fell in the springtime! Perfect.

The only thing more perfect would be having Jennifer come to my birthday party. Jennifer! Her family, Gunnerson, was from Scandinavia and she looked it. Long, light blond hair, deep sky blue eyes, pale white skin. Best of all, she liked me — kind of. I lived nearly a world away from her — three blocks — but luckily she lived on the way to David Hill Elementary School so I could walk part-way to school with her. We could continue up residential Davies Street, littered with maple-seed helicopters, or cut over to Archwood. Urbane Archwood Street held the branch public library and even a filling station.

fuel dispenser

Photo by fotografierende on Pexels.com

Mom had promised me a party this birthday and I could invite whoever I wanted. Or, so she said. Actually, her friend from the bridge club had two daughters that I definitely did not want to come to my party, but my mother, of all things, had promised that they could come. Really! Imagine! I never told her she had to invite Jennifer’s mother to her bridge club! Actually, it wouldn’t have been a bad idea, but I didn’t think of it at the time.

No matter, so long as I could get Jennifer to my party. The tricky part was — how to get her there. Of course, you might think: “Well, hey, why not ask her?”

You might think that if you were born in New York or California or have forgotten what it’s like to be a nine year old boy totally overwhelmed by the goddess beauty of a nine year old girl. No, just walking up and asking her was definitely not an option.

woman in white sleeveless dress near green plants

Photo by Alex Fu on Pexels.com

Instead, I hit on a brilliant idea, bound to succeed. I made a newspaper. It had three or four articles on the front page and three or four more articles on the back page. It only took me one week-end to make. And there, right on the back of page two, in the lower right hand corner was the story of my upcoming birthday party, complete with a list of invitees. That list included Jennifer!

Now, for part two of my foolproof plan! The very next day, I contrived to walk home from school in front of Jennifer. I slowed down till she was only twenty paces behind me and “accidentally” dropped my newspaper. I continued to walk, but held my breath, heart racing. Soon, I heard the soft, bell-tones of her voice call out that I had dropped my paper. Yes! She handed it to me. I dully muttered “thanks,” as I stared into those infinite blue eyes for a clue.

Nothing.

beautiful beauty blond blur

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

Hadn’t she read it? Hadn’t she seen her name right there on page two? Was she blind, and I didn’t know?

I scurried on ahead. Maybe she just hadn’t noticed. I dropped my paper again. Again, I heard her call out my name! She had seen me drop the paper. I waited for her to catch up with me. She handed me the paper. I swallowed hard. I looked in her eyes. She looked at me. I said, “Well…did you read it?”

“Oh, no!” she said. “I wouldn’t do that.”

“Oh,” I said, and turned, crimson glowing hot on my cheeks.

I thought about dropping my paper a third time, but what was the point? She took it as an invasion of privacy to read my private paper. I’d have to come up with something else.

I did.

I got pneumonia and the party was canceled. I did get a record and a book as presents from my mother’s friend’s two daughters but I didn’t read the book or listen to the record. It wouldn’t be … right.

The next year, my parents moved to a new house and a new school district and I never saw Jennifer again. Except in dreams. Where her blond hair is still blond and her young smooth skin is still flawless. And, spring — spring lasts forever.

closeup photo of pink petaled flower tree

Photo by zhang kaiyv on Pexels.com

 


Author Page on Amazon

Start of the First Book of The Myths of the Veritas

Start of the Second Book of the Myths of the Veritas

Table of Contents for the Second Book of the Veritas

Table of Contents for Essays on America 

Index for a Pattern Language for Teamwork and Collaboration 

Maybe It Needs a New Starter

17 Tuesday Mar 2020

Posted by petersironwood in America, apocalypse, health, poetry, psychology, Uncategorized

≈ 11 Comments

Tags

cosmic, Frost, life, nature, poem, poetry, quarantine

6D58577A-D98C-4100-8325-EA90BE444CE0_1_201_a

Maybe it is the bulb itself that needs to be replaced.
Or, maybe it needs a new starter.
Whatever the cause,
It is flickering again,
That kitchen cylinder of Noble Gas.

And, my wife — she much prefers
To have no light at all.
The on-again, off-again
Bothers her that much.

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In truth, visitors are the same,
Commenting with a wince:
“Did you notice there’s something wrong with your light?”

Perhaps I kind of like some variability in this indoor world, our new universe —

This universe of manufactured items,
Rolled off the assembly line
Somewhere — I don’t know where,
Pittsburg, Brussels, or Bombay —
Who can tell?

blue plastic pail

Photo by ELEVATE on Pexels.com

Is something so wrong with a light
That glows with a twilight dimness
Humming, droning, for lazy minutes,
Then flashes white hot brilliance — and
Then finds contentment yet again with a dull orange glow?

