For weeks now the two young males had been watching,
waiting for their opportunity and now it was time.
They were now strong enough to take over the pride.
Signalling his intent to his brother Moto stood up
and started forward with Javier following behind.
As the reached the pride a battle royal ensued
The lionesses desperate to drive them off knowing
if they succeeded vast changes would occur.
Far in the distance Soto heard the roars and growls
as the take over ensued and rushed to protect them.
The fight was long and hard with some fatalities.
Soto received wounds that would take months to heal
as he was banished by the brothers, his life now as an outcast.
Luckily for him Zanidar joined him with her cubs of nearly a year old
She and they would keep him fed as he slowly healed.
Back at the pride the brothers set about their gruesome task
all the cubs were hunted down and killed without mercy.
Now the lionesses would soon be ready to mate again
and it would be their blood that the offspring would bear
perpetuating their line and increasing the size of the pride.
Life in the African Savannah was always cruel and hard
the brothers would face many challengers in their time.
Food always an issue once the migrating herds moved on.
Now a time of little the pride suffered and grew weaker.
The only saving grace was the buffalo not without their risks.
Valiant fighters who protected each other forming a ringed barrier
around the more vulnerable, ready to fight to the death.
With very young cubs the lionesses needed food to feed them
and desperation drove them on, finally they made a good kill
none would go hungry for a few days. In the distance the clouds
gathered rain falling far up country at last reaching them and
with the rain the vast herds once more returned and life teemed.
Now was a time of plenty and the pride recovered their health.
For seven years the brothers ruled supreme yet in the background
there were many waiting their own time. Two males in particular
Janto and Batso sons of Soto watched and waited eager to take over
until at last it was their time and turn to roust the pride males.
And so the never ending cycle started again until the next time.
I saw a man once on TV
He was hunting grizzly bear
Then bear, he got the upper hand
And blood was everywhere
That man was in an awful state
But I lacked in sympathy
You live by sword, you die by sword
That’s just the way it be.
I knew a man, a fisherman
He hunted for big fish
But when his boat did over turn
He never got his wish
Cause big shark came and took his life
And Karma, it was done
It seems that this time hunter lost
And mother nature won.
It seems some folk are low on soul
And only live to kill
I have no sympathy for these
And nor I ever will
When the game gets turned around
They’ve only they to blame
Because they gained their pleasure from
This heartless killing game.
trip and splash
teeth take advantage and sink
flock must flee
A kestrel dips into an updraft
thinking he knows the world
through silent valleys
around the earth
through the wind
The creature soars ever higher
in great swoops and dives
the horizon curves as it eludes vision
the stars pulse their siren
but thrill denies
their ambient warning
Gust to gust each fades
quicker than the last
whispers carry the weight of wings
and their soulful song breaches sanity
prayers of rightful good
where petty purple banners
crest twinkling hearts
The last thermal ridden
last lyric dies
as flight’s drone fades
upturned wings alone
the sky empty oblivion
as the sun aligns its beady eye
to the looping path of the bird
Two brittle forms
grapple in light
which blots out the senses
what can never be touched
smites the naive bird
an archangel buried
in a crypt
six feet deep.
Two field mice took a walk one day
Then feeling tired, they'd walked a ways
They thought they'd stop and rest a while
For home was further on some miles.
Then they heard the pad of old Toms paws
Which spooked them quite a bit I'm sure
As the cat purred loudly to see the mice
And thought "a meal it would be nice!"
Their whiskers quivered nervously
As, our two mice made haste to flee
So off they scampered for their lives
As old Tom cat for them did strive
That old cat looked he, high and low
And where they were he didn't know
As the two they trembled neath a bush
They could almost touch that mean old puss.
Then Tom gave up and skulked away
And the two mice lived another day
And their lungs filled up with gratitude
They'd foiled that old tom cat, so rude.
