Fibbing Friday

Art by AI

For this week’s Fibbing Friday, the subjects we are forced to lie about are:

1. Who has a licence to kill?  It’s written in the word…LlCEnce!
2. Who had a perfect ’10’.  Farrah Fawcett’s hubby, Lee Majors.
3.  Who said ‘I’ll be back?’ Trump, and unfortunately he was.
4.  Who wanted to be a ‘real boy’? Not Michael Jackson.
5.. Who had breakfast at Tiffanys? The mouse patrol cat who lived there.
6.  What happened in Wall Street? It got held up.
7.  Where would you find the Green Mile? Elon Musk’s bank vault.
8.  Who was The Iron Lady? The lady who pressed clothes at our local laundry.
9.  What is Watership Down? Seagull feathers stuck to an oceangoing vessel.
10. Who walked the Line? The drunk pulled over by the patrolman.

“I Have Memorized this Ceiling” for dVerse Poets

I Have Memorized This Ceiling

I know these walls and ceiling well.
They have so many tales to tell.
When reality is not sufficient,
four walls can become omniscient—
opening to all the world,
as a thousand stories come unfurled.

Each timber’s knot and each plank’s burl,
each water stain—each mark and whirl
has an adventure kept inside.
It is a fast horse that I ride
speeding my self, so tightly curled,
out of this prison, into the world.
A woman’s silhouette—so grand
has been sketched out by water’s hand.

Wood its canvas, it paints her free,
her story known by none but me.
The little dog—her friend and guide
when planks were cut, was found inside
that living tree, first cut, then milled
that my mind’s meanderings have filled
with all the stories that would be mine,
born in another place and time.

Those held prisoner by caste
or by our sex, held sure and fast—
imprisoned by life’s machinations,
escape in our imaginations.
Thus it is that fantasy
is the thing that sets us free.
The lock that holds us, rope that binds
cannot corral our restless minds.

I’ve memorized these walls, this ceiling,
imbued them with all of the feeling
lacking elsewhere in my life.
They are my husband. I am their wife.
Those water stains are flowers placed
to relieve sorrows I have faced.
Those hollow eyes stretched wide in terror,
the tree cannot have grown in error.

They are messages to me
that somewhere, something watches me.
They record and comfort one
who, worn out when her day is done,
spreads out her body on her cape
and looks up for her day’s escape.
A private world for my invention,
far from my life’s cruel convention.

I’d tell the whole world if I could,
these stories nature has etched in wood.
Instead, my stories I remand
to whatever high command
guides whatever reprimands
these unfair acts of human hands
bring to themselves. We cannot know
the greater plan from here below.

For 14 years, I lived in a high-ceilinged all redwood house. The wood ceiling and walls were what I viewed every morning and evening as I woke up or lay trying to sleep. I used that imagery as though being observed by another woman, somewhere in the world, imprisoned due to caste, sex, or other conditions of her life.

For dVerse Poets Open Link #410

Richest Man on Earth Dismantles Global Food Aid for Starving Children

So What???

  • Around 45% of deaths among children under 5 years of age are linked to undernutrition.
  • Approximately 45 million young children across the globe suffer from severe malnutrition each year – that’s nearly one out of every three children under 5 years of age.
  • Approximately 9 million people die from hunger and malnutrition-related causes globally every year, with roughly 25,000 individuals losing their lives to starvation daily.
  • Nearly 10% of the world’s population is affected by hunger.
  • More than 60% of the world’s hungry population are women and girls.

The richest person on earth is Elon Musk, with an estimated net worth frequently exceeding $1 trillion. He and the Trump administration oversaw the large-scale reduction and dismantling of the U.S. Agency for International Development (USAID), the U.S. federal agency responsible for distributing global humanitarian and food aid.

