Lett'n Go of Lego

Lettin’ Go of Lego

“Hi Dave”

“Hi Jimmy, com’on in.
Brought your whole box.
With all of mine its J&D Lego Land.
You and me know all the blocks,
and all the ways they snap together and build.
Let’s do the steeple hidden rocket launcher
on the church with RPV control operation inside mounted on wheels.
Now to the kitchen, us two Lego Contest heroes, for some ice cream
and tease Mom a bit.”

“Hey Jim, give me five.
Brought down the stands.
With you and me its J&D Football Land.
You running behind my blocks,
and we always we snap through the line and score.
Let’s do it again at the states and go downfield like on wheels.
Now to the school hop, us two Game Win heroes, for some fancy dancing
and tease the girls a bit.”

“Hello James, glad you’re in.
Big day; big change! Yes, marrying Diane!
Need you with me June 21, be my Best Man.
No more snapping with blocks; no contests or games.
Lettin’ go of lego.

Ahh, my Diane! Mystery!
Her love has no pieces, no win or lose, just timeless.
No above or below, in front or behind, on the left or right.
Remember in springtime, through the woods to the field,
then down the hill path, be enveloped by fragrance.
The blackberry bramble humming with bees, dressed in white blossoms,
Supple green arches festooned with thorns making shelters for its soft furry creatures.
Breathed in the ambient aroma – into our lungs, into our blood.
Pumped by beating heart to flood our minds and psyches,
flow through vessels and capillaries to nourish every cell.
Mystery, Diane, mysterious ambience,
D&D.”

© David W. Oliver 1/11/2011
poemsbydrdave.blogspot.com

Hope's Engine

Hope’s Engine

White-hot coals of anger drop upon the fabric of your soul!
Enfold them and hold them,
they shall burn to a black cinder
the very warp and weft of your heart.

Carry them quickly to your firebox of rationality.
Open all the vents wide to the dark storm winds
of indifference and injustice.
Transform those battering gusts to an oxygenating draft;
fire the glowing coals to incandescent flame.

Vaporize the tears of hurt, pain, and grief to superheated steam.
Drive the pistons of compassion, again and again,
through the cylinders of empathy.
Turn the mighty wheels of action to build:
Shelters, meals, kindness,
Consequence,
Hope.

© David W. Oliver 12/28/2010
poemsbydrdave.blogspot.com


A reflection on the founding of the Irving, Texas–based organization MADD in 1980 by Candice Lightner after her 13-year-old daughter was killed by a drunk driver, Clarence Busch, a 46-year-old cannery worker.

Treasures

                 Treasures

While I still crawled my Father died

in a distant land of sand.

His Dad, my Poppy, snuggled me

on his lap with adventurous tales.

He read books for kids and men to me

voicing kingdoms, fantastic deeds.

Wove stories in colored tapestries

of metaphor and poem.

When I left our rural town,

Poppy followed me with cards.

Somehow he reached me at earth's ends

wherever my adventures led.

After dives, when I brought up gold,

to be hidden in strong steel vaults,

his richness note of congratulations

was waiting in Jamaica.

A note arrived on Timour

I was sure it came from his hand,

but it was written by my Mom.

I packed the moment that I dropped it.

I sat beside Poppy’s bed

grieving at his fragile figure.

Slowly he opened his eyes and smiled;

his finger beckoned weakly.

I bent to hear his whispery voice:

       “On the stand, my journal,
         at the marker,
         poem just for you.”

When he closed his eyes and drifted off,

I opened to my poem - addressed to me

and dated at the time I’d raised great riches.

        “You dove to deep sunk galleons

         found rubies, diamonds, gold.

         Sought across this earth of ours

         by adventurers, young and old.

         Sweep your life, search ‘cross the cosmos,

         the most precious treasure find

         is the generative give-‘n-take:

         two lifelong loves entwined.

        When adventure loses luster,

         gold and jewels lose their shine,

        bed your roots beside your life love’s  –

        tendrils climbing up together, the trellises of time.

       Springtime fragrant buds and blossoms

        are the children of your vine.

       Yours to nurture through the heat and cold,

        release prepared for any clime.

       Too soon summer yields to autumn frost,

       fruit ripe and ready in its time.

      Children part to find life’s love, adventure;

       renew the treasures of mankind.”

© David W. Oliver 7/10/2010

Reflections

                           Reflections

Unless you speak my language with all nuances,
unless you walk my chosen customs,
pray to my gods in my names of them
in accord with my doctrines:
you cannot be my friend!
My fortress wall of thick solid stone stands broad and wide.