Peace, Socrares Dec 2 2003
When chaos brings civilization to its knees
From world wide pandemic critical disease
Or when a tsunami consumes everything beyond the shores
Swallowing the landscape and changing life as we know
Earthquakes shake the very foundation of this world
Or an astroid penetrates the cradle of birth
Bring us back to the primitive unleashing the truth
From the umbilical chord we are more ferocious than rabid wolves
And we will kill fellow man just to survive
Or just for the desire of taking ones life
What is compassion but a dead corpse on the road
Adrenalized by fear no time for sorrows
No need to worry about a world war zombie apocalypse
We're already flesh eating monsters wearing dead skin
Most people panic when they lose internet or their lights
Autonomy is just a word most people can no longer define
And your money isnt worth *****so forget trying to buy
Your way out of cleansing while you run out of time
So learn to die well and hold your loved ones real tight
As you pray that your death will let you ascend to new heights
Beans, bullets, and bandaids are all that I'll need
To keep population zero from taking over me
**** being hopeful could we really be so naive
To think that in these days we could some how find peace
When our mother earth gets restless and releases all of her worst
The only thing more destructive is our human nature
You think you’ve gone just far enough,
I could smile knowing you’ve gone far enough that you can’t go back again
You think you were careful but,
I’ve caught a glimpse of your true, wretched form
You think you can find a way into my good graces
I’ve seen what you are, monsters with a friendly costume
You can’t deceive me anymore and, I don’t consort with serpents
You think I’m a game to be played but, trust me, you could never win
Don’t underestimate me
You think I’m a joke but, trust me you won’t be laughing
You think I’m just talking myself up but, trust me, you’re the ones going down
My eyes took too long to adjust
Better late than never
It may take a monster to know one but, I promise my teeth are sharper than yours
My first reaction to the hideous revelation that was your form was to weep
Fall to my knees, maybe even wretch my heart from my chest and onto the carpet
Then I thought about the mess it would make
I decided the only blood that will spill, will be your own
I was not weak, but I had a weakness
A heart of soft gold stitched to my sleeve with care
Now my heart is a stone so heavy
I could kill at least two birds at once
Being the nice guy is a thing of the past
Thanks for freeing me of that softness
You thought I was all sunshine and delicate things
When really I had just been swallowing razor blades
Now that sun is setting and I hope you see it was you who were wrong
Can you feel my darkness coming, because it’s eager to hold you
If you thought I was the one who would just stand still or turn to run
Your gonna be the one with tired feet
I’m not sad anymore
Just sick with the plague of your lies
Contagious, and I’m looking for someone to kiss
Even angels can make themselves wicked
When we do, we take no prisoners
Still think I’m a game
This one is just beginning
The joy of the pheasant shoot.
Getting set for the big event
The good folk do their stuff
They beat the earth with sticks, do they?
With their little dogs so tough
They flush those pheasants from the scrub
So all can have some fun
Killing them with smiling faces
As they fire beloved guns.
Then as the pheasants in a panic
They bolt into the sky
Our hero’s with their guns in hand
Make sure that hundreds die
As the air is filled with the cracking sounds
As birds fall all around
Just so these fools can get there jollies
These corpses cover ground.
I wonder sometimes if these hero’s
Have any souls at all
That they could get such satisfaction
Doing these acts so cruel
Sometimes it leaves me speechless
At the way folk get their pleasure
Killing beauty just for fun
Is an ugly kind of leisure.
10 September 2013 @ 1340hrs
The chook defense
Now I’m no vegetarian
Though I’d like that this could be
At seventy I’ll never change
So I’m just stuck with me
And I really love’s me chook
In every kind of way
But now I’m in the mood I’m in
I just have this to say…..
If we’re going to eat these chooks
Don’t we owe them some respect
We treat them like commodities
But what I might reflect
Is, if we treat these creatures thus
That God placed on this earth
Then we neglect our very souls
And too our own self worth.
Those birds are treated so damn mean
How can one understand
This cruelty, are we then humane?
It don’t look too damn grand
And where’s the goodness in a food
That’s never seen the sun
So when we treat these birds like this
What damage have we done?
That chicken flue was scary, once
But who knows much at all
About the karma that can come
From things, unnatural.
