electric blue
dome overhead
long shadows
east to west
large skinks
sunning themselves
on the path
crickets
fiddling their
mating songs
in the shade
riverside brush
and trees
mountains
north, east, and south
just suggestions
in the blue haze
of distance
while those
in the west
seem more like
carnivore fangs
bright
sharp
gleaming
only a couple of
walkers
and
bikies
out
in the
early morning sun
an hour and a half
fifteen miles
behind us
when
at last
home
–LE - 6/23/26
Two of us anchored the picket line at the Ajo gate of the Tucson VA from 6:30-8:15am for the morning shift-change.
Responses were a little less than in previous weeks... Perhaps we're all becoming resigned to the chaos of our daily incomprehensible information flow...
There were a couple of definite negatives... from a bouncing thumb down to a 'no' head shake and an older guy in a newer white pickup truck, yelling at us as he turned down Ajo away from us, 'It's all your fault, you communist m.....f.....s'. Probably NOT a real cowboy or farmer... the truck looked 'pristine'... not used for any kind of real work... IMHO...; -)
Yes, we still had plenty of positive responses, and many pretended not to see us, too tired to respond, or just plain resigned...
A Tribute to the graphic novel and movie, V for Vendetta...
Opening lines: Remember, remember, the Fifth of November, the Gunpowder Treason and Plot. I know of no reason why the Gunpowder Treason should ever be forgot... But what of the man? I know his name was Guy Fawkes and I know, in 1605, he attempted to blow up the Houses of Parliament. But who was he really? What was he like? We are told to remember the idea, not the man, because a man can fail. He can be caught, he can be killed and forgotten, but 400 years later, an idea can still change the world. I've witnessed first hand the power of ideas, I've seen people kill in the name of them, and die defending them... but you cannot kiss an idea, cannot touch it, or hold it... ideas do not bleed, they do not feel pain, they do not love... And it is not an idea that I miss, it is a man... A man that made me remember the Fifth of November. A man that I will never forget.
V: People should not be afraid of their governments. Governments should be afraid of their people.
Evey Hammond: My father was a writer. You would've liked him. He used to say that artists use lies to tell the truth, while politicians use them to cover the truth up.
V: Beneath this mask there is more than flesh. Beneath this mask there is an idea, Mr. Creedy. And ideas are bulletproof.
Artifice Our Disguise
Artifices We All Hide Behind…
Yes, Our Truths Hidden Behind Masks
We all wear them, morning to night,
cradle to grave –
Inspired by societies, primitive and new,
to fool us, the gods, and especially the demons –
the demons within, and out in the world.
Welcome to the future, where masks
create and hide the fear and deceit, promoted
by the opportunists in charge, for their own
eternal perpetuation of power, wealth, control –
behooves them to keep us scared –
as Enlightenment principles are turned
up-side-down – as civilization devolves –
the future is here… full of primitive fear
all over again.
–LE
I Had A Friend
in our journey from birth to death
we cross paths with multitudes
some walk with us for a ways
then leave for different by-ways
sometimes our paths cross again
but the rivers we tread
and the persons we became
keep changing, not the same
even deep emotional connections
diverge, thinning to nothing or
splitting by social pressures
conditioning and misunderstanding
the result is the same …
my only friend, the end …
fervently hoping for a friend's contentment
along and to the chosen road's end
–LE - 10/8/25
PS: I lost a friend and muse today... No, not by death, just an unwanted parting of ways (at least for me)... This poem is for and inspired by you; I'll miss you...
It's been awhile since I've posted here. This meditation was inspired by my recent birthday. I always take the ocation to reflect on as much of my life as I can remember up to that point, and to speculate a bit about my future... not to dwell on, but to briefly consider.
Mortality Meditation
The older I get, the more I seem to consider the end of my journeys around old Sol, especially when I go to bed. I sometimes wonder if I'll wake in the morning. This is not every night, but seems more frequent as I continue to age. It's not that I have a fear of not waking, it's morbid(?)-curiosity. I wonder if I'll know which morning I won't wake up, that is, if my brain quits in my sleep.
It's been said that sleeping is practice for dying. In deep sleep, I'm aware of nothing. When I wake, it seems that little or no time has passed since I lay down. I truly expect that if the end comes in my sleep, the experience of my deep sleep will be the same as death. Though I might awaken for that experience, my ending… I wonder.
Of course, the situation would be different if I came to my end due to an accident or intentional termination ... however it's brought about. Perhaps brief and/or extreme pain ending in my deep sleep-like conscious-lessness.
I'm very healthy, no physical or terminal illnesses that I'm aware of short of 'life' itself. Sure, there could be something going on that will catch up with me when I least expect it, but nothing that looks imminent. So, why do I periodically wonder if I'm going to wake up in the morning? Statistics, mortuary tables, watching and/or hearing about the decline of so many others of my age?
–LE