Or

Because you know not the meaning of the sounds of my lips,
because my smiles are strange twistings of my face,
my gestures are arcane wavings in the air,
my writings a gibberish of scratchings,
my gods unimagined and
you have yet to choose:
I choose you friend.
My fragile mirror of thin metallized glass stands broad and wide.

Hidden, you peer behind your fortress peephole to see me
open front and back.

Come close to me, embrace?
our friendship sheltered twixt our two revealing mirrors,
friendship-reflections growing ever-ward our two directions.
More than we can discover and treasure
in our given days.

© David W Oliver 3/19/2010

Rejoice Grieve

           Rejoice Grieve

Krakk – the white chips fly
Rasssppf – white powder rains
Hollows, contours and textures freed

Quiet dip and touch
Hues penetrate the weave and thread
Shapes, feelings, meanings leap

Soft scratch and flow of ink
Trails cross the page and speak
Wisdom, joy, tragedy

Strokes of twinned creation and destruction

A stroke alone and individual
Strikes marble block from hillside quarry
Cuts canvass bolt and nails to wooden frame
Chops page from roll of paper

Strokes empathetic and cooperative
Expressive face, emotive body shapes
Blended pigments - light and shade and depth
Concepts, histories, and futures

Strokes wrestling for improvement
Drama, monument, installation
Romantic, surreal, abstract
Story, poem, song

Strokes meant to dominate
Idol, coin
Accusation, verdict
Doctrine, certainty

Rejoice our new creations,
Grieve every destruction,
Each lesson in uncertainty.
Celebrate life learning.

David W. Oliver 4/4/2010

Words

                                       Words

Words are not some squiggles that are written on a page,
Carvings in a block of clay inscribed by long dead sage.
Heritage and history were songs of ancient bards,
Singing wisdom left behind – remaining poem shards.

Words are like the knots that tie galactic fishing net,
Family, lovers, closest friends we never will forget,
Light that binds the galaxies by flooding heavens night,
Relationships among us, giving life delight.

Words are only tokens of galactic fishing net
That catches every passion and heartbreak that we get.
Growing every moment somewhere behind our eyes
Our legacy to warp drive times, bequeathed past our demise.

© David W. Oliver 6/15/09

Ski’n Sky

                                Ski’n Sky

Silent creep from tent; wake daughter Barbara in darkness;
her slalom ski aboard, start old Hope, cruise up the lake’s stillness.
Quiet glide to Gray’s dock on Floating Battery island site.
Beth tip-toes aboard with her favorite water ski.

Two teen girl muscular sun-kissed bodies
energy glowing auras,
gleaming smiles in morning faintness.
Putt-putt to the channel, first wake on sleeping Lake George.

Stop engine; hear Beth’s yelp splash echoing.
“Clear”: Barb’s spotter call to idle, circle tow line.
“Ready”: slow forward, tighten line.
“Hit it!”: ram throttle, set thirty-five knots.

Old Hope leaps to plane, dashes to east horizon,
skipper father’s eyes duty bound
forward to see buoys,
Barb’s constant stern watch of skimming skier.

While tented dark in sleeping bags
the trickster comets dip their tails
to flood God’s paint box overflowing;
drops of pigment spatter, staining heavens.

Faint crescent glow at mountain rim;
incandescent colors chasing darkness
scarlet, red, orange, brilliant gold edges,
light blue, deep purples, violet.

Sky streaks, sweeps, rainbowed ripples, gaudy puffs and blotches
above, from crescent rim to dome.
Twinned resplendence in forward windless water mirror,
mountains, islands flashing past on sides.

Splendor colors hammer eyes and senses
to bone and marrow,
beating heart, tingling nerve ends -
streaming windswept morning of eternity.

“Cut!” end of pull of rope, Beth’s ski edge.
Circle in idle, engine stop, glide to Beth.
Dripping ecstatic girl in. Barb’s yelp splash;
her sky leap dash to color fading west horizon.

Father’s safety love gift to not behold
painted sky-girl leaping dawn’s sky-wave jeweled froth.
Few instant sternward glances only, moments eternal,
burnt-in memory.

Cruise back to camping breakfast, wood fire aromas,
girl grins, exuberance.
Glory painted sky dawn! Glory sky-girl teen dawn,
Thank you.

© David W. Oliver 02/26/2010

TRUTH

                       TRUTH

TRUTH is a shattered mirror of shards,

Strewn in bits shiny and bright.

Each  finds his own shard and  knows in his heart

That surely his own shard is right.

