From my vantage point, there is a shadow of a man plastered to the plaid walls in his room who is a shadow of himself. He fights a gallant battle to save himself from himself. All alone with his thoughts, the sweet aroma of a red rose that floats past him in a cool Autumn breeze brings an odd distant smile to his face that has been scarred from the heat of life. The sunlight licks the slats of his blinds to no avail as his vision has grown weak weary and dim. At his behest, the answer to his question of what could he have been had he only tried is answered. Is there hope or a will to change what might be to what can be if anything that is possible is within the realm of what is possible?
Editor’s Note: Enjoy PART 1 HERE
In a seat that I sit upon I see only what I do not want to see in this world. For from my vantage point I see rivers, lakes, and streams being choked out of the air they need by the collection of coagulated plastic bottles that have nested on their surfaces. I see schools of fish lying dead in the mud, muck, and mire that once was a haven of cool crystal clean water. What has been lost may never be recovered again. Those whose job it was to protect that what is most precious to us have sold it away to the villains of the earth.
In the site range of a rifle held by a man who has a license to kill is the unobstructed view of a lioness nourishing her cubs from the milk that flows from her. It is then the coward pulls the trigger sending a deadly projectile into her side ending her life while leaving her helpless babies to fend for themselves. The cold-blooded killer divorces the head from the lifeless body of the lioness to mount on a plaque in his living room so all who visit can see his latest conquest. Let the world bear witness as to how disgustingly depraved these men really are for their lack of loving or caring about anything that is life.
From my vantage point when chaos and confusion dominate the day calm and cohesiveness is not mutually exclusive of each other. Chaos breeds and feeds confusion. Confusion is seed where chaos is sown.
From my vantage point when chaos and confusion dominate the day calm and cohesiveness is not mutually exclusive of each other. Chaos breeds and feeds confusion. Confusion is seed where chaos is sown. There are those who are leading us by way of deceit are those will take themselves along with us on a path to defeat and destruction. I knowing not of judgment but what is obvious in the images that are beamed or streamed into our conscious or unconscious mind is the undeniable truth or untruth from which we must disseminate our decisions that correspond to the words I write that I believe in.
For when the bullets fly and the people die you and I need not ask why. The why is where from my vantage point I will sit in judgment of. The power to take life away or permanently destroy it is not a power we were meant to have. If we kill by way of the bullet, the bomb, the knives, the surgeons scalpel, or destroying the faith of human dignity we are substantially less than what we were created to be. From my vantage point the craters from earthquakes that carved up the ground leaving us to fall into the holes that we will never emerge from again.
You now know that I too as Paul Simon sang (And so you see I have come to doubt all that I once held as true-Kathy’s Song) there is the unmistakable sound of uncertainty in the air. I hold the green or red growing grapes ripening on the vine that would become our wine as true and they are. What I doubt as being true are the words of those who deny the telling of the truth. Those who won’t tell the truth have lost themselves in the lies their lives have told. The honest cries of the newborn baby who for the first time ever feels what we refuse to acknowledge we feel. What I once held as true was not from knowing where the truth could be uncloaked.
From my father’s vantage point there is always somebody higher up that you can talk to. I cry out to him in my anguish and my pain who can I talk to? WHO CAN I TALK TO? WHO? When there were words he needed to say that were words we needed to hear him say he was failed by his words. From my mother’s vantage point it came as a wave of disgust from her boney nourishment deprived hands that barely peeked out from the sleeves from her infamous blue sweater that just hung from her but now hangs in my closet never to be worn again. From my vantage point, I refused to see how little of her that was barely left. Why did her daughter my combative older sister have to die? WHY? Why should a mother have to bury her own child? WHY?
An Editor might command me to stay on topic. Stay on ONE topic! Could my topic be the bees that are ready to swarm over me as I dole out bread to the birds? NO! Could my topic be we can’t cookie-cutter leaders? NO! From my vantage point, I see human headless horsemen who need to learn to lead themselves as there are no more leaders who can be real leaders who can make change happen. We need agents of change, not rope pullers who wind ropes around the waistlines of their blank expressionless passionless prodigy’s while their donkeys pull them forward while being whipped into compliance.
This story has no story attached or associated with it. There are no characters cavorting throughout this non-story story. A central theme is not present for you to focus on. What I see in the far off distance or directly front facing are the vantage points of my own open and shut mind. In absence of a formal form or a direct route to an as yet developed conclusion, I rhythmically tippy-tap on the white letters etched on the black keys of the Zoom Text Keyboard to keep the writing wheel spinning as if it were being delightfully set in motion by a mouse or gerbil.
