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D J MYKE & The Boombox



Last Updated: 12/30/2009

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Gender: Male
Status: Married
Age: 53
Sign: Gemini

City: Jackson, Nashville, Memphis
State: TENNESSEE
Country: US
Signup Date: 12/16/2005

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Tuesday, January 05, 2010 

Category: Jobs, Work, Careers





Blogophilia 45.2 Topic: "Try, Try Again "
 
 
Bonus points
(hard, 2 pts): incorporate "it would be the death of me"
(easy, 1 pt): use the words effect/affect




Try, Try Again



It was a sunny, Summer day in July. I was working at an electric motor repair shop in downtown Memphis. Our building was on Crump Blvd. Step outside, look to the right, and there was the old Mississippi River bridge, on the horizon. Look to the left, and see the infinity of Memphis, old style. There were several old, worn buildings, and a couple of restaurants.


Typically, workers would migrate from the building to the sidewalks, around the noon time hour, to get a breath of "fresh" air. I worked there for nine years, and had I stayed for one more, it would be the death of me, with all the chemicals and pollutants in the air.


On this day, I stepped outside the door, to converse with some of my fellow co-workers. Oddly, none of them were saying a word. When I looked back toward the river, I saw what it was that had such an effect on them. It was a girl, but not just any girl. This was the girl that a guys sees once in a lifetime. I had never before, and probably never will see a girl affect a group of guys like this one.


We all watched as she gracefully made her way up the grade, on a sidewalk that had more cracks than sold slabs. While she never seemed to vary in her steps, she never stumbled or wavered. She was a human perpetual motion machine, of the highest order.


While we were all taken by her face, which was flawless in every detail, eyes fixed, and nary a smile, unless you imagined one in her eyes. That would have been easy to conjure up. Well, it was for me.


She was wearing a tank top, a short denim skirt, and red high heel pumps. As she came to the corner, and turned to walk to the left, just in front of the diner, she was too far out of sight to still see clearly, other than those shoes. Fact is, I still see those shoes, from time to time.


Once she was out of sight, but not out of mind, several of the group spoke up. Rawlings said she must have been lost. Dave surmised, her pimp must have put her out on the wrong corner. Jeff said she must surely be an undercover member of the vice squad. Harlan said he was going to pray for her. I said, "In a way, I am praying for her, too."


The next day, along about the noon time hour, there were between two and three hundred people, lining the street, just waiting for a return engagement. Some had seen her the day before, while others had only heard the stories. But, the wait was all in vain, as she never materialized. To this day, I imagine, in downtown Memphis, this girl's legendary status rivals that of even Lady Godiva, and she did not even have a horse.


But, all things being equal, Lady Godiva did not have those red shoes...


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12:19 PM 
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Saturday, January 02, 2010 

Category: Writing and Poetry
Poets Round Table No. 148 ~ Fallen


Fallen

 
So blurry the eyes, shrinking life in its size,
Void of remembrance of that ever sweet smell roses bestow.
Unable to balance tiptoe on Mount Everest's rise.
A recitation of Macbeth's woe, the cusp of joy and sorrow.


Living larger than life, now has a much smaller feel,
Once admired and adored from commoners to kings.
Betrayed oneself, a collection of the devil’s deal,
Decree falls short of royalty, allowing misdeeds and woeful things.


The immortal faces morality, reflecting one's own worth
Conflict brews,  facing a climactic absolution,
While the world watches, unprecedented karma is unearthed
Seeking resolution, finding only persecution.


Once at the bottom of the pit, the climb back teeters
On one’s self worth and slanted opinions.
One must pay the price, live down the name “cheaters.”
A thorny battle must be fought and vow to live new visions.


With sincerity of repentance comes conscious change of direction
The heart is laden with muddied indiscretions black with remorse
Ever winding is the pitted road to the soft illumined redemption
To be bathed by the pure sparkling waters of devotion’s source.


Players :


Liaison :


Poets Round Table is a weekly event.

If you would like to participate, let Myke know.