Yes, I suppose it shall have to be replaced.
Ending its life in a landfill somewhere far from home
Or maybe in my own back yard.
But meanwhile, I wonder why no-one but me
Ever seems to wonder why it brightens now?
What causes it to flicker so?
Cosmic rays? Voltage fluctuations?
And, in either case, isn’t this sparkly tiny tube
Quite a rather remarkable little instrument indeed?
Registering either:
The Big Bang that began it all
Or
Summarizing the million little habits of my unseen fellow citizens
As they turn on and off their electric shavers, hair dryers, and stovetops?

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It shall have to be replaced, of course,

(Someday, when we are out and about again) —

(And shelves are brimming full again) —

But meanwhile:
One could do worse than be a swinger of birches.

birch tree photography

Photo by sungmu heo on Pexels.com


Author Page on Amazon

Start of the First Book of The Myths of the Veritas

Start of the Second Book of the Myths of the Veritas

Table of Contents for the Second Book of the Veritas

Table of Contents for Essays on America

Index for a Pattern Language for Teamwork and Collaboration 

 

The Truth Train

17 Tuesday Mar 2020

Posted by petersironwood in America, apocalypse, COVID-19, poetry, politics, Uncategorized

≈ 96 Comments

Tags

coronovirus, COVID-19, life, pandemic, poem, poetry, relationships

train in railway

Photo by Mark Plötz on Pexels.com

The Truth, a fateful brakeless train, 

Has run amok and kills 

Both brain and brainless; 

Spine and spineless;

Sifts and shifts and swills

The blood of many lies

Upon the tracks of time.

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1DCFDDF6-6B3F-434F-97F5-4C6C090667DC

Because there is no time

To cover up and paint our orange face.

It is — or was at least — a race.  

And once that banging gun

Announced the start of all this fun

Instead of pushing off against the blocks, 

With all our mighty might

And sprinting down the field in flight

Arms and heart together pumping

Like an Usain Bolt from the blue…

athletes running on track and field oval in grayscale photography

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

Instead of sprinting to and through the tape

We waved our hands and shook our locks

And called this deadly fight:

“A friendly little spat — 

Well, that’s that then, I guess.”

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So now we face a hapless mess. 

This baseless face; this faceless base

As frivolous as a rape; 

As friendly as a shark

Who loves to leave his mark

By chopping off an arm or two

And leave you bleeding red in blue. 

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And when all is said and done, 

How did we ever think that this was all for fun? 

How did we think a clown would do

When what we needed was a bolt of blue?  

grayscale photo of woman

Photo by Oliver Sjöström on Pexels.com

An ocean of lies has made us all dimmer; 

And each of us is now a lonely swimmer

In a murky sea of unseen sharks and death.

I may see you on the other side of breath. 

Now, we must hold hands across the space

That binds us all; blinds us all; and all without a touch.

The mask is unmasked and beneath the face 

We find there’s nothing’s there. It’s all devoid and bare. 

We left so much on the gilded legless table 

Pretending the genius really was quite stable. 

 

One last chance, we have to care. 

One last chance, we have to dare

To call a spade a spade; to say what’s true.

What happens next is up to me — and up to you.

Open the shutters and throw up the sash!

Sing to each other — for each is a brother!

Don’t sweat the cash & don’t sweat the crash.

Focus on love — and love one another!  

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7551D277-6606-4C1B-9E06-5E4E44C81A64

——————————————

The Declaration of Interdependence

Who are you really? 

Author Page on Amazon

What I am Doing to Stay Healthy & Prevent Spreading the Virus.

 

Sunless Sunday of Faith

15 Sunday Mar 2020

Posted by petersironwood in America, apocalypse, poetry, politics, Uncategorized

≈ 4 Comments

Tags

America, animism, faith, life, pandemic, poem, poetry, Sunday, USA

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Sunless, damp, and drizzly day —

Today;

Grimy slush pockets in a lifeless woods;

Yesterday’s clear path

Overgrown with treacherous bramble bushes.

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Where is my faith? Where is my faith?

A whistling wraith. Where can I find my faith,

Today, on this sunless Sunday?

 

The Supremes are singing novel tunes today;

A completely different style with a sanctimonious smile.

Today’s Chevy at the levy is a thousand pounds too heavy,

Dripping blood and oil from the bubbling boil of its cranky crankcase.

