Archive for the ‘art’ Category
February 6, 2020
Isaiah set the stage for fulfillment thousands of years ago . . .

Among many other attributes, fulfillment means the Old . . .

. . . giving rise to the new:
Nations will come to your light,
and kings to the brightness of your dawn.
Lift up your eyes and look about you:
All assemble and come to you;
your sons come from afar,
and your daughters are carried on the hip.

Other visionaries catch a glimpse along the way . . .
Son of man, these bones are the people of Israel. They say, ‘Our bones are dried up and our hope is gone; we are cut off.’ Therefore prophesy and say to them: ‘This is what the Sovereign Lord says: My people, I am going to open your graves and bring you up from them; I will bring you back to the land of Israel. Then you, my people, will know that I am the Lord, when I open your graves and bring you up from them. I will put my Spirit in you and you will live, and I will settle you in your own land. Then you will know that I the Lord have spoken, and I have done it, declares the Lord.

But the process is indeed a long one, requiring very burdensome periods of human history. Inevitably, and predictably, the going is tough.
But our Creator has a scenario set up where adversity brings forth endurance in the worst conditions, and creativity to produce tangible evidence of forward progress. The striving to fulfill any great, worthwhile endeavor is arduous and prolonged. It is not given to any one generation to construct; nor is it given to any one people-group to fulfill.
Fulfillment of prophecy and human destiny is distributed over many generations of people and time.

Your people will rebuild the ancient ruins
and will raise up the age-old foundations;
you will be called Repairer of Broken Walls,
Restorer of Streets with Dwellings.

Glass half-Full
Tags:Christians, Damascus Gate, destiny, Ezekiel, fulfillment, good work, Haifa, history, Isaiah, Israel, Jerusalem, Jews, Muslims, Old City, progress, prophecy, rebuilding, Scriptures, stairway
Posted in ancient history, architecture, art, attitude, books, change, Christians, church, civility, civilization, collective memory, community, construction, creation, cross, education, exploration, Faith, freedom of assembly, freedom of religion, good work, history, Islam, Jews, kindness, lessons, liberty, life, life and death, love, memories, Middle East, moderate, morality, Muslims, narrative, opportunity, optimism, poem, poetry, procreation, productivity, progress, pursuit of happiness, quality, regeneration, religion, restoration, Resurrection, scriptures, selah, symbolism, time, walls, wonder, work, world | Leave a Comment »
January 19, 2020
T’was many and many a moon ago, in troth several millennia ago, Mo met Owi in the desert. It was quite a sight he saw. In a bush that burns but does not burn out, Owi Onewhois told Mo to take his shoes off.
Many moon later Owi stepped in again but he got in trouble with some of the higher ups and so they put an end to him, or so they thought. Actually he made a lively comeback in the most significant accomplishment in homo sapiens history.
After that Owi, or JC as we like to call him managed to find HS abode in the hearts and minds of many a man and woman of good will.
After a while a stupendous institution was built up in his wake and it was quite impressive for a long time. Millions of folks, rich and poor, managed to find a place of service and some satisfaction in the structured arrangement.
After about a millenium and a half some corrective measures had to be taken to get the institute back on tract. Be that as it may.
By ’n by some really smart fellers managed to extinguish the light of JCOwi, or so they thought, and they managed to drum up some new societal structures to take the place of his worldwide institute and that worked out ok for awhile, or so they thought, until they found themselves in one hell of a mess, after a dandy VIP got himself shot in sarayavo.
Buy and buy, when all that mess had blown over, folks everywhere found themselves in one hell of a dilemma. Not to worry.
Mx had figured out that if all the prolies would take hold of the machine and run it real equal-like they could get the grand clusterfk worked out. Good luk with that.
Well that didn’t work out so well either. In fact many many millions of sapiens were squelched out in the gulags. Furthermore, that was during and after many millions had been squelched in the aushwitz desecration that hitler had hoisted on us in his notable but ultimately failed (thank g_d) blitzkreeg final solution to fk the world because we wouldn’t buy his paintings.
Meanwhile, some EMC2 afficiando had figured out the secret structure of the universe that held untold and untested amps of power in its sway from day to day and from age to age and it would take a real sage segment of humanity to keep the thing under wraps so it didn’t set off one grand worldwide clusterfk.
So far so good on that front, although we have had a few close calls, or so I am told.

