Magazine Posts

Of all the World
there is to see.
Why oh why
couldn't it be,
a place of
great infamy?
Why must you,
always say,
change is just
a step away?
Enjoy your life,
come what may.
Become the person,
you want to be.
Do it unmercifully.
Then you will see,
how small the World,
can really be.
where everything
is not a conspiracy.

It was a fitting response,
to watch candlelight glints,
in your beautiful eyes
of brown-golden tints.

I hate this life
and what has happened to she.
Don't tell me to have faith,
for I have none for thee.

Call me embittered,
it's what I am,
an angry embittered,
very old man.

I sit on the chair,
my head hanging down,
for my time here,
is beginning to slow,
down to a crawl,
then I will know,
my life will be over.
It's now time to go.

NASA Astronomy Picture of the Day:

What's happened to the Sun? Sometimes it looks like the Sun is being viewed through a giant lens. In the featured video, however, there are actually millions of tiny lenses: ice crystals. Water may freeze in the atmosphere into small, flat, six-sided, ice crystals. As these crystals flutter to the ground, much time is spent with their faces flat and parallel to the ground. An observer may find themselves in the same plane as many of the falling ice crystals near sunrise or sunset. During this alignment, each crystal can act like a miniature lens, refracting sunlight into our view and creating phenomena like parhelia, the technical term for sundogs. The featured video was taken in late 2017 on the side of a ski hill at the Vemdalen Ski Resort in central Sweden. Visible in the center is the most direct image of the Sun, while two bright sundogs glow prominently from both the left and the right. Also visible is the bright 22 degree halo -- as well as the rarer and much fainter 46 degree halo -- also created by sunlight refracting through atmospheric ice crystals.

Video by Håkan Hammar Vemdalen Ski ResortSkiStar

Deep within
this mind,
memories lay,
in piles
of rubbled
filled dismay.
A mixture
of new
and older
thoughts exist,
in transition,
to permanent
thinking of
the experience
of love
lost within.
The memories
call again,
capture them,
you can.
Restoring all
you forgot
or ideas
you once
held dear,
are gone
and disappeared.

From the ashes and dust
of an inactive mind,
collecting dust, old thoughts,
which may be just fine.,
unless they have warped.
Morphing into a different view,
no longer a memory,
is viewed by our society.
What is this you say,
my thoughts, once sound,
have left me alone,
below the deep ground.

When the last breath of reason
has left your mouth,
you will find there is
no argument or discussion,
which can be made,
to those unwilling to
see the evil in this hypocrisy.

The dust spills
from your mouth,
once more.
Dried up thoughts,
to tissue dull.
Words, once crisp,
are unfirm now,
too soft for
what I write.

Come to me,
my table is bare.
I need you now.
Weren't you aware?

Shut the door,
turn out the light,
my power usage
is now out of sight.

To heat the air,
from outside to in,
makes little sense,
so let us begin.

Turn off the lights,
when you exit a room.
Close the door,
avoiding the air leak
and of energy costs,
of which we speak.

Should I write?
Should I bring,
the many words,
we may sing?

Breaking loose from restraints,
in an attempt to find space,
to create a subject line,
for writing, paint and erase.

Why am I burdened so,
when my life's gone astray?
Different worries, come to me.
Is writing work or is it play?