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A hole in the ground, today: A Holy hole;

And, all around I hear the desperate screams;

See the people scrambling; feel the flames;

Taste the broken dreams awash in a salty sea.

orange flame

Photo by Francesco Paggiaro on Pexels.com

And, so off we go again, half-cocked 

On yet another Crusade and once again

The children bear the brunt; 

The children feel the flame;

The leaders claim the fame.

IMG_3122

“The shot heard ‘round the world” has transmogrified:

“The shots heard all around the world.”

The New Centurions run roughshod

All around the world just because we can.

flight sky sunset men

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

All my eggs were not in one basket.

But, today, even the baskets are unravelled —

Shredded reeds scattered all about the floor

Eggs splattered against the open door. 

Where is my faith? Where is my faith?

A whistling wraith. Where can I find my faith

On a sunless Sunday, a damp, and drizzly winter day — 

Today?

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Cardinals, singing, robins, crows;

Scampering squirrels. 

Onion grass, the red florets on maple twigs —

These are my counselors; these are my coaches –

Ministers to my soul, healers of my heart.

Not the famous, complicit in the illicit;

Distracting the base and baseless base

That has become our sad and hollow home.

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Life grows; life knows.

Summers always melt the snows.

And endless greed is yet a sterile seed

That sows its own demise,

While wisdom, ah, sweet wisdom

Will find and mind the wise.

I imagine, John. I imagine still.

I imagine, John. And I always will.

IMG_3071

———————————————-

Author Page on Amazon

Start of the First Book of The Myths of the Veritas

Start of the Second Book of the Myths of the Veritas

Table of Contents for the Second Book of the Veritas

Table of Contents for Essays on America 

Index for a Pattern Language for Teamwork and Collaboration 

COVID-19

12 Thursday Mar 2020

Posted by petersironwood in America, apocalypse, COVID-19, health, Uncategorized

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

coronavirus, COVID-19, environment, exercise, health, healthcare, life, pandemic, wellness

COVID-19

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We interrupt our regularly scheduled blog posts to address our health crisis. 

It’s quite natural for us to want to survive as individuals, so what can we do to maximize our chances of survival? 

Much of the advice you’ve already heard is valid. 

  • Avoid unnecessary travel and gathering in groups. 
  • Telecommute.
  • Wash your hands frequently and thoroughly. 
  • Make and use some alcohol wipes. 
  • Use gloves.
  • You may want to implement the “left hand dirty, right hand clean” rule (which already exists in many countries). That is, if you must touch a public surface without having the opportunity to immediately wash, or in case you forget, use your left hand. Use your right hand for eating, rubbing your eyes, etc. Better is to disinfect immediately, or even better avoid touching public surfaces without gloves.
  • Don’t touch your face. I personally find this pretty much impossible, but I have cut down. 

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As someone that began life with many respiratory infections, I’ve devised a few additional things to help prevent myself from getting sick. I am not a medical doctor. I am not advising you to do these things, but I will report below on what works based mainly on my own experience. Your mileage may differ.

Eat healthy foods. Make sure you eat as healthily as you possibly can. Avoid refined sugar as much as possible. Include lots of fiber. A so-called Mediterranean diet is good. You may include fish, lots of fresh vegetables and fresh fruit. Typically, whole foods are better than vitamins. Garlic and shiitake mushrooms may be especially helpful for the immune system. When exposed to a cold, I typically cut cloves of garlic and inhale the fumes. It seems to help with a cold. I don’t know that it will help with COVID-19, but I’m going to keep doing it.

cooked meat with vegetables

Photo by Dana Tentis on Pexels.com

Exercise. I have found this greatly reduces my chances of getting a cold. You probably do not want to go to a gym, however, because it will greatly increase your exposure. Better would be walking or running in fresh air or doing yoga or dancing at home. If you’ve been sedentary for the past months or years, you don’t want to try to “make up for it” by suddenly running a marathon. Small steps. But even if you’re out of shape, at home watching TV, get up and stretch, pace, use your own body as resistance, find some free easy yoga or stretching tapes. 

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Stay positive. Your mental health impacts your physical health. Yes, we face a kind of crisis, but being depressed, angry, or anxious will not help you. You do want to be vigilant and concerned, but also calm, cool, and collected. Make sure you give love and get love. Enjoy some comedy. Engage in activities that you love but that are also safe in terms of avoiding crowds. Your body contains about 70 trillion cells! You’ve evolved over 4.5 billion years! Every one of your ancestors lived long enough to reproduce. I don’t just mean those folks who wore bear skins and sat around campfires. Way before that, every little critter on land, every fish in the sea, every microbe in the ocean — they all survived all sorts of attempts to kill them off — chances are good that you will too. And, in the unlikely chance you don’t, you may as well enjoy your own life and do good for others and for life on the planet, not just during this pandemic, but always. 

cascade creek environment fern

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

Stay hydrated. Since you will be spending more time at home, this should be fairly easy. 

woman drinking from glass

Photo by Adrienn on Pexels.com

Get some sunshine. Recent studies indicate that sunlight not only helps you make vitamin D; it also helps your body produce nitric oxide. Both help your immune system. 

