What is not pictured

Spring, in my part of the world, comes in riding a storm. This is what it leaves behind. My shutter was too slow to capture the dragonfly's taking of flight. What is not pictured is the futility of the transformation of this earth's inhabitants come spring. New storms are on the horizon and their flesh-splitting winter dry is only days away. The euphoria and sense of life are only attached by micron threads to a whilting pod. But I can not take flight. I must endure a lie and watch helplessly as one seed of hope detaches, one after the next. And then again barren, left to contemplate the change without change is an earth ready to die.

Reality Bytes

So, U.S. Presedential Candidate John McCain would not rule out a pre-emptive war against another country, wanna guess what country he'd go after?

Gas in Michigan is $3.49/gal while U.S. oil companies made a $168Billion profit. How long before a revolt?

The FAA, charged with regulating airlines, keep quite thousands of airline violations and allowed unsafe airplanes to fly. Still afraid of a terror strike?

The U.S. administration and the generals in charge of the war on Iraq, can not point out what the qualifiers are to withdraw from Iraq. We may be there for a 100 years as McCain implied.

Food safety is at an all time low, yet everything from poisoned fish to expired milk is approved for sale by the people hired to protect us.

Some packaged foods include human byproducts, animal waste, incests, poisons, and fat that can keep you from decomposing long after you've died.

Everyone is talking about all the lead in toys from China, yet thousands of beauty products like lipstick made by U.S. companies have high levels of lead, and they are still on the store shelves. 

And this is just what i can remember at 3:00am, what about everything I've missed?

A word of advice...don't eat any packaged food, don't eat fast food, don't fly, don't drink milk, don't buy into any politician's bull, don't vote Republican, don't sit quite, don't...

five ramblings of a textured stone

As the wind swiftly crashed the tent around me leaving my flesh exposed to piercing droplets of acidic rain, I woke stumbling a lethargic grog trying to catch up to the half-spent night. I always lament the incomplete dream halted by necessitated waking hours not longing for longer sleep, but an urge to see a vision through that hints a path of my future battles is turned away.

I walk. As though not accustomed to limbs carrying this burdening weight, I stagger my pace into tree limbs for stability. Losing control is not as devastating as I had once feared.

The fear comes in exciting doses of shifting concerns rushing in increasing intervals till time mashes all to one overwhelming isolation. The laboring rain is gone. Even the trees are gone.

I’m left to roam a parched earth weary of my steps. I can not float. Perhaps the vision is meant to abandon. As a child I witnessed my impending doom. This was a vision I could grasp. As an adult the vision alarms into an aim broader with me surviving for moments longer to serve. I remain idle.

As the wind reshapes my forgotten face into guiltless smirks that keep suspicious strangers from attacking, I seek coyly a silent cave trying to pray a solution, waiting for sleep to recapture a wondering mind urging a vision complete.