Do not cut with the righteous sharp edge of your shard

In greed or to win in your fight.

Wounds fill the dark chasms that lie in life’s path

With the blackness of hatred and fright.

But turn you shard; reflect light from above,

A small beam in the chasms of night.

That we all may see to walk a safe path

When we all turn our shards to the light.

© David W. Oliver 9/7/99

Sacredness

Sacredness

I like violence and destruction:

Their sacredness.

…………………………….

Little birthday girl, hair in curl

                                    Sitting at the front

The birthday kiddies wiggle and giggle,

Sitting on the floor

In tux, top hat and magic wand,

The magician steps through the door.

He points to the emptiness inside his magic hat;

                                    Kiddies’ faces all aglow

Taps his hat thrice, speaks the magic words:

Rabbit - Presto Magico

In struggling fight, pulls with all his might,

Out of nothing white rabbit appears

Gifts it to ecstatic birthday girl,

                                    Amid the kiddies’ cheers.

Something from nothing has appeal,

‘Tis magic, not really real

Her birthday dreams transformed to

                                    Ecstasy, being special

Soft snuggle bunny, sleepmate, playmate,

                                    Day and night inseparable

Something from something is the ideal

Not magic,’Tis really real

……………………………….

We stand on the hotel balcony, Daytona Beach

Looking out to sea, the reception for Corey and Chris

Our children, to be wed the morrow.

Two lives, individual, to be transformed into family.

Goals transformed, behaviors transformed –

Not to know the sleep depriving cries of hungry wet infant

Till those wonderful demanding days arrive.

They know the transformations of merging, body frenzy, feeling crashing love

That transforms to peace and release of fulfillment.

Then to follow, all unknown and unseen, sperm seeking egg.

These too merge and are transformed.

Individual goals and behaviors transformed to the birth of a single cell.

Who multiplies to become new individual life.

Transformation: violence, destroyer of what was

To bring into existence, to birth,

What is and shall be.

We stand on the balcony looking out at total blackness.

Black clouds obscure the stars and galaxies that gave us

All the heavy elements of our planet and our bodies

Born in the implosions of supernovas, a star’s death.

Now those clouds crash against one another,

The collisions generate thousands of volts that rip electrons from air atoms,

Make bolts of ionization and electricity that crash into the sea

In spectacular blinding flash and following thunder clap.

We count seconds to know the distance,

Embrace in silent awe at the majestic heaven display

Of beauty, violence, destructiveness -
Gentleness, fecundity.

…………………….

The south facing difficult site on Vicars Island, Lake George,

It has a thirty foot cliff edge.

We trek up the rutted hilly path across the island,

Many portages of gear from dock to site

Black squall clouds gather on the south horizon.

We nail and rope the tent securely to the platform

Weigh down anything that might blow away.

Grab our wet jackets and sit on the cliff edge in the sun looking south.

The blackness marches toward us, streaked with lightning flashes.

Thunder louder.

South wind a gentle breeze on our faces.

Grey wall of waves rushes toward our cliff.

Cold wind snatches wet jackets as we stretch them on.

Waves tops are so swept that spray and air and wave are one

With all its glory the horizontal torrent drives into us

As lightning and thunder claps strike and boom around us.

Squall passes north; sun comes out.

Shuck wet jackets to lie like lizards on the warm rock.

Sun sparkled jewel drops fall from the leaves

To evaporate with the rock puddles and rejoin the sky.

As sweat rivulets begin to tickle our skin,

We stand and leap from the cliff edge

Crash open the lake surface and plunge below

Look up - silver air bubbles rise and expand toward the surface

To burst open to rejoin the sky.

Climb the cliff ledges to lie down again as lizards

Await day’s destruction by gorgeous sunset.

.............


Brutal beautiful tearing blinding bolts from heaven
Rip oxygen and nitrogen apart to make delicious nitrogen oxides,
Washed by rainfall, essential nutrients to hungering roots of
Grasslands, grain fields, flower gardens, ferns, forests, tree vines, vineyards.

Too much, fossil fueled acquisitive man, drench with too much:
Great blooms on waters scarf dissolved oxygen
Eutrophic lagoons and oceans kill oxygen-life
With tar sands and global oil shale their geologic tombstones.

Walk softly with love
In sacred awe.

...........

Niagara thunders down the cliff edge that it slowly eats away

And carries off to deposit at the ocean.

Hold the bow rail of the Maid-of-the-Mist two handed

It plows toward the deluge and shudders to a halt

Mighty engines matched by the greater force of river.