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Salt showers. I noticed that I seldom got sick when I was near the seashore. Then, about 20 years ago, I ran across a very old book from John Harvey Kellogg about his sanitarium in Battle Creek. One of the things he recommended was salt showers. I routinely do this and I think it helps me avoid colds and sinus infections. Will it help with COVID-19? I have no idea. But I’m going to keep doing it. When I take a shower, I simply sprinkle the floor of the shower with iodized salt. 

woman in white towel standing in front of the mirror

Photo by Andrea Piacquadio on Pexels.com

Find and enjoy beauty. I obviously don’t mean head to a museum. Look for beauty in your garden or in your house or on-line. Listen to music, especially music that is upbeat and energetic. If you can’t find any beauty, create some. Paint, draw, write, take photos. 

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Learn something. Most companies and individuals spend way too much resource trying to maximize productivity based on what they know now. If you have a forced pause in that, use the time to learn something new. 

earth space universe globe

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

Make a contribution. Human beings are social animals. If you are making a contribution, you will tend to stay healthier. That contribution could be pretty much anything. It includes making others feel better; creating art; helping others by virtue of your work; giving a financial contribution; growing food; making a meal; washing clothes; loving your kids; staying positive. 

man hug pinnochio photo

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

Plan your path; practice pathogen paranoia. Treat every doorknob, handrail, light switch, car door, mobile phone, computer keyboard, ATM, shopping cart, etc. that you touch as being contaminated with COVID-19. It may not be true quite yet, but it will be soon. So, take precautions now and change your behavior now. It’s not so easy as you might think to avoid touching your face, doorknobs, etc. so start practicing now. 

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———————————-

Author Page on Amazon. 

The Declaration of Interdependence. 

The Myths of the Veritas (which explore #Leadership #ethics and #empathy). 

An Introduction to the Pattern Language for Cooperation and Collaboration. 

An Index to the Pattern Language for Collaboration and Cooperation. 

Your interconnectedness to all life on this planet. 

There’s a pill for that. 

Fit in Bits suggests numerous ways to work more exercise into daily life. I wrote this way before the current pandemic. Be sure to avoid touching public surfaces.

 

A Difficult Journey

11 Wednesday Mar 2020

Posted by petersironwood in America, apocalypse, politics, story, Uncategorized, Veritas

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

empathy, ethics, legends, life, myths, stories, tales, truth, Veritas

nature forest trees fog

Photo by Jaymantri on Pexels.com

Trunk of Tree awoke just as the morning sun dispersed the fog. He sat up and then regretted it. Dizziness overcame him along with a pounding headache. He lay back down and the pain in his head doubled. His comrades began to notice that he had awakened. 

Easy Tears asked, “How is the head of Trunk of Tree this morning?” 

Soon the others had gathered around. “I’m fine. It’s late. We should leave soon. Where are we? Where’s the river?” 

Glances were exchanged and in a single minute of silence, Fleet of Foot was nominated and unanimously chosen as the one to take charge of telling Trunk of Tree what had happened and when exactly which truths should be told. 

“Last sunset, we were camped by the river and ready to settle down for the night when Jaccim noticed the horses were terribly nervous so indicating danger. There was lightening on the mountains and later we could hear water rushing toward us. Things got very confused then. You might have reminded us then about how Eagle Eyes used rushing water to destroy Cupiditas warriors. You might have led us to higher ground. You might have fallen at some point or been kicked by a horse, but you fell to the ground senseless at some point. Jaccim hoisted you onto a horse. He must be very strong, or perhaps you helped him a bit. Anyway, you lay senseless but safe all night. We tried to wake you up, but we couldn’t make anything like the roar of the water when the flood tore through here. Do you recall all the trees that were down there?” 

sunray through trees

Photo by Todd Trapani on Pexels.com

Trunk of Tree squinted his eyes. He took his head in his hands. “I don’t remember anything except we found water. And we need to find the Veritas. But we are Veritas. Aren’t we? But who is he? I don’t know you,” he said, pointing to Jaccim. “Why are there horses here?”

