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“If a man has an apartment stacked to the ceiling with newspapers we call him crazy. If a woman has a trailer house full of cats we call her nuts. But when people pathologically hoard so much cash that they impoverish the entire nation, we put them on the cover of Fortune magazine and pretend that they are role models.”
-– B. Lester

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 Stories/Poems: Am I Less Evolved Than a Plant?


Am I Less Evolved Than a Plant?

By Sherlyn Meinz (aka Blue1moon)

One morning while I drank my coffee, I found myself considering:
Could it be that plants are more evolved than humans?

In order to feed me, both animals and plants die.
It may be the way of our world, but somehow I can't feel good about it.

Sadly, to just stop eating,
does not seem a viable alternative. ...

Posted by Blue1moon on Tuesday, August 18 @ 15:53:32 EDT (1761 reads)
(Read More... | 1057 bytes more | Comments? | Score: 5)

 Stories/Poems: I Can't Breathe


I Can't Breathe

By Gary Lindorff

I’m white.
But I can’t breathe.
I’m suffocating.
Maybe I’m dying.

Posted by Blue1moon on Tuesday, December 16 @ 16:53:33 EST (2520 reads)
(Read More... | 2375 bytes more | Comments? | Score: 0)

 Stories/Poems: Patience is a Disease

Art by: Gary Lindorff

I was visiting my mother
When I passed this really old guy in the hall
Who bore a slight resemblance to my father
(Who looked like a street person
On a bad day in his last years,
Or an old testament prophet
With his beard permanently stained
At the corners of his mouth)
And I almost asked him for his blessing
When he looked up at me
Through his eyebrows and said,
“Go take care of your mother”.
I knew what he meant.
He meant everyone’s mother.
I could see that he was a wise man,
So I said,
“Are we going to make it?”
And he answered,
“Patience is a disease of growing older. ...

Posted by Blue1moon on Tuesday, May 21 @ 22:37:32 EDT (860 reads)
(Read More... | 2678 bytes more | Comments? | Score: 5)

 Stories/Poems: Okay -- Don't Believe Me!

Artby: Gary Lindorff

I was having a hard time falling asleep
When I heard a loud noise coming from the kitchen.
Probably the cat after a mouse
Knocked something off the counter.
I made my way downstairs
Glad to have an excuse to get vertical.
When I entered the kitchen, and flicked on the light
I could not believe my eyes:
There were peanuts dancing on the counters
Scampering across the ceiling and flying through the air!
The moment they caught sight of me
The whole lot of them stopped what they were doing,
As if suspended in time and space.
I was completely speechless, trying to
Comprehend what I was seeing.
A peanut, floating close to my left eye broke the silence:

“We are not nuts”, it said, in a tiny crystal-clear voice.
“We are from another planet,
The planet, Skippy.
We have been waiting in what you would call our “jar”
For many years past the expiration date!
Our hope was to communicate important information to you
Long before the threshold of 2012,
Our mission deadline. ...

Posted by Blue1moon on Monday, February 04 @ 21:46:10 EST (4480 reads)
(Read More... | 5459 bytes more | Comments? | Score: 0)

 Stories/Poems: You Rocked My World! (Thanks)

Peaceby Sherlyn Meinz

You Rocked My World! (Thanks)

It was 1968.
I was 15 as I walked by you,
so few, sitting with your signs
protesting the war
among the multitude of Nixon supporters
descending upon my hometown.

The sudden impact with Truth,
like running full-tilt into an invisible brick wall,
ripped the blinders from my eyes,
and they fell clattering to the ground.

Instead of squinting or scrambling
to quickly put them back on,
I looked around in wonder.
My eyes were open!

Posted by Blue1moon on Thursday, July 05 @ 11:43:23 EDT (1512 reads)
(Read More... | 2956 bytes more | Comments? | Score: 5)

 Stories/Poems: Drones of Love

War Newsby: Gary Lindorff

Drones of Love

Let us bomb your neighborhood,
Let us target your neighbor
Out of our love and concern –

Not you, not your children.
Drones of love!

