When the going gets hot....

One day, as the land got hotter and the hands of those in power began to sweat, a strange sickness spread across the globe. It’s first signs were subtle, a haziness of mind, a gentle lethargy, sometimes, a full-on drop into deep sleep that could come on quickly.  There were times in the middle of a business meeting or news report when a person would drop off mid sentence, trailing a little or just an abrupt halt followed by snoring.

 Sometimes, just as a high powered contract was about to be signed off, an arms deal agreed or plans for a new fracking site validated, the protagonists would fall into a slumber and the whole thing would fall through.  It also seemed to happen if anyone got over excited about planetary destruction or all worked up about starting a war…

 So, here was the question, and maybe YOU can answer this,,,,

Will there be enough people left awake to seize the opportunity when this happens?

 

While  the carbonistas and colonizers sleep, will there we enough of us, uninfected, to  build our  free to ride go-carts, horse and wagon stations, efficient railways with friendly ticket officers? Will we be alive and planting crops and seeds of real nutrition? Will we remember how things could be? Awake, alive and active, building the dream that’s possible when things got so hot, power slipped from the grasp of the greedy and fell into our waiting hands? 

 

 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=w6zXrlQRbWg

 

 

On the death of Sinead O’ Connor

On the death of Sinead O’ Connor

 

It’s so telling

 Watching mainstream establishment media attempting to honour

She who called out, screamed out, tore up the establishment with her beautifully vocalized truth.

Defying stereotypes of female beauty

 She was beautiful; fierce, wild, powerful, fragile, true.

 And we just don’t hear it , do we?

 The screams, the cries, the horror shrieks against abuse and misogyny,

 Carried mostly silent in the bodies of women

 Sometimes speaking thru tears, silent depressions,  contained rage or the flow of blood from self -inflicted and world- inflicted wounds,

 She   cut    through

 Hit the high notes and the deep roots

 Articulate, vulnerable, amplified.

 

 So, what now, as the  echoes ring around us?

  Up in flames , or back to the earth mother?

 What remains?

 And how do we carry forward

 The anguished cry

    of  universal female soul?

 

 

 

Chrystine Moon  July 23

 

The wise ones are flattened by the road sides

The visionaries are struggling to stand…

The holders of sense and beauty are queueing at the food banks

But still the spark is not yet extinguished

 

Still, tho weary, disheartened and bruised by their brutalities..

We still contain the threads of collective strengths…

 

Even if we are too tired to dream… our dreams still sleep within us.. and, somewhere in our bones we still know, it doesn’t have to be this way… there can still be a better future.. with or without AI!

There is still a flame of love in our bellies and a song of rage in our hearts…

And tho power is held by the corrupt and heartless, we feel the earth beneath our feet and the sun on our skin,

We see their destructive trajectories… & we say NO!