Paris Olympics 2024-A Protest Against The Use Of Explosives For Terrorism

 I'll Stand By You (The Pretenders) 

(In Protest of the use of explosives for terrorism)

 

Paris, France. Wednesday September 17, 1986 Tati Discount Department Store 3:28 pm

Blast. 53 wounded 5 dead mothers and children.

 

The report of a one hundred and five millimeter recoilless rifle

echoes through Big Cottonwood Canyon of

The Wasatch National Forest of Utah

gently awakening avalanches

rumbling through snowfields

above the timberline

of a sleeping Brighton and Solitude mountain sides

snow shifting, sliding, slicing, slamming, snapping

down among hundreds of year old pines.

We all wish for change and a shift in the world and its vitriol. Where did it take such an ugly turn toward hate speech, hatred and violence. Call me a tree hugger, who cares about the little people and the little countries and populations and refugees that are being starved, slaughtered and persecuted. There must be a shift in the world and it cannot be violence. It really has never been an impetus for great change. My belief is if you want change, change yourself and the world around you. It is easy to say this because I am not suffering great oppression nor am I persecuted. I understand the need for retribution if you watch your children, grand parents, wife, son, daughter or neighbor being slaughtered raped or stolen. It would motivate me to want revenge. How do you change World Consciousness? 

You do Not Allow Individuals like Donald Trump to become President of the United States of America to start with. If what he and his party is truly putting forward is Project 2025 there is something seriously wrong with their thinking and being. We must have a serious Cultural Revolution. I call it Our Great American Glow Up. Who knows if we are successful maybe the World will get on board. I write because I had a Professor that told me to Write A Poem About It. She Loved Poetry and Prose and passed that love on down to me. So I once again call for everyone to join me in my Cultural Revolution and create Art, any Art, Poems, Stories, Novels, Songs, Paintