He wasn’t like the others~
no simple nut-hoarder,
no frantic branch-to-branch commuter
with winter on his mind.
No, this squirrel had visions,
Grand ones.
He’d perch on the fence post
like a tiny prophet
and announce his plans
to anyone patient enough
to listen.
He spoke of a future where squirrels
would no longer dart in panic
across suburban roads
but stride confidently
on tiny pedestrian bridges
he designed.
He drafted blueprints
in the dirt with his tail,
lectured sparrows
on sustainable nest design,
and once attempted
to teach a bewildered raccoon
the fundamentals
of acorn-based economics.
The other squirrels
rolled their eyes,
called him “nutty,”
and went back to their
perfectly ordinary lives.
But every so often,
when the wind shifted
and the leaves rustled
with a strange kind of promise,
they’d glance his way~
if maybe,
just maybe,
he saw something
they didn’t.
I'll never walk Lagos's streets, for there I might not find German restaurant in which
To eat, or Russian grub? Or Maori food.? Or
Polo playing..Now dont think me rude.? But
If I arrived and they did not have
Chaucer plays or Tolstoy? I would
think them mad.? At least mono-cultural that most henious crime, in the west its been uncovered umpteen times
I hope some camera crew or even two do make a
Visit to see if such horrors are true.? No
Phantom of the opera in Eskimo.?
A real bad sign i'll have you to know,, yes they must be lectured if such is the case..Even berated! Right in their face.) And their
Land transformed, that they become much
More civilised.? Should that be the in
your place
Face.' Or faces of many? cause thats how its been for fifty pointless years on.' In the attacking of the
working western dream.)
I kept no Tutor but the Sky—
No Syllabus but Breeze—
The Pages turned themselves at Dawn—
In rustling Libraries—
The Robin lectured from the Fence—
The Brook revised my Thought—
A Cloud erased my Certainty—
Then softly—left me taught—
No Bell announced my Ignorance—
No Term conferred Degree—
Yet every Silence—held a Truth—
Too vast—for Pedagogy—
I failed—by inches—every Day—
Succeeded—just as small—
Till Knowledge—like a timid Guest—
Began—to know—my Hall—
And though no Scholar claims my Name—
Nor Ink records my Art—
The Mind—unbidden—learned to bloom—
A University—of Heart—
To grow up and accept I’m not a kid anymore
To learn and unlearn for me to become more
while still trying to hold on to the pieces of who I was before
To wanting to make everyone proud
while ignoring the voices in my head that get loud
To knowing they’re waiting for me to decide on what I’m doing in my life
To not knowing what direction I’m taking
whether it’s wrong or right
To get lectured and then feel pressured
To hear them say,
“Hey, you’re getting older, that means they know better, right?”
That means they’ve calculated it—it’s a method to their madness
To know that whatever happens, happens
To find out no matter what my outcome is, I will be elevated
To be understood rather than underestimated
I felt my brain go floating air
It wandered off without a care
It tried to fight a folding chair
Then claimed it saw a cosmic bear
It told my fridge to stay right there
And bowed before a houseplants glare
It swore my shoes could walk nowhere
Then lectured crumbs on proper fare
It yelled im fine to empty stair
It blamed the wall for sudden scare
It promised brilliance bold and rare
Then fell asleep mid thought I swear
The rusty swing set
sings in the wind.
It hasn't seen much use
Since we were children.
Nineteen sixty is when it began.
My older sister Flo
is a mentor and friend,
she is twelve and I am ten.
We loved that swing set.
so, did our friends.
Weel never forget that
it was aqua blue then.
On the yard swing
We could Climb, fly, and glide.
Like a bunch of monkeys
on skating ice.
Little bobby jumped off tumbled and cried.
So, we all got lectured about circus rides.
When were together,
We all laugh and smile.
Flo met her Beau,
When she was nineteen.
And Many folks know.
She is due in the spring.
I see us in the sunshine
now and again.
And the rusty swing set.
Yet sings in the wind,
Sometimes looking back
can be step forward --
being certain of where not
to return -- paths of experience
already traveled. Grass-less ruts
heavily trafficked by self and
loser others -- I search for detours,
missed games of chance --
though lectured long and wide
on the pitfalls of gambling...God,
our perfect example!~ His life
and death wager of Free Will...
What greater stake than a Soul?
Each of us given one Gambit
of Time!?