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1:03 AM 
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Tuesday, December 29, 2009 

Category: Writing and Poetry








Blogophilia 44.2 Topic: "Mirrors of our Life"
 
 
Bonus points
(hard, 2 pts): use a quote from Charles Dickens novel
(easy, 1 pt): mention 'captured in time'



Lainey



Captured In Time


What goes around comes around, negative phrase we often hear.
We forge the chains we wear in life. Is that meaning clear?
Through trials, tribulations, clutch the wing and a prayer,
To find, There is prodigious strength in sorrow and despair.

Some chains may bind as shackles, while others firmly ground.
Life lessons learned elucidate, or perhaps they might confound.
Reflections, or refractions, images in the mirrors of our life,
Sacred or profane, may appear the same, when viewed in strife.




A couple years back, Lainey and I were blog hopping together on New Years Eve. We found ourselves at Legacy Writers Of Harmony Pub, where were rung in the New Year, four different times. Good times, good times.


Last year, as we were approaching New Years Eve, Lainey was struggling with a sincere bout of amnesia. Things were looking bleak for any kind of New Years celebration. However, that afternoon, we were talking on the phone, and I was quizzing her. She hates that, by the way.


I was saying Myspace friends' names, and not getting anywhere. As I was about to give up and concede, I mentioned Eric's name. She paused. I said, "You know... Viking Dude." She allowed, that was Jill's friend. Shortly afterward, Alba and Ruggi surfaced. They were the b00nies! Yes... b00nies, indeed. She remembered David, via his cowboy hat. (Okay, caftan hat.)


We tried something that afternoon. I sent an e-mail to Rhymesoulnice, as she also remembered John John. I worked as a liaison between them, passing messages, as Lainey was not to where she could operate her own Myspace site. This worked perfectly. We ended up having a great time that night, as she was looking at Legacy's New Years Eve blog, and seeing messages to her, and sending replied to me to post, using a picture of her in the comments that her actually were her comments. Good times, good times.


For Lainey, 2009 has been and up and down year. She found herself at a crossroad a few weeks back. For the entire year, she had a personal nurse that lived with her. This is Jean, I am speaking of. Jean's assignment ended on the first of December, and Lainey went back to the local hospital. After a couple of weeks, she was moved to another hospital, away from home. This is where the surgeon who operated on her pracices medicine. It is a place she knows well, as this was her sixth visit there. There were some complications. These were dark days and nights.


A couple of days before Christmas, Lainey began responding to treatments. She improved at a rapid pace. She was doing so well, in fact, her doctor told her she could go home for Christmas, and that she did. Jean was freed from her current assignment for the duration, and she went to bring Lainey home. Truly, this was a great Christmas for both of them.


Christmas is over now. Lainey is going back to the hospital, to continue her treatments. Her personal nurse is staying behind. She was the one who posted all of Lainey's blogs this year, and helped her with her comments, as far as posting them.


We do get a reprieve of sorts, as this Friday is Lainey's week to host Poets Round Table. We will get that posted, on her site. It has been a while since she has posted a blog, and I know her friends miss visiting those. So, look for her Poets Round Table blog, on Friday. If you leave a comment, she we read it, or I will read it to her.


As for what we do on New Years Eve, that is up in the air, as so much of our lives have been this year. Chances are, we will come up with something. We will try. And, if that does not work out, there is always next year. Of all I have learned from Lainey, the best lesson is, to appreciate every day, and take none of them for granted.



"It's Just Another Another New Year's Eve"  by  Barry Manilow






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5:15 AM 
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Friday, December 25, 2009 

Category: Writing and Poetry
Poets Round Table No. 147 ~ A Christmas Dinner




A Christmas Dinner


Everything's set
The mood is tuned fine
The reds and greens
Some shiny silver
A twentyfirst century
Christmas scene
As we wine and dine
With the family
Of friends we've met
 
Come one, come all
pull up a chair
around our nest of
festivity
Pass the cranberry
and a story or two
of holidays past
and present
Christmas bells
ring with laughter
dishes clink with
nods and grins
the tree is clad
in candy canes
the snow slowly rising
on the window pane
A silent squall outside
ignited by color
blue, orange and white
gently it falls
in silent appreciation
of our Norman Rockwell night
 
