104.3

 

You will know when this Blog has ended, for it will be at the precise moment I come to the end of my thoughts.  No curtain will fall and there will be no final music playing.  It will simply stop.  Our time together will be over.    

The electronic fibers will still spark but there will be a mental disconnect that will last for the remainder of history.  This is not meant as anything but one last Burma Shave sign.  The road continues on with its bends and hills, but that small section lined with clever rhymes has past, replaced only with fence posts, barbed wire and Mail Pouch Tobacco barns.

You might as well flip the radio back on.  It’s going to be a long, dry journey.

 

zc

 

Trespassers W

 

Finally!

 One of the few times I see something

and actually have my camera with me.

Intermission

 

From inside Looking out

 

Today's the day you didn't write to me.

I know, because I climbed inside my mailbox and looked

around just to make sure.

At first I thought, well... maybe the postage

fell off on the way here.  It could happen. 

The postal worker would see the glue residue 

from the stamp but know that even 

though you had put a stamp, now that it wasn't there, 

well... he also knows that according to

 Postal Code 19/b

you can't send something on a lick & a promise.

There must be an actual postage stamp.

Then I got to thinking, maybe you had every intention

of writing to me, but your favorite Lucy rerun

came on, where the chocolate is coming 

down the conveyer, and it is going faster

and faster.  Well, I have seen enough Mattlocks

and Perry Masons to know you have to prove

intent.  I can't really prove you intended

to write to me.

That leaves hiring practices.  I know the Post

Office hires wounded Vets.  I also know now that,

Vets means military and not veterinarians, and depending

 on the wound and it's affect on

one's mental ability to cognitively organize house

numbers, so they aren't all jumbled up or

reversed dyslexidly, 

well... in short - your letter to me could be

in one of the mailboxes down the street.

 better go check.

 

 

Held in Captivity

The thing that annoys me the most is when I am using a pair of scissors and my thumb gets stuck in the thumb hole.  Nothing seems to panic me more than that.

 

Now I know how these poor animals feel all day long, stuck in zoo cages, unable to free themselves.  It must be like having their thumb stuck in a scissors hole.

 

What could be more frustrating than that?

 

Distant Sirens

 

More often than not, I believe the distant sirens I hear are the result of someone doing something stupid.

People are forever changing lanes without looking, or someone will notice a road sign and fail to see the traffic in front of them has stopped.

There are no sirens for things on a grander scale.  When society does something stupid, things just trudge onward.  People have allowed greed to permeate their government.  They ignore the fact that television has completely sold out to advertisers, and electronic media has hunted the free press to extinction. No sirens are going off.

Big drug companies have manipulated the system to remove all competition.  Again, no sirens.  

Medical professionals allow themselves to be run by insurance companies.  Again we hear nothing.

Our society is careening off course and none of us are belted in.

I believe that if my voice is a distant siren, no one is listening.

I think I'll ignore it and go back to sleep.  Surely it can't be left to some obscure blogger to save the world.

A distant siren

"Come gather round people

wherever you roam

and admit that the waters

around you have grown

and accept it that soon

you'll be drenched to the bone

if your time to you is worth savin

and you better start swimmin

or you'll sink like a stone

for the times they are a-changin

Come writers and critics

who prophesize with your pen

and keep your eyes wide

the chance won't come again

and don't speak too soon

for the wheels still in spin

and there's no tellin who

that it's namin

for the loser now

will be later to win

for the times they are a-changin

Come senators, congressmen

please heed the call

for he that gets hurt

will be he who has stalled

the battle outside ragin

will soon shake your windows

and rattle your walls

for the time they are a-changin

Come mothers and fathers

throughout the land

and don't criticize

what you can't understand

Your sons and your daughters

are beyond your command

the old road is rapidly changin

Please get out of the new one

if you can't lend your hand

for the times they are a-changin

The line it is drawn

The curse it is cast

the slow one now

will later be fast

and the present now

will later be past

the order is rapidly fadin

and the first one now

will later be last

for the times they are a-changin."

B. Dylan