New Changes May Be Coming

Makropoulos has not died ---
as you know, that's not in her M.O.

Life has demanded that she live it,
so she is living.

In the meantime, she is contemplating
changes to this blog.

Stay tuned, my loves

I think of you often

and wish that everyone is traveling safely on the earth.

Significant Deaths Do Come in Threes

So,  like everyone else, I was stunned to learn

of Robin Williams' sad passing.

Ironic, shocking, tragic, but 

not totally surprising.

It made me think of my family and friends

capable of extreme highs and energy;

I know the dark places they are also capable

of going.

Dear Robin, Rest In Peace.

( wikipedia )

It was almost as if Robin was holding the door

for the next famous exit (or entrance,

depending on perspective)

when the news of Lauren Bacall's passing flashed across

my Smart Phone.  

Another familiar face, another sadness,

but also not so shocking.

She was an old woman, after all,

with plenty of accomplishments.

My she too rest in eternal beauty.

So,

I began wondering:

who's next?

Significant deaths do come in threes,

don't they?

It took me a couple days before I realized

the heavens had demanded the most significant first.

It was Michael Brown.

ktla

That's right.  Take a good look at his face.

He was the young man who was wrenched from his life,

ripping open the door of heaven,

creating that vacuum that 

sucked in the souls waiting to leave.

Michael Brown was not supposed to leave.

His passing has made him famous,

and the manner of his sad death

-- the saddest of the three --

reminds us that American society still

is fighting its greatest demon.

As a college instructor,

when I saw Michael Brown's face, I could easily

imagine him

sitting in the back of a freshman English class,

a little frightened, but excited,

ready to make new friends

and move forward.

Ready to make his parents proud.

There are thousands of Michael Browns walking the streets of the United States

of America,

armed only with dreams of a better future.

All those Michael Browns

run the risk 

every day

of being mistaken for a wanted man.

I'm sure they'd love to be anonymous,

as anonymous as I

writing whitely on my white screen with my white fingers.

I can get close to Michael Brown's family as easily as I can get close to Robin Williams' family.

Try as I may to share my deep sympathy with them,

I can never fully understand the road they've traveled,

from generation to generation

on their road to this undeserved fame.

Dear Michael, May the importance of your passing

not go unnoticed.  Just as Robin Williams' death

has demanded that we gain sympathy and understanding

for those who struggle with deep depression, may 

Michael Brown's passing 

demand that we gain an equal understanding

for the struggles and misunderstandings

black men face everyday they walk out their door,

in their sincere attempt to just get beyond it.

(this is about 25 minutes long,

but it's really worth watching)

The Human Animal

My mind's a mess.

Words, 50 + years of distractions, a well-

practiced self-flagellation.

It wakes me at 5:15.

By the rising sun I wrestle my own demons;

nothing is won because 

nothing is.

I turn and nestle my head against

the fur on your chest,

that well worn breast, with its

well-practiced heart.

I smell your breath, 

feel the folds of my own skin,

imagining

us as creatures in a cave; along with kin

we struggle to save

ourselves for one more day.

We, a species among many species made of

the same stuff: dogs,

cats, pigs, birds, snakes, apes and we -- 

each mutely fulfilling our own tasks to ensure

the larger harmony.  What

makes we we 

is our dexterity.  Strike

a match.

Evolution burns

forward.

The earth turns,

patiently.

To this, I fall asleep, content to live

one more day.

Digits in the Digital Realm

It's been a long time since my fingers tapped the keyboard, hoping to share a thought or two with the digital world.  This does not necessarily mean that the woman who claims to live forever suddenly died.  No chance.  

One wonders how long a blog can sustain its original intent. I notice many of my friends from a year ago are either gone totally, or, like I, have lost the ability to maintain regular postings.  I can't speak for them, but for me, I must say the inspiration hasn't left me, but I have been suffering, acutely, the demands placed upon anyone who works in an industry (ha! Education. ha!) where the employer is trying harder and harder to get fewer workers to do more work for less.  End of excuses.  The intent of my blog isn't gone either; it was and is to talk about life and eternity.  Well, what the hell, there has to be more to say about that, though it may come through a different perspective now.  Here's what tumbled out of my fingers today.  It's not a prophecy.  It's not my best work either.  But I think it's funny, in a way.

*

We've lived past the end of time,

and into a time when days are endless;

when pain stabs so deep that it is

painless, and you and I 

live in the digits

of a realm ethereal.

I'll meet you at the cyber cafe

at the intersection of Mars

and Lars (a lusty

sailor who came into port one day

only to get lost

in the stars) .  There

I'll sit drinking vodka, wearing a 

retainer designed to keep my 

knees from dropping.  It's best that way.

I know you came

to my door and rang and knocked

more than once, you even shouted, and I hid

on the third floor and watched you

from my window walk away.  You 

should know better.  Don't

come back another day.  Instead, book

mark me on your smartphone; in this domain,

don't go away.  Here, I linger always,

answer feedback, 

and replay.

Tomorrow, yesterday, and today.