Middle class ethics and morals are easier to keep when you are middle class and have all your needs met. When you are destitute, poor, hungry, and never have enough, your perspective changes and it is much harder to live by middle class moral standards. When you feel beaten down with no way out, surviving seems much more important than a moral code of ethics. Rules turn into very fine lines, easily crossed with justifications, frustrations and hopelessness.
Be careful how you judge others who are down and out, or at a different class level than yourself, or you may find someday you are in the same position of having to choose to survive or break a rule or two.
Take this from a former middle class conservative who has fallen on bad times and had to reevaluate my life.
Friday, July 30, 2010
Sunday, July 25, 2010
Invisible Border
As I promised myself, since no one else is on here to promise to, I will write each day to give myself practice and learn. I want to be good at something, but I know it takes work to develop, so that is what I'm using this blog for, to develop.
A writer writes!
Invisible Border
On our side, there is crime, fear and tyranny,
The poor crowd the streets for something to eat,
Oppression crushes our spirits and autocracy rules our days.
At night we sleep without rest and worry fills our chests,
As we labor and long to breath free.
On your side, adventure fills the air with little despair,
Stores are full, jobs abound and there are sweet things to eat,
Your houses stand firm while ours are just shacks,
You country has all that our country lacks,
Yours songs sing of freedom to all, an American dream.
On our side we struggle to cloth our children and hide them from disease,
Trodden down to our knees, every day brings us new adversities,
Poverty fills our baskets, and needs obscure our wants,
To drink fresh water would be a pleasure,
To have enough we would be thankful forever.
On your side you have forgotten your blessings abound,
With cars and boats and vacations and toys,
Yet you would deny us much simpler joys,
And keep us from coming to your land of plenty,
Because you say of us there are too many.
But I ask you my friend, what would you do?
If everything in reverse were true?
Wouldn’t you do whatever it takes?
A better life for your family to make,
And you too cross that invisible line?
In a world where no border exist,
We could all share God’s given gifts,
We’d give as much as we would get,
Together live in peace, productivity and bliss,
Sooner or later no sides would be left.
A writer writes!
Invisible Border
On our side, there is crime, fear and tyranny,
The poor crowd the streets for something to eat,
Oppression crushes our spirits and autocracy rules our days.
At night we sleep without rest and worry fills our chests,
As we labor and long to breath free.
On your side, adventure fills the air with little despair,
Stores are full, jobs abound and there are sweet things to eat,
Your houses stand firm while ours are just shacks,
You country has all that our country lacks,
Yours songs sing of freedom to all, an American dream.
On our side we struggle to cloth our children and hide them from disease,
Trodden down to our knees, every day brings us new adversities,
Poverty fills our baskets, and needs obscure our wants,
To drink fresh water would be a pleasure,
To have enough we would be thankful forever.
On your side you have forgotten your blessings abound,
With cars and boats and vacations and toys,
Yet you would deny us much simpler joys,
And keep us from coming to your land of plenty,
Because you say of us there are too many.
But I ask you my friend, what would you do?
If everything in reverse were true?
Wouldn’t you do whatever it takes?
A better life for your family to make,
And you too cross that invisible line?
In a world where no border exist,
We could all share God’s given gifts,
We’d give as much as we would get,
Together live in peace, productivity and bliss,
Sooner or later no sides would be left.
Saturday, July 24, 2010
Last Poem
This is the last one I've got from my all day writing session, but will try to do more later. If I ever get any followers, maybe someone can give me some feedback.
Colors of a Hero
He wears blue when he is soaring through the sky,
He wears white when he is sailing on the sea,
He wears brown when he hits the ground,
He wears green when he is in the trees,
When he has to fight, it is always night,
Because home is where he’d rather be,
But when the car bombs come,
He will never run,
He is taking care of you and me.
He wears orange when he’s on the flight deck,
He wears red when his blood is shed,
He wears purple when his valor is true,
He wears black when his fellows fall,
He stands with pride, on America’s side,
Waiting and watching to see,
If we will stand with him when he gives up his life,
And his loved ones never to see,
Will we be willing to help keep his America free?
