Poems From A Spiritual Heart: The Long Road, An Easter Poem

Poems From A Spiritual Heart: The Long Road, An Easter Poem: From Denny:  An Easter poem about how sacrifice can deliver unexpected pleasant surprises.  With global protests against oppressive governments, like the Arab Spring in the Middle East, and against greedy Big Business like the Occupy Protests in the West, it is evident there is great need in the world.

When economic times and society get hard pressed what is the one thing you can do about all the wrong going on around you?  You can be a friend.  You can slow down, even come to a full stop on your own life, and look around to see what is happening in your vicinity.

To address the needs, think of offering some real friendship and mentor those around you.  You will be surprised how many people will tell you how glad they are you took time for them as they thought no one would ever notice how much they were struggling.  It could be at work, at church, your neighborhood, the local grocery store, anywhere.  Offering the fact that you care is often the most appreciated.

Obama Speaks To Hate Merchants, Rush Limbaugh Insults To Women

Image via Wikipedia

From Denny:  Rush Limbaugh refuses to apologize for "slut, prostitute and whore" comments against American women in general and against Sandra Fluke in particular.  President Obama jumped into the fray, denying Limbaugh any satisfaction, phoning law student Fluke for an encouraging conversation.

Georgetown law student, Sandra Fluke, was prohibited from testifying to a House committee about support of government mandated contraceptive health care coverage.

The Republicans refused to allow any woman to testify unless they chose said woman for the all male religious panel that amounted to a predetermined outcome kangaroo court.  The female politicians in the House were outraged so they held their own hearing for Fluke to testify publicly and honestly without editing from the Republicans preventing her liberty and free speech.

GOP Hate Merchants hurl accusations against women and minorities 

New American Revolution: Protests Rampant Against Wall Street Nationwide

From Denny:  The American middle class is angry, angry at the greed of Wall Street that has imploded this once thriving economy, dirtied the air and find themselves now deprived of a living wage or any kind of job.

Protesters began this movement in New York City, rallying against many issues all tied to the financial district's direction it has moved the country.  They protest against excessive corporate greed, global warming and social inequality - and that's just the appetizer course in this new American Revolution.

Poems From A Spiritual Heart: Swirling Thoughts

Poems From A Spiritual Heart: Swirling Thoughts: "A poem about how we are all so connected that one person's misfortune feels like our own."

I Wait, poem for Haiti - Libations Friday 22 Jan 2010

*** Told from the point of view of an earthquake survivor buried underneath the rubble awaiting rescue. Dedicated to the people of the Haiti earthquake disaster of 12 Jan 2010.

From Denny: It took a few days to finish writing this poem, absorbing all the horrific news of what the people in Haiti are suffering right now. I'm still trying to get a message to my musician cousin in Jacmel on the other side of the country, who is reported to have survived the earthquake.

Almost two weeks after the earthquake devastated the country of Haiti, relief efforts are just now able to begin fanning out across the country because the roads are getting cleared or alternate routes devised. With all the media attention primarily focused upon the three million densely populated area of Port-au-Prince families like mine are still waiting news of how the people of Jacmel and other remote areas have been faring. Time will tell. I continue praying for all of Haiti to give them strength as they move through this difficult journey.

Whenever something this noteworthy happens I like to mark it in my memory with a poem. I've been tossing around various ideas in my head of how to write about something so huge in human devastation and this emotionally intense. I kept coming back to those wonderful survivor stories I posted on Dennys Global Politics as I compiled several stories into one post.

That's what I do on that news blog, compile and update ongoing stories so we don't get disjointed bits and pieces of news but a comprehensive continuity that gives us a conclusion. There is nothing worse than being left out in the cold with the nagging question of "well, what happened to them? what happened after the first news story?" The media has a recurring bad habit of moving on to the next sensational story without tying up loose ends on current stories.

I'll even update with additional news clips or information on an older post - within a week's time - so don't pay too much attention to the date of the original post. The alternative to what I'm building on that blog is streaming news coverage that tends to overwhelm. Lots of pertinent information gets lost in that style of news coverage chaos.

After listening to the news videos of many Haitians as they were pulled from the rubble I thought what would be better than to tell the story from their lone and personal point of view as they awaited rescue?


I Wait





Too many thoughts to think
Too many places to visit
Too many hugs to give
Too many paths to walk
I’m not giving up

This is my Life





Too many thoughts to think

Blinking dust from my eyes
I wait in the dark
Trying to see, just shadows
Listening for sounds
I hear moans, my own
It’s so small here





Too many places to visit

Rescue will come, I know it
I will choose a new place to live
Imagining cool breezes on my face
Seeing happy people laughing
Everywhere I look there is Joy
It’s more peaceful here now.