Jung lectured of dogma
its strangling of the symbol
the Medieval melted with magma
doubt was born, its smile twinkled
As monks wrote songs of Poliphile
Seeking soul from the external
in the Enlightened world,
nothing seems to be real
For eons our ancestors
were certain of the eternal
Is the light worth its weight?
Pain now lifted by pharmaceuticals
A flock who just can't walk straight
Now we live in plight or we are
simply deemed neurotypical..
With factories and private jets, the elite
produces 100, 000 times more carbon
than you or I. (It has gone up to .04 from .03 ppm.
Yet, we are the ones lectured in scare, tactic.
Tell me something. Do you see the Davosites
eating bugs and car-pooling?
Do you see them eating filet mignon and travelling
in a style harmful to the Planet?
Extravagance is not conservation.
It is the opposite.
They are enslaving you with pretty notions
and hypocrisy.
"Israel will be compassed about with armies"
...Iran, Turkey, Sudan, Russia, Lebanon, Syria...
Psalms 83, Ezekial 38.
"Wonder what is on tv tonight?"
(and you haven't even flipped through the Bible
to see if it was prophesied)C
(I know it's not as riveting as a cookoff or American Idols.)
One third of the population will perish from their coming war and deeds. That is 2.6 BILLION WITH A "B"
AL...
As POTUS he fled from Afghanistan
abandoning our troops in the sand
As VEEP he kowtowed to the Mullahs
sent billions to the sponsors of Hamas and Hezbollah
In Jerusalem today he lectured the Jews
when fighting a war for survival what to do
Israelis listened politely, perfunctorily clapped
wishing the POTUS would go take a nap
I’m too old to learn through play.
If only I’d tried to make friends as a kid.
Which I thought was a waste of time.
Now I am in this class.
Drilling it into my head.
Being lectured…
When it could have been so easy.
When it could have been so fun.
Now I am forced to explore that devastation.
That I denied when I was first diagnosed.
In this class I thought I was too good for.
Feeling haunted trying to imagine the kindness I could have learned to share.
The kindness I could have learned to see in others.
Like passing a ball back and forth.
Like learning to share for the first time.
But it’s too late to play those silly games…
Now I’m staring out the window in this boring class.
Wishing I could go back to an easier time.
The lady in red
Ah, Cristiane, so tall an elegant you are
Your dress richly red cost more than a pensioner’s yearly pay
Perfect your make-up; did you need help?
Ah, Cristine, you are so stern, a tanned gym mistress
wants us to pay our taxes on time, be modest in our pay demand
You are a Goddess and therefore pay no taxes
Ah, Cristine, I saw you once at Gar Du Nord in Paris, boarding a train
tall you were, among grey-suited men, deeply tanned your face
Your silk scarf is so colourful; who is your hairdresser?
Ah, Cristine, severely you lectured the Greeks squandering money
Demanding they pay promptly and save on social expenses.
The day you went for a holiday in the Bahamas.
The “Druggie” Down The Street
By: Miracle Man
4/21/2022
Oft times the thoughts he’d have caused him to fret,
and he’d sit ‘mongst wandering thoughts in deep regret.
But things long since passed he could not change,
so facts of these occurrences he’d always rearrange.
I lectured him on truthfulness and then he’d never later deny,
the response I got was, “I guess some people just like to lie”
All nine feet of green, moving through the reeds
Leaving around town strange packets of seeds
With a note, asking a curious deed
To till at night only, with utmost speed
Sunburn strips the magic, leaving just weeds
My Pa lectured it would never succeed
But having a number of mouths to feed
Under the moon, I planted what we'd need
For a crop to nourish, flower and breed
Townsfolk thought me foolish, would scoff and plead,
'Recover your senses; they're worthless beads!'
Yet they leapt by cresting heights to exceed
The sky's wide reach, blossoming a stampede
Of gold coins, rubies, and diamonds - indeed!
8/16/20
The Lecture On Truth
Written: by Miracle Man
10-30-2019
There exists no thing,
called borderline truth.
Or little white lies,
when told in our youth.
Any man whose mouth,
has falsehood dripping.
Is often found to be,
on his own words tripping.
A tongue that consistently,
into untruth dips.
Causes me to believe
nothing crossing his lips.
I lectured a young man,
whose word was no good.
Always wanting something,
and was misunderstood.
His failure to return,
caused me to ask why?
lecture finished he told me,
“I guess some just like to lie”
It’s either black or white,
not an area that’s gray.
Carefully chosen words,
from truth often stray.
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