Escape: Tribute to George Oliver
"People can't fly when they're backed into a corner." -Tami Longaberger
Centenarian, I can only imagine
What you were thinking
When you boarded your wheelchair,
Headed out the door of the Ewing Wing,
And took the downhill runway.
Surely you meant to take flight-
Bystanders who saw that you had left your Rocking chair
Could only gape in awe at your audacity of hope.
The California Highway Patrol,
Noting that you forgot to fasten your seatbelt,
Rushed in where the federal aviation commission could not.
The CHP took you back to John C Fremont
And bound you to earth for the few days
you had left.
Trapped, we often get our wings late.
My friend, I can only assume, that you,
Despite the new alarm on the door of the Ewing wing,
Are flying high above us
Q: How does film actress Meryl get censored on Jimmy Kimmel?
A: With a Streep bleep.
Q: What are Russian citizens doing to show approval for President Vladimir?
A: They're rootin' for Putin.
Q: What flower is named for a missing legendary aviation pioneer?
A: The Amelia Camelia.
Q: What would the French knight do when he started flirting with Guinevere?
A: Lancelot would glance a lot.
Q: What do you call a ghoul on crutches?
A: A hobblin' goblin.
Q: What does comic actor Ricky have when he is ill?
A: Gervais malaise.
Q: What is a king who is also a lawyer?
A: A regal legal eagle.
Q: What issue does a psychiatrist and his obsessive patient work on?
A: Compulsion repulsion.
Q: What is an internet scammer's attempt to get account information?
A: A phishin' expedition.
Q: What is Lord Grantham considering for Downton Abbey?
A: Mansion expansion.
I was given two options
to follow two different armrests, outstretched.
One was a famous twist in ecstasy
Except anything in driver seat.
The other was a befuddled theatrical pedagogy
Whence the aviation was having a heart attack!
I looked inwardly and opted the third one
After all this is a mere gift!
"Runway zero eight!"
You simply recite through the gothic stories
and pray for a painless appendix.
A better idea would be to refer
not "The Holiday Inn" but "Ben-Hur"
God proposed the outlier there, in pain
If not in vain!
8:45 AM
9-4-2024
Santos Dumont so much invested
In his life, he many things invented
he even flew heavier than the air
being father of aviation could never dare
the sea is beautiful
rocking
with foamy waves
storm and flightless
The sea was once
her airstrip
hiding the borders
sky's sea and earth
she loved
fly
clouds and waves,
through a snowstorm
like the animals running on the earth
fly
lightning and rain
making her a friend
don't rest
fly
on the Atlantic and Pacific
ocean,
in the aviation of life
with challenging experiences
She is alive
Look up the world she changed.
Returning home
After decades of wandering over the globe
I am back here at the point where I started
My home at the top of the lush green mountain
Stood along the canopy like a monument of time
Through my Mahogany framed windows
I see the cloud capped Seven Virgins
That shook the aviation history
With an unfortunate chilling story
When a giant metallic bird on it’s flight
Crashed with all on board in a cold dark night
I remember the thundering crash
Followed by a screen of flames
Looked like shells we see in films
The smell of burning life and metal
Wafted the air ,like in a field of battle
Seven Virgins have buried that memory
And moved on with the new century
Dew on tea bushes, sparkle like diamonds
Cold breeze greets me as I do my errands
The choirs of songbirds and cokatoos
Make me sing and dance to their tunes
Mother Nature noticed my return
Greeted me with a cool shower rain
Everything makes me feel very young
This is my home, where I belong
Azzurro
The boots were blue in colour
Painted to look like the sky
And worn by a gal with other things
She was aged 18 to 45
And looked timless ageless
It was the blue painted ex army boots
That she used wore to gigs
Pubs and clubs when she was free
Not working as a programmer
In the Italian civilian aviation industry
The job was boring but paid well
She'd done it for 8 years
Was a legend at the plane factory
The lady who wore her blue boots
Even in the office a different pair
She got results delivered the goods
Had worked on 36 different projects
They simply knew her as Azzurro
The blue booted gal
Heavens cotton
Woven by divine silk
Effortlessly gliding across ocean blue backgrounds,
As if the daring feat of mid-stratosphere aviation is somehow ordinary.
Oh to fly among the alluring rabbit tails of physics,
My heart cannot be swayed
I need to feel their embrace
I need to know what its like to float in merciful winds of grace.
A wondrous cycle of shape-shifting alchemy,
Forcing life’s properties to suddenly change at levels only microscopes lay witness.
Like bricks laid in pattern,
Together they form a world above our own,
Paradise upon layered planes.
No eyes, mouths, or ears to be seen, spoken, or heard
Yet, forever stocked in beauty are these heavenly forms,
Calling my desire to fly
Convincing me, one day, I may walk a top it’s pristine and partnered surface.
Their rustling becomes forgot part of past;
No pleasant environment can everlast,
Days of fall for reason their shade o'ercast,
So, we can clearly observe the contrast.
