Mmmm, chicken.

We Speak Words

We speak words, sorrowful watchers, pulling our sacks, hanging low, sagging low with a dusty grin, on our backs, heaving them along a river.

We seek words, solace and comfort in murky stillness, in the back alleyways of darkness.

We cry words, our eyes bleed as our hearts beat, we are the wisdom lost, the eternal infinity shelved in the void, barren, wooden, locked. 

We breathe words, exhale thoughts and dreams as feathers on the breeze, our backs witnesses to grand designs shaped as clouds.

We kill words, children lying in the grass waiting to become something else, something big, something small.

We are words, the shells found along the eroded shores, empty and barren, wooden, hand held voids to frame,

we are only whispers now.

When they came for me, there was no one left to speak up

is it what we are?

I'm going to start posting some old writing I have done:

Scene 1, Act 1

Lo! our hair and plaster eyes,

   plastic sighs, red,  dark red,

                            bloody   lips,

apart from beaten brows, we dogs

              scuttled on floors, dancing streams

   of scattered sun, window panes,

like dogs,   like   bloody        dogs,

              all day like plays that run too long

   we stay unwashed

Failures of our educational systems

But little Mouse, you are not alone,
In proving foresight may be vain:
The best laid schemes of mice and men
Go often askew,
And leave us nothing but grief and pain,
For promised joy!

Still you are blest, compared with me!
The present only touches you:
But oh! I backward cast my eye,
On prospects dreary!
And forward, though I cannot see,
I guess and fear!

Who goes there?

Who goes there? hankering, gross, mystical, nude;
How is it I extract strength from the beef I eat?
What is a man anyhow? what am I? what are you?
All I mark as my own you shall offset it with your own,
Else it were time lost listening to me.
I do not snivel that snivel the world over,
That months are vacuums and the ground but wallow and filth.
Whimpering and truckling fold with powders for invalids,
     conformity goes to the fourth-remov'd,
I wear my hat as I please indoors or out.
Why should I pray? why should I venerate and be ceremonious?
Having pried through the strata, analyzed to a hair, counsel'd
     with doctors and calculated close,
I find no sweeter fat than sticks to my own bones.
In all people I see myself, none more and not one a barley-corn less,
And the good or bad I say of myself I say of them.
I know I am solid and sound,
To me the converging objects of the universe perpetually flow,
All are written to me, and I must get what the writing means.
I know I am deathless,
I know this orbit of mine cannot be swept by a carpenter's compass,
I know I shall not pass like a child's carlacue cut with a burnt
     stick at night.
I know I am august,
I do not trouble my spirit to vindicate itself or be understood,
I see that the elementary laws never apologize,
(I reckon I behave no prouder than the level I plant my house
     by, after all.)
I exist as I am, that is enough,
If no other in the world be aware I sit content,
And if each and all be aware I sit content.
One world is aware and by far the largest to me, and that is
     myself,
And whether I come to my own to-day or in ten thousand or
     ten million years,
I can cheerfully take it now, or with equal cheerfulness I can
     wait.
My foothold is tenon'd and mortis'd in granite,
I laugh at what you call dissolution,
And I know the amplitude of time.

Diseases and Cars

Ahh death.  Our bodies are fickle things that succumb to a variety of ailments.  Worldwide, of the top 20 causes of death for all humans, only one is not categorized as a disease.  Road Traffic Accidents.  2.09% of the world dies because humans operate machines that kill, and unlike all the other diseases that cause death, this is the only one that gets funding that helps to encourage the problem, not address it.  You don't see 5k runs that aim to raise money to stop road traffic deaths from happening.  You don't see doctors doing research about how to cure us from road traffic accidents.  Instead, you see commercials for bigger, faster cars with little computers in the dash that you can play with instead of paying attention.  States build new roads to help ensure that road traffic deaths remain near the top of the list for worldwide deaths.  People cry about guns, people fear the "terrorists", but nobody blinks an eye when they get in a car and have to slow down when they pass another road traffic death.  I could get into the fact that suicide is near the top 20 and not a disease, or rather is and is caused form industrial society and globalization, but this is a rant about vehicles.  When humans operate motor vehicles, 146,300,000 people are killed every year.  Go us.