Dermott Hayes's Blog: Postcard from a Pigeon, page 4

WORDS

Early morning

thoughts awake,

ether soaring

celestial oblivion,

poem shaping

rhythmic clouds

bass bin booming,

picking mercury

from the firmament,

toil and tumble

relentless empyrean.

In the dim light

of winter’s dusk,

elusive words

weave and duck,

playful sprites

he might write,

cast meaning

in the dark alight

but mischief,

at arm’s length,

an impish thief,

a cache of terms

hidden grief,

a poet’s stumped,

thoughts aplenty

on a blank page,

words empty.

DREAM

Welcome to this selfie world,

keep your hands inside the vehicle

at all times and any time

we might photograph you

I’m just fooling, I mean take a pic

of you but mostly me

because this is all about me

not you or them or anyone

who isn’t me and mine

are you listening?

because my opinion is all

that matters if we’re friends

because without that

you’ll be unfriended,

cast adrift, alone, unwelcome

and strangely, a person of interest

we watch your friends, we follow you

we like, we love, we’re happy for you

we want you to be like me

like what I like, buy what I like

and dislike what I say you should

hate to break this party up

but you’ve been dreaming

because it’s all about you

when you dream

Truth’s Champion

Truth parades no colours,

it stands tall, fearless.

Only the messenger quakes,

dreading the wrath of Tigranes,

to see their eyes

become Cleopatra’s toys.

Truth will be told

as the sun rises, light prevails

even in the darkened shade

of a South Sea island

where travellers tossed

by fate and fortune,

hidden, not forgotten

wretched refugees discarded,

Behrouz Boochani,

truth’s envoy,

call his name,

remember it

to shame those

who lurk in the shade of freedom

to hide the truth.

Written in response to this article in The Guardian and a conversation I had with a man from Sydney, this afternoon. https://www.theguardian.com/australia-news/2017/nov/24/the-shame-of-the-evil-being-done-on-manus-will-outlive-us-all

commentary regarding the Immigrant turkey

Ok, so satire might not be my high point, by your estimation, but it still tells a story like I want tell it; the gullible will devour what the illegitimate will tell them is tasty.

A man with personal mental problems, qualified to look after mental health patients, killed a dog, butchered it and cooked it, before feeding it to his other family pet, another dog.

The man, in this circumstance was brought to justice and the surviving  dog to an animal shelter.

Turkey Cooked as Visa Revoked

 

US President Donald Trump breaks tradition and orders Thanksgiving turkey be deported. Drumstick the Turkey has had his pardon revoked after being branded a ‘Taco Turkey.’

Forty turkeys, including Drumstick and Wishbone, were seized when Homeland Security and US Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) Officers raided a holding pen and detained the birds destined for a White House Thanksgiving dinner.

The raid came after a lengthy investigation into illegal immigration by the Meleagris Ocellata species of the Yucatan peninsula passing themselves off as Meleagris Gallopavo or native turkeys.

A Homeland Security spokesperson said the turkeys would be detained for questioning but refused to answer questions about their ultimate fate.

Reacting to this shock development, the President cautioned Americans to check their turkeys before they eat them and added the offending bird to the list of alleged and potential crimes on his ‘Mexican list.’

‘Ticking Taco Turkeys off my Thanksgiving listing. They’re bad hombres’, the President tweeted.

Turkey producers are aghast, saying this development could blow the Thanksgiving economy. One turkey farmer said, ‘it’s no secret there’s been cross breeding for years. Those Yucatan turkeys were imported as part of a trade agreement with Mexico during the Obama regime. They are fed native avocados and add a luxurious texture to the meat of the rangy domestic turkey.’

The President tweeted he’d eat a vegan turkey sooner than an Obama bird. White House chefs refused to comment.

Clearing My House

Clearing my house,

time for a change,

spring can’t come too soon.

As winter dwells

with an icy grip

in the hearts and minds

of human kind,

nature sleeps,

regenerates.

We change

to reassemble

the order of our existence

while all around us slumbers,

we celebrate,

degenerate,

decline,

until spring returns,

the earth’s awake,

brazen life flows

through nature’s veins.

Detached, unsprung

human kind devolve

from the nurturing chain

to dominate,

disseminate,

destroy.

[image error]

Do or Damned in Nebraska

Reblogged from: https://wordpress.com/read/feeds/67627324/posts/1670958202

Original story: http://business.financialpost.com/pmn/business-pmn/nebraska-set-to-vote-today-on-fate-of-transcanadas-keystone-xl-pipeline

CALGARY — Five commissioners in Nebraska are set to vote today on the fate of TransCanada’s Keystone XL pipeline, potentially clearing the last major regulatory hurdle of a project once thought dead.

The Nebraska Public Service Commission will be voting on whether the project, which would transport about 830,000 barrels of oil a day from Alberta to various U.S. markets, serves the public interest.

The vote comes as TransCanada continues to clean up a 5,000 barrel oil spill from it’s pipeline in nearby South Dakota that opponents have pointed to as reason not to approve Keystone XL.

Among other concerns, opponents of Keystone XL say the pipeline would pass through the Sandhills, an ecologically fragile region in Nebraska of grass-covered sand dunes, and would cross the land of farmers and ranchers who don’t want it.

The commission, however, is specifically prohibited from evaluating safety considerations, including risk or impact of a spill, and will instead rule on issues including regulatory compliance, economic and social impacts of the project, the potential intrusion on natural resources, and whether better routes exist.

Barack Obama rejected Keystone XL in 2015 after years of review, only for President Donald Trump to give the go-ahead to the project earlier this year.

Bloom

Write me a poem

of love and hate,

of ugly things

that glow within

the hot coal grate

of empathy,

breathtaking beauty,

nurtured in a furnace

of self respect

and mutual regard,

nothing twisted

or circumspect,

cast, sincere intent,

forged true and pure

on an anvil of stone,

a rock of ages

to withstand the blows

of life’s misfortunes,

fate and foes,

aligned, combined

to blight the rose

that blooms with hope

‘fore winter froze

aspiration’s bulb

in comfort grows

earth cocooned,

to blossom, sown.

Unsuspecting

In the early mist of a winter’s dawn

beaded dew hangs, undecided,

cattle with laden udders

puff balloons of warm air,

huddle in the cosy comfort

of each other,

agitated, aching, cud chewing.

The farmer, dutifully awake,

strides across the field,

stout stick in hand,

marching, waking cadence,

unsuspecting.

a blinding flash,

silent stillness, pausing,

a rush, then all

that’s living’s dead

and I awake, distraught.

Success

My bedroom’s full of books,

they’re creeping up the walls,

my living space is tiny,

what a landlord calls bijou,

But if you live with room to breathe,

don’t dream of artists’ garrets,

it’s cold, it’s damp,

the stairs are steep and narrow,

the light strains dim

in winter months,

in summer, it’s an oven. [image error]

Hoarding’s not an option,

there’s no room to swing Cat Stevens,

It is historically well situated,

code for cheap and cheerless,

gangsters in the pub don’t bite,

don’t catch their eye,

don’t sing too loud,

or laugh when cops come raiding,

you’ll be alright,

just pay your rent,

don’t get bent,

and out of shape,

when bills contend

with rejection notes

in your mailbox,

the key to success,

prosperity and acclaim

is feed the hungry

with words that fill them

full of hope, not dope

but not so full

to kill desire

for your next how to list

and do this now,

’til all your dreams,

success conspires,

you’re penniless

or else on fire.[image error]