Evening Lights and Snow Tracks

not hdr-I took this picture of a red-backed Midwestern land penguin as he was crawling back up the hill-they have large feet that can be indistinguishable from a man's foot..that is why they are so hard to track, and thus live a very protected life in the wild...the males have larger feet than the females..that is how they are chosen for mating. If left to mate on their own eventually it will just be two huge feet with little small brains running around in the wild...the wings just shrivel up (as they are not used much--..and eventually the birds just walk themselves to death with their over sized feet in the winter twilight. ;)

 

A Generation on Eve of Election (JHWatkins)

 

This generation is stuck on the bulwark,

Frozen in headlights gathering stones-

Indiscriminate sons of the morning,

Atrophied assets with merits unknown.

 

Set in the light of internal combustion,

Self deprivation, contiguous bones-

Crushed in the conflict

Of rising occasion,

Lost in the moment

The monument grows.

 

Dancing with moonlight,

Moonbeams in starlight,

Ridiculed remnants that rattle and roll-

Quixotically quoted in

Careless convention,

National parlance

Of future payrolls.

 

Pay for the privilege,

Pose for the prattle,

Pause for refreshment,

That causes the cure.

Simple deliverance in

Smokescreen obedience,

Rationale railways

That run on the ruins.

 

Come to the purpose in patriot persuasion,

Stand in the gap with righteous reward,

Fly in the face of cupcake convention,

Pulses of power that pull

At the thorns.

 

Hold fast in fear; don’t fall at the junction,

Waste away weather maps

Conjugal forms-

Failing at formats with frogs in the foyer,

Padded with passive, political porn.

 

Packed in the parlor with pigs of persuasion,

Multiplied monsters still fixed to the floor-

Pass on to poundings of crux congregations,

Critical mass for the petrified poor.

 

Crept in concealment configured in catacombs,

Built on the fragments of families forlorn-

Terrified teamsters with tales of their talisman,

Tickled and tortured, then swamped by the storm.

 

Fancy faced forecasts with fabricate filters,

Lies at the bottom where captives are shorn-

Files of the caveat castaway cheviots,

Horns of the altar now cut to the stone.

 

Sanctified delegates step to floor-

Out on the borders, go right for the snore.

Sniping at mystical magical merchandise,

Mopping up munchkins with heroes galore.

 

Gift of gab purposeful prophets in paradise,

Parabolic poetry prose-

Deft and defiant in damaged delusion,

Filled up with ideas but stuck in the door.

 

Pamplified pollsters perched on the pedestal,

Pale prognosticates barren and bored-

Doubters and doers and leaders and lovers,

Catch me the top of the hour has flown.

 

Dudley dead do-rights don’t come down a crashin’

Cackling crackers conducive to scorn,

Capped out and crapped out

In Wall Street enduros,

Boiled down to futures and factual whores.

 

Just enough knowledge to keep them from happiness,

Just enough money to keep them enthroned,

Just enough polish to keep each one sparkling,

Just enough selfishness keeps them alone.

 

 

James Watkins 09-02-08

Done