Meanwhile back at the ranch, FS figured out that the great void that failed to fill men and womens souls would have to be filled, lest homo sapiens find themselves in existential debilitation and g_d forbid annihilation.
Along the same lines, JB figured out that the Mx crowd, now called postmods, had devised a diversion to distract prolish hearts and minds from Mx’s VladStalnMow bloodthirsty sacrilege disastrous attempt to make the human condition work. Blah blah blah is what the postmods later had to say, as through the crumpled ironcurtain trouble and post-wall rubble they shifted their emphasis from taking over the means of production to taking over the means of seduction.
The story is still being told, and history plays out. But watch out. This world is full of danger-lurks. We may need a little postg_d help before its all over with. Be on the lookout for OwiJC.
King of Soul
Tags:history, narrative, story
Posted in art, attitude, books, change, civilization, Faith, freedom, history, life, life and death, narrative, progress, Resurrection, revolution, symbolism, time, world | Leave a Comment »
December 20, 2019
Driving in bright, brisk December sunshine, winding slowly along a Blue Ridge mountain holler road, I arrived yesterday afternoon at the house address that I had earlier noted.
Turning off the car engine silenced radio reportage about the impending impeachment, which is neither here nor there. I am looking for an old fella that I recently read about in a locally written book.
The house is small, light green, near the side of the road, very neat and compact, meticulously maintained.I This home is the kind of modest dwelling that was being built around these parts in the 1950’s, but it has been recently updated with vinyl siding. My carpenter eye notices the perfectly installed exterior. Nice job.
An attractive, low stone wall just a few steps from the roadway affords a stairway down to a welcoming front porch. The front door is absolutely white, six-paneled proper in sunshine. It begs knocking, and so I do.
The lady who opens it is thin, with gray hair. She has a classic Scotch-looking mountain face, pleasantly aged with complimentary wrinkles. I forget now what she said, but it was some kind of greeting. I offered her my concise explanation for my visit this afternoon.
“Hi. My name is Carey Rowland. I’ve been doing some historical research—for a novel I am writing— about the Cone estate, and the construction of the Blue Ridge Parkway through it back in the 1940’s or ’50’s. I recently read an interview, published in 1997, with Mr. Paul Moody, who, I understand used to work for Bertha Cone.”
“I’m his wife.” she said
Well, gollee, I’ve come to the right place.
This was a pleasant surprise. I’m still new at this historical research stuff. The last few doors I had recently knocked on were run-down abandoned places with nobody home. A little confused about exactly what my next question should be, I blurted:
“Is he alive?”
“He’s right in here. You wanta talk to him?”
“Yes ma-am!”
“Come on in. I’ll get him.”
And so I did, and she did. Next thing you know, I’m looking around in this smallish, comfortably lived-in den or living room. A few seconds later, Paul walks in, smiling.
Well gollee.
“Well, what can I do for ye?” he says, pleasantly.
And so I explained a little— that I had been living around here since the early ’80’s, raising a family with my wife, and the first job I had up here was working on the Linn Cove Viaduct, which is, as you know, the missing link, in the middle of a 469-mile parkway that took fifty years to build—
And, as the old shake and bake commercial says. . . “and I helped!”
“Well, sit down,” said Paul.
Not in that chair, I thought, noticing the easy chair. That’s obviously his chair, with visual evidence of Paul’s accustomed comfort, possibly reading comfort, over years of sitting. No sign of a TV in the room.
So I took my seat on the couch. “Thank you, sir!”
Long story short. Paul began talking about the Moses Cone Estate, on which he had been born in 1933, and thereby born into the hired help. His grandfather had been superintendent of the place back in the day— since before 1908 when Moses had died, and his father had been foreman of the apple orchard.
Paul proceeded to answer just about every question about the place that had been on my mind these last few weeks. This was becoming a very productive day, from a writerly standpoint.
He is a very pleasant fellow, full of history, and willing to talk about it. A historical fiction-writer’s dream informant. After awhile he took me back in the other rooms. He showed me the kitchen cabinets he had built, with frame-and-panel cherry doors on cherry face-frame, then took me back into the expansive laundry room, which was sunshine bright and entirely paneled with whitish, wormy pine, milled from trees that he himself had cut down.
A true mountain man, this Paul. The 16-gauge shotgun mounted over the doorway had been bequeathed to Paul from the Cone estate when Bertha died in 1947.

Here’s Paul with his life-long wife, Margaret, who also came from a family of the hired help of the Cone estate, now the Moses Cone Memorial Park. They’re standing in front of another piece of his handiwork, filled with a lifetime of precious family mementos.

