Wounded Knees

he deserved better

though no one ever said so

his lot by choices made and birth decreed

in another age he might have been a hero

living to a code that he believed

he deserved better

although he rarely argued

accepting that in life we pay a price

so he just got on with doing what he had to

a slave to circumstance

he played it nice

except for once or twice

when folks harangued him

bedevilled him to choose a different path

castigated choices, rules he lived by

then another side was seen

and no one laughed   

courageous then to ethics and behaviours

a knight of old who’d sworn to do his best

an explorer extraordinaire

a real man

tackling each and every challenge

daily tests

he deserved better

one or two of us knew that that was true

and we cheered silently on the sidelines

urging his success in what he felt he had to do

 

she deserves better

I saw her on the street just yesterday

her coat hung heavy on her shoulders

her face resigned to to all she had to pay

she might have travelled once in covered wagons

tilled at soil cemented on some plot

sewed seeds of future, harvested, lamented

a stoic that the caravan forgot

 

they deserve better

perhaps we all do

cast in roles

few choices

birth decreed

unsung heroes

terrain and times denying

that courage stands

on work-worn wounded knees

Superhero Danglers

They dangle from my ears and I just love them

Drops of silver, diamonds or gold

They turn with me and nudge my jaw or cheekbones

Make me brave, in truth, they make me bold

I’ve seen me going out without them

Forgotten in a rush and then I’m crushed

Nothing’s right, naked nightmares about them

Unlike Samson, feel I’m weaker when untrussed

Those who know me never buy me tiny

Studs that sit too tame upon my lobes

Got to dangle, got to jingle jangle

Undressed, if absent, even fully robed

I have a pair that hang right down and swing so

Towards shoulders, mucky minds, that thought of else

Those are reserved for when I must be bolder

They glitter so, I keep them as my best

What gives you confidence when you need extra

Is it clothes that make the hero out of you

Or is it something else, like shades or hairdo

I’m curious to know what others do

Superhero powers from some earrings

The dangly ones, of course, none else suffice

Maybe shouldn’t tell you of my weakness

Superman once did and then thought twice

My kryptonite is finding flat and lifeless

In a box where danglers live for epic feats

No one guesses, no one touches, locked up

My cowardly protection help me cheat

Been wearing them since Clark Kent was a no-mark

A cartoon nobody that needed strength

If he’d had earrings he could’ve worn those knickers

Underneath, where no one saw his length

If Kal-El had only listened to his granny

Like I did years ago when just a child

He’d have swapped his cape, gone in disguise with danglers

Guaranteed to subvert mild and wild

Lex Luthor might have laughed at the Boy Wonder

With the dangly bits that hung from manly ears

But, rest assured, he’d have crushed him without effort

Unworried about kryptonitic fears

I’ve told you now, so spare a thought for powers

Gifted from a granny long ago

Wear them long and swing them while you strut it

If she were here, she’d tell you, told you so

Need to go and polish superpowers

Phone Superman and put that hero wise

Tell him he can even lose the swim trunks

Let’s face it, he should welcome that surprise

If you catch me on the street without my earrings

Give me time to find a phone box near

Some struggle with my garments and, hey presto,

Knickers hanging down from round my ears

Labyrinth

In and around,

thoughts confound,

wandering, wending maze.

Monstrous deal,

high walls conceal,

entangle, capture, faze.

 

Unerring trap,

threadlike map,

alternate paths and ways.

Portents pending,

search unending,

pursuit of better days.

 

One to care,

secrets share,

mindful notions raise,

Gambles taken,

love forsaken,

chips upon the baize.

 

Restless sighs,

subjective lies,

focus, centre, gaze.

Concentrate,

permutate,

consider what heart says.

 

Labyrinth,

graven plinth,

hero rescues, flays

mindless foe,

new route to go,

meditate new phase.

Freedom

Freedom! he cried,

Or so the film said.

In legends and myths

Our heroes are made.

And they die.

 

By peace and resistance,

Gandhi’s evocation.

In love and by actions,

Recreate nation.

And we live.

 

By power and mistrust,

Dictators’ lips spoke such words.

Vilify, conquer,

Hand to the sword.

And we hate.

 

Love one another

As I have loved you,

Messianic message.

Nothing more true.

And we love.

 

What lives on in legend

And myths we espouse

Are the ideas and concepts

That build each new house.

We create.