It’s time for changes in this world
When dosh is not the ‘all’
And then humane might be a word
That’s truly wonderful
10 July 2013 @ 1301hrs.
In time, days, months to years
Is the failure of relationships
In January to July to December
And the shallow of rivers
In July, August to September
The destruction by earthquakes
In January, February to December
The reshuffle of accidents
In lakes, roads and in air
The manufacture of acids, guns, and robots
In laboratories, industries and employment areas
The color of rainbows
Blue, green, grey
The personality of people
Conceited, gloomy, temperamental
The training of soldiers, students, and also religions
In academy, schools and institutes
The birth of children
Over years and years all over the world
The truth of lies
In homes, schools up to work places
I see Beyond The Boundaries
Winter arrived before her time
Usurping part of autumn’s decline
Came in with a vengeance bent on crime
Harsh not smooth like a fine wine
Her sting bore a resemblance to life
Her temper reaped violence and strife
Baring her weapons took untold lives
Only the strongest were able to survive
Black Friday wielded the same attitudes
Rage and violence struck without gratitude
What has happened to plain simple courtesy?
Evil struck early to deter the Spirit of Mercy
I lift my hands to you Oh Lord Send your Spirit
Saturate this earth with your power so evil fears it
Lift the haughty spirit that looms over the land
Sooth the tempest with the kindness of your hand
Paula Swanson’s Contest
I See Beyond…
As I stand here alone in the cold wet snow; watching it come down all around its quiet a show.
My fingers are frosty and my face is a cold shade of blue; my toes feel like ice; yet this quiet , peaceful place to me is like paradise; from what I have seen once before in a dream from when I was a younger teen .
White and puffy flakes feel like feathers in my hand; the heavier snow engulfs my dark clothes in a sheet of white creating a blank canvas of the pure white; as clear as a image of a dove in flight.
Snow is snowing down all round and their not a sound to be had; apart from the echoing wind that seems too surround like a storm of sound which blows my clothes and hair around.
I look up at the sky but there’s no detail in sight just a sky of white like a dime light. I see trees that once gleamed green back in the summer and spring now nothing more than bare trunk’s so empty from the leaves it once used too bare; from the branches that now seem to lead nowhere.
This forest once filled with small creatures and birds now empty expect for one living thing a lone boy taking in this majestic scene where animals had once been.
With everything around so silent; its Like are world of violence thought out the ages has written its final pages and brought about a end to are world of violence and bloodshed ; A world where everyone but me is dead .
I feel like I’m the last living being left on our planet; no birds no bees only little old me in this magical world of white I feel I can take flight; and be free not held down by the clutches of are harsh society.
This snowy place will allways hold a special memory for me; A remembrance to that snowy place I've once been.
They say fire and ice are an example of balance,
Associated with harmony and peace,
Even a story of love.
Is man really so jaded?
Fire and ice don’t exist like this.
Fire can be a lot of things.
It’s the passion burning inside you
Or the light that keeps one alive.
Fire comes in many forms,
But always burns everything it touches.
It consumes that which blocks its path,
Leaves only ash.
It shows no mercy,
Raging flames devour all.
Ice is more gentle and serene.
It's seclusion and clarity,
a peaceful mind.
It's loneliness and fear,
just as harsh.
Don’t be fooled by its allure.
It’s just as cruel.
It sucks the heat away,
Draining all life.
They are only natural phenomena of destruction
I am feeling the shock of fast change. How to cope with it is of course the question. Listen to Beethoven through the neighbor's window? Look up from the page? Appreciate doves even though they are so numerous? I seem to have limitless choices although this cannot be true. Could I have become a computer specialist? Sure! How to remain still in the ever-maddening mandala. To remain still on the outer edge of the wheel is to ride laughingly and pluck at the gold key. I force myself down into the craw of the black vortex New York until I feel the strong oscillations gather rhythm and expel me or accept me.
What do I find within the black electric walls of this unique vortex? I find there is more space between people than I'd ever dared to hope. That my efforts are unnecessary and hopeless. I cancel my subscriptions and stop eating. I embrace wild roots and run through streets with arm around my girl.
* * *
What is important.
I part my lips in the middle
eat corn chips, dipsy doodles
make love, eat grapes.
In their mere chronology
events have no relation. How was making love
different from eating grapes. Differentiation
is essential to bring order from chaos. The chaos
is the accelerated change created by our own species
whose consummations have a quantum effect
on the environment.
But the chaos
existed long before, and long after us
in both more serene and violent forms.
Again a duality, but here's why.
each duality may then be said to be in a dual
relationship with another duality, forming
These cubes are difficult to join
with other cubes, unless first they are
We were traveling among
these cubes, maneuvering
through a static array of equidistant points
but finding it impossible to avoid striking them.
