Squeak


The small sounds, the soft sounds,
You speak them to no reply.
You cannot be heard. Where are you bound?
To you, they say, nice try.
You say there is power in repetition,
So perhaps, but ears ignore,
They wish you speak no more.
There is no thunder under your door.
They do not know the explosion therein,
Try once more.
You can win.
Ignoring, soft sounds brings downfall,
You must find a way, to strengthen the weak,
Before the silencing of all.
You were heard, but heed not taken,
Your efforts were forsaken.
Arise at last.
Show what happens when,
Together voices blast,
From a squeak once shunned,
The power in the sound,
While once soft not heeded, united,
Becomes abused power undone.
Squeak no more,
Those who now roar.

Roger Bodo © 1/2017

Unhinged

Here I sit watching the world becoming unhinged,
The glue of cooperation, in disintegration,
Oozes and slips away as a sly dog slinks,
And a world, once somewhat together, shrinks.
The pieces become more diverse,
With smaller parts and rigid stance,
Claiming their place in a universe,
Where there is no dominance,
Only difference.

© Roger Bodo-2016

Dear America

Dear America.

Having grown up in the days when air raid drills had us crawl under school desks, having witnessed missiles in Cuba, having watched the terrible Vietnam War and its long-lasting life-damaging legacy, and seeing the blunders in Iraq and Afghanistan, I have never been as fearful for our future as I am now. It is not whether many lean left or right; it is how many of us are leaning wrong. Hateful speech, hateful actions,anti-everything is tearing us apart. How can one look to a better future when we tear down past and present people, our past glories, our brand as a caring and accepting people offering opportunity for all who make the effort to achieve and to pursue happiness and peace, not just for ourselves, but for all.

There is a term in computereze that is used to explain why a computer program (APP) goes bad: GIGO. It means Garbage in-Garbage out. If you write bad code you get bad results. With what is being written and broadcast these days, with what we are taking in, how can we hope to be empowering, positive and productive people?

Dear media and public figures: Write us some good code. Please?

Counter Purposes

The question perhaps is not one of “are corporations people?”, but. “Is what a corporation does in line with the majority of the people who own shares in it?” A corporation is an entity empowered to do business for or not for profit and owned by one or more people. Many of the significant corporations in the world today are owned by thousands, if not millions of people. However, only the management of the corporation, those running the business, make decisions regarding income and expenditures. Often times what a corporation donates money to could easily be at counter purposes to the desires, beliefs and best interests of those who own shares. Thus, a corporation may be people, but just as in so many of the world’s institutions these days, it does not necessarily represent the will or best interests of the people who have invested in it personally or monetarily.

How Old Was I?

How old was I,
when the steam engine ceased to be a steam engine?
When did the valves and rods and hissing
give way to engines with something missing?
No riveted tank, no clanging bell,
the sound of steam I knew so well,
pressing the track in deliberate churning,
massive cast iron wheels turning,
What night was it that I awoke to a droning roar,
of aircraft plunging from the sky toward my door?
I feared, running out and looking up, sure to see
a ball of flame dropping down upon me.
No, this roar was a land based sounder,
not up there, but over yonder,
toward the tracks I explored by day,
for adventures that lie along the way.
But where was the shrill warning cry
of a steam whistle tugged by engineer?
No valves expiring hot breath to ply,
the wheels to the dark ribbon adhere.
Now I see the sloping cycloptic face
beaming toward the turn,
no smoke stack belching, no coal to burn.
Just small unseemly wheels, gentle on the track,
humming motor without squeals
diminished by the click and clack.
This single eye staring down on me,
was a new creature breaking through,
my vanishing childhood taking flee,
a security blanket steadfast and true,
fixed in my heart, my friendly local choo-choo.
Was I eight or ten?  Perhaps earlier, then?
No matter. Steam will not this way come again.
© 2010 Roger w. Bodo

How Much Gold in Fort Knox?

While no one will officially confirm the #s, supposedly there is as follows:  …. the gold there (at Fort Knox) and at U.S. Mint facilities adds up to one of the world’s largest bullion holdings. Still, it’s a tiny part of the nation’s total assets. In a $13.8 trillion GDP economy, 147.3 million troy ounces of gold barely registers.

I multiplied that by the current $1,600 an ounce and it comes to $229 Billion. I think the government just blew that in its FAA faux pas.

Read more: http://moneywatch.bnet.com/economic-news/article/is-there-gold-in-fort-knox/385523/#ixzz1UCI7KoLO

The Days of Lonesome Bear

The Days of Lonesome Bear

The wind blew true then,
As sure as north was from south,
Rivers flowed endless, gaping bend to bend,
Sweetness from end to mouth.

Snow hares and bobcats conniving,
Scouts and furs exchanged,
One the other as barges arriving,
Left provisions for those estranged.

Dark nights descending,
Fed starry mantles of care,
As Lonesome bear sat mending,
Gear and cloth worn threadbare.

Bear’s gaze held all it scanned.
The loving heart had no bound.
The spirit lived within the land,
And all that lived was what was found.

The days of Lonesome Bear,
Were filled with all he sought.
But, that was then and that was there,
Before all was sold and all was bought.

The sun has set, the stars have dimmed,
The path is rent and waters spent,
And nothing that was is yet there,
Not earth, not sky, nor Lonesome Bear.

© 2010 all rights reserved – Roger W. Bodo

The Age of Unenlightenment

The dark ages are not a time in past history, but cycles of history – times when reason loses ground to superstition and radical beliefs that displace reason and logic.  If the ages of Aristotle and Seneca can give way to Attila and Genghis Khan then the writings of Jefferson, Franklin, Payne and Lincoln can give way to extremists and irrationalists.  Appealing to the uninformed and ignorant, to those who need a savior and who grasp at simulated straws, the dark shadows or real motives win over the thoughts of those who know that all people are linked in history no matter their social and financial standing. In it all, it becomes too late to realize that the price paid for superiority and domination destroys not only people but a nation.

Turn Around

Turn around and look.
Look upon the source,
Of your wealth.
It is you, of course.
Given each person, truly,
Is the ability to succeed,
If one but tames the unruly,
And strives to serve a need.
Focused on another for a solution,
This is not your call.
Ignorance is no absolution.
Dependence builds a wall.
Keeping what you earn,
Is good to a measure,
But what you must learn,
It’s not for your pleasure.
What can you give?
How can you serve?
Your purpose to live,
Is to share and conserve.
Look no further than home ground.
Expect not satisfaction.
A life turned around,
Starts with your first and every action.
(C) 2011 R.W. Bodo All Rights Reserved