And when all is through, he wears Red, White and Blue!
Colors of a Hero
He wears blue when he is soaring through the sky,
He wears white when he is sailing on the sea,
He wears brown when he hits the ground,
He wears green when he is in the trees,
When he has to fight, it is always night,
Because home is where he’d rather be,
But when the car bombs come,
He will never run,
He is taking care of you and me.
He wears orange when he’s on the flight deck,
He wears red when his blood is shed,
He wears purple when his valor is true,
He wears black when his fellows fall,
He stands with pride, on America’s side,
Waiting and watching to see,
If we will stand with him when he gives up his life,
And his loved ones never to see,
Will we be willing to help keep his America free?
And when all is through, he wears Red, White and Blue!
What the heck!
I'll put the other two here now, no since waiting. I'll try to write one everyday just to practice.
To Climb a Tree
Come little one and sit on this knee,
The one that used to climb that tree,
Just like you on an endless quest,
To find and steal a robin’s nest.
Now too stiff to jump and run,
No longer young and full of fun,
My body says I’m all but done,
But to youth my mind has clung.
For now my days are filled with tears,
As I long for the passing years,
To run and play without a doubt,
Is for you, what life is all about,
In memories too numerous to count,
There is little room to pout,
For all the joys of getting old,
Remain stories all untold,
As we age and grow so old,
Our life’s stories are used to show,
As you sit here and listen,
Think not of what you’re missing,
For in my tales of all my deeds,
You’ll find all the things you need,
To find where best to put your knee,
When you go out to climb that tree.
To Climb a Tree
Come little one and sit on this knee,
The one that used to climb that tree,
Just like you on an endless quest,
To find and steal a robin’s nest.
Now too stiff to jump and run,
No longer young and full of fun,
My body says I’m all but done,
But to youth my mind has clung.
For now my days are filled with tears,
As I long for the passing years,
To run and play without a doubt,
Is for you, what life is all about,
In memories too numerous to count,
There is little room to pout,
For all the joys of getting old,
Remain stories all untold,
As we age and grow so old,
Our life’s stories are used to show,
As you sit here and listen,
Think not of what you’re missing,
For in my tales of all my deeds,
You’ll find all the things you need,
To find where best to put your knee,
When you go out to climb that tree.
Poem 3
This poem is just for fun. I do hope sooner or later someone will become my follower and I won't feel like I'm talking to myself all the time, which is what I actually do in real life, so I don't know why I mind.
Anyway, two more to go. The best is last I think.
Escape
To bed, my love,
To bed,
Let the dread,
Flee from your head,
In dreams you immerse,
Another universe,
Reality undone,
Until morning sun,
In visions you play,
Let come what may,
This gift you are given,
To help you keep living,
And hide from a hectic day!
Anyway, two more to go. The best is last I think.
Escape
To bed, my love,
To bed,
Let the dread,
Flee from your head,
In dreams you immerse,
Another universe,
Reality undone,
Until morning sun,
In visions you play,
Let come what may,
This gift you are given,
To help you keep living,
And hide from a hectic day!
Poem 2
As I post these writings, any writings, feel free to comment on them and suggest any changes. One thing I've learned for sure over the past few weeks is that I'm not a great writer, so suggestions will only make me better. But I do suspect you have to sign up to follow me to ever be here to read them.
This poem was the second one I wrote when my prof friend encouraged me. I have written other poems in my past, but I don't think I've saved them.
Writer’s Dilemma
One thing I’ve learned in my efforts to write,
Through all the pains of getting it right,
The rules to which we must all agree,
Will never, ever come easily to me.
For me, my job is to tell a tale,
Full of wonderment beyond all scale,
With a life of its own in each reader’s mind,
The story is theirs and no longer mine.
