Posts Tagged ‘oil’

What Friday sloucheth toward us?

November 26, 2015

Wide open spaces

sprawling out on suburban places

with auto-power its enabling basis:

that’s the fossil fuel game

that climate-bangers insist we blame

for dragging earth into carbon-cluded shame.


The dead, recycled dinosaur

now pumped up from some ancient shore

soon supplies yon stripmall store

with miles of aisles of essential stuff–

piles of styles that are more than enough

to transform this world to soft, from what was rough.


So far we’ve come from them rugged days

when grampa’s calloused hands found ways

to plow the prairies, while cattle graze.

And yet, somewhere in the world today

a farmer still drives the beast; he plows all day.

But here, strewn-out drivers glide away


from the greening world as once we knew it.

This fair and fertile land–we now eschew it;

now we transform it, as in olden days we grew it.

Yea, our trend-setting charged-up, superstore

that drive consumption from shore to shore–

so soon replays the dinosaur.


Glass Chimera

Roomey’s Catastrophic Critter

February 15, 2014

Roomey is a zookeeper; a  global caretaker is he,

with his flockey herd of critters, the endangered managerie.


He tends glazeebos, ampheebos, orangoupangs and slangs,

while feeding facecub pups and reptilimups, doozyewes and falangs.


One day he had a scare event, urgent animal alert,

when he found his biggy globelephant flailing in the dirt.


So he called in a panel of pakkidharmologists for their expert opinions

as to how this mammouth mammalian crisis could strike down the flappy-eared minions.


The first ‘xpert said I believe we have here a globel problem of elephantal proportions,

with overextended ears, trunkated dysfunctions, and pakkidharmal distortions.


The next guy grabbed our pakkidharmal hunk’s trunk,

proclaimed this big critter’s really in a funk,

asked how this catastrophe could have struck, who’d have thunk?

I think our globelephant is sunk!


The third ‘xpert held the critter’s ears.

“Oh my!” he cried.  The core data confirms our worsest fears.

This mammal’s flappy ears  have been caught up in the gears

of all our das kapital industrial carbon-spewing years.


Authority number four stroked the mammoth critter’s world-class tusk.

Methinks this overprized trophy’s been the object of some rapacious hunters’ lust.

It’s time to save globelephant– We must!

To prevent it getting caught in carbon dust.


The next pakkidharmologist grabbed that globel animal’s legs.

There oughta be a law! he said. What we need are more strong regs!

If we’re gonna arrest this sixth extinction, we really gots to peg

this carbon contagion down; coal and oil and gas spews out emissionary dregs!


Now the next guy took up the matter of globelephant’s long tail.

I do believe this monster’s like a rope, said he. It keeps us tied to stinkin’ gas, oil shale.

Now the climate’s waggin’ us all around with floods and snows and what the hail.

If we don’t put a stop to this dirty carbonous gale, the whole frackin’ planet’s gonna fail!


Here we stand beneath biggy globelephant’s vast belly.

Now something’s dropping from behind, something rather smelly.

Better turn on the tube, the phone or  web, to view it on the telly,

where we learn at last the sky’s been fallen, our true foundations  turned to jelly.


Have a Smoke

January 19, 2013

Damage not the oil.

Rather, steward what is pressed forth from earth,

and don’t neglect to toil;

refine your oil from death to birth.

Damage not the wine.

Bottle it, then store it; bring forth its worth.

What’s new and crude then becomes so fine.

When the time is right, pop out the mirth!

Don’t destroy the soil;

give back to it; tend it;  help it give birth;

conscientious stewardship is royal,

producing regal heritage from simple earth.

Plant your field; tend your vine.

Explore your spheres from ocean to firth,

and when all is well, then pray and dine.

Make love, avoid war, and cultivate some birth.

Glass half-Full

Peak oil heat meets poet Frost

September 29, 2012

Some say we will run out of oil;

some say we’ll not.

With what I’ve seen of human toil,

I hope we do conserve our oil;

‘though it’s likely we’ll burn all we’ve got.

Now I have seen enough of greed

to know in scarcity big wars are fought,

’cause we’ll waste more than we need,

’til we have naught.