After more friendly conversation and explanation, he took me out to his shop, where he had built the cabinets and the furniture and God-knows-what else.

as far as ole folks from the Old School go, they don’t make ‘em like Paul any more.

And the rest is history, which you may read about in two or three years when I finish the novel . . .
Search for Blue
Tags:Blowing Rock, Blue Ridge mountains, Blue Ridge Parkway, craftsmanship, heritage, historical research, history, homesteading, hospitality, Moses Cone estate, Moses Cone Memorial Park, mountain life
Posted in 1930s, 1950's, aging, America, art, attitude, change, civilization, collective memory, creation, design, education, exploration, good work, history, life, marriage, quality, time, wealth, work | Leave a Comment »
November 20, 2019
This morning I heard Meghna Chakrabarti interviewing Sylvia Poggioli about the flood in Venice, Italy.
Hearing the WBUR On Point hostess ask NPR’s Italian correspondent about that watery excess, my imagination flowed back to my visit to Venice in 2003.
On that day, sixteen years ago, I stood in a long tourist line to visit the Basilica of San Marco.
On that day, flood waters from the Adriatic Sea were lapping up the stepped entryway into the nave of the cathedral.
My daughter Kim, studying in Italy at that time, snapped some photographs. I assembled three of them here:

It is plain to see that, yes, there is an ongoing, and worsening problem of flooding in the ancient city of Venice.
Moreover, the evidence is mounting that, yes Virginia, there is in fact a worldwide problem of more frequent coastal flooding, and it is reasonably related to climate change.
My position about climate change is that we should collectively educate ourselves about the impact of human activity on our planetary ecosystem. But human rights—rights to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness— should not be violated for the sake of imposing restrictive laws to reduce and control carbon emissions.
However all of our overflowing angst about climate change gets spread around, I would like to hone in on a certain detail in the frontal edifice of San Marco church building.
Look closely at this picture of the front of San Marco. You will notice, above the middle arch, four horse statues.
When I noticed them up there in 2003, I was fascinated with those horses.

Five years later, as I was writing a novel later entitled Glass Chimera, I included those horses—actually, miniature glass reproductions of them— in part of the story I was cloning together at that time
In chapter 13 of Glass Chimera, we find this scene:
Sunday afternoon, Mick Basker slept until 1:30, then got out of bed, made some coffee, and sat down at his computer to take a look at the chip that he had retrieved from the glass horse’s gonads four nights ago. He reached down to open the bottom drawer of his desk. Then he noticed a scrap of printed paper, about the size of a small index card, on the floor nearby. Recognizing it as a slip that he had found within the figurines’ crate, Mick picked it up to get a closer look. This is what was printed on the little paper:
Congratulazioni! Lei ha comprato uno degli articoli di vetro più belli nel mondo. Quest’edizione a bassa tiratura della “Quadriga Marciana” ha soffiato degli artigiani specializzati della Società del Vetro Leoni di Venezia, Italia. Gli articoli di vetro sono i riproduzioni squisite delle sculture di bronzo che fa la guardia di sopra del vestibolo occidentale della Basilica di San Marco in Venezia. I cavalli originali sono giungi a Venezia con il ricco bottino di guerra dai Veneziani dopo la conquista di Constantinopoli al termine della IV Crociata nel 1204 A.D. Dopo cinque secoli, nel 1797, Napoleone li fa trasferire a Parigi, ma i cavalli erano ritornati alla Basilica di San Marco nel 1815.
But Mick knew no Italiano, so he set the little paper aside, and reached down again to the bottom drawer, from which he produced a yellow pharmaceutical container, a pill box. Inside it was a was a patch of plastic foam which concealed a little green circuit board about the size of thumb. Carefully, he inserted his chip, looking like a little black crab with metallic legs, into the device, then pushed the assemblage into a USB port on the computer. He typed and moused his way to the chip’s data, and when he found it this is what he saw:
OAT, GHN-1:17q22-q24, DTNBP-1:6p22.3, IGF-2:3q28.
But he didn’t know what it was.
If you ramble around this world, you will notice that life on our planet is full of mysteries. You just never know when another strange happening might come flooding into your mind, your mailbox, or your city square, or even your own sacred space.
But no matter what strange occurrence crosses your path or your mind, try to make the best of it.
Glass Chimera
Tags:Basilica di San Marco, chimera, climate change, flood, flooding, four horses, glass chimera, glass statues, global warming, Meghna Chakrabarti, novel, Sylvia Poggioli, travel, Venice
Posted in architecture, art, attitude, books, change, Christianity, church, civilization, climate change, collective memory, design, education, exploration, global warming, memories, optimism, symbolism, travel, water | Leave a Comment »
September 12, 2019
I read a tweet today oh boy
about a cocky man with a rant parade.
And though the news was really bad
well I just had to laugh one more time.
I saw the comment thread online.
He blew our minds out with a rant:
he hadn’t noticed that the Climate Changed.
A crowd of people seethed and stared
they’d seen the bee ess before
Nobody was really sure if it was from the 1% core.
I saw a video oh boy
the 1%ers have just scored some more;
A crowd of trollers were abhorred;
but I just stole some looks,
having once read books.
We’d love to lead you o. . . . n.