Horizontal torrents of water and wind from Niagara’s down draft

Cascade against us as we throw back our slicker hoods

Feel and rejoice in nature’s force.

Why are we alone?

Rest of the crowd huddled by the cockpit house

Backs to the torrent!

…………………..

Alaska cruise ship hovers at the glacier edge.

One hundred years ago this whole bay was ice, for one hundred fifty miles.

Huge calves of ice thunder into the water;

Waves lift the ship’s bow under our feet.

The new born icebergs  melt in time to rejoin the sea water.

Millions of years ago they were sea.

They evaporated into the winds that wafted them to mountaintops,

Became snow, then ice and glacier

For the slow journey back to sea.

…………….

Look at the Rock Cycle.

Hot magma plumes from hot inner earth core

Rises toward the thin earth crust and cools

To descend toward the core and rise again

Great inner earth convection currents.

At the inter ocean rifts, magma surfaces and cools

Births islands and new ocean floor,

Causes continents to drift on tectonic plates,

About an inch a year.

What creative violence!

Oceanic life is born, dies and lies in the sediments,

Natural processes of gentleness and violence.

These bodies of our ancestors do not all decompose

To return their carbon to our atmosphere.

Some of their remains are carried over eons close to shore

To be interred by sediment from the rivers

Then subducted under the continents in long term burial.

Some subducted material melts and rises up through the igneous rock,

Pushes into up-lifted mountains.

Earthquakes split the land.

Eruptions send molten rock down mountain slopes and hillsides,

Spew ash and fumes into the air, carbon into our air.

Wet air from the oceans blows over the land,

Cools as it soars above the mountains

To caress them with rain and snow..

Births our fresh rivers and lakes for the hot dry summer.

Nourishes all growing things during the hot growing seasons.

Not just gentle and refreshing.

The rains and melting snows wear away the mountain sides

Carry the soil and ground rock to the coasts for its burial duty.

Carry soil for fertile fields, mixed with pulverized rock

That water will permeate to refresh roots

And roots will have their needed micro-nutrients.

If not for the internment of life that dies,

Volcanic gases would increase

To insulate our earth with CO2

Heat our planet too much for life.

Gentle and violent, wonderful transformations

Over time spans we cannot fathom.

……………

In my parents time the chapters written here were not yet comprehended.

Each chapter teaches reverence and sacredness.

There are many more exciting chapters to read

If we but take the time to see and love and read creation.

So I like the sacredness of violence and destruction.

Separate them from controlling or harming other persons or earth systems!

Gandhi.

Arrested and sentenced to four years by the British court

For civil disturbance

Because he walked his Salt March to the sea

To collect salt that by law must be bought from the British occupiers.

At his sentencing he stood small and thin

Barefoot and bare chested,

In his self spun and woven loin garment.

The judge stood tall in formal black robe and white wig.

The judge bowed in awe to little Gandhi as he pronounced sentence.

Gandhi was violent and destructive

To British dominance over other peoples,

Their use of other peoples and their resources for personal gain,

Treating them as underclass wogs.

Gandhi had the intelligence and intuition to do this

In England, South Africa, and India

In ways that engaged the best of British values

While destroying the worst of their behaviors

To which they maintained blindness.

I look on Gandhi as a paragon of life well lived

Dedicated to both violence and destruction,

Directed to transform us to live

More in accord with the golden rule.

I see the Prophets, Gandhi, King, Theresa,

Mandela, Borlaug, Yunus …..

Exemplars - lives of the golden rule

And confrontation of blindness, selfishness and injustice.

Be aware

When you stomp your accelerator

To feel the surge of cockpit seat against your back

In personal power and excitement:

The cement of the roads comes from

The shells and bones of the living who preceded you here.

The blacktop, the oil, and the gas are from their bodies.

Life of the sea, land and air –

In living, dying and internment under the continents –

They swept carbon from our skies so that we, their descendents,

Live in comfortable climate with great energy at our disposal.

As we exhume and burn their bodies for our energy and pleasure.

Be aware; beware -

We return our ancestor’s carbon to the skies

Insulate our planet home

Heat it to the higher temperatures of earth’s earlier times.

Temperatures to which our children and their children

Shall accommodate –

Less fertile land, less fresh water, higher oceans.

Transformations we fashion do endure.

We have a sacred trust as stewards of transformation.

In violence and destructiveness they are

Sacredly creative of the next

That shall be.

All you have, you received from those before you

Lives, deaths and burials that now give you breath and energy

To use your violence to destroy the destructive.