Too many hugs to give

My eyes close, looking for friends
I hear them breathing nearby, alive
Some I know are gone from this world
My neighbors, my friends, my family
I hug them in my heart of thoughts
Wondering if anyone remembers I’m here





Too many paths to walk

I strive to stay awake for sleep may claim me
My legs ache to stretch and walk out
My head rests on a broken concrete pillow
My body is dusty, scratched and bruised
My heart beats strong, my spirit burns bright
I long to crawl out of this safe small place
I think I hear a voice outside my refuge





I’m not giving up

Prayers fly to Heaven in my every moment
I don’t know if it’s day or night here
My faith remains constant; I am loved
I send prayers of help to others
While I wait for mine I know will come
The voices come closer and I answer them





This is my Life

I see hands poking through the scattered rubble
They are dusty, scrambling fast to reach me
A light is shined into my place to see me
I smile back at them, quietly thanking God
The saws buzz over my head to free me
They quickly pull me out; I breathe the sweetest air





My Life is renewed





I am alive for a reason



Denny Lyon
Copyright 25 January 2010
All Rights Reserved

*** This poem listed in "She Writes" Community member Bridget Chumbley's Peace Blog Carnival for Haiti's recovery.

*** Please donate to the charity of your choice to help the people in Haiti. There are links on the sidebar at the top of this page. Thank you for your generosity - even $5 makes you a hero and helps alleviate suffering. Like President Clinton said, "Every donation counts; no amount is too small."

*** THANKS for visiting, feel free to leave comments, come back often, huge hug to current subscribers - and if you are new to this blog, please subscribe in a reader or by email!

Photo Credits

*** Photos by United Nations Development Programme @ flickr and USAID_IMAGES @ flickr


Demolished downtown capitol city Por-au-Prince, Haiti after earthquake 12 Jan 2010

Collapsed United Nations Headquarters in Haiti
United Nations workers rescue injured person

Recovering belongings from ruined house

People walking past collapsed buildings with survivors waiting rescue and dead in the streets

Ordinary people digging out survivors with their bare hands from Montana Hotel

Peering into small space finding survivor

Woman pulled alive from the rubble

Glad to be alive

Libations Friday! 17 July 2009

Featured today: Cold spiked coffee recipe, funny video about getting a coffee in a recession and a poem about winning against the current recession.

Spiked Coffee

From: Giada De Laurentis

Yield: 8 servings

Ingredients:

• 1 1/2 cups coffee liqueur (recommended: Kahlua)

• 1 cup dark creme de cacoa

• 1 1/2 cups vodka

• 1 cup espresso, cooled

• 1 orange wedge

• Orange sugar crystals

• 12 ice cubes

Directions:

Mix the coffee liqueur, creme de cacoa, vodka, and espresso in a small pitcher. Cover the pitcher with plastic wrap and place it in the freezer until the mixture is very cold, about 3 hours.

Meanwhile, rub the rims of 8 Martini glasses with the orange wedge. Dip the rims in the sugar crystals to coat lightly. Place the glasses in the freezer.
Add the ice cubes to the vodka mixture and briskly stir the mixture until the ice begins to melt. Strain the mixture into the prepared glasses, and serve.

From Denny: When searching for coffee recipes up popped this funny video about trying to get a coffee in a recession, enjoy!

COFFEE BIAAATCH!



On to the poetry section: As I was considering what to write in the form of an essay for Bloggers Unite Human Rights 2009, out popped a poem. When I sit down to write a poem, you guessed it, out pops an essay. "Do ya think?" my brain could get it straight?! :) Well, who cares how it arrives as long as it shows up...

I'd just got an email from a lovely friend who lives in Michigan and her husband is now out of work and they've also lost their home. To her credit she is writing to battle the stress. She is also one fine fantasy writer! As I looked at my reply to her one sentence stuck out and I knew it was destined to later become one of my quotes. It also inspired this poem.

Image by Esther_G via Flickr

Quote: "Keep smiling. Humor pushes your attitude up and your heart wide open to sight the new opportunities coming your way." - Denny Lyon, 16 July 2009

Poetry of Life

The economy in chaos
Job markets spiraling down
Home foreclosures rising
News is bleak

Why turn on the TV?

Marriages are rocky
Children are scared
Bosses are grumpy
Life is tense

Why turn on the TV?

Banks grab stingy
CEOs finger greedy
Markets careen wild
It is what it is

Why turn on the TV?

Focus on outward order
Work at the job there is
Make a home anywhere
Chart a new attitude

Turn the channel!

