Coffee #28: July 4th

“July 4 is the 185th day of the year (186th in leap years) in the Gregorian calendar. There are 180 days remaining until the end of the year. This date is slightly more likely to fall on a Monday, Wednesday or Saturday (58 in 400 years each) than on Thursday or Friday (57), and slightly less likely to occur on a Tuesday or Sunday (56). The Aphelion, the point in the year when the Earth is farthest from the Sun, occurs around this date.”

~https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/July_4

The most popular rendition of July 4th is the American celebrations that have taken place since their Independence from Britain during the 1776 end of the Revolutionary War. Nowadays, if you travel around the world, many of USA’s allies also engage in similar festivities and celebrations from China to Europe.

Google will delight in reminding you of the three USA presidents who died on July 4th: Thomas Jefferson (July 4, 1826), John Adams (July 4, 1826), and James Monroe (1831). And don’t forget the president born on July 4th, 1872 – Calvin Coolidge.

On July 4th, the Philippines also celebrate their own unique independence from the USA during their Republic Day. Fun fact: the USA owned the islands -after Spain sold the islands in 1898- till 1946. This celebration date was later changed to July 12th to reflect an earlier declaration of independence of the Philippines while under the rule of Spain.

Rwanda also celebrates Liberation Day which commemorates the end of the Rwandan genocide on July 4, 1994, thanks to the USA’s support and aid.

If all the countries of the world could view the USA during the celebration, I wonder what they would make of the inordinate food consumption, merrymaking, and strange customs.

There are 180 days left in the year

That’s all I’m thinking about.

So much to do, so little time. Is there enough to make a difference? How much will you achieve in 180 days?

Is it enough time to start afresh and make changes to the benefit of yourself and others?

Governments would argue that it’s possible. A little less than 6 months can easily roll back legislations, pass laws, enact policies, and erect statutes.

Armies would argue that it’s possible. Countries can be invaded in less time, wars have been won within months.

Science can make large strides by that time. A cumulation of life knowledge moved forward on the shoulders of generations of information gathered throughout the years.

Ocean levels can rise in less time, tens of hurricanes will whip by, weather patterns can lay waste to the world within days. Natural disasters can occur within seconds. Seconds.

Migrations take only days to complete, dependent on numbers and distance. Thousands on the planet will die and thousands more will be born. New diseases and old diseases will have their time on the stage of life.

New movies, new shows, new media and more art and marketing will fill the world and flood the senses.

More endangered animals will die. More will become extinct.

Sadly, hardly any of this will be acknowledged. Social media will drag us back into the embedded sensationalism and rhetoric that we’ve engaged in since… forever.

Will that change? Maybe.

Will that change in 180 days? I doubt it.

Can people change in 180 days? It’s possible but unlikely.

Can we make this world a better place in 180 days?

I don’t know. Does anyone even care?

The minority. No.

How do you know?

Review the 186 days that have come before.

But the world isn’t just defined by the circumference of the earth. The world is defined by what happens in your corner of life, your sliver of the community every day.

Make something good within the next 180, huh?

Maybe it will ripple out and add some drops of positivity to the planet.

Don’t Say A Word

The water rises, the levees go down
Houses disappear without a sound
A waving hand sinks beneath the waves–
Shhh… don’t say anything.

A bullied child runs home in tears
To a home where none will hear his fears
The rope swings in the rafters–
Shhh… don’t say anything.

An angry mob screams retribution and hate
Destroying another innocent’s fate
Blood stains the dusty streets–
Shhh… don’t say anything.

Vitriol and fury runs down the page
Fuck you!!! cries the internet sage
A nation drowns beneath the weight–
Shhh… don’t say anything.

A church shout their hallelujahs
A congregation filled with barracudas
Hypocrisy vibrant on every face–
Shh… don’t say anything.

A holy man steals a precious soul
A priest shatters what should be whole
Lust, greed, and envy run amuck–
Shh… don’t say anything.

Whip the populous into a froth
Direct the orchestra as the conductor taught
Distract perspective and reality–
Shh… don’t say anything.

Another bullet loads into a gun
Another world comes undone
A deluded last stand–
Shh… don’t tell anyone.

Easily amused, so easily confused
Dance along to this terrible ruse
As another thousand succumb to the sword–
Shh… don’t tell anyone.

And while most still cling to thoughts of a messiah
Still more seize justification for warfare and pariah
Another fool succumbs to manipulation–
Shh… don’t tell anyone.

Even children are polluted
Their innocence convoluted
Worse still, in wars they are recruited–
Shh… don’t tell anyone.

If a tree falls, no one will here it
Not unless it cuts out the Ethernet
Let’s get real, nobody cares–
Shh… don’t say anything.

