Cajoling Innocence

I maintain that there is a desperate social need for the creative behavior of creative individuals…

In a time when knowledge, constructive and destructive, is advancing by the most incredible leaps and bounds into a fantastic atomic age, genuinely creative adaptation seems to represent the only possibility that we can keep abreast of the kaleidoscopic change in this world….

Unless we can make new and original adaptations to our environment as rapidly as our science can change the environment, our culture will perish…

Not only the individual and group tensions but international annihilation will be the price we pay for lack of creativity.

Carl Rogers, Humanist, 1973

Cajoling Ignorance

The good, the bad, the beautiful and the ugly. The age of perpetual need lay at our feet.  The good earth, in retreat.

My looks have hardened over time.  But not so much that I still cannot see we are killing the forests…for a tree.

As snow melts away toward another day.

It is hard cajoling…ignorance out of the way.

So much more than, poetry that litters the land.

Repercussions that will out live ‘what we have come to understand.’

An elder once disposed upon me.  An ominous premonition:

“I will not live long enough to witness climatic chaos.  And, I am very thankful for that.”

Reflecting back to that cynical conceit.  From a man…with affect so flat.

Just one thought…

‘It is often bumbling errors that turn into trashy fact.’

 

Cajoling Innocence

I maintain that there is a desperate social need for the creative behavior of creative individuals…

In a time when knowledge, constructive and destructive, is advancing by the most incredible leaps and bounds into a fantastic atomic age, genuinely creative adaptation seems to represent the only possibility that we can keep abreast of the kaleidoscopic change in this world….

Unless we can make new and original adaptations to our environment as rapidly as our science can change the environment, our culture will perish…

Not only the individual and group tensions but international annihilation will be the price we pay for lack of creativity.

Carl Rogers, Humanist, 1973

Cajoling Ignorance

The good, the bad, the beautiful and the ugly. The age of perpetual need lay at our feet.  The good earth, in retreat.

My looks have hardened over time.  But not so much that I still cannot see we are killing the forests…for a tree.

As snow melts away toward another day.

It is hard cajoling…ignorance out of the way.

So much more than, poetry that litters the land.

Repercussions that will out live ‘what we have come to understand.’

An elder once disposed upon me.  An ominous premonition:

“I will not live long enough to witness climatic chaos.  And, I am very thankful for that.”

Reflecting back to that cynical conceit.  From a man…with affect so flat.

Just one thought…

‘It is often bumbling errors that turn into trashy fact.’

 

Fixin’ Schizophrenic

fixin schizophrenic 5

Sitting on a fence leave you with nothing but a stick up your ass!
Sitting on a fence leaves you with nothing but a stick up your ass!

fixin schizophrenic 3

By proxy this seems to be the way

Though we cannot know for sure.

The choice…

endless.

The voices…

evermore.

She once spoke of the way out

It took all the King’s men…

a tapestry of bottled helpers…

to put her back together again.

She had a history of believing

I am them.  They are me.

To the observant observer…

for we all are not…

fixin schizophrenic 7There is a way out for these anxiously epic…

the heroic lot.

A lineup of crack pot characters dancing like

sugar plums around a misguided nativity.

Years in the making the illness…

the way…

would never come or go

for free.

These are the ghosts in the hall…

the talking China dolls…

the gesturing hands…

these are the things…

the compliant cannot understand.

The way out?

Fixing me to better understand you?

Paying heed to voices…

giving the devil his overdue…dues.

There is a claim to hearing

everything

and

sometimes…

nothing at all.

Brown eyed ladies

and

Blue eyed boys

in a vacuum of quiet noise.

Room upon room filled with

broken glass.

What seems normal?

What is real?

Fading, fading, fast.

Either way…

the way is what it will always be.

About not fixing you

about fixing me.

WE are small in comparison to the judgments we make.
WE are small in comparison to the judgments we make.

fixin schizophrenic 2

A century or so...ago. The town of Hill NH moved.  The town relocated because the  citizen wanted a change.  Funny how a small group of people can move mountains!
A century or so…ago. The town of Hill NH moved. The town relocated because the citizens wanted a change. Funny how a small group of people can move mountains!