“Trunk of Tree,” said Fleet of Foot, “Listen to me. Look at me. I know for sure that you were bumped on the head hard. Hard enough to knock you out for hours. Your memory is … you need to take it easy for a few days till you remember what’s happening. We are Veritas. Yes. But this woman, Cat Eyes, told us of cousins over the Twin Peaks. And, this man, Jaccim, confirmed it. We are headed there now to learn what we can learn from these people. You are leading us. But for now, you should rest and let your head —- your head is like a bird nest that’s been scattered by the storm. Like the bird, you must now rebuild it from those broken pieces. Do you see?” 

Fleet of Foot looked first at Easy Tears and she nodded to him. He had done well, but her eyes shifted back to Trunk of Tree. He was going to go along with it. Easy Tears thought perhaps he had somehow learned a lesson to listen to those who know more. Or, perhaps feeling weakened put him in a more receptive mood. We will see whether this is a cool breeze or winter coming, thought Easy Tears. She looked back to Fleet of Foot and nodded again. Message received. 

For the next few days as they took it easy till Trunk of Tree seemed to have recovered his full strength, if not his full memory. After three such days of slow walking to accommodate the recovering Veritas, they reached the foot of the first of Twin Peaks. At first, the path was fairly clear and open. Cat Eyes began to have a tingling on the nape of her neck. I am going home, she thought. I am at last going home. Will I remember anyone though? Or, will I be like Trunk of Tree and only remember my new friends? She shook her head slightly. She didn’t want to go through this whole sequence yet again. There’s no point, she told herself firmly. I will see soon enough, at least I will if this fool Trunk of Tree doesn’t get us killed by his stubbornness. He was still groggy, she thought. Maybe I could just pretend to like him, lie with him, and then in his sleep, while everyone else is asleep, I could… end him. 

scenic view of waterfalls

Photo by James Wheeler on Pexels.com

Cat Eyes was somewhat startled to see Easy Tears and Fleet of Foot standing before her. Easy Tears spoke and the revenge fantasy dissipated like fog. “Does any of this seem familiar to you yet?”

“Oh. Oh, no. But I don’t expect it would. People stayed in our settlement for the most part. Venturing outside was … unnecessary … and also dangerous. We knew there were evil people out there. I mean who else would steal children away from their parents?”

They all considered this for a moment. 

Easy Tears said, “Suppose you met someone, fell in love and had a baby. And suppose you raised this baby for years. And then, someone stole your baby away. Wouldn’t you try to steal their baby away and trade it for getting your own back?”

Cat Eyes nodded. “I might indeed. I might get my revenge. But it has to be the right person. I can’t take it out on Trunk of Tree. It’s not his fault.”

Easy Tears and Fleet of Foot looked at each other. Easy Tears said, “Trunk of Tree? What does he have to do with this?”

Cat Eyes stared at the two of them. “Sorry. I was thinking about something else. Back to your story. Why couldn’t I just tell them that I would take their child unless they gave mine back?” 

Fleet of Foot nodded. “That might work. But the other person might simply keep your child but be more on guard about their own children. They might take your threat as a warning and they would prevent you from actually doing it.” 

“Especially,” added Easy Tears, “if they had Killing Sticks.” She paused for a moment. “So, I might. If that were the only way to get my own child back. Strike without warning.” 

After a fair pause, Fleet of Foot said, “What if that’s what the reason the Z-Lotz have the ROI steal children?” 

Easy Tears was taken aback. “What? What are you talking about? They stole Tu-Swift. They stole Dah-Nah. They stole Cat Eyes, too. No-one stole their children. At least, not yet.” 

Fleet of Foot continued, “But how do we know that? If we had stolen children, or our grandparents’ grandparents had, would we have sung songs about it? Even if it never happened, the Z-Lotz might think it had happened. Most of them may think they are somehow protecting their own children. Or trying to get their own kids back. I don’t know.” 

They sat, for a time, in silence. It was time to break camp. As Cat Eyes stood, she looked the two of them intently. “I know. I know how to tell.” 

“How is that?” asked Easy Tears. 

She answered in a quiet, venomous voice, “If you stole a child in order to get your own back, would you make it perform sexual favors for you in the meantime?” 

animal snake reptile closeup

Photo by Donald Tong on Pexels.com

“No,” answered Easy Tears, “of course not. That’s disgusting.” 

“Nor I, of course. Horrible,” said Fleet of Foot and he grimaced.

“I thought not,” said Cat Eyes. “That’s how you know they are evil. There is no excuse for raping a child no matter how many lies they tell about it.”  

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Author Page on Amazon

Start of the First Book of The Myths of the Veritas

Start of the Second Book of the Myths of the Veritas

Table of Contents for the Second Book of the Veritas

Table of Contents for Essays on America 

Index for a Pattern Language for Teamwork and Collaboration  

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