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Not quite a summons dear Lizzy, more an order!!

Talk of tree bark
the smell of dogs

- gorgeous.

damellon, your avatar is at peace
your word so sweet

my love, it seems, is set in concrete


thank you
Boss


I am pedestrian
Everyday
Just 'someone else'
I am not centre
Don't steal limelight
They pass me as if
I am invisible
God, who am I?
Just 1 of 6.5 billion?
Just a measly 1?
I am not important
Am not special
I am just a man
Alone and scared
And you have
nothing for me
Never did have much

An orange crested
pigeon walks by
And I ask him,
"Are you my friend?"
He answers,
"Even in abject
misery, I am your friend"
"Why do you say that?"
"Because you am I,
you am I"

I pick up my pen
and begin this poem -
and know that a man
needing no attention
is insane.

An orange crested
pigeon walks by
And I ask him,
"Are you my friend?"
He answers,
"Even in abject
misery, I am your friend"
"Why do you say that?"
"Because you am I,
you am I"

Now you're onto it Boss!

I was moved by your poem, Adam. You capture the amazing scale and poignancy of life and our connections.


~ Lizzy

Hi Boss,

Most people aren't overly important or special, but in essence, most, if not all,
I find to be important or special.

You might want to consider putting the last paragraph in the past tense ("picked,"
"begun").

Steven,

You are right. All of us are important; all special. But there are times when you just don't feel like this. Like you are some kind of rag doll. I think the piece is rescued by the interchange with the pigeon. He affirms my 'specialness', my oneness. I hope you see this, mate. I like the last stanza in the present. That's the way she came out.

Lizzy,

I am glad you were moved by my poem. I was down when I started writing it, but the bird just let me 'know'. Thank you my friend. And yes, Life can be a hard road. And then right in the middle of it, we can find joy.

Mat,

I've been "onto it" for nearly 20 years!! An ordinary time I will attest to.

Hi Boss,

Yes, there are those times for me too. I didn't think the piece needed rescuing
"by the interchange with the pigeon," but very much like that it is there. I took
the pigeon's presence as reaffirming the "specialness" an individual can feel
as a result of being connected to things (here with the talking bird) that are external to us.

i looked at
the microphone
uttered my name and
where i came from

and i knew
that was enough

that sometimes
heroes are made
in seconds
and sometimes

half a lifetime
or more


I pay my respects to any and all soldiers who fight and perhaps died for the 'joy' of victory or the embarassment of defeat for those men who sit behind desks in air conditioned rooms dictating just as they see fit. Veteran's Day, Rememberance Day, Armistice Day, whatever we call it, we must pay respect to those fallen soldiers. Lest we forget. And remember that so, so many who serve are young, vibrant people who don't want to die. I charge politicians and business for the senseless murder of so, so many. Kill hypocrisy, kill greed - before human beings.

Thanks for this, too, Adam.

Last night, my friend and I watched the film "Z," based on real events from 1963. The reality was packed-to-overflowing with corruption. Horrible and brutal. It's a very moving film that fully engages the viewer in the horror of Gregoris Lambrakis's assassination. This is what Wikipedia says about it:

Z is a 1969 French language political thriller directed by Costa Gavras, with a screenplay by Gavras and Jorge Semprún, based on the novel of the same name by Vassilis Vassilikos. The film presents a thinly fictionalized account of the events surrounding the assassination of democratic Greek politician Gregoris Lambrakis in 1963. With its satirical view of Greek politics, its dark sense of humor, and its chilling ending, the film captures the sense of outrage about the military dictatorship that ruled Greece at the time of its making.

And IMDb says:

The meaning of "Z" : At the very end of the movie, a message tells us "Also the military regime banned (...) the letter "Z" which means "He is alive" in ancient Greek."

. . .

By the way, it was the first foreign film (French) to be nominated for Best Picture.

Gregoris Lambrakis was a man of great courage. Watching it, we were left with a feeling of desolation as to what kinds of meetings, conferences, and skewings must have been going on and still are here in the 40 years since.

This year, as the war drags on with more casualties on all sides, the Veterans Day remembrances continue to hit harder. Re-entry for the soldiers who have served tends to be extremely difficult and sometimes impossible.

Some say it's impossible to separate the soldier who serves, from the war they fight; it seems the soldiers themselves often feel that, as well. Still, they believe in their mission and that's natural. They've been trained in that direction and it's part of their survival necessities to hold tight. We, who have issues with the military and its methods, discount it as their being brainwashed; but after awhile, the distinctions seem academic. They are the ones putting their lives on the line and too often losing them; if not altogether, then practically, with the mental health issues and physical infirmities that accompany them with their return.

It's so far from what we've conceived as being war... the bombing of 'enemy' soldiers and innocent civilians from above; IEDs on the roadside that get 'smarter' and deadlier; suicide bombers, who manage to get to places deemed safe to explode themselves and everyone around them.

My heart is with every young, and older, man and woman who is over there in all the different places fighting, who do not have today off and do not celebrate their remembrance on Monday, as those of us here do. My heart is with every soldier from the past who has fought or even been there; come home or died. I pray that all wars could end before the world does. My seemingly pollyanna prayer for paradise ~ may all people one day know only peace in their hearts.

G~d bless all soldiers everywhere today.


~ Lizzy

Today I attend the remembrance day in London and this is very moving for me.

men go to war
for the glory
of king and country
they are pawns
in an old game
of chess
sacrificed first
in their long lines
while king
and meddlesome queen
decide their fate

no king wins
ever
did the british empire
the dalliance in vietnam
do children
in the middle east
gain anything?

the chessboard will burn
the pawns set free
and we will remember
those murdered
since cain and abel
since ancient greece
since iraq

it shall not be just
the combatants.
but the audience too,
the innocent ones,
who pay the cashier
at the door
to watch the game
those who are killed
in the ambush
by rooks and castles
by arrows and enola gay
they shall be remembered, too

Hi Boss,

I was thinking along much of the same lines of this poem -- even down to the chess
game metaphor. I'm not a pacifist, though, and find that there are times that "just
war" circumstances necessitate people to "go to war," to prevent greater harm.

I fear the chess game as a metaphor has outworn its use, not in this particular case alone but in poetry in general. It has become a pawn in the poetic game.

Steve,

Thou shalt not kill. But what do you do about a Hitler? It is a contentious area. All I'm saying is that the time will come where war will not be necessary; a time where men shall be brothers. Peace my friend, peace. And this is no pie in the sky - many people allude to it. It is time. I think we are sufficiently mature.

William,

Write something better!


Regards to you both,
Boss