Some Local Observations

 

So much shrill polarization emanates

from my most frequently watched screens.

Soon have to shut them off, find distractions.

Must be something else besides angry screeds.

What a pleasure, then, to visit the local observatory;

have a lecture take one back in time to a genius

mathematician forging new paths of understanding.

Our cosmos was not just some painted sky,

but far more vast and interesting.

Johannes Kepler not only advanced astronomy,

he wrote perhaps the very first science fiction novel.

The lecture and discussion moved back and forth over time,

taking the audience out of humdrum quotidian antagonisms,

touching instead on stellar measurements and laws of motion.

What a delight to discover these astronomical treasures;

to know that some minds are not slinging political sewage,

rather reaching out far distances to advance human comprehensions.

Gratifying to go to a facility spreading knowledge, not manure.

It will be so good to have the 2026 election over,

and resume full-time pleasant gazing at some stars.

9-11-01 plus 25

 

Back during the time of the 9/11 attacks I lived

in the front room of a friend – working two jobs.

Experiencing events over and over on CNN.

Anxiety and alarms were everywhere!

I dreamed of jets crashing during fitful sleep.

A new federal department was created,

and the last of our innocence was lost.

Now we had to go through security cordons

everywhere – security became the new sexy.

But I survived, kept on, maintained.

We moved and he bought a house. . .

Eventually I bought a little house on my own,

started gardens and shrubs, perennials.

Babies I nursed through many seasons.

Watched them all grow and bloom and fade,

trimmed back Spireas, dug and replanted Cannas.

Hibiscus were culled and encouraged, Cosmos

seeded and then helped along, year after year after year.

Raspberries and Aronia planted and then harvested

with much satisfaction, despite all of the mosquitoes.

Our national leadership started several wars,

some finally withering away due to

faltering political fertilization.

New leaders began new wars.

It seems like everything keeps going downhill,

and there are no easy answers for turning it around.

Friendships, too, got seeded and nurtured over time.

Now some are like tall trees, withstanding storms.

Others get neglected, and wither away.

Some of those are missed, but

one gardener only has so much energy to go around.

Now here 25 years after the Twin Towers attacks,

some still stand here and regard the tragedies;

missing those that were lost, mourning their loss

from a misty distance of time, always wondering

how we could do things better the next time around.

Riders of Steel

 

They brave the night and cold,

rain and wind and snow unfold.

Risking life and limb, or at least

an angry Bull here and there,

they grab on, lever up into a

IM, grainer pocket, or even a gondola.

Catching out for far destinations,

route mapped out on their phones,

they hunker down, but lift a camera

so that the rest of us can watch too.

Once thought a dying breed,

their numbers swell with younger hoboes.

These have no trouble at all navigating

and documenting their every move online.

Surely the railroad workers and managers

are noticing this – they can also access Youtube.

But somehow, despite it all, the riders persist.

They describe issues like food and water and sleep,

all scarce when waiting in the brush for an outbound.

Much advance planning makes their rides smoother.

For me it would be far simpler to just buy

an Amtrak ticket. 

 But where is the romance in that?

Safe travels, everyone.

For the Good of our Community

 

The Amos collective does a lot of good,

as a community organization should.

Many churches' congregations join together,

address community problems, mainly secular.

Disparate ideologies can find common ground

on social justice, and make improvements all around

our local area, upon issues that need attention –

capitalism needs safety nets for our protection.

We can set aside our minor differences,

unite to work out municipal difficulties.

There is great strength in large numbers,

whether or not all are active members.

Just imperfect humans extending care and love,

whether or not there's any thundering god above.

Another Time Capsule Message

 And why not, it's as good a subject to write on as any.  Here goes...

A wave from the past

Not sure if you've colonized the Inner System yet,

or solved the environmental crises that we created.

Maybe your every need is tended by humanoid robots;

Perhaps you've even reached a Kardashev type I civilization.

Here in 2026 we are stuck in two long running conflicts,

And no one seems to be able to put a stop to them.

Even if we know that war is not the answer,

human beings continue to be cruel to each other.

It will always matter how people

treat each other – hopefully with

respect and decency.

People should always help each other,

no matter what. People will always be

the most important resource.

Freedom of the individual matters,

will always matter, despite the

crazed state of the world in 2026.

Do not judge us too harshly,

simple foolish semi-sentients that we are.

Would be wonderful to see the firsthand views

of the outer planets – enjoy them for me, too!

Fare thee well in 2276 and beyond.

Rockford into Rust

In the space of 20 years we lost so much manufacturing capability to other countries it boggles the mind.  A villanelle to address the subjerct.

The empty factories stand in quiet rust,

 Their echoed whistles silenced long ago

; The fire in the furnace turns to dust.

The golden promise shattered as it must,

 As lines were moved where cheaper currents flow;

 The empty factories stand in quiet rust.

The towns that thrived on work and steady trust 

Now watch the shadows of the machinery grow;

 The fire in the furnace turns to dust.

We traded iron gears for steel injust,

 And lost the craftsman's touch we used to know;

 The empty factories stand in quiet rust.

No sparks are thrown, no sudden metal thrust,

 Where generations worked to make it so;

 The fire in the furnace turns to dust.

The heavy hammer falls because it must,

 Yet leaving only ghost-towns in the snow:

 The empty factories stand in quiet rust,

 The fire in the furnace turns to dust.

Triple Me

 

Political campaigns all take a similar path. . .

They start out with such noble goals;

bring democracy back to the people,

take corruption out of the process.

Time to give all parties due process,

bring fairness back into the fold.

But then the realities set in...

Running a campaign costs money,

“Brother can you spare a twenty?”

Need to find hundreds of write-in votes,

if the committee will allow them in!

Leadership already has their favorite picked.

Inevitable corruption seeps in,

power posturing and majority rule

enforce ultimate control over it all.

Two contenders emerge, and one wins out.

With the financial influencers and horse-trading,

any actual good done for the public at large

seems accidental, ephemeral good fortune

for the actual benefit of all society.

Everything else is just “Me, me and me,”

group after group tugging our country

back and forth, to and fro across history.