A Country Sampler

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For such a born and bred Bronx kid to wind up out in the sticks in South Carolina is one thing.  But to write poetry about the country life?  I guess you just never know! Below find some of my works that I am considering for an upcoming chap book. Also please, if you have been enjoying my work please consider helping with any amount at my GoFundMe. This really is all I have until we can figure out exactly what can be done to fix my back. As you can see it has just been a meager amount over the whole life of the campaign but all our savings and anything that could be sold have been exhausted with several months left until my disability hearing is scheduled. Enough said. Enjoy the writes.

 

Carnival Craze

ahead dots color hill tops afar dark
yellow, red, blue. and white bulbs
a slow drive rounding easy curves
chants of glee sounding the escape
voices expecting exciting an evening

sour the sweetness knocking gently
as windows rolled down feel a sniff
ahead now neon lights circle the sky
parked the station wagon in a field
smiles falling out the old rear door
pink fluffy sugar whipped on a stick

corn scented popping grandly new
sticky sounds of sneakers skipping
mirrors and teacups join a sway too
the hot dough shaped ears powdered
join parade in turn at ticket booths cut

prizes of royalty reach up drooling eye
wheels spinning higher recall butterflies
bops and pops abound in wild carousel
loose change dribbles clanging on down
gum, hats, glasses and feathers scatter
back to the old Buick we return, smiles

Carrot Seeds

growing up in the city
carrots came in a can
you peel back the tin
and out they came clean

concrete gardens sprout
hard the seedlings rise
a transplant now am I
turning soil mixing poop

tiny the seed of a carrot
rolling off my dirty hands
after sun and water shines
a little green pop appears

when the green grew tall
I had to check have a peek
so poke around did my hand
just a skinny root now ruined

another day another check
months end the crop is gone
let the seeds grow undisturbed
the fruit will show when ready

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A Picture In Grayed Boards

Mothers words grip within emotions
in the way dads old pickup drives
the treasured rides dirt swirling
behind us faster than the rabbits
fleeing through the peanut fields
startled does bound the fences
wire sagging and barbed gives way
her apron blowing softly seen
from the porch she waves smiling
it’s peach pie this evening sister
hanging out the washed sheets
giggling cute as the chipmunk
watching her from under the barn
grayed boards perfect the scene

perpetual the change that remains sweet

muffled giggles in blooming flowers
spark light the butterflies cool rise
yellows, oranges, and blacks scattered
in a blinking musical whirlwind ballet
lilies and crocuses spinning a melody
delicate antenna mimic a child’s wave
May shadows at noon disguise liquid
puddles skated smooth froze as ice
floral scents carried along spring winds
perpetual the change that remains sweet

Turnips Beside The Road

bunches of turnips spread out
an old country table of boards
dents and gaps showing age
soil dry now crumbles off as
each pile is shook before packing
the old vegetable boxes stacked
hurriedly in the bed of that old
white pickup that sat years in the
field back of the old slave cabins
it’s another hot day out there for
selling turnips beside the road

 

 

 

The Oldies Station

old the filling station half stands, a rusting show place lost
once bustling in brightness, weeds poke up asphalts cracks
peering around, periscopes riding in the crumbling black wakes
entertainment in a desolate place, silent country Bowery reruns
pumps hand driven, virgins they were to plastic cash sliders
in reflections shadowed, chrome glared of manner’s suited
oil checks, pop in glass bottles, coin driven phone call booths
change rides in, wearing glamour mostly, leaves some dusted
streetlights bent in prayer, touching the abandoned lot distressed
their wiring hangs limp, cut to fraying the darkness answers not

Southern Shine

Blue skies reflecting off southern eyes
Sight that is sweet as fresh pecan pie
Georgia peaches and Muscadine wine
Honey suckle and the sweet bye and bye
Carolina moonlight drinking down the shine

 

 

Papered With The Funnies

listening as the drops sound off one by one
coming storm raining down on the old tin roof
the falling porch leans toward the hill above
nothing fades as nicely as paint on metal does
wildflowers peak from between boards and stone
foundation sliding daily towards the eastern edge
sights and sounds returning inside this house
fools call it a shack but to me it’s ever true home
papered twice in the finest newspapers of the era
an architectural designer tribute to snuffy smith
running water is found in the creek pure and cool
the most of it found clear in mason jars shelved
among the years tomatoes and pickled okra
nostalgia grows in this holler when the rain falls
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Monday Morning Poetry