I woke up, gotta outa bed,
found a mem, inside my head,
made my way downstairs and tweeted it,
and twittering, knew I was a twit.
I made this up, but grabbed my phone;
I posted face, still felt alone,
Found my way upstairs and caught a streaming;
somebody spoke and I went into a dreaming, ohhhhhh……
etcetera etcetera, etcetera, you’ve read the news
I read the web today oh boy:
four million holes inside our atmosphere.
And though the holes were rather small,
they had to stop them all.
Now they know how many holes it takes to fill the global ball.
We’d love to lead you o. . . . on.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sCbZ15JpxPg
Glass Chimera
Tags:1960's, Analogues, Beatles, classic album, Day in the Life, Lennon, memories, record albums, reprise, revision, Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band, song revised
Posted in 1960's, aging, art, attitude, books, Capitalism, change, chaos, civilization, climate change, collective memory, community, freedom, history, humor, memories, music, satire, song, symbolism | Leave a Comment »
August 24, 2019
Breeze blew ‘cross Byzantium
ages ago,
passing passion along from ancient souls
o’er peninsulas and shoals.
From Alexandria to Andalusia
it blew the Medi stirring of our arcane East
by westward winds past the European feast.
So it drifted between Aranjuez and Zagreb
in periodic flow and ebb
with rhythmic ebb and flow
through passionnata on stringéd bow . . .
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=g91kQyy4G7E.
. . . at providential and the muse’ behest,
and set in sculpting stone: eternal rest;
portraying Piéta Jesu through Michelangelo,
as still the women come and go
‘cross Eliot’s wasteland scenario.
From Ave Maria in Madrid
this opus we/they did;
even SaintSaens’ secular Swan
summons that age-old bond:
reflecting melancholic tension
in existential apprehension
again and again and again;
the passion passes
through striving laborious hands
in colored or melodic strands.
On moonlit nights;
sonata strains reflect the light
from hand to frantic hand
and back again.
Did history require
two world wars
and a string of smaller frays
to say
our living legacy dies daily?
Yet does our living tragedy thrive daily,
in this human soul of frailty.
Why even a saintless ’60’s Superstar
drove our anguished digression,
our zeitgeist obsession,
as passion passed through
rejected hands again
as passion passed through
conflicted lives again
as passion passes through
immigrant pathos again
and again and again
to reveal those nail-scarred hands again
Again.
Must be something to it;
we should not eschew it:
Those despiséd and rejected ones of men–
again and again and again:
the passing man of sorrow,
yesterday, today, tomorrow—
the woman acquainted with grief,
through death that steals in like a thief
the stranger and the strange,
Again and again and again.
Must be something to it;
we should not eschew it.
Glass half-Full
Tags:Andalusia, art, Byzantium, existential, Hauser concert Zagreb, history, Jesu, melancholy, music, orchestra, passion, Pieta, poem, poetry, suffering, tragedy, two world wars, Zagreb
Posted in alienation, ancient history, art, attitude, Christianity, civilization, collective memory, community, cross, death, deja vu, east meets west, eastern Europe, Europe, Faith, freedom of religion, history, life and death, memories, morality, music, narrative, poem, poetry, regeneration, religion, restoration, selah, symbolism, symphony, war | Leave a Comment »
August 17, 2019
Thousands of years ago, we built a legendary tower, the shadow of which has seemed to darken our human history even unto today.
According to a certain well-known historical source, the Bible . . . the tower of Babel was erected in some location east of the Euphrates River. The region therein has been known since that ancient time by various names: Chaldea, Shinar, Babylon, and a few other identities, such as the current one, Iraq.
So an ancient tale about the tower of Babel, especially its fall, has been passed down to us through the ages. The biblical account says that The Tower of Babel’s undoing happened because the people were unable to communicate. So they were not able to get the thing built.
In our modern reflection upon that archaic project, I think what Will Rogers or Mark Twain or Yogi Berra, or some such sage said, applies:
“What we have here is a failure to communicate.”
It’s an old story, but true.
Nevertheless, I’m here to tell ya that in spite of ourselves we people of the earth have managed to erect some pretty impressive towers here and there throughout the ages.
For instance, notice this classic religious tower in San Francisco, which happens to be a double.

