You and I might clash. I have a better idea. Help asap!

“When the white man turns tyrant it is his own freedom that he destroys.He becomes a sort of hollow,posing dummy,the conventional figure of a sahib.For it is the condition of his rule that he shall spend his life in trying to impress the “natives”,and so in every crisis he has got to do what the “natives” expect of him.He wears a mask and his face grows to fit it.”
George Orwell

I consider myself a liberal when it comes to humans and suffering and since we can spend hundreds of billions on soon retired aircraft,  I get annoyed when Veteran’s Benefits are slashed because of the cost factor.   Too many are counting on robots and drones and such as a reason but invariably injuries are long-lasting and life-changing.   Athletes get richly compensated and their risks are nowhere near a soldier’s.

So the problem is the suffering is also a reflection of us collectively and I am not talking about socialism or worse,  I am talking about helping in other ways than just words.   And there are those doing and not just saying they are helping.

“There’s a saying that you can’t put a price on a human life, but that saying is a lie because we have. We have, and it’s so much lower than you would think. Yes, human life has its price like anything else, and will continue to do so for as long as it doubles as a commodity.”
Nenia Campbell, Cease and Desist

I want people to understand this one very important point.  If you are a billionaire and in production of some sort then you hire people and those people may be retired or laid off.   Their fingers gnarled from the constant abuse of repetition and perhaps an unsavory boss.   This boss/owner goes him and for that family season’s greetings are easier.    Some hoever lose everything and very few to help out or even care.

It took Unions many times to get safer conditions and better pay.   To ward off the improbable accident or misfortune that at one time we never considered.   We surely can find fault with something that person has done and so we blindly legislate as a remedy for a symptom.

A 19 year old girl gets notice of her fiance dying in the Middle East and suddenly her life and the life of the parents are shattered.   Generals still sleep well and there is never enough compensation to recompence the newly indigent or those whose problems keep them second class citizens.   Second by what standard? Poverty,  medical bills,  Cancer,  Mother Nature,  Despots?

Not only does the Billionaire have electric all winter but at the expense of the withered hands of a widow or widower.

Does the Mother of a dead soldier see the name on a stocking and smile?   Do the generals stop by and offer condolences or send an emissary to pay their respects?   And the child dying of cancer,  where are those people who own a Nuclear Reactor who poisons for generations.   Where are they when a child is born with no legs or arms?   Where are the producers Malathion and the congenital birth defects and the toll that takes on a family?

Do we support ‘Make A Wish’,  ‘Give Kids the World’  or any other number of agencies who can provide relief?  And do we continue to support or grandstand or say we did enough?

http://www.sjbhealth.org/body_childrens.cfm?id=2305

The link above may shock many people but George Steinbrenner was a saint to the kids at the hospital which he paid for.

DepressionRedwhite

People who are different or people with a disabling condition.    Many tempt fate by a cavalier disregard for others until they are in a supine position counting off moments til the inevitable expiration of ego and all the rest.

We have shows like Criminal Minds or even SVU.   It is well and proper to prosecute the guilty but what is the fallout from legislation?   It sounds like a good thing until the human cost includes unintended consequences from the actions of well-meaning people.    At best legislation and lawsuits can temporarily bring some relief without a healing that is more complete.   Support Groups are generally run by lay people and it seems cures defer to treating symptoms but not the cause.

Cases of Irritable Bowel Disease is rampant among the Jewish populations after the Concentration Camps.  We have billionaires today still benefitting from the tragic loss of others to which many times there is no resource but a support group that meets once a month.

IBDAGenetics

And felons,  from small time hoods to murderers and sex offenders,  it seems that sticking it to them also has consequences.    Our nation is becoming very self-centered and not aware of the effects of legislation and a lack of housing that follows offenders.    But by the grace of God go we.

RachelShepards Kitchen

To the left is a homeless advocate who helps.  A private young lady with a heart and the dear young ladies on the right whose elder years are feeding the young and hopeless,  the aged and the so-called profane criminals who sully our word?  <— being facetious about the felons.   Hell,  I might be a bad person myself!

But this badness in others and ourselves is no farther away than head trauma in an auto accident to drug abuse and hate crimes.   We have offenders who never got treatment or programs to head off their own particular brand of abuse.   Stopping the cycle is a humane test.  Not silly PSAs by corrupt nabobs in Hollywood or actors who feel an affinity to some cause.   Those offenders have families too and those unintended consequences are things they share in and suffer over?

Cops beating up old people and other such abuses are more a product of our own pride.   So instead of helping we actually use sentences to get cheap labor and then wonder why the marginally gifted feel alienated,  despondent and angry.   East to be hard!

copssoupkitpoem_res_0_0.appeal

The food with Shepard’s Chapel Soup Kitchen is catered and high quality and no one gets refused.   Otherwise who are we but jailers of a kind????

old-graveyard-by-Andrea

Interludes and the deluded.

shipwrecksLiar's moon

The Sound of the clock rang one last time,  as the weary hearted shadow failed.   The sun was seeking to find an image lost, that ceased in the middle of a deep blue sky.  At every angle and throughout the day,  nothing changed but the chill and the chattering teeth.    One raindrop had fallen from a crescendo of tears,  evaporating just like time,  seasoning the still damp land.

Followers in sequence too busy to care,   hustled about the streets waiting for the next ball to drop.   Cheers and acrimony and a wave of the hand,  til bedding with strangers again and again.    When the moment came,  an idea sprang to life,   why not choose between the party-goers and the party?     Pretty soon flashes of white and the shutter’s eye,  passing a cake for two intended and then shared with more.  A part frozen never to be warmed but only discarded.

The wine skin burst but nothing more flowed only the dim retrospect of a choice that morphed into a bad dream.   Words were exchanged between the two and the two by many.    Now, a gavel and the sounds of finality.    Where did I come from and why should I care?   Surely there is more to this than that?

So now jaded, a victim of familiar circumstances,  those eggs all in one basket fell.     Now is the time to adjust the screen.    Take out the colors that are purple and green.   Wiser now with only a poem to tell.    Finding a warm spot in the winter’s interluded dreams.

Forbidden Victim.

I was so in lust that purity and licentiousness intermingled.   A strange concoction of guilt and a road never traveled.   All the sweat but none of the auroras that surge inside of me.    Her look was electric.   It pulled my willing self nearer to the spot where I belonged.

Yet innocence challenged the moment,   the soft refrain echoed like a chemical chimera waiting to devour it’s young prey.     As she pulled me in she got me to a new place.   I was the hunted man-child,  every cougar’s tender morsel.    I was like veal in a cage of happenstance hurling trinkets into the abyss.

The tide was high and the rush of the wind compounded the fury of that soft parade.  Pushing past the lapping waves of crescendo,   I was lost.  Emotions tighter than a manic  harp,  playing it’s own mischievous chord like the grunts of an obese oboe in a band playing it’s own tunes.

Harmony and biology and the conquest of same,  a boy victim without a name.   Lost near a buoy my eyes glassed over and now I searched for a ship to pull me in.   Proudly vanquished,  I smiled.   My story would change as I increased my wile.   She is a battered gown,  with icing reminders of a sweetness turned sour.

No,  this is not a requiem but a mooring to few or many docks.   The bright young adventurer did not want a curtain call for the young man had given his all.