Glass Chimera

The Sanctum Sanctorum

February 13, 2012

Before men learned how to tap the great resources of oil from earth’s crusty mantle, certain bold mariners ventured onto the high seas in search of the Whale. After harpooning the megacreature and bleeding the life out of it, they would drag it alongside their ship,  then hoist the expired leviathan and tie it to the side of the ship. In this position, the sailors would puncture a hole in a sperm whale’s head and draw whale oil out from it, sometimes 500 gallons or more.  This precious oil would then be stored aboard the ship until they reached port, at which time the ship’s captain would present their costly liquid to the owners of the ship. Then the whale oil would be sold. Whaling was thereby a profitable venture for the owners of the ships, and also for the seamen who manned the ships.

The availability of whale oil, as near as I can determine, is what generally got people in the habit of burning oil to produce heat. But in the mid 1800s, the development of kerosene from coal, and petroleum oil, eventually rendered the difficult capture and extraction of whale oil obsolete and cost-ineffective.

Herman Melville explained (1851), in chapters 77 and 78 of Moby Dick, the strange process by which whale men would harvest, from the head of a sperm whale, this unctuous resource, beginning with this description:

“…so the tun of the whale contains by far the most precious of all his oily vintages; namely, the highly-prized spermaceti, in its absolutely pure, limpid, and odoriferous state.” The “tun”, as Melville calls it, is a very large natural cask inside the whale’s head wherein the oil is contained. He compares the huge chamber to a famous wine vat in Germany, known as the Heidelburgh Tun.

But at the conclusion of his two-chapter discourse about this unique resource recovery, he refers to the secret inner oil-chamber as the “sanctum sanctorum” of the whale.  Sanctum Sanctorum is Latin for Holy of Holies.

To an ancient Israelite, that phrase, when translated to Hebrew, meant the most sacred place in their Tabernacle, and later in the Temple.

To me, “sanctum sanctorum” means the womb of my wife, where our three unique children began their very special lives, when I delivered my very own 23-chromosome spermaceti to be united with the 23 chromosomes in Pat’s oocyte.

I bet you didn’t think I would end this blog about the sanctum sanctorum of a whale with such a statement so personal, and seemingly irrelevant to the subject, mentioned above, of whale oil.

But I want you to understand that raising children in this world is a whale of a job, and a very precious one, certainly the holiest of all holy projects that any couple could take on.

CR, with new novel, Smoke, in progress

Cranked-up country

February 17, 2011

Poor ole uncle sam; all strung out on crack and heroin. Or, excuse me, I’m thinking of somebody else, some loser squatting in the abandoned house down the street.
Uncle sam is junked up with those other habits, the acceptable ones–credit crank and  mainline oil.
The politicians all have their two different camps for rehab strategies:

Liberals want to keep the methadonish greenback mainline flowing freely, with that rubbery Fed strapped around uncle sam’s arm so everybody rich and poor high and low has a little jingle to keep their jangle pump primed up, and they want to keep the oil price high with energy taxes to discourage consumption and theoretially get us weaned off the middle east fossilized mainline, which is so politically unstable these days due to widespread outbreak of democratic frenzy, rendering the Gulfs unpredictable, liable to be cut off at any time and you know we’d really be up shiite creek then. But it’ll be a sunni day in hell before we ever achieve energy independence. Nice thought though.

Conservatives want to cut the hell out of credit by going cold turkey with fiscal responsibility, which they mistakenly think the “American people,” couch potatoes all, want. They talk big about slashing budgets, but know it can never really happen thanks to the credit-cranked old new deal and all the neo-deals since then. On the other side of the pump, they wanna keep energy prices low so everybody can drive to work at the jobs they don’t have any more or are working parttime, gotta keep them gas tanks filled up, and if the Ahabs the Arabs get to be upstarts with their ole OPEC tricks we’ll send the boys over there to whip em in line and teach em a thing or two about democracy.

Meanwhile back at the ranch, Dick and Jane are starting to figure out they better make the best with what they got. What will you do today to make the world a better place for you and yours?

Glass Chimera