Keep smiling when it’s tough
Open your heart wide to sight
Opportunities coming your way
Laugh ‘til your sides hurt

Be mentally tough: Love long!


Denny Lyon
Copyright 16 July 2009
All Rights Reserved

Coffee Photo by once and future @ flickr

Libations Friday! 10 July 2009

Featured today: Video of how astronauts drink coffee from an open mug in space and a short essay about the CIA on why it is important to write in order to change the world as you know it, plus a couple of great quotes.

Coffee Photo by once and future @ flickr

Astronauts Drinking Coffee from Unusual Mug in Weightless Space

From Denny: With this video who needs a coffee recipe this week? This was so unique I just had to share it with you!

Did you see this video yet? An astronaut sips coffee from an unusually designed mug to accommodate weightlessness in space. He explains how the mug works to enable an astronaut to drink coffee without resorting to the old school way of sipping out of a plastic bag. They use this mug design for rocket fuel tanks too. Really interesting; take a listen!



On to the writing portion of Libations Friday:

From Denny: While I have the CIA on the brain because of the latest news, let me tell you a little bit of what it was like growing up in that extreme sport atmosphere of the intelligence community. Every country has an intelligence community, many far worse than America’s, some a bit more benign.

Generally? The intelligence community is one of prolonged sustained high stress levels that cause people to get out of balance. Because they say and do so many things contrary to good character and just plain common sense – all in the name of saving the country – they often turn to addictive substances to sleep at night. There is a high rate of alcoholism in both the military and the intelligence community. That should tell you they are off course on a lot of issues. It should also tell you that human beings are simply not hard-wired for long-term stress.

What’s more, as in the military community but with more destructive consequences, there is the culture of “How dare you tell me I’m wrong, I will never apologize, I’m above the law so I can do what I want because I will never be held accountable” and “You are not allowed to question or challenge me.” This goes for the CIA officers as well as their families. Routinely, when CIA wives try to divorce they are screwed over by the CIA as they will not verify income and so the wife and children get nothing unless the husband is willing to do right by them. That’s just one little peek into the world of living with these abusive people.

Image by Esther_G via Flickr

When CIA officers beat their kids or their wives, again, there is nowhere to go for help. The law is useless and - unless you have built up your own personal network among unrelated groups of people in case of an emergency - you are basically toast out in the field with your parents. What is not discussed or released to the news media is who and how many wives and children of CIA officers are killed in foreign countries while the husband is on assignment there. What they also don’t tell you is how foreign powers as well as American Presidents - to a man they are always Republican - use the families of CIA officers as pawns and cannon fodder in their creepy power games. One side kills the families to provoke the other side and the innocents never see it coming. So much for believing they are patriots. Patriots don’t kill the innocent and their young.

So, with this small amount of back story in mind you will better understand the following short essay written for an online writing group when they started a thread asking other writers what motivates them to write. When I saw that thread the immediate thought that went through my head was, “Are you kidding?!”

Image by © dabawenya © (flickr world, i'm back!.... hopef via Flickr

Why I Write

It's like breathing - because you can. Of course, it helps the breathing when someone you never met suddenly pops up in your little corner of the world and tells you something you wrote meant a lot to them. Then you're left wondering as to how you managed to be a catalyst for someone to gain a new awareness or just plain feel better about themselves. That's when it crosses over from the internal dialogue, jumping over the imaginary boundaries so many people erect for self-protection and into the world of others with similar internal dialogues humming in mass cacophony.

Sure, like others here, there were those teenage years. I grew up in the intelligence community where meanness, abuse and lying became their indelible trademark and I challenged them on it continually at great personal risk. Well, I'm still here.

Their life philosophy was diametrically opposed to mine. They believed the sword was mightier than the pen; I declared the pen was mightier than the sword. I drove them crazy, as relentless as they were to break my spirit I just pushed back harder to wear them down. I always figured the honorable are obligated to stand against the dishonorable; it's a gatekeeper mentality. Why allow truth to become a casualty in this world? Not while I still breathe. Besides, it's the artists and writers who sculpt the world into meaningfulness for the greatest power is in transforming mindsets.

My father stole and then burned my teenage writings, especially the ones written at age eleven when my mother died. The writing convicted him of his heavy guilt, as he was guilty of much, both what he did for a living, my mother's untimely death by his hand and his choice to throw away everything about good character his parents had taught him in exchange for a world of illusion that only brought pain to others. Those writings weren't written to him or about him. Just goes to prove the point: The pen really is mightier than the sword.

I keep breathing - because I can.

Denny Lyon
Copyright 12 June 2008
All Rights Reserved

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