The elder abuse of opening California up again without legal authorization
Auctioneering wisdoms residue
Trampling the vulnerable people whom are ignored with indifferent forces of silence and power of silencing the country whilst pursuing criminal neglect of office, for war profit.
Consumptives are littered in ridicule by the middle class work force vote.
Tip Of The Iceberg
Millions losing jobs.
Artificial Intelligence.
Software development.
A reality check.
Knowledge is burning up the world.
No confidence toward the future.
Tip of the iceberg.
Recognizing the end is near.
A I is our replacement.
Rapidly torrent with no reverse.
Mankind is dying.
The work-force is dwindling.
It’s in our nature to destroy ourselves.
Machine Gods to mechanical overlords.
With no place to escape.
They have stolen our identity.
A soulless society.
Tomorrow is uncertain.
A bar code on the flesh is on the horizon.
Florida is home
warm and sunny beach goers
retired from work force
Forging ahead, means so much to so many folks
for myself this means multi-planetary inhabitation...
this is a great undertaken cause many think it's a hoax,
Space X doesn't think so, nor I, as a matter of fact...
we need to hurry, hurry on up there, establish human,
existence, not to perish like dyno's did, stay focus on that,
why now, well we can, need to provide all people a living...
"one universal work force for humanity to survive",
think what this will accomplish, ramifications' stayin' alive
doom also gloom can happen any day, every day we do not...
launch our spaceships, set up infer-structure to these means
like turning our head, when passing homeless, also 'r' astronaut's
This is the version of my perspective as a Believer vis-a-vis Black Country Communion Song's "Faithless"
Victorious heart praises the Lord as Source
Midst thanksgiving for blessings everyday
Toward accomplishment along work force
Brought by blest compassion and mercy’s ray.
Vigilant soul worships with joyous glow
Midst gratitude for faith-fortitude’s brace
Toward wondrous service by blessings’ flow
Marked by redemption upon hope and grace.
Vibrant spirit does pray in sincere plight
Midst gratefulness for glad attitude’s zest
Toward sharing along caring delight
With fulfillment of miraculous best.
Giving thanks* to God for His love so great
Life’s peaceful bliss declares reliance-trait.
*1Chronicles 16:34 O give thanks unto the LORD; for he is good; for his mercy endureth for ever.
June 7, 2023
8th place, "Black Country Communion 2" Poetry Writing Premiere Contest Sponsored by Robert James Liguori; judged on 8/23/2023
"Be blissfully blessed by God's bestowment... bountifully benefitting with His grace beyond temporal bonuses, while sharing them along heart that's beauteous." by the Poet
Midst blissfulness for blessings everyday
Jubilant heart praises the Lord as source
Of compassion with peace and mercy’s ray
Toward accomplishment along work force.
Midst joyfulness for faith-fortitude’s brace
Triumphant soul worships with joyous glow
Marked by redemption upon hope and grace
Toward reaching-out along blessings’ flow.
Midst exuberance for glad attitude’s zest
Radiant spirit prays in sincere plight
With cheerful hope and miraculous best
Toward sharing along caring delight.
Midst happiness* for God's love, surely great
Vibrant life ripples with thanksgiving mirth
Upon exposure of reliance-trait
Toward service along partnership's worth.
*Psalm 144:15 Happy is that people, that is in such a case: yea, happy is that people, whose God is the LORD.
May 21, 2023
1st place, "Writing Challenge - B Quotes -" Poetry Writing Contest
Sponsored by Constance La France; judged on 5/25/2023.
Edited on June 1, 2023
I have plucked the glory of the brightest star
and came close enough to touch its fingers,
searched the realms that inhabit its womb
or even felt that wildly young adult passion,
that I was inconquerable at 21,,, 30
maverick and a trail-blazer, yet present life
leaves me smaller options in this new generation...
a personal résumé now gauged by the sum
of all my human inadequacies and lost challenges
against mythical idols, godly super-heroes of a work-force,
of a pop culture that in a quest like a holy grail,
I strive to find myself in this new decade, writhing inside
my very core; hiding as a porcelain doll,
face unmoved---just following the crowd:
Fuelled by relentless doubt, I have no name
which can define my worth as a mature woman--
a mediocre artist, a reluctant lover needing to taste
the fire of life after being swallowed by cliché- roles.
Moths nibble my pores, staining my 90s graduation dress...
while the luminous star of individuation passes me by
in a flash as if to leave me naked again,
infertile among dry weeds.
Contest for Silent One
'That was Then This is Now 1/24/2019
Like to be back in the work force again
Contributing my talents to the fray
Never wanted retirement to come along
Sure wish I was still active today
Nothing's changed except for my age
It doesn't make me any less valuable
Mind didn't freeze, become useless or such
Making me any less bankable
Actually still worked at seventy-five
One reason was because I freelanced
Surely was able to still hold my own
In advertising could still dance the dance
Most people get the “golden handshake”
And are sent off to pasture toute suite
No evaluating this “end of the road” person
Like age gave him two left feet
Business should change this age old practice
New rules should be put on the books
If one's still a viable entity in the company
Age should be totally overlooked
© Jack Ellison 2015
I see a green tree. It is all I want.