The warmth of the moment
Under the twinkling lights
With Egg-Nog moustaches
Delighting the kids
Before the feast begins,
Laughter of young and old
And Silent Night Bing chimes in
A Christmas stuffed Goose
with spiced apples and prunes,
fuels the anticipation,
while the dancing gelatin salad
dances a Christmas jig
The potatoes arrive with nary a lump,
And buttery rolls pop golden
Not a moment too soon
Salads and vegetables and gravy delight,
Finish the bountiful table
on Christmas night
 
Faster than eagles
the courses they came,
each one partaken
with gusto in sight.
While all the way through
pleasant discourses hummed
over clinking of glasses,
utensils and plates.
Candlelight bathed all
in warm glowing light
till last morsel was swallowed;
satisfied sighs began.
Scarce had there been time
to commence digesting,
when with a flourish
dessert was presented!
A flaming confection
which brightened all faces.
Then fragrant pumpkin pie,
baked apples with spices,
Warm pots of tea
and a big bowl of toddy.
At the conclusion,
as eve faded to morning,
All heartily agreed,
the best Christmas ever
had been enjoyed that night.
 
 
 

Host:

DJ Myke (http://www.myspace.com/jmichaeltodd)


Poets Round Table is a weekly event.

If you would like to participate, let Myke know.






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Tuesday, December 22, 2009 

Category: Jobs, Work, Careers





Blogophilia 43.2 Topic: "It's Magic!"
 
Bonus Points:
(hard, 2 pts) use 5 Fast Food slogans (not included)
(easy, 1 pt) mention your favorite song ("Pressure")



Holiday Pressure



Carlton looked over the latest sales figures, one more time, as though something might magically change, but that was not happening. The fourth quarter for this year, just like the first three quarters, showed the company he worked for was in a downward spiral, with no indications the bottom was in sight.


Carlton served as office manager, sales manager, and just about every thing else of significance for this division. Over years, he built this into a very profitable wing of the company. His specialty was to take on new employees, who had little or no experience, and train them to his way of selling and operating a business. Many prospered under his tutelage, but now the number of employees had shrunk to less than half of its full capacity, and those left, appeared to work in a defensive mode, rather than the aggressive manner in which he taught them.


He walked about, somberly, observing those at their stations, seemingly about their business. When he looked over Benjamin's shoulder, he saw a picture of a youngster. She was a grinning little tyke, in full holiday attire, standing in front of a Christmas tree. As Benjamin scrolled down the page, the next photo showed the little girl, smiling next to Adrie. Adrie was a fellow employee, who sat across from Benjamin. Adrie and Benjamin had grown close over the years, working together. They were frequent lunch partners. Basically, they shared their lives with each other.


Carlton was obviously taken aback by this. He made some off the cuff remarks about Benjamin and his "work wife" not being about their business, about goofing off on company time, and not applying themselves. Whether he intended for the lot of the office workers to hear this was not relevant. That he did, sent Adrie through the roof. Whether she was embarrassed, or angered, or frustated, was not relevant, as she jumped up from her chair, and proclaimed, "Enough is enough!" She cast a hard look toward Carlton, and marched into Devlin's office. Devlin served in several capacities of the company, most prominant being, she was the human resources agent.


Thirty minutes later, Adrie returned to her desk. She said nothing to anyone. She just went back to work. Carlton was still out on the floor. If he was concerned about Adrie, he did not show it. He had bigger fish to fry. When Carlton did glance across the room, toward Devlin's office, he saw her, looking straight at him. She made a subtle motion, and gave him a come hither look. Carlton was being summoned to the principal's office. This is never a good thing. His visit with Devlin was brief, as she told him to take the rest of the day off, and not come back until noon the following day. She would speak with him then. Whether Carlton's underlings noticed him passing through, and leaving was not relevant, at least to him.


Carlton drove to the outskirts of town, on the south side. He stopped at the grocery, buying an equal mix of essentials and the good stuff. A few minutes later, he knocked on a door of a little house in the suburbs. He was greeted by Belinda, his daughter, and her young son. He brought all the groceries in, helping Belinda put them away. Belinda was a single mom, whose ex-husband had pretty much abandoned his family. Other than making child support payments when he could manage, which was getting more seldom by the season, Carlton's former son-in-law was not a significant contributor to this household. Carlton had taken that responsibilty on, and cheerfully. Carlton was a widower, and Belinda his only child.