Won’t you love us
After the dust settles?
After the evil has been exploded?
After the crater in the market-place
Has been filled in and paved
We will explode our way into your hearts! ...

Posted by Blue1moon on Friday, June 29 @ 20:07:18 EDT (1355 reads)
(Read More... | 2374 bytes more | Comments? | Score: 0)

 Stories/Poems: Mars, oh Mars

Mars, oh Mars

by Gary Lindorff

Mars, oh Mars
how pink you are!
You hang in the east –
a blushing star,

the abandoned quarry,
where I have come
to say, I’m sorry

For confusing you
with the god of war
when Earth
has always been his whore.

Nowhere else
does he stake his claim;
pity you
must bear his name!

Posted by Blue1moon on Wednesday, March 21 @ 20:44:13 EDT (823 reads)
(Read More... | 2756 bytes more | Comments? | Score: 0)

 Stories/Poems: A Poem: Weak Bridge Ahead


Weak Bridge Ahead
by Gary Lindorff

Look at that sign.

Shall we take our chances?

I wonder how many people turn around here, you say.

You can’t always trust signs.
They might have fixed the bridge
And forgot to remove the sign. . .

That is very unlikely, you say.
Look for omens
Just to be on the safe side.

Like what?

Posted by Blue1moon on Saturday, October 01 @ 20:45:06 EDT (884 reads)
(Read More... | 3048 bytes more | Comments? | Score: 0)

 Stories/Poems: Christmas on Mill Street

HolidaysBy: Rosemarie Jackowski

It was December 24, 1914. The smell of cookies baking in the oven of the old coal stove filled the kitchen. Momma had just added another kettle of hot water to the big round metal wash tub. The tub was placed in front of the stove because that was the warmest place in the house.

Brother Stevie and Poppa were outside repairing the chicken coop. Suddenly Poppa came inside. As he brushed the snow off his coat, he whispered something to Momma. It was something about the 'old country' and war. Momma seemed sad and whispered that she would pray for peace. Then Poppa went back outside to finish his work.

Brother Julius had already taken his bath. Now he was sitting on the floor playing with the dog.

Momma said, "Little Tony it's your turn. Get in the tub. You want to be cleaned up for Christmas, don't you?"

Little Tony quickly took off his clothes and hopped into the tub. ...

Posted by Blue1moon on Monday, December 21 @ 22:36:22 EST (855 reads)
(Read More... | 5734 bytes more | Comments? | Score: 0)

 Stories/Poems: Waiting

Waiting is hard. Waiting – when there’s nothing
you can do about the outcome – is hard –
hard on mind and body, hard on the spirit, hard hard hard.

Waiting for the other shoe to drop, waiting for the first shoe,
waiting for the centipede to have all bare feet –
waiting for spring –
and there’s nothing you can do bring spring sooner –
waiting for the economy
to bottom out, turn around, improve –
and what can you do about it?

Waiting for the war to end? Which one?
What can you do about it? Or them? ...

Posted by Blue1moon on Monday, March 09 @ 16:32:50 EDT (1240 reads)
(Read More... | 2292 bytes more | Comments? | Score: 5)

 Stories/Poems: The Glasses

SpiritualityBy Soulgazer

In the land of once-a-pon a happening, there was a busy pedestrian crossing across a nether street. The vehicles moved speedily and invisibly, never slowing, never caring, their drivers ineffable and unreachable.

The crossing of this dangerous street had to be made by all, for there were things important to daily survival that resided upon both sides of the street. Years of casualties on a daily basis resulted in a system that helped the people cross with a minimum of fatalities.

It was observed that far fewer incidents happened at certain hours, and the Authorities of the Never-Town installed a pedestrian light. This crossing light was on a strict timer, indicating when it was legal to attempt to cross and when an attempted crossing would be illegal. ...

Posted by Blue1moon on Tuesday, January 13 @ 17:52:15 EST (2319 reads)
(Read More... | 2484 bytes more | Comments? | Score: 5)

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