This structure represents that spirit of religion that dominated our Western culture for a couple of thousand years.
Here’s a Spanish project representing a more contemporary creative impulse toward the divine.

Very impressive. But the era of God-inspired basilica-building has been overtaken by more humanistic projects. Since the so-called Enlightenment in the 18th-century, people have aspired to ideals even loftier than mere religion. This modern emphasis has wrought even higher and higher feats of skyscraping.

The long epoch of God-inspired tower-building has been overtaken by a New Age of Man.

And yet, our rising human spirit has morphed itself beyond mere commercial, citified projections. Check out an Olympic objet d’art that the Barcelonans fashioned for the 1992 Olympics:

This fluidic rising structure embodies a humanic zeitgeist; it aspires to inspire ascension to world peace—a peace wrought through zealous sports competition instead of bloody wars fought with destructive weapons on muddy battlefields.
Pretty damned impresseve, huh?!
Higher and higher we strive; higher and higher we arrive.
Now in 21st-century AI, We find ourselves in the upper regions of human accomplishment.
Physical upbuilding has now taken a back seat to the loftiness of our ideals.
So we’ve built a stupendous net of ideas, an electronic network that ceaselessly transmits gigabytes of presciently important data around the world. It is a web as ethereal as the sun itself . . . as surreal as a Dali . . . as real as a Warhol.
And towards this end, we’ve built towers of a different—a new and different—kind:

Towers such as this one–structures of ascending human perfectibility– are slavishly repeating signals all day and all night for the benefit of all mankind!
For the benefit of Mr. Kite, ever and ever onward to greater heights!
We hold these spires to be self-evident—that our updated tower-driven secretions will project a worldwide web of human achievement to rise higher than the Tower of Babel ever did!
Good luck with that.
Glass Chimera
Tags:aspirations, Barcelona, churches, construction, history, progress, religion, rising, Sagrada Familia, skyscrapers, steeples, Tower of Babel, towers
Posted in architecture, art, change, civilization, community, construction, design, good work, history, information age, infrastructure, inspiration, jest, progress, symbolism, technology, work | Leave a Comment »
July 28, 2019
While universe was expanding in all directions, Creator chose one lump and began working with it, rearranging its underneath mass so that water could rise to the surface. The hydrogen/oxygen element would move in a purposeful way instead of just sloshing around.
Creator spun that world into motion so that the sunlight which struck its surface would brighten half of world for a day while allowing the other half to return to darkness during the same interval.
Thus did this division between the lightened side of world and the darkened side establish a cycle which would become known to us as day and night.
Then Creator used the interaction of sunlight and water to introduce an earthly cycle by which water could morph between two different states: liquid and vapor. The liquid would generally flow on, and within, the surface, while the vapor would rise to celestial functions.
This was a heavenly arrangement, although it was happening on crude earth—pretty cool, definitely an improvement over the old lump. Let us just call it day and night. Makes sense to me. You?
Creator was inspired, and so, kept going with it, stirring the flowing waters, gathering them together and thus separating the water from a new thing that was emerging—dry land.

Thus did we have earth and seas. Once again. . . pretty cool, and btw, cooling; by this stage, progressive processes had definitely been set into motion to produce something worthy of a good narrative.

But Creator didn’t stop there. Next thing you know, from out of this developing earth—this interplay between light and dark, active and passive, wet and dry—here comes a new kind of stuff having the coding wherewithal to sprout new stuff never before seen or heard of. Long story short—plant life that could and would regenerate itself on a regular purpose so that Creator could go on to bigger and better things. Awesome!

Through the veggies and their seeds, it was obvious that things were getting better on earth, through the continuing interplay of this very predictable, dependable alternating cycle between light and dark, day and night, active and passive, living and dying.
All in all, not bad for a day’s work, as we say out here in flyover country.
But, hey, that was just the beginning. . .