Continuing on. There is the biblical land of milk and honey where peace is sought while violence prevails. A nation that came out 3,300 years ago with two tablets of stone that are the cornerstone of their beliefs. They are not occupiers as you cannot illegally occupy your own land. This land of lush rolling hills and medical miracles is overshadowed by the greatness of a wall filled to the brim with notes, letters, and prayers. Yet the bombs rain down in torrents targeting the most innocent of us…children. Other once otherwise innocent children are spoon fed with the rituals of hate and slaughter. The dictum to set the land ablaze for mass destruction and death will be neutralized. The military might in that land is manned with men and women who are on a mission to keep their so very precious country (precious to all men of good will) from being overrun.
From my vantage point, I see the killer cancer being killed off while the life-saving killer ravages every organ within until they, you or the cancer are gone. This is not a cure but it is a temporarily commuted death sentence.
From my vantage point, I see the killer cancer being killed off while the life-saving killer ravages every organ within until they, you or the cancer are gone. This is not a cure but it is a temporarily commuted death sentence. As the sands in the hourglass filter away from you signaling dust you will return to be. The undefeatable pain marches on to sap you of your strength of will but not yet granting your wish for finality. Your body must continue to wilt and wither away until a wind from a whistle pushes you down. We talk of cures or hopes that a cure is finally found but where is it seen or known. The only known that is known is I DON’T KNOW!
Seeds that will sprout vines of thought that lead to knowledge must be planted or replanted. The vine of the tomato plant takes its path higher and higher until perfectly round shiny fruits emerge. So to must the vines fo thought and knowledge. The bed must be made so it can warmly welcome new seeds to grow into good fruits for a nourished tomorrow ripe with actionable action. A poet I may be but a prophet I am not. Yet, I can sense a groundswell ready to burst with new energy. Energy for lights as well as energy for life.
I have no long-term designs that extend beyond the letters of the words that are fashioned and formed in front of you. A prism or a kaleidoscope of color I do not represent myself as being such. Whiskers from my own face connected to or in contact with whiskers from a majestic animal entice my mouth to form a smile. The whiskered one arrives at the exact point where I was going but gets there long before I do. I cannot run races with her. Her shiny sleek design allows her access to places I could not begin to go.
From my vintage vantage point, I can justify my stubborn sullenness. What was past has regrettably made a pathway into my present. Those who reject my rationales while labeling them as being irrational do not know me. My shoes were never meant for you to walk in. Do not draw a line in the sand with my life. Do not build a snowman in my yard for you to use as an analogy for what you think I am or what in your eyes I should be. In your righteous corner, you could not know I am slow to snarl or sneer but at times quick with a joke. Oh yes, that is very much me but not nearly all of me. My sense of self-worth is what I not you appraise it to be.
I have played the role of the puppeteer although there were never any strings attached to me. My performances were put on for the pleasure of the children at a birthday party. My Muppet puppets the clown dolls I called ducks gave these little treasures a reason to smile laugh and giggle. Nothing can compare to that. Nothing at all can compete with that.
From puppets to people I cannot hide my disdain for the shenanigans of a President who would lock a child in a cage while at the same time claim a historic peace deal had been made with North Korea when in fact that never happened. He is a master manipulator of the media whose regular rants to no one in particular leave you to question his footing on the ground. His Houses of white, Senate and Congress wreak with the smell of corruption and favoritism. Where are the jobs that are coming? What about the death of retail bringing down the curtains of people’s lives? How in good conscience can you take away health insurance coverage by way of cutting Medicare and Medicaid making affordable health care a thing of the past? How can you saddle our grandchildren’s children with all the debt you added on by signing that “spending bill” that sent the authors scurrying away like rats from the light. Other than declaring that Jerusalem is the undisputed capital of Israel while moving the US Embassy there you have done nothing. You have accomplished nothing. Your only moment of brilliance was appointing Nikki Haley to be the US Ambassador to the United Nations. She is a fearless fighter for justice and the cause of those in the right in addition to being well suited to take your place. She not you can make America great again.
From my vantage point, it is coming close to the time to close the book to this mosaic of words. Not so much as a syllable was pre-written. My mind sets and directs the direction that my article will go in not to mention being the true originator of my words. The style or the recipes for the flavor of anything I write are part of this mystifying process that I do not control. Thank you for reading. Having you with me by my side even though I cannot see your faces or hear your breathing is a true joy to me.