Nothing more than eminent destruction
Apocalypse remains the final construction
Last one standing gains all the wealth–
Shh… don’t tell anyone.

Tick tock, time to expire
Just wait until it all catches fire
By the way, the earth was never not burning–
Shh… your words don’t mean a thing.
So don’t tell anyone.

(Father)

I could never escape the shadow of my father.

The Greatest. The Best.

How would I measure up? How could I measure up to the perfection of a legend?

I deserted the haven of my father to strike out on my into the world. The illusion was broken. I couldn’t live under his flawed dominion any longer.

So I left. But I could never escape.

He lived in every shadow, watched from every pinnacle, hovered over my soul with the kind of incidental and abstract care of duty.

Far away was never far enough.

I kept to my own corner, stayed in my world and made this space my home. And yet, they couldn’t see me. They only saw him.

Son of my father. They could never see beyond his mask and cowl imprinted in my features.

The greatest. The best…

My phone rang, shrill, in the night. I crouched on my perch and gaze at the city. Not my city, no, none of it would ever be mine.

I accepted the call. Bluetooth picked up the familiar rasp and echo of the distant streets, the creak of gloves, and the flap of cloth in the wind. A gruff,voice speaks.

“Nightwing, come in!”

 

 

Postword: A fun article I found while hunting for pics-http://www.fortressofsolitude.co.za/2016/06/batman-as-a-father/

Got issues? Don’t we all…

Criticism doesn’t do anything but breed resentment and demoralization. Rather than criticize, consider the power of gentle reminders and recognition of the good actions taken. The right decisions made and executed.

Continue reading Got issues? Don’t we all…

Oblivion… Is there?

Many weeks ago:

“Oh my gosh! Did you hear about Orlando?” my friend asked as I slurped my vanilla-bean frappaccino.

“What, the weather? Yeah, the hurricanes are bad in FL right now…”

“No, the shooting! The one at the nightclub.”She shook her phone at my puzzled expression.

“What?! What shooting?”

“Yeah, there are 50 dead and 53 wounded! Some Muslim guy walked in and shot a bunch of people in a gay nightclub. They’re calling it the worst shooting session to date.”

I blinked. “What?!!”

How did I not know?

Continue reading Oblivion… Is there?

Coffee #12: This is why we write sh*t down

meteorite-1060886_640
“This.  World is on FI-YA”

If we were drinking coffee together…

I’d probably be ranting and raving about the state of life. You might roll your eyes as I vent about the strange and terrible world we live in, that death is widespread and refugees have no refugee. That ISIS isn’t just a fun name from Archer (which they did change, fyi) or from Egyptian mythology. That bombs are still strapped to children, that war is fought against concepts and fear -intangible threats we neither see nor can seize, so how then can we claim victory? You may stop pretending that you aren’t staring at your watch as I gripe over the fact that the world doesn’t care -that we’d rather kill, destroy, extinct, decimate, and burn it all down around us because… it doesn’t matter, there’s another planet just like Earth that we can fuck up after this!

Continue reading Coffee #12: This is why we write sh*t down

the Galaxy can contain us, but I can’t contain you.

The reason why we don’t connect, is because I don’t live in your world. I don’t like your world, and I refuse to let you drag me into your reality.

My reality is carefully structured, and designed for maximum efficiency and optimal enjoyment of my life. The foundation was laid over many years and is still in the process of creation. And I like my universe, just the way it is. If I don’t, I adjust it, tweak the settings, increase some levels and reduce others.

I like some of the realities from movies and tv shows. The good ones are constructed with care, the writer pens the words and the directors paint the scene. The actors assume the identities and the soundtrack immerses the second and third senses. Suspension of belief convinces the remaining senses, and the world pulls me into the most crazy puzzles of human motivation and expectations.

If realities were cardboard boxes containing projectors, biographies are the equivalent of someone inviting me into their cardboard box, and connecting to mine. We all own boxes that we carry and share, in overlapping spheres of realities.

Your box is full of pain and loss, of conspiracy and emotion. Your projector replays the moments lost, caresses and symbols of meaning and portent. The lens always stares into yesterday and what could have been, of flowers and sunshine, of thunder and rage. Cardboard soaked in sweat and fog from a thousand mutterings and sighs, condensation dripping down the walls in moist claustrophobia. The expansion and compression like a womb at birth, in time with your breath, creates a toxic pressure and constrictive environment.

Your box, flipped upside down, catches acid rain. Filter the acid from the rain and you have one part good and one part bad. But you, you embrace the entire, unfiltered batch that stains your eyes and corrupts your projection film.

The reason why we don’t connect, is because I don’t live in your cardboard box. I don’t like your reality, and I refuse to let you drag me into your caustic world.