Dare hold open your eyes of reason

To the bright glaring light of sacredness!

Dare embrace the caring and empathy of sacredness!

Sacredness of your violence and destruction

Your stewardship

To

Transform now into

What is next

What will be

Long after your time

In the time of your descendents

Your stewardship

Sacred

"All things are our relatives; what we do to everything, we do to ourselves. All is really One." Black Elk.

© David W. Oliver 11/28/09

Golden Rule Rules

Golden Rule Rules

Seven Rules!

Care for the weak

Speak truth to the King

Love others and self

Let the child in you sing

Foster their gifts

That your child may be giving

Nurture our earth

That your child may see Spring

Five Attitudes!

Attitude for past is gratitude

Fashion the moment with passion

Cope with what’s next with hope

Create your acts, anticipate

Employ your joy

Three Oppositions?

Secularly

Scientifically

Religiously

We often see

Oppositionally

As controversity.

A trinity?

Like:

Rationality,

Emotionality,&

Value-ality

Parts of

Personality.

A basis of:

Impartiality

Collegiality,

Immortality?

Replace:

Banality,

Brutality,

Veniality

With

Mutuality?

Apply:

Curiosity

Constantly

Universally!

Try to see:

Through

Empathy

Divinity

in

You and me!

One Why

Livin’ is Givin’

Science vs Religion

Science ⇔VS ⇔Religion

The scientist blokes and religion folks
Often argue ‘stead of laughing at jokes.
What might such serious people find funny?
Why we people’s frailty and our addiction to money!

So when the authorities rave and rant:
“You must either take this or else take that!”
Just laugh and follow this silver rule:
“Always take both; unless you cant!”


© David W. Oliver 12/27/09

Values

Values

Care for the weak
Speak truth to the King
Love others and self
Let the child in you sing

Foster their gifts
That your child may be giving
Nurture our earth
That your child may see Spring

© David W. Oliver 4/14/1990

Skippy Jar

Skippy Jar

There’s a land that’s very far
Out beyond that distant star
Where He hid the Skippy Jar
That holds the Magic Key

It’s the Planet of the Hand
Not left nor right you understand
But of Curiosity
and This Is What Was Told to Thee
And neither had the Magic Key

Science loved by Hand of C
Old Scrolls were loved by Hand of T
And so they argued violently
Just what is that Magic Key

Hand of T said it’s a scroll
No, no equations of control
Said C: I truly disagree
Just what is that Magic Key

A Magic Key to all the gold?
All the power one could hold?
All the knowledge to behold?
If I have that Magic Key

Hand of T through scrolls did plow
Found the map and made his vow
I will leave right here and now
To get that Magic Key

But that observant Hand of C
The find of map did fully see
And he vowed too: “I’ll follow thee”
To get that Magic Key

A Magic Key to all the gold!
All the power one could hold!
All the knowledge to behold!
If I have that Magic Key!

Now Hands walk on their finger tips
When they have to make their trips
With calluses very hard
To protect from cut of rock and shard
Not be cut and have to feel
Not be cut and have to heal

Then Hand of T found Skippy Jar
By slinking fast and sneaking far
But Hand of C was no ones dope
He tracked T with his telescope

T shook the jar with all his might
He grabbed the biggest rock in sight
And smashed the jar from left and right
He threw it down from greatest height

By this time came the Hand of C
And even Hand of T could see
That just one hand is not enough
To open jars of wondrous stuff.

They both took hold of Skippy Jar
They shook it hard and threw it far
They pushed and pulled; it was no use
The jar stayed shut through all abuse

They thought and then they said: “lets twist”
This stubborn lid may not resist
They tried to twist with all their zeal
But twisting’s hard when you cant feel

They had to file their finger tips
Cut calluses with sharp rock chips
Add feeling to their mighty grips
And twist with empathy

The twist of one must match the other
Like gentle play with friend or brother
You sense the twist at other end
And match it like you hear a friend

What could it be that They did see
A scroll of old? New Chemistry?
Writ on cheap mirror: “Empathy”
As feeling hands they had it free



Our Planet Earth


Our planet’s not this weirdo place
With walking hands a sentient race
And Skippy Jars the wisdom case

Where Gold is in the Golden Rule
Power in self and compassion cool
Your trip brings knowledge for you to retool
Where living and giving are the finest school

Where you look in the mirror only to see
Your knowledge, and values and empathy
Played out in your actions for eternity
Hid in a jar for posterity.


© David W. Oliver January 12, 2008