To My People

It’s a sad world today, though the sun shines bright and the grasses grow.
In other places the faces are happy, but not for a lot of my people.
No one wants it all to be perfect.
We all walk through our lives with some pain
and a little bit of our own kind of glory.
Who can tell when the road will flood with the lost lives of my people,
as refugees from the swarming floods line the roads of my Heaven.
The sorrow will subside with the turning of the river, so beautiful.
Our water gives to us the joy of Summer fun,
it greets our morning eyes with it’s beauty and loving solace.
As it brings the Sun from the eastern wings, our days are so blessed.
The glory of the day is framed by this wandering, Hobo.
To those who have lost it all, I cry for you, I pray for you.
When it comes to your front door, where can you go, but away?
I love my Hawkeye people, from the depths of my Hawkeye soul.
You fought for everything you had, some won to live another day,
some lost it all, and must get up and build again.
Find strength in your hearts to fight for your homes.
If I could just find a word that would heal your broken hearts.
If I could give my life for you, I would. I have seen the moment,
and it is in us all to give what we can for our people.
Iowa, you are so good to humanity, with your Farmered gifts.
River, I know we try to control you. If we have angered you,
we have heard you, felt you, and we will always love you.
Could we sit in your lap again, and laugh?
We give you the promise of our lives.
You are that wonder, and we flood our lives with the tears of the lost.
You will heal, and come back home from your angry rant,
and we will heal, and build again. We are so lost without you.
For all of the sorrow and sadness, my heart goes today, to My People.
All is forgiveness.

I think I may have asked this before.
I have a youtube song I want to post.
It rejected my upload.
How can I do this?
A very confused man,
Joe

Roots of the Father go deep into the Earth,
to hold his tribes to the wind.
Frayed gray, from past Winters, chew gnarling warts
into the Mother’s side.
Her limbs fold around her, in a Christmas child’s love,
cling to their lives, from hers.
The old battle scars go deep into the womb of her wounded trunk;
Tree holds the limbs, who hold the world;
surely her wisdom has air!
Breed, to the limbs, the wild children of the seasons.
When lust in the glory of the fall, they fall for all else;
It is a sacrifice so great as to be heralded
in the Kings of color.
A flaming tribunal to the first, last, and only,
true soldier of the Nature.
The brisk Wind that comes, in a brotherhood with Storm,
gives cause to those who breathe,
to take refuge from the elements of the Nature’s ways.
Taking its shower, rendering out the weak,
and bestowing the strong to her care.
The reverent leaves, a blessed sort to continue in the life,
and ways, of the Earth.
Those who parish, in seasonal forgiveness,
feed the earth for generations.
There is no cause greater than this,
to give ones life for the rooted remaining.
Comes the Sun, from the rage of the past,
to celebrate the survival of the fortunate few.
None mourn of the loss, in their struggle;
there is no sorrow beyond the glory of suffering.
There is, left to the Earth,
only the beauty of what is still, the Nature.
There is no time in the Nature;
there can only be the infinite sigh of forever.
Surely, her wisdom is ancient.
Flawed humans make the words to teach, inspire,
and share their simple courage.
Leaning bodies against her great strength
feeds prescient inspiration, and the greater love.
Who could have borne such an invasion of kindness, but a God.
Tree, she, in perfection, is this infinite being,
building to the Earth, the awe of the Nature.
There is no human thought can grasp her doubtless conception.
We are mere to her breath, servant to her soul,
humbled by his strength to withstand Storm.
She clings to his root, for sanctions of the fearless heart.
Though Storm is fierce,
the silencing rage of Father Root fights to save his minions.
All Storms relent to the courage of his humbled wrought;
in an eye-wink, Storm lessens his blows.
She breathes now, a softened sigh,
to holy our human eyes with wonder.
Surely, his power is earthly.
Some, as in life, do not survive.
The Father Root surrenders his kind, in a service to the Earth,
a feeding, a warming, a blessing.
To not let this happen is a flawed expectorate of the human strain.
Leave her alone, to sacrifice herself to the Nature;
let her feed, let her warm, let him bless.
Her willingness to stand, with Father Root, to fight the storm,
leaves possessive humans in terror, intrigue, and yes, hope.
Hope is only possible when humans fear the unknown.
She, this Tree of wonder, IS this hope.
But, in the Nature, she is just this child,
this long-standing, everlasting child.
Joe

I got a message from a female friend about "the nine words (phrases) that woman say". I got about half way through it when I realized this lenghty testimony to woman had to have been thought up by a man! It was so dead-on perfect!
One of the things "go ahead".
A friend of mine wanted US (Meaning Diane and I), to take a ride in a Limo. She said, and I quote: "You "go ahead". I want to finish cleaning." I didn't read the fine print, so I went. Four hours later my wife found us at the VFW, after about four other bars, and I was in great troubled waters!
"Why!" I said, "you told me to "go ahead"!" She took out the "nine things that woman say, and showed me the fine print.