Reblog: “Entrapment” Poem from 2017 and New Podcast Commentary

DSC00500

Entrapment

The city lights are tempting–each theater and store,
but when my outer life is rich, my inner life’s a bore.
Do I want to create my life or should it create me?
And which is which?  I do not know. Which helps me most to be?
I guess I need a balance, but each choice is a trap.
While I think it over, perhaps I’ll have a nap.
Sometimes the truth is found in dreams. Perhaps that will work now.
But once the “what” occurs to me, I’ll have to dream the “how.”
I dream empty buildings and abandoned avenues,
stores filled with pretty dresses, refrigerators, shoes.
Wind through broken windows and grass through broken walks.
All those empty radios where no one ever talks.
While somewhere in the country, away from smog and fumes
those busy cities of the past are sealed away in rooms
writing morning pages and playing with their dogs,
recording things they used to do in their daily blogs.
If I don’t join the city, if I choose to be free,
perhaps the busy city will choose to come join me!

IMG_0745

I don’t recall who sent me this podcast, or how. Could it be AI? If you’d like you can listen to it here:

(Please let me know if this podcast link doesn’t work. I’ve been wrestling with it for hours now!)

I Used to Eat Red, for dVerse Poets “Color” Challenge

                                                                  I Used to Eat Red

daily life color108 (1)My sister Patti and I, posed by my older sister Betty.  Those are “the” cherry trees behind us. The fact that we were wearing dresses suggests we were just home from Sunday school and church, our souls bleached as white as our shoes and socks!

                                                   I Used to Eat Red

 I used to eat red
from backyard cherry trees,
weave yellow dandelions
into cowgirl ropes
to lariat my Cheyenne uncle.

I once watched dull writhing gold
snatched from a haystack by its tail,
held by a work boot
and stilled by the pitchfork of my dad
who cut me rattles while I didn’t watch.

I felt white muslin bleached into my soul
on Sunday mornings in a hard rear pew,
God in my pinafore pocket
with a picture of Jesus
won from memorizing psalms.

But it was black I heard at midnight from my upstairs window––
the low of cattle from the stock pens

on the other side of town––
the long and lonely whine of diesels on the road
to the furthest countries of my mind.

Where I would walk
burnt sienna pathways
to hear green birds sing a jungle song,
gray gulls call an ocean song,
peacocks cry the moon

until I woke to shade-sliced yellow,
mourning doves still crooning midnight songs of Persia
as I heard morning
whistled from a meadowlark
half a block away.

And then,
my white soul in my shorts pocket,
plunging down the stairs to my backyard,
I used to eat red,
pick dandelions yellow.

 This is a reworking of a poem from my book Prairie Moths  for dVerse Poets

Is AI Taking Over the World?

Above is a Screenshot of my Facebook page and what is happening re/ Meta AI. When I tried to post photos replying to a “Green” prompt, this is what appeared instead.

Help!!!! MetaAI has taken over my Facebook page. It is refusing to post any of my blogs which I usually post there, is erasing all my old blog posts and just replacing them with a string of inane questions from Meta AI. This is crazy. Has AI taken over the world? Is this happening to anyone else? Check out my Facebook Page and see if you can see this happening.  Surreal.

“Green, Green” for CFFC

Click on photos to enlarge.

 

For CFFC Green Challenge
The Sunday Stills Challenge this week was “Green.”

 

Lamplighters, for Word of the Day

Lamplighters

My husband
trapped light.
Sculpted it.
Forced it to his will.
Made art of it.
Made me
complicit in making it
more than something to see by.
We surrounded light
and channeled it.
Held light before releasing it
in the directions
of our dreams

The Word of the Day is “Lamplighter.” This is a reblog. Couldn’t resist.

Robert Reich on Trump and Musk

https://open.substack.com/pub/robertreich/p/the-era-of-the-super-asholes?r=9092z&utm_campaign=post&utm_medium=email

Discussion about this post

Only 16% of Americans asked for this mutant show which is the same percentage as Americans on the right who think political violence is justified to save the republic. Go figure.

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If money is the root of all evil, Trump must feel right at home.

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Welcome to “The Numbers Game #129.” Come play along. Today’s number is 746

Welcome to “The Numbers Game #129. Today’s number is 746. To play along, go to your  photos file folder and type the number 746 into the search bar. Then post a selection of the photos you find that include that number and post a link to your blog in my Numbers Game blog of the day. If instead of numbers, you have changed the identifiers of all your photos into words, pick a word or words to use instead, and show us a variety of photos that contain that word in the titleThis prompt will repeat each Monday with a new number. If you want to play along, please put a link to your blog in comments below.