 

Freedom, no myth,

For with free will we’re born

Tho’ in life, servitude

Snips until shorn.

But we hope.

 

Hope in our freedom,

A liberty voice,

Our actions, our words,

Heroic choice.

For we are.

“Women are Sluts, Men are Studs” Giving the Patriarchs a Row.

Now, my lovely friend, Rene, has been running crash courses on all sorts of stuff I’m interested in. And I don’t have the time to re-study. So these wee 10-15 minute chunks are just my cuppa.

John and Hank Green – brothers – combining their many talents to educate the world. And I think that they’re great at it. Ok, it’s bite-sized but that’s kind of what is happening to education. Whole other discussion. But these chunks are entertaining and encapsulate the essence of the subject at hand.

My favourite bit in this one might be John giving the patriarchs a row as he…well, listen for yourself. The whole thing is entertaining but the section I’m referring to is from 6.55-7.57. An even smaller bite-size, if 12 minutes is too long. http://nae50.wordpress.com/2014/03/22/lit-course-the-odyssey/comment-page-1/#comment-1804

Think I’m gonna go read The Odyssey now. See, there’s merit in these courses. Just won’t get you into college.

It’s a bit like watching the Open University course programmes. You don’t have to study because you’re just watching for fun at 2a.m. or thereabouts. Nobody’s going to test you afterwards. And you get to say, to no one in particular because no one’s watching them with you, ‘That’s very interesting’. And nod sagely. Before heading to bed with your head stuffed full of stuff you may never need in your life. But hey, I like it.

At least with John and Hank they’re modern. The Open University programmes have been kicking around since the year dot. The outfits and hair do’s testify to that. I think they only update them when something major changes. Like, once they knew the world wasn’t flat, they made a new video.

Mark Knopfler. And Chilling.

So, by way of partial apology for not even looking at, let alone reading, other blogs in the last couple of days, I offer you this.

I’ve had the week from…..well, not hell, but not an easy one. We all get them. Life, I think they call it.

So I’m chilling. And loving it. A little bit of writing. Not fit for posting yet. A few haufs.

Nothing in my stomach all day, by the way, which isn’t good news for my stomach or tomorrow’s hangover. But appetite has gone somewhere. And I can’t find it.

Anyway, this guy I’m posting I’m proud to call Scottish. A guitarist, composer, singer, dreamer. He takes me back to my youth when I adored Dire Straits. ‘Sultans of Swing’ was my anthem for so long.

I find it hard to select which of his songs on this particular cd I favour most. I pretty much love them all.

But, if forced, I select this one.

Sung with James Taylor. Another hero. This song actually made me research the Mason Dixon Line. Because I didn’t know what it was.  I even bought a book on their story.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy. Because the only thing I am doing tonight is listening to music. Having a hauf. And I might try to persuade my stomach to eat something. Anyone got any chocolate?

Btw, this is the B side of what I bought the cd for. And it’s my favourite side. Just goes to show…..we don’t always know our own taste.

My sixteen year old has just taught me how to insert a video. So easy. And I’ve been like a headless chicken about it for so long. Kids, eh? Wee shits. They kid you on they know nothing that matters. And then they come up trumps.

Anyway, I’m garbling. That would be the 3rd whiskey having its effect. Enjoy. I’m not listening to this ‘cos I’m starting the cd from the beginning again. And going with the flow. Happy weekend everyone.

😉

Golden Days

In golden age of godly days,

Zeus on Olympus high,

A world controlled by fickleness

And portents from the sky.

 

Eros fired an arrow true

But aimed at two apart,

Delighted in his mischief

And laughed at broken heart.

 

Aphrodite wooed and swooned,

Insidious creeping charm,

Wreaked havoc on all men of worth,

Inflicted them with harm.

 

Poseidon guarded mighty deep

And trident powered seas.

He roared into the chasms, caves

And harkened not to pleas.

 

Hades kept all souls within

A haunted, hellish hole.

No one travelled over Styx

To save immortal soul.

 

Zeus believed all he conceived

And interfered in lust

Meddling so in specious forms.

A god, fornicating and unjust.

 

So many little entities

And great and powerful ones

Distorting truth and argument

All for godly fun.

 

The golden days of yesteryear,

In fantasy and flight,

Mesmeric in their poesy

But rarely often right.

 

And still I read of mighty deeds

And heroes of the past,

For myths and legends so profound

Will captivate and last.