There it was, in black and white- #4: "Go ahead. This is a dare, not permission, Don't do it!"

Now, when Diane says "go ahead", I must weigh the consequences. Will it be a sexual neglect, burnt food, or just that irritating stone cold silence! Oh, woe unto man. I wonder if this was in the original (God's) contract between woman and man? I will post this "nine".
Some are so, hilariously, right that I didn't know whether to laugh or cry! Just kidding
I quote:

9 WORDS WOMEN USE

(1) Fine: This is the word women use to end an argument when they are right and you need to (the hell) shut up.

(2) Five Minutes: If she is getting dressed, this means a half an hour. Five minutes is only five minutes if you have just been given five more minutes to watch the game (hey, that last five minutes IS the game!) before helping around the house.

(3) Nothing: This is the calm before the storm. This means something, and you should be on your toes. Arguments that begin with nothing usually end in fine. (so, "go ahead")

(4) Go Ahead: This is a dare, not permission. Don't Do It! (I kept telling everybody-"she said go ahead, she said go ahead!")

(5) Loud Sigh: This is actually a word, but is a non-verbal statement often (often?) misunderstood by men. A loud sigh means she thinks you are an idiot and wonders why she is wasting her time standing here and arguing with you about nothing. (Refer back to # 3 for the meaning of nothing.)

(6) That's Okay: (a derivitive of "go ahead") This is one of the most dangerous statements a women can make to a man. That's okay means she wants to think long and hard before deciding how and when you will pay for your mistake. (Oh, woe unto men!)

(7) Thanks: A woman is thanking you, do not question, or Faint. Just say you're welcome. (I want to add in a clause here - This is true, unless she says 'Thanks a lot' - that is PURE sarcasm and she is not thanking you at all. DO NOT say 'you're welcome' ... that will bring on a 'whatever').

(8) Whatever: Is a women's way of saying ____ YOU! (Oh please, _____me!)

(9) Don't worry about it, I got it: Another dangerous statement, meaning this is something that a woman has told a man to do several times, but is now doing it herself. This will later result in a man asking 'What's wrong?' For the woman's response refer to # 3.

I love this! It's so, painfully true.
Joe

In reliving a dream I had a few years ago, I wrote this to put it into an esoteric prose. It isn’t hard to imagine that the next attack will be as the new president organizes his government. Look at your hand, and see the truth. It is as easy as a CEO, floating down on his golden parachute. In my dream, I know where, and when, I don’t know how. Tis the ides of March, dear people. Woe unto Miami.

The Saints came hard to the evening of insanity. There was engulfing smoke from the harbor view. Toys of the palace heirs were swept from their moorings, thought too blessed to fall. Swarming smoldering vapors that vilified breathing, sent the postulates to the canals. Water became fire, and fire became the air. The air had a travesty of fumes, burnt into its soul. The slots of canal water boiled over into the streets of people. Smells of burning flesh stained the airs of humanity. Beaches, from the multitudes of wealth, became bond fires, sending refuge to the shelters of beckoning tribunals. The unthinkable strains to all of the Gods, lit incendiary moats, entrapped, by the gangs of heartless vengeance. A farther search for the father imagines a desert of reason from the heart of hell.

That is when I saw the boats.

From all compasses they came, loaded to violence, rushed the holocaust and planted the seeds of an ending. The American lower land exploded! The senseless bile of living was no more a sage than the winner of American Idol, as small consequence became the a guest to the great. Trivial pursuits had become the Mastodon in the kitchen of the American dream. The biggest sense of the people really was the infliction of corporate and its mentors. Preoccupied with celebrity, the people don’t see what is happening to them.
The old ones, vesting in the great American scam, are about to lose it all because they cannot afford to lose it! The kings got them into the party; now, they’ll let them sink!
Don’t you know by now, why they love you? Swords to the Bull’s brain are not felt by subsidiaries of the rich, while they devastate the minimals, a mere hiccup in the train of corporate sluggishness.
Meanwhile, the long-laid plans for a retribution are in place. As the new king sleeps to fill his cabinet with minds, the plotters are motivated to strike. Confusion talks from many sides, hearing only the mandates, seeing just the sunshine, knowing but the good. This is the time when evil waits to bend the March of violence upon the unsuspecting hordes.

That is when I saw the boats.