WILD FLOWER.
That feeling of helplessness
explodes inside me
when
I look around
and find only pain.I’ll stop
one day I’ll stop.
It will be today
or tomorrow.I will dry
those eyes of tears.
I will wait
for a smile to be born in you.Like a wild flower
I will place it
on my heart.And they will remain without fearing
the darkness of the night.
I am the people—the mob—the crowd—the mass.
Do you know that all the great work of the world is done through me?
I am the workingman, the inventor, the maker of the world’s food and clothes.
I am the audience that witnesses history. The Napoleons come from me and the Lincolns. They die. And then I send forth more Napoleons and Lincolns.
I am the seed ground. I am a prairie that will stand for much plowing. Terrible storms pass over me. I forget. The best of me is sucked out and wasted. I forget. Everything but Death comes to me and makes me work and give up what I have. And I forget.
Sometimes I growl, shake myself and spatter a few red drops for history to remember. Then—I forget.
When I, the People, learn to remember, when I, the People, use the lessons of yesterday and no longer forget who robbed me last year, who played me for a fool—then there will be no speaker in all the world say the name: “The People,” with any fleck of a sneer in his voice or any far-off smile of derision.
The mob—the crowd—the mass—will arrive then.
Fans of the two-man-band, Twenty One Pilots know their song, “Heavydirtysoul.” What they may not realize is that one of the song’s best known lines is a distillation of an ancient fable.
This gnawing burning squiggle of an emotion that streams through insipidness; speaks in the space where my gut meets the churning locket of despair.
Alone, I reach for connection through the waves of impersonal electronic communication. Dopamine receptors fired to the infinite oblivion of overwhelming noise and nothingness.
I desire nothing for nothing is within me.
Betjeman was struck by the “menace of things to come” but later regretted the poem’s harshness. Betjeman was alarmed at the desecration of industrialization and modernity in general.
Poor, old, disabled
Weirdos, nuts, odd balls, queers, trash
All expendable
Abandoned, ignored
Ridiculed, isolated
Suffering alone
Elaine Marie Kolb – Haiku Against Medical Assisted Suicide: Ableism Kills Us
Grief causes you to leave yourself. You step outside your narrow little pelt. And you can’t feel grief unless you’ve had love before it – grief is the final outcome of love, because it’s love lost. […] It’s the cycle of love completed: to love, to lose, to feel grief, to leave, and then to love again. Grief is the awareness that you will have to be alone, and there is nothing beyond that because being alone is the ultimate final destiny of each individual living creature. That’s what death is, the great loneliness.
Philip K. Dick, Flow My Tears, the Policeman Said
As the US celebrates $95.3 billion in military funding for Israel, Taiwan, Ukraine, and the US, we unpack the US Indo-Pacific strategy and what’s at stake.
Keep on Rockin’ in the Free World
Ms. Cat’s Chronicles 
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