Carlton stayed for a couple of hours, visiting with his daughter and grandson, until the time he would normally have gotten off work, then he drove over to the mall area, found a parking spot, and went inside, to one of those big corner stores that malls are built around. He hustled through the ailes, and entered a door, denoting employees only. He found himself standing in front of a time clock, reached for his card, and punched in. Carlton was on time, as he had been for the last three weeks. His supervisor knew Carlton could be counted on to do a good job sorting new merchandise in the back to be brought out to the sales floor, so all the nightly instructions Carlton got were in an envelope. One glance, and within minutes, the product was in motion.


Carlton was just breaking a sweat, when his supervisor came to him, with a very sad demeanor. He told Carlton, he had a favor to ask, and he hoped Carlton would not take offense to the request. It seemed the store Santa Claus had not shown up for work, claiming he had the flu. It was too late on a Thursday to try to contact an agency, for a replacement Santa Claus, if indeed there was such an agency. Carlton knew he was only hired as Christmas help, and he was grateful for that, as if afforded him a much
needed alternate cash flow for Belinda, so he came in with the attitude of being willing to do whatever, within reason. If Carlton was offended by the request, he did not show it. He just smiled and said he hoped the costume would be big enough for him to get into.


Whether Carlton had been schooled for this Santa assignment was not relevant, and this was an emergency situation. This store had an elaborate stage constructed for Santa Claus, and there would be hundreds of children being escorted by their parents. The only preliminary act by Carlton was to call Belinda, and warn her to not come to this store for the purpose of seeing Santa Claus, as his grandson might recognize him. After that, it was business as usual, for Carlton, who many in the store proclaimed to be the best Santa Claus ever hired. And, all were relieved to see, the suit did fit him, but just barely.


The next day was Friday. Carlton ambled up to the door of the office, precisely at noon. Devlin was standing in the hallway to meet him. She told him, he was right on time, and stepped away from the door, ushering him inside. Once inside, he saw all the employees milling about, at what was a catered, office Christmas party. This was a first, as these people had never had one, in his lengthy tenure. He made his way over to a table, where several gifts were wrapped and waiting. Realizing, he had not been made privy to this event, Carlton brought no gifts, so he was surprised when Adrie placed one before him.


Carlton took his time, opening the gift, as everyone looked on. What he found came as quite a surprise, as it appeared his was a gag gift of ultimate proportions. It was a portable device, used for checking a person's blood pressure and heart rate. He took it out of the box, and toyed with the velcro strap. He mustered the best smile he could, and thanked everyone for his gift. Adrie then handed him a package of extra batteries. She was enjoying this way took much.


After snacks and well wishes, the group got back to work for the rest of the afternoon. Devlin invited Carlton to her office. She asked Carlton what he thought about his gift. His response was that he really did not know what to think. Devlin offered an explanation. She said that his friends were worried about him, both his mental state and his health. Devlin went on to say, many of these people owed, in great part, their livelihoods to Carlton. He was viewed as both friend and mentor. Devlin gave Carlton the warmest of holiday hugs, and told him to take the rest of the day off, go home and chill out, and come back Monday.


Carlton went to his second job that afternoon with a brand new outlook on life. On the one hand, the holiday pressure had gotten a reprieve. On the other hand, Carlton's mind was working overtime, thinking of new ways to get his department back on track, and turn things around. Lots of people were counting on him. He had been reminded, people and relationships are the keys to success. Those had long been the pillars which he built from, and those tried and true foundations would work again.


Carlton became Santa Claus again that night. If he was good the night before, he was exceptional that night, as well as the following Saturday. The children were comfortable with him. He was good to repeat their wishes and requests, boldly, as if he was taking orders from customers, and he did it in such a way, the parents could hear all the secret wishes which were intended to be shared privately with Santa Claus. And, he posed perfectly for the pictures, those taken by a store photographer, then sold to the parents as momentos of this occasion. Those would be priceless, over time.