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The World From His Window /or/ the Wheels In the Wheels Go Round and Round

He sits day by day
gazing beyond the silicon created illusion
searching for something that’s left his mind
a verse, a melody, a memory
like a broken shell beyond repair
in his world of fantasy  laced reality
the old man counts the days
by the hairs caught in his comb
while multi-colored children play games
on little black boxes in the dark
a world, distinct in-distinctions groans
false perceptions push and pull
everything within the senses once vivid
now cheating for a place among
what is seen, heard, felt, and received, rather than perceived
evening and morning greet each other loudly sometimes, quietly others
rather than that burned out marionette
on frayed strings, jerking wildly,
whose dance is without grace
always out of place
being a being, lost in space
if you hear him crying in the night
reliving the battles
the ceremonious washing’s
do not look to close
do not stare to long
his handlers have left scars of great depth
the old man is splintered and cracked
with a stench of wood burned in the fire
and soaked in water, you know
the odor I speak of, a perfume not
sold in the likes of ancient department stores
not to be found for any price these days
but this (that) old man
he stays right there, oblivious to his own care
though quite mindful of a stare
despite the new world disorder
thrust full force upon that one or sum
full of brows, silvery and thin
your thoughts of him
might be dim
he is just there in that chair
filthy, stinky, useless, unknown creature
whose presence only serves,
among men and women,
in this age and ages past
befitting a scare
but every now and again,
unseen until that shell has been split open
and broken
a single ray of light will give a glimmer,
a shimmer
and beyond the shell, beyond the smell
those who, still can be still, find a pearl
In the Makers hands
what to us is beyond repair
is made new, clean, and a treasure rare.

Afternoon Poetry for Memorial Day 2017

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Have not been feeling well for a few weeks, here are a few to catch you up…. peace!

 

 

 

on the mantel I found your note

on the mantel I found your note
sitting, I read it by the fires light
drowning in the words you speak
arms flailing at ears flash pierced
woven inside I tasted the strings
stuck to the web of a silky trap
sniffing at branches in the dark
sprung loose cracking my teeth
die rolled lost in the floor boards
smoke or a vapor up the chimney
waking in the dark coffee chimes
drifting shale scents over fences
whiteness grows in sight reflected
blown ashes the glowing doth fade

There Is Only One Shade Of Black

cling hard the colors fading
under skin loosely hanging
hundreds of green sparks
showering the open garden
palettes of shades watering
the sky an ocean of blues
powdered hues cast subtly
of reds and yellows shining

distinctly separated bows
the horizon ever changing
glazing now these doughnuts
set in facial sockets aged
scents and sounds do reign
each note has it’s own ringing
yet as night settles here darkly
eclipsing the shadows dull light

in blindness I discover harshly
there is only one shade of black

perpetual the change that remains sweet

muffled giggles in blooming flowers
spark light the butterflies cool rise
yellows, oranges, and blacks scattered
in a blinking musical whirlwind ballet
lilies and crocuses spinning a melody
delicate antenna mimic a child’s wave
May shadows at noon disguise liquid
puddles skated smooth froze as ice
floral scents carried along spring winds
perpetual the change that remains sweet

[ in that barren, dark place ]

in that barren, dark place
only those who know, know
solitude commences loudly
enemies all who pass here
self the worst provocateur
humans scampering all earth
in a kaleidoscope of shadows
swords reach just shy a slice
but the echos of words ring on
swollen, a tribute to Vincent’s ear
they rattle the brain unconscious
oh how can loneliness be so busy

chasing rabbits breaking bones
a lie, a trap set, the fowler’s snare
sanity too high a price to chase now
looking through those looking through me
forgoten groceries laid at the doorstep
or the gas never pumped, the stares
the wind strikes without royal regard
while graveyards seem a quiet place
out beyond the bustling brainwaves
no you can’t feel it just a vapor passing
here though rides a desperate cowboy
breathing this dusty trail until it’s end

nonukes1

BREAKING EXPLOSION AT FRENCH NUKE PLANT!

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reports coming in of an explosion at the French Nuclear Power Plant  Flamanville facility.

Right now they are saying it is in the a no nuclear section, and…you guessed it the public is in no danger.