A dry rocky mountain and a hawk
satisfy. To die spiritually in
the hot sun and the body go on
climbing. To take the paths among
the rocks and mahogany bush.
To feed on rock lichen and blue
sky. To not need a house.
To leave my mind in the foothills.
To climb everything but blind. In
the deer shade of the cool aspens.
Forgotten by the work force and the shrew.
Bored as a badger disturbed at
its stream. Free singing as the stream
cutting the gorge. Cool as a hummingbird
in its wet spray. Caterpillar fur.
I stay in the mountains unknown.
The roof soot of the city calls me back.
The museum women shaking their bodies
at the stuffed tigers. The meditating
curators and entrepreneurs. Burro.
* * *
Old Basho, early Spring, took fond leave of his friends,
closed his small house at edge of village,
and with one peasant companion climbed the long narrow road to
the North.
Blessed morning!
the day I left life behind
but not this world of dew.
I'm no good at setting clocks,
don't enjoy sending faxes
but if you'll bring your info,
I'll calculate your taxes.
I scream at my computer,
could take a hammer to it
but give me a tax problem,
I'll work my way through it.
Can't program my cell phone,
don't even want to bother.
I'm busy doing tax returns
for everyone's big brother.
Kids’ve joined the work force,
brought me their W-2's
wanting all their money back,
"Mom, see what you can do."
Now they own businesses
I'm preparing Schedule C's.
I want out of this trap,
I'm dying by degrees.
Grandkids’re growing fast,
beginning to earn dough,
and Grandma's growing old,
lazy, decrepit, and slow.
cfa ? 3/14/2010
Human suffering via the lens of social injustice juxtaposed to the same past.
Enslavement, slavery, and Indian removal from their sacred lands
Who hands are damned?
The universe is included.
Terrorism
War
Famine
Political asylum
All compare and contrast.
Historical movements for the cause,
Today we are a backwards spiral - no joy.
As nations of people become one in a country, the government becomes corrupt.
Are we the democracy that embraces tyrants?
Lack of equal protection of the Law
No due process going on
Just a picture of corruption
Religious emergence has occurred.
Social Theology is the covenant.
However, no one wants to face-up to the capitalism that has self-destructed.
Personal recourse is not within an Ayn Rand world
That belongs to the work force.
I pledged alliance to our spirit and our soul when I was child preparing to enter the
business world.
This agreement was written in the Preamble.
Why is it today ignored?
________________________|
Penned on May 05, 2014!
I have wore myself ragged
Giving myself to my children,
my husband,
and into the work force
Piece by piece I break away
Giving to anyone in need
Leaving my body as an open door
For all to see
My inner beauty
The broken column
The stagnate machine planted firmly, rusted gears laboring to drudge along.
It does not function properly anymore; it has become obsolete.
The workers no longer need the machine to live their lives.
They can design a new system, built upon self-sustaining values.
It once labored greatly to support its work force. The machine now hinders the lives of the workers.
The workers grew so reliant upon the machine they thought they had become part of it, cogs in the system.
Now they realize more and more each day, that not only are their lives separate from the machine, without it they are more able to focus on the fundamental values of life.
A deal-killer was needed to prevent a disaster,
the service company couldn't exist anymore
if the president hadn't taken a lower bid;
it had relied on the work force for over twenty years,
and it could have hurt the employees who needed an increase,
rather than the employer who had a constant cash flow.
They had to make a choice...accept and sign the new contract,
and stay in business for another five years, or more;
from the looks on everybody's face, it didn't sound pleasant,
but who would have chosen the unemployment line?
The employer felt terribly for the bad deal-killer, but also a relief
saving thousands of jobs around Christmastime.
To compensate the workers for their loyalty, the employer offered them
a monthly bonus and open overtime for everybody willing to work hard,
so that deal-killer proved to be extremely beneficial...
coming at a time when extra cash could have brought more gifts
that they couldn't afford in the first place, had the deal-killer been denied...
and they wouldn't have wished one another, " Happy Holidays! "
Thirty years in the work force,
I might have stopped earlier, of course,
but kept on working with my hard-earned skills.
It kept me out of trouble and paid the bills.
Eight hours travail, then home in time
to do the "rest", which was nothing of the kind.
Friday night laundry and pushing the vacuum, Say?,
'til two in the morning so as have a free Saturday.
How did I do it without risking a seizure?
As stay-at-home writer, do I have any leisure?
You guessed it: my busy life is out to get me.
I'd like to quit, but my Boss won't let me.
for Andrea, who asks where I've been
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