On Saturday afternoon, a young girl hopped up on Santa's lap. She was strangely familiar to Carlton. Maybe, he thought, she reminded him of his beloved Belinda. He just could not place this seeming bond. As he listened intently, the child's mother postioned herself out front to take some free cell phone camera shots of her daughter and her dealings with the department store Santa Claus. She was more intent on getting pictures than she was hearing the conversation. When the child got down and made her way
down the runway, her mother paid for the big picture, and the two of them went on their way.


If she ever took a close look at that blown up picture, she would have seen that Santa Claus was wearing a gawdy black bracelet, one that Carlton wore for his entire tenure of his holiday vocation. It served as a reminder to him, of all that is good in the Christmas season. From where Adrie was standing to take her pictures, Carlton never saw her to recognize her.


BP: 127 over 84...

Heart Rate: without measure...

Merry Christmas


* * *
12:29 PM 
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Saturday, December 19, 2009 

Category: Writing and Poetry
Poets Round Table No. 146 ~ Snow Flakes


Photobucket


~ Snow Flakes ~
 
 
Intricate and fragile, no two are the same
Try to catch them, a light-hearted game
You cannot hold them, for they’ll melt away
But their magic stays with you anyway.
 
 
Nature’s masterpiece, bestowed for free
A tranquil descent, for the world to see
Just outside the window, white falls against night
Blanketing our souls in new hope and delight.
 
 
Like seraphic wishes birthed from a dream
Greeting with their charm at first light’s gleam
Twirling to and fro to the snowbird’s song
As they magically transform the scenery along.
 
 
Joining together and sometimes lingering a while
Forming outdoor playhouse, causing all to smile
Studies show that they are simply crystal ice,
But that simple way of thinking destroys all of the nice.
 
 
Players:

www.myspace.com/greenfrogmuse
 
www.myspace.com/krissebaby (Chris)
 
 
 
 
Liaison:
 

 
Poets Round Table is a weekly event.
 
If you would like to participate, let Dahlia or Myke know.
 
 
* * *
(Dahlia)
1:42 AM 
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Tuesday, December 15, 2009 

Category: MySpace








Bonus points 
(hard, 2 pts): mention a former diplomat of the USA (NOT someone stationed here for another country)
(easy, 1 pt): include a speaking penguin










Opening Pandora's Box


Retrospecive notions appeal to me... always have. Tonight, I am looking back to a time when there was no Myspace in my life, and it seems like a lifetime ago. My friend, Sarah, had showed me hers. The music concept really appealed to me, as I was really big into Indie music, and this was obviously a haven for that genre.


With Caitlan and Amanda holding my hand, I opened a Myspace account, and was off to the races, on December 15, 2005... 4 years ago. I was going to be the biggest ambassador from Tennessee since Davey Crockett. Oh, never mind that he was killed in a foreign country. Things like that happen. And, truth be told, I have been shot down a few times along the way. I will never forget the time, I approached a teenage girl, with all the humor and charm of Tennessee Tuxedo, only to be to I was old... really old. Ouch!


I have thought, over the last few days, it would be nice to blog about that, and the many friends I have made here. There were so many people that I thought about, far too many to mention in just one blog. So, I had pretty much given up on the idea. Then, I saw a new picture, posted by a very good friend of mine, on her Myspace site. That gave me the direction I was seeking. The picture is of Nyla. If you do not know her, let me introduce you to Spirit Wild.



A couple of years ago, Lainey and I posted a Pimping Blog here, where we designed a form for people to fill out, in an easy manner, to introduce themselves. The theory was, if several came, and noted their interests, others would find them, and add them as friends. As it turned out, that blog was one of the most successful we ever had here, and people really seemed to enjoy it.


There was an option in the format, wherein commenters could pimp another person, of their choosing. Lainey chose Spirit Wild. She gave a compelling overview of Nyla. That caught my attention. I knew of her from Speakeasy Cafe, but had never met her. I read many of her posts, over the next few months, and eventually requested to be added to her site.


Nyla welcomed me with open arms, as she is wont to do. Always the perfect host, my comments and remarks, no matter how goofy or off topic, we appreciated. And, she introduced me to some really good music. To this day,  "Ghost Chair" is a favorite song of mine. She had that on her blogs page for a time.