Here is an article while I look into this more, http://www.euronews.com/2017/02/09/an-explosion-erupts-at-edf-s-flamanville-nuclear-plant-in-northern-france-local

nonukes1

 

#theFword Fukushima Update

#theFword which is more vile that it could hardly be said for 6 years now?

The extremely main stream folks are starting to move a bit in the right direction, but I am sure that they will buckle when the folks at Tepco and the Nuclear industry push out a fresh batch of lies. You know the ones, “the public was in no danger at any time”.

Here are a few of the recent articles that caught my eye recently.

From Natural News,

“The same media that called “meltdown” a conspiracy theory now report it as a casual fact

Check out this paragraph from The Guardian, which casually admits the Fukushima facility suffered a “meltdown”:

The facility’s operator, Tokyo Electric Power (Tepco), said atmospheric readings as high as 530 sieverts an hour had been recorded inside the containment vessel of reactor No 2, one of three reactors that experienced a meltdown when the plant was crippled by a huge tsunami that struck the north-east coast of Japan in March 2011.

The reason I point this out is because back in 2011, when the entire independent media was sounding the alarm about the fuel meltdown that had obviously taken place, we were all called “conspiracy kooks” by the lying mainstream media. Also recall that in 2011, most people had not yet learned that the mainstream media is FAKE NEWS, so they believed whatever CNN was telling them. “Don’t worry, it’s not a meltdown. It’s all under control. Fukushima is no big deal, don’t listen to the alarmists.””

http://www.naturalnews.com/2017-02-06-unimaginable-radiation-levels-detected-at-fukushima-mox-fuel-melts-through-reactor-floor.html

 

I have been speaking out about this since the very beginning on Facebook and YouTube.

And from Global Research.

“The highest radiation levels ever measured at Chernobyl were 300 sieverts per hour … an incomprehensibly high dose which can kill a man almost instantly.

But a radiation level of 530 sieverts per hour has just been measure at Fukushima’s number 2 reactor.

This new record at Fukushima is 70% higher than that of Chernobyl. (The highest level previously measured at Fukushima was 73 sieverts per hour, in March 2012.)”

read the full article here.

And RT.

https://www.rt.com/op-edge/376607-leakage-radiation-fukushima-japan/

A reactor building damaged by the 2011 earthquake and tsunami at the crippled Fukushima Daiichi nuclear power plant in Japan is seen in a file photo.

Syracuse.com,

‘Unimaginable’ radiation levels detected inside Fukushima reactor in Japan

get the rest of their article here

The fact is no one can tell you how bad it is because there are no models for a nuclear disaster of this sort and magnitude, it is the scenario that truly was in the realm of “apocalyptic”.

 

Fukushima Update 2/7/2017

Image may contain: one or more people and indoorHave not been able to spend too much time watching the live streams, right now it is night in Japan, but will try to get more shots today. My YouTube videos on the smoke coming from Reactor #1 have been being hit by trolls with fake accounts, saying all kinds of stuff about my videos being bogus and such. This just adds credibility ( in my opinion) to my thoughts that it is steam or smoke we saw boiling out of that building.

Here are the videos I have on it so far:

https://www.gofundme.com/hke3swus

 

 

Stop Killing Children!

News reports today of the killing of a young 8 year old in Yemen a starting to trend across the internet and social media. As reported in an article the an online issue of Hindustan Times,

 

“The 8-year-old daughter of al-Qaeda ideologue Anwar al-Awlaki was one of the civilians killed in a US raid on al-Qaeda militants in Yemen, media reports said.

“She was hit with a bullet in her neck and suffered for two hours”, Middle East Eye quoted the eight-year-old’s grandfather as saying.

“The daughter of Shaykh Anwar Al-Awlaqi is martyred in the US raid in Yemen today. Obama killed his son and now Trump kills his daughter,” Jihadist group Al Maqalaat tweeted.

The raid that killed Awlaki’s daughter was part of a dawn attack in southern Yemen on Sunday that killed a US commando and around 30 people including al-Qaeda suspects and civilians, the US military and local Yemeni officials said.

It was the first combat casualty of the Trump administration and its first operation in the war-damaged Arabian Peninsula nation against a powerful al-Qaeda branch that has been a frequent target of US drone strikes.

Medics at the scene said 30 people were killed, including 10 women and three children.”

Get this straight, I am sick of my government killing children around the world and here. Is that enough of an article and commentary ? Just stop killing children right now!