So why the difficulty adapting. Because no species
before us had to adapt to its own effects upon
environment? No, every species must
but our adaptations (of the world) are so successful
(such fabrications!) One green, one brown
Two dead leaves
Then a breeze!
* * *
Loveliness and loneliness
they sleep apart/together
sometimes not always
using sheets of white nothing madly
connecting, splicing, parturition
continuing to birth life and ideals
like ants or any other species.
Tree, each poem, begins
and ends and giving up
to life's forms
surrendering to greater force, power, strength
whatever it is called, the clog of heels
upstairs to the door, turning of
the key, the taking out of the
garbage down below, car
starting, placed in
anyway, for myself, personally, speaking only
for myself, because although the Parks
Department rakes the leaves as it
did last autumn, to keep them
from clogging the sewer system,
I am in a heightened
state of vibration
like a long steel pipe banged hard against an
iron beam. The hard hat feels it in
his hand (on the gears) but
great buildings are built that
nature destroys in time
with a little wind
air, you glide down through the limpid air
toward the ninety-seven story abandoned structure
remnant of an earlier civilization
abandoned but not yet entirely
swept away in slow waves
Pure white paper laid wide open on the desk
Virginity called into question from four sides
Paper never gives interviews before retiring
Never past 7:00 pm or there about that time
Pen attacked the page with explosions and burst
Black and blue rained down pure and furious
A case of pen to paper abuse
Residual ink spattered on shoes
Pen bled out, flew everywhere with oval droplets landing
Like blood splatter spewing on ceiling, walls and floor
Pure white paper had no chance against this rage
Pen hit it hard in rapid succession of random words
Scratched on the surface of the frightened white
Scarred for life
Pen had no owner or mind behind it
Cruel actions come naturally, automatic
Untouched by human hands
When confronted with pure white paper pens go crazy
They were raised that way
Egg Opener - Questionku
Chickens lay their young
Who used the sledge hammer
The skull had been opened as you would a coconut
To sip the sweet sap. Tsal's blood skips with his fear
At the thoughts hitting his head, but his fears are proven fact
When he sees a silver spoon in the head, spoon branded "Pierre".
Further down the seabed, lies another identical but intact specimen
With a matching fork he'd attempted to stick into another bone,
Before his last mitochondrion, like its peers, gave up on the machine,
Surrendering to fatigue, thirst, and probably a grave wound as shown by marks on the foot bones.
Tsal turns to Pezal to share the shock on both their faces
It was university all over again, trying to understand this:
There was water, there were plants, fertile land in most places,
And yet cannibalism was the last act of this great species.
Despair from hunger, intoxication, thirst which dominated
A race which once ordered water about with pumps and dams,
Told the wind where to blow, had command over all ever created,
But chose to destroy and not rebuild in their crazy advance.
There are many more heads half buried by the mocking wind,
Complete with scarred arms and legs, with once plastic clothes
Ripped and singed in the hot abrasive vengeful wind,
The wind which once was a gentle breeze in which bathed the olives of Rhodes.
To whit to be caught between two brothers
and become the sport of many others
She kept her heart from loving true
but not from the damage passing through
Oh twice spent the beauties coin
did deliberate vengence to purloin
thought knowingly did enter door
in spite she cast them to the floor
Though twas for couple it's own collusion
the device and trap it's own illusion
the crimes waylaid doth carry to the grave
to curse ones soul as fearful and not brave
Twas the story carried in her mind
her face to others she wished were blind
and with ones sight to look upon her heart
to know in violence was her start
She thought those sins would ever last
or to shake the paths of her past
in her fears her heart down cast
she did not know to forgiveness ask
Unable to differentiate between love and need
or if womans desire was only greed
If man looks upon her with his smile
is he looking for love or just another trial
She asks those questions to this day
must there be violence to graveyard pay
for many men have forced their way
in their behavior did have no say
COPYRIGHT © 2009 C Michael Miller
via Duboff Law Group LLC
Two thoughts come to mind this morning. The deficiencies in our
systems of governance -
local, global --
and the first two pages of The End of Faith in which he mistakes political
(acts of war) for
but recognizes understanding the workings of the world is not the same
Every new twinge provokes fear but what is there to fear? That
The year of a man is the day of an inchworm and 267 years on a
A billion of anything is a lot unless it's the distance one must traverse to
How much silence, or tinnitus, can you handle? A chipmunk cannot for
Once the twinge passes I'm off to the next task: building a constituency
for this compassion,
The dialogue starts with a question. To know the question is almost
certainly to find
Conflating questions is the commonest of logic errors. No negotiation
Why not talk while we fight? We can always kill, torture or assassinate
Justice, or retribution if you want, can remain on the table even after we
Nature is my religion, I know no other, and community is my church.