Glass half-Full
Tags:art, artistry, beginning, big bang, creation, Creator, day and night, development, earth, evolution, Genesis, history, lava, light and darkness, narrative, progress, story, sun, world
Posted in art, beauty, change, chaos, collective memory, cosmos, creation, design, energy, exploration, Faith, good work, history, lessons, life, life and death, narrative, productivity, progress, regeneration, religion, selah, sunrise, sunset, sustainability, symbolism, the sublime, time, water, wisdom, wonder, work | Leave a Comment »
July 9, 2019
Setting old stones with new methods lays a solid foundation for future pathways of our life together.
Here’s a Blue Ridge Parkway bridge, near my home, built when I was a kid long ago, in the 1960’s.

It’s a well-built public-works project.
Incredible strength was laid into the bridge’s inner structure when concrete was poured around a steel rebar framework. Unseen in the finished structure, the silent steel still contributes to ongoing structural integrity and function. Internal strength assured the bridge’s longevity, allowing the structure to bear up under the heavy demands of continuous motored traffic for many and many a year.
This solid piece of work has been sustaining motored traffic for most of my 68 years.
Use of reinforcing steel roads, tied together with wire like cages, then buried forever with gravel aggregate in solid ‘crete mud, is a relatively new architectural practice in construction history. The internal rebar method was devised by constructors over time, to assure deep integrity and resilience in vast concrete structures.
Such built-in reinforcement has enabled folks to progressively build bigger buildings, longer roads and bridges, as civilization marches on.

This strong, continuous, time-tested concrete underbelly enables motorists to drive without stopping, on a road that crosses o’er a road that passes beneath it. In this photo, you can see the structure’s rock-hard underbelly, which bears the surface imprints of wooden planks that were used in forming the main arch when the concrete was cast, back in the mid-1960’s.
Certainly our attention is drawn to the large veneer stones on the outside face of the construction. These chiseled rocks, having been skillfully cut with calculated angles, lend a classic appearance to the roadway, which would have otherwise been a dull utilitarian construct.
Thus did the bridge become something far more than an elevated roadway; it stands as an artistic statement of architectural continuity, in agreement with its older, 1930’s-era bridge “ancestors.”
The stone masons who erected similar Blue Ridge bridges back in the earlier days were ancestors–whether by profession or by blood– of the rock masons who set these stones three decades later.
Such chisel-sculpted work becomes a masonary tip-of-the-trowel to time-honored traditions of stone masons who lived and worked on this same 469-mile parkway back in the day, and then eventually crossed that great celestial bridge to eternity.
Having stood the tests of time and traffic, this good work stands as a long-lasting homage to both structural integrity and graceful design.
About six miles up the road from the bridge pictured above, there’s an S-curved structure that I tied steel on, back in the early 1980’s– the Linn Cove Viaduct on Grandfather Mountain. It’s a very special construct, being the final missing-link in the middle of a 469-mile, 50-year Blue Ridge Parkway project. But this one was special–not for the classic stonework–but for the cutting-edge technology of building the thing from the top down, instead of the bottom up!

Here’s solid evidence that in this life it’s a good idea to do things right. Build it to last, whatever it is you’re working on in your time here. Our children’s children will notice the quality and be inspired to do great works in their own time.
Search for Blue
Tags:1930s, 1960's, architecture, Blue Ridge Parkway, bridges, concrete construction, construction, good work, history, legacy work, Linn Cove Viaduct, quality construction, stonework, work
Posted in 1930s, 1960's, aging, America, architecture, art, attitude, beauty, civilization, curves, design, exploration, good work, history, memories, productivity, progress, quality, sustainability, symbolism, time, travel, USA, work | Leave a Comment »
May 14, 2019
They advise strip off all baggage from old time.
They urge try fantastic low-hanging fruit.
They recommend taste little bit
They demand take nother byte

We ask who said kids do nude
We teach kids run for cover blude
We gather our children beneath mama skirts
We papa protect what left because it right.
They say go free of hangups
They say bare it all
They say it fun
They say uninhabit inhibition
We say go jump in lake
We had all we could take
We say you always on the make
We see you fake.
They catch up us at crossroads.
They judge us out of touch
They sentence us unfair and square
They say strip if you dare
We say we dont care for it
We wont fall for come-on tit
We find unfriend message hit
We remember blood on holy ground
We all across the world hear sacred sound
We in spite of what goes down all around
We once was lost but now we found.
King of Soul
Tags:Adam and Eve, apple, blood, cross, Crossroads, Garden of Eden, Genesis, naked, poem, poetry
Posted in alienation, art, cross, history, poem, poetry, symbolism | Leave a Comment »