Before I came to Myspace, I told a lot of stories, but never had given thought to writing any down. And the thought of writing anything under the guise of poetry was simply out of the question. I am not a poet. I will never consider myself to be a poet. However, there are those in the Myspace  arena that have inspired, or prompted me, to write in rhyme. While I am not comfortable with it, I really do enjoy it. I have even written a couple of poems concerning Nyla. Here is an excerpt of one...


Summer Solstice ~ Nyla


Enter this world of illusion. Sit in the Ghost Chair.
In this realm all is forgiven, never forgotten, where,
Princess of the air can conjure any emotion. Perceive,
Lest trifled away, motivation tending freely; retrieve.


Cryptic measure, finely tuned, decorous state of art,
Correctly read, all essential renderings of the heart.
Art of War in poetic refrain, maps for paths to guide,
Yield to a higher plain, along truths' great divide.


My relationship Spirit Wild mirrors so many I have here, in this realm. These relationships are as real as if the people were sitting here in this room with me. Matter of fact, right now it feels as if many of you are. As long as that bond exists, you will find me here. The light is on, and the  welcome mat is at the door.


There is more to say... much more. But, I will leave that for another day. Just know that I love and appreciate so many of you. We have laughed together, and gotten each other through some pretty dark days. As it should be. Thanks to everyone that chooses to darken my door when it goes well  with you, and to those who invite me to their realms. God Bless You.


A personal note, in closing, to Nyla. Thanks for sharing, and caring, and providing the inspiration for this message. I do hope you are afforded a new friend from this, because that is how we roll...


"May there always be angels to watch over you
To guide you each step of the way
To guard you and keep you safe from all harm..."


From: "Sleepsong"  by  Secret Garden
Songwriters: Lovland, Rolf; Graham, Brendan;






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Saturday, December 12, 2009 

Category: Writing and Poetry
Poets Round Table No. 145 ~ Front Pages



Photobucket




Front Pages


In Austin, the Statesman talks of pollution as a threat
(As if we didn’t know this commonly stated fact),
the drive to the airport will be less of a fret,
and an American is charged in the Mumbai attack.

The Dallas Morning News says climate talks are to begin
cause global warming appears to be the scientific invention
of data creative adjustments and emails in the trash bin
while politics and economic interests hold one's attention.

Florida’s Republican Senate candidates gnash teeth in a heated party rift
While in Ft. Lauderdale, the Sun Sentinel remembers local Pearl Harbor vets.
With a last minute field goal, the Dolphins keep their playoff hopes adrift
As three Florida universities get college bowl bids – time to place your bets!

The Northwoods will dig for days; on Mighty Mac, you’ll need an escort,
the National Cherry Festival 2010 will see Blue Angels fill the sky,
over Christmas trees cut-n-bound in October; we'll hear a mild retort,
Power outages! School Closings, snowmen with scarves, and snowplows close by.

And as Angelinos reading the L.A. Times over coffee find out,
"Extremism is rising" and "McCain comes back swinging."
But just what is the "bottom line'?  What's it all about?
And we wonder what tomorrow's headlines will be bringing.


The headliners:

Ev

Eusthacia

Colleen B

Laurel

Barbara


PRT founder:

DJ Myke


The Poets' Round Table is a weekly event.

If you would like to participate, let Eusthacia or Myke know.

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Tuesday, December 08, 2009 

Category: Religion and Philosophy










Blogophilia 41.2 Topic: "Not by Premeditated Choice"
 
 
Bonus points
(hard, 2 pts): mention the name of a Looney Tune character
(easy, 1 pt): include a bag lady



Global Warming


Copenhagen looks to be a happening place, what with so many countries sending representatives to put together some sort of environmental scheme into place, under the guise of saving the planet. These people have been rolling this political snowball downhill for quite some time, with little or no resistance. However, with the current Climategate findings, it appears there might actually be some formidable opposition. Time will tell.

As for my feeling on this, I simply take a look at history. We all know the story of Noah and The Ark. Back when Noah was about 600 years old, God told him to build an Ark, for the purpose of saving mankind from an impending flood. He told Noah, it was going to rain for forty days and forty nights. Noah preached this to all who would listen, then built the Ark. When the time was right, Noah and his family went into the Ark, along with the animals, two by two. The door was sealed, and down came the rains.