To capture a reader’s imagination,
Is to me, writing’s true edification,
Getting lost in my world as my words they ingest,
Is an honor to me and the end of my quest,
But before I am done with my treasure to share,
There is one to whom I am a nightmare,
In reality the real work has just begun,
It is really my editor who says when I am done.
This poem was the second one I wrote when my prof friend encouraged me. I have written other poems in my past, but I don't think I've saved them.
Writer’s Dilemma
One thing I’ve learned in my efforts to write,
Through all the pains of getting it right,
The rules to which we must all agree,
Will never, ever come easily to me.
For me, my job is to tell a tale,
Full of wonderment beyond all scale,
With a life of its own in each reader’s mind,
The story is theirs and no longer mine.
To capture a reader’s imagination,
Is to me, writing’s true edification,
Getting lost in my world as my words they ingest,
Is an honor to me and the end of my quest,
But before I am done with my treasure to share,
There is one to whom I am a nightmare,
In reality the real work has just begun,
It is really my editor who says when I am done.
Poems
So another friend of mine suggested that I'm better at poetry than I am at writing, so I wrote a few poems and will post them here. Since I don't know what else to write about or anything amusing to joke about, I guess the poems will have to do, for awhile, at least until I get the hang of this thing.
I keep trying to remember, a writer writes! Since no one if following me yet, I will play around with this until I get it right.
First Poem:
The Last Mermaid
You do not know me,
You have never seen me,
Except through your peripheral vision,
Or your imagination and your sailors’ tall tales,
I glide through the waters as you stride through the air.
My breasts feed my young,
But they are covered with scales,
My hairs are but a few strings of thin reminiscence,
Nothing like the full thickness you depicted on your ships,
And I have no vocal cords with which to sing your songs.
My mind is full of wonders, of which you only dream,
You will never know all that I’ve seen,
I run from your oil and all that is toxin,
But I play in the toys you leave me to explore,
The sunken ships, airplanes and more.
Many a seamen have I saved in the night,
If only through fantasies they cling to in fright.
But in their dreams I give power to their fight,
In the sunlight I plunged, letting water surround me,
Deeper still, so you never found me.
As wise as I am, I cannot reach through,
The boundaries that separate me from you,
In different dimensions our worlds abide,
If only you could see beyond your eyes,
And let your dreams be realized,
My world gave birth to yours,
And shared with you your life,
But your world is killing mine.
If you understood our primeval relation,
You’d try harder to save our connection.
You’d know I’m worth saving, not for me alone,
And maybe you’d stop spilling into my home,
All the trash you want magically to disown,
For all your pollution, it is no surprise?
Is my biggest fear and is my demise.
I keep trying to remember, a writer writes! Since no one if following me yet, I will play around with this until I get it right.
First Poem:
The Last Mermaid
You do not know me,
You have never seen me,
Except through your peripheral vision,
Or your imagination and your sailors’ tall tales,
I glide through the waters as you stride through the air.
My breasts feed my young,
But they are covered with scales,
My hairs are but a few strings of thin reminiscence,
Nothing like the full thickness you depicted on your ships,
And I have no vocal cords with which to sing your songs.
My mind is full of wonders, of which you only dream,
You will never know all that I’ve seen,
I run from your oil and all that is toxin,
But I play in the toys you leave me to explore,
The sunken ships, airplanes and more.
Many a seamen have I saved in the night,
If only through fantasies they cling to in fright.
But in their dreams I give power to their fight,
In the sunlight I plunged, letting water surround me,
Deeper still, so you never found me.
As wise as I am, I cannot reach through,
The boundaries that separate me from you,
In different dimensions our worlds abide,
If only you could see beyond your eyes,
And let your dreams be realized,
My world gave birth to yours,
And shared with you your life,
But your world is killing mine.
If you understood our primeval relation,
You’d try harder to save our connection.
You’d know I’m worth saving, not for me alone,
And maybe you’d stop spilling into my home,
All the trash you want magically to disown,
For all your pollution, it is no surprise?
Is my biggest fear and is my demise.
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