Merwin Dam on Lewis River North Fork

I put in so much work GETTING TO this place that I had to go ahead and post process it and post it....The vines with stickers on them were horrendous...it was like cutting through a sticker vine jungle in the dark!! .....plus...if they open the dam...one could be "up the creek" so to speak...slippery dang rocks too from the stream bed....all and all..a wonderful little hike...and back up a mountain....BUT a nice quiet day....this is about 10 miles up the Lewis River from the expressway...I was in a commercial vehicle and the roads were starting to get interesting, so I stopped here..there are some very nice waterfalls on up the river....just couldn't make them today...but...I shall return!!

 

A Generation on Eve of Election

(A Loving Ode to Politics) (James Watkins)

 

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 into parlors with pigs of persuasion,

Multiplied monsters fixed to the floor-

Passed 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