Now, for people to believe Noah, back in the day, it would have to have been a faith belief, because at that time, no one had ever seen rain. Back then, there was only a mist that rose and settled. So, Noah was not heeded. Not only did the rains come, but the water in the earth rose up. No living surface dweller survived, save those who were safe within the Ark.

Afterward, God made a covenant with Noah, where he promised to never again destroy the earth by water. God placed a rainbow in the clouds, as a reminder of that promise. So, I fully believe that God will not destroy the  earth again by water. I think when He destroys it the next time, it will be by fire.

Now, back to global warming, or cooling. Is it real? Well, of course it is real. Any time we have a hole tear in the ozone layer, it is blamed on carbon emissions. The original idea for global warming was, excessive amounts of radiation came in through a hole in the ozone layer, causing atmospheric temperatures to rise, unnaturally.

We first started hearing about the ice caps melting, over time. Since then, the global warming proponents have changed their buzzword to "climate change," because polar ice is thicker now than it was ten years ago. While ocean temperatures have risen slightly, as ice breaks off the edges of the polar ice caps and melts, it releases large amounts of salt back into the ocean.

Increased ocean salinity and temperature are the reasons behind a vast increase in ocean storm activity over the last decade, and more dangerous storm seasons worldwide.

When lightning strikes, the negative charge of electricity ionizes O2 molecules in the air, creating O3 molecules, otherwise known as ozone. This increased activity is needed to repair a hole in the ozone layer. Carbon emission does break down the ozone layer, and has since long before people drove cars or ran factories. A single volcanic eruption puts more carbon in the air than most American cities can, in over a year's time.

This is a cyclical process that would happen without man's interference. Man cannot change the climate... Period.

So, I imagine there will be many at Copenhagen, spinning their proposed theories at such a rate that would make the Tasmanian Devil dizzy, while regular people around the world, from factory workers to bag ladies, just get on with their lives, living from one day to the next, much like people were back in the days before the Flood.


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Saturday, December 05, 2009 

Category: Writing and Poetry

Poets Round Table No. 144 ~ Where Have All The Flowers Gone?







Where Have All The Flowers Gone?


Life, so exaggerated at times, nothing to be believed as seen,
Tired faces nodding above perfect grey suits, and painful ties,
Hovering on morning's horizon, where the past colours future routine.
Humanity all are dreamers, young at any cost, living in disguise,
Nomads trudging on, no room to breathe, or retreat behind a silkscreen,
Drawing down power, sadly forged by the soot that everyday provides.


Love, stoic puppet master, dances faceless and shallow marionettes;
Department store lovers, name-brand labels trying each other on for size,
Perfect breasts in a size two dress, substance is traded for plastic nymphets,
Silver dollar eyes and wide-spread thighs, wrap around what his money buys,
While wiser faces in faded photos weep for an archaic love the world forgets,
Catalyzed by Bra-Burning Barbie and Working-Late-Again Ken, living perfect lies.


Liberty, shaded quiet forest glen, showy lady slipper grows wild and free,
fragile orchid blossom petals bend, when selfish fingers pluck pale pretty.
Tulips kissed by two lips pursed, spreading glory's story in vast marquee,
plowed under pavement first, their message cursed to stark enduring pity.
Myriad choices freedom brings, even to trample beauty with insane debris,
it's hubris sown from petty Kings, only God now sees flowers under the city.


Alone as usual even in a crowd, I consider the dreams and goals I've known;
So many things I wish I'd done, roads not traveled haunt my waking dreams.
Fear paralyzed my youthful years and left dry and dead the seeds I've sown,
Where did the precious time all go that I held as I planned life's schemes?
Longed-for loves and victories I might win have past, my chance has flown,
Unopened blooms aborted, sacrificed on the altar of hesitation so it seems.



The Players:

Lainey   www.myspace.com/laineyshome

Spirit Wild   www.myspace.com/spiritwild

David II ~ just a dream?   www.myspace.com/davidblogpage

Carter   www.myspace.com/carterglyn


Liaison:

DJ Myke   www.myspace.com/jmichaeltodd


Poets Round Table is a weekly event.

If you would like to participate, let Myke know.

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1:44 AM 
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