is policy debate. I attend church everyday. Our jobs are hymns (the
and payment for services rendered is sung praise and gratitude. Walking
Strategies to limit or subvert discussion are the only evil. Violence
but not by far the only one. What's the hurry to build a highway or free
The secret of life is enjoying the passage of time and time is the mercy
The last plasma puff of the engine invites them out
Of the vessel, wearing refrigerated high-tech suits
Equipped complete with claw-like studs gripping cracked grout,
Fighting for balance against the gusts in their pursuit.
Tsal pulls out the holo-tablet to map their position
And consult the travel plan. The air crackles to life
At the rod in his hand's and the one on his chest's intersection
Showing in script and diagrams what once was humanity's hive.
A step on a fish bone draws a snap which pulls
His eyes downwards then around the oily dirty landscape
Where lay more bones from different creatures whose lives were culled
By a slow death they'd tried in vain to escape,
Probably the last of each of their species to have braved heat,
Thinning air, toxins in solid, liquid and gas form everywhere.
Tsal thought of who'd ate whom last at the eve of total defeat
As lives became meatless skeletons after plants had left here.
Ok! Back to finding the once supreme masters of this rock
Who built the cranes surrounding this now barren and dry seabed,
As if adorning the grave of many a beast. With some luck,
The image in his hand lights red as it hovers over a broken bone head.
Let's all go out and support Earth Hour on 28th March 2015 and yearly!...let's make this silence of whirrs and buzzes a little LOUDER.
A few hours of tittering on past glories of a planet,
Tsal, Pezal and the team see a screen still alive from sun's power,
Broadcasting (most likely in a loop) with partly dark LEDs
The news of a time when Nature hadn't turned entirely sour.
Tsal asks himself like a sharp stab to his chest:
"Didn't they read the signs?" Tropical rains coming early
Then late year on year, messing up planting and harvesting,
While thermometers lost touch with reality, doing exactly what wasn't said on the telly.
Floods washed away months of tilling and planting on estates,
While droughts washed away whole villages, leaving them empty,
And more nuclear disasters decimated whole cities and states,
But life went on disregarding the warning in Humpty Dumpty
Fiddling with the core's magnetic fields led to imbalance,
And the Earth struggled to shake off the destroyers,
Spewing molten venom and nerve gas to dance
Upon the lives of sons, daughters and fathers and mothers.
Yeah, Nature had long lost what was left of patience,
As the Ozone let in the rays so long waiting at Earth's doors,
To steal the seas and rivers out into space's expanse,
As if to say: "You have all, yet you don't recognize, and keep seeking more."
The screen kept painting the history for the team
In horrific scenery as the chickens came home to roost:
The wars supported in media by ideologies it would seem,
Whereas deeper was the fight for resources needed for economic boost;
The environmental disaster with each new technological advance
Advertised as "CO2-saving", disregarding the manufacturing fall out
As resources were dug out of Earth's internals, not giving life a chance,
Leaving disasters in the wake of "Eco-friendly" mining in the South;
The over-fishing, over-eating, over-mining, over-everything
Requiring the support of a Nature, willing, but drawn
To the limit of breaking without empathy, care, understanding,
Foresight; just over-reaching to pull all put there from Life's dawn,
To the point there was none left, no-one left.
"Remember the Galapagos heads documentary on TV?"
Tsal asked Pezal. "That was History warning of being Nature-deaf,
But nobody listened." And they turned to get back onto their spaceship,
While the screen continued by looping every truly Eco-friendly initiative conceived
To amplify Nature's warnings, to pause the frantic rush
Of capitalistic gain-hunt. But all this as naught was perceived
And even Earth Hour's darkness, though laudable, in the din of Nasdaq was but a hush.
That violin buzz.
Aghast! A fly on the wall.
Begone, splat smear wipe.