Little by little our rights are being exported to other countries. Countries we, as Americans, touted as, backwater, backwoods and backwards. Pro Choice? Pro Life? Pro…Do the Next Right Thing…is ebbing away.
So, you take a woman’s right to choose away? So, you take gay rights away? So, you take the environment away? Bit by bit, little pieces of Me/US gone!
Detention without Provocation
Surveillance Society ( a rapid expansion of data collection, storage, tracking, and mining)
I am not prepping for ‘doomsday’ but…I am concerned about the state of living in America.
We have memorized America,
how it was born and who we have been and where.
In ceremonies and silence we say the words,
telling the stories, singing the old songs.
We like the places they take us. Mostly we do.
The great and all the anonymous dead are there.
We know the sound of all the sounds we brought.
The rich taste of it is on our tongues.
But where are we going to be, and why, and who?
The disenfranchised dead want to know.
We mean to be the people we meant to be,
to keep on going where we meant to go.
But how do we fashion the future? Who can say how
except in the minds of those who will call it Now?
The children. The children. And how does our garden grow?
With waving hands—oh, rarely in a row—
and flowering faces. And brambles, that we can no longer allow.
Who were many people coming together
cannot become one people falling apart.
Who dreamed for every child an even chance
cannot let luck alone turn doorknobs or not.
Whose law was never so much of the hand as the head
cannot let chaos make its way to the heart.
Who have seen learning struggle from teacher to child
cannot let ignorance spread itself like rot.
We know what we have done and what we have said,
and how we have grown, degree by slow degree,
believing ourselves toward all we have tried to become—
just and compassionate, equal, able, and free.
All this in the hands of children, eyes already set
on a land we never can visit—it isn’t there yet—
but looking through their eyes, we can see
what our long gift to them may come to be.
If we can truly remember, they will not forget.
Hate crimes on the rise! Homegrown terrorists…on the rise. Hate speech from our elected officials…on the rise. Children who are more accustomed to having their heads in the wi-fi sand than in a physical book, on the rise. The list goes on and on and on.
We should not be at a point in this nation where witnessing acts of pure, unadulterated, disdain, with our morning coffee…is commonplace.
Cartoons of particular notions not being televised because it may disturb the family balance.
Children being torn away from their parents and placed in nothing more than 2019’s version of concentration camps.
And, so it goes?
Now our elected officials have up’d their game! And have come up with a new and improved manner in which to show off the vulgarity of hate!
The Department of Housing and Urban Development (HUD) has announced plans to roll back Obama-era protections for transgender people who are experiencing homelessness. The change would allow shelters to turn people away by claiming a “religious” exemption.
So-called “religious freedom” exemptions have become popular with the religious right as evangelicals attempt to use it as a license to discriminate against LGBTQ people and women. The federal law was not intended to be used as a get-out-of-jail-free card for civil rights violations.
Christianity is based off the belief that Jesus Christ was a benevolent savior. He repeatedly taught that his followers should help the homeless and destitute without judgement. That would be the opposite of what modern evangelical Christians seek to do under the law.
Trump administration will give homeless shelters the right to turn away transgender people
read more at :LGBTQnation.com
The change would allow shelters to turn people away by claiming a “religious” exemption.By Bil Browning Wednesday, May 22, 2019
I tell what should be on the rise…Everyday People saying something! Everyday People who do not like what they are seeing.
What is that saying,
If you see something that’s not right! Say something!
People always say that I didn’t give up my seat because I was tired, but that isn’t true. I was not tired physically, or no more tired than I usually was at the end of a working day. I was not old, although some people have an image of me as being old then. I was forty-two. No, the only tired I was, was tired of giving in.
You must never be fearful about what you are doing when it is right.
It is in vain to say human beings ought to be satisfied with tranquility: they must have action; and they will make it if they cannot find it. Millions are condemned to a stiller doom than mine, and millions are in silent revolt against their lot. Nobody knows how many rebellions besides political rebellions ferment in the masses of life which people earth. Women are supposed to be very calm generally: but women feel just as men feel; they need exercise for their faculties, and a field for their efforts, as much as their brothers do; they suffer from too rigid a restraint, to absolute a stagnation, precisely as men would suffer; and it is narrow-minded in their more privileged fellow-creatures to say that they ought to confine themselves to making puddings and knitting stockings, to playing on the piano and embroidering bags. It is thoughtless to condemn them, or laugh at them, if they seek to do more or learn more than custom has pronounced necessary for their sex.
I am Brangien [Brangaine] of Weisefort, Ireland, lady-in-waiting to my cousin Isolde, who became promised to King Marc of Cornwall. His nephew Tristan escorted us to England by ship. But Tristan and Isolde fell in love at sea. As ye may know, or will find out, they cite the philter they drank as the cause, over which I was supposed to keep vigil. I would like to share my perspective of how I have created good in the world through my herbs and observations. There is much to tell, including how I have adopted this odd language. In good time. My life is in God’s hands. –Inspired by the modern French translations of the Tristan and Isolde texts