Nature has innate desire for rebirth;
No creature is nominated for mirth;
Everything, for measured time, has it's worth;
All is destined to be a part of earth.
These leaves had just a nine months duration,
Each feather has time for aviation.
Rose, at last, loses it's beauty; scatters
Old mountain can't withstand time and clatters
Snowy glacier though firm, at last shatters
Everything is void, just nothing matters
April 03, 2022
This is the planet that nurtured mankind.
But. By way of thanks, what do we find?
Wherever he goes he brings destruction,
stripping resources, dumping pollution.
Grabbing the fossil carbon to burn
and making vast profits in return.
He knows the issue of see-o-two
yet carries on polluting the blue
by expanding his aviation.
And supporting deforestation.
He won't control his procreation,
that pushes species to extinction.
The earth is now in a serious mess
because of modern man's seflishness.
This is the planet that nurtured mankind.
But. By way of thanks, what do we find?
In the middle of a sky so blue
death came suddenly, sullenly.
Schräge Musik to my ears,
the sum of all fears in that
late October sky of brilliant blue
when I, one of the few, knew, too late,
the fate of a lapsed moment
in the foment of an aerial duel,
the smell of hot cannon shell
and aviation fuel assaulting the senses,
lowering my defences and sending me
spiralling seaward like a lame duck
who's wing has been clipped
by random shot, which this was not,
no, this was cold, calculated hunting,
shunting me down in an oil blown
maelstrom of wind, blood and fire,
flying by wire to a cataclysmic shattering,
leaving just a smattering of my mortal remains,
a few stains on that pristine strand,
where once, as a boy, I built castles of sand.
I used to be a U.S. delegate to the International Civil Aviation Organization (ICAO) – a branch of the United Nations dealing with air-traffic control technology. We had a rule in our meetings and deliberations that “silence is consent” for any vote.
This poem came to me while visiting an exhibit describing the treatment of interned American citizens of Japanese descent during the Second World War.
Not to decide is to decide – apathy is equivalent to agreement.
Failure to dissent means tacit approval.
Tolerance of evil marks complicity with the act.
Turning a blind eye does not make the sight disappear.
Blocking one’s ears does not counteract the cries,
Nor does empty silence not echo with meaning.
Saying “it’s not my concern”
Really means “I don’t care enough to say ‘no’ ”,
You don’t have the option to simply vote “present”.
Choose to speak.
CORONALITY (2)
The world speaks in mournful tone,
The times keeps me up on it's own
Leading to crash but thought beckons,
The blueprint to pay for many tomorrows.
I swirl spoon in watery calamitious broth, tasteless,
Sit speechless, government powerless,
Aviation wingless, travel-ban endless,
Many activities motionless,
Our once trusted hands have become prohibition,
Toilet paper, nose mask and sanitation,
Just like liquid bleach sanitizing humanity,
Have become most sort after commodity.
Tupac predicted it when our health was alil better,
That Corona will emanate from China.
Eschanton apocalyptic reign.
Covid-19 pandemic now the world's stain,
Every breath you take may implicate you
But healing waters will benevolently flow through
To relieve the world's pain,
To commemorate the slain
And wipe off CORONALITY from mother Earth.
This, most definitely, I can bet.
VickWizzy
Vick Manuel Poetry {VMP}
Copyright © 2020.
CORONALITY (1)
Polyneuropathy of a poisonous dark child,
Weapon of mass destruction,
Born to the family called Earth,
Name Corona, last name Virus,
Nickname Covid, aged nineteen (19),
Nationality China, who premeditatedly planned
The glint of bodies: naked, suited or adorned,
Down by the old soul (earth).
International terrorism at it's best,
Who is going to be the jury
To hear and decide this infliction of life's injury.
Death fashionably attired with a face new
And name, Corona, reminiscent of something I knew,
Now the ghost of life that begins
Can freely travel from Italy to America,
From United kingdom to Faroe island
Even without aviation and documents
To waver in arms of loved ones or pen pals.
What's going on with our beloved Earth?
Carcasses; I smell a rat,
Chinese government wears the aroma
And Wuhan Institute of Virology,
I see Shi Zengli's lab oozes 'the dead rat'
And Major General Chen Wei's hands stained
With tactics, strategies and blood
Like a small red circle on a white flag.
Welcome to the apocalypse, age of Ragnarok.
VickWizzy
Vick Manuel Poetry {VMP}
Copyright © 2020
~ Streaming 'cross the sky ~
Day dawns from the window of a plane
Red streaks across the sky
Dispel the darkness in my brain
Sailing smooth as the crow flies
Upward to the clouds on wings a-glide
Clear atmosphere on high down to the ground
Drowsiness from eyes so swiftly flies
Streaming 'cross the sky without a sound
Landing on the runway right on time
A feat of aviation quite routine
One moment in Chicago, ere we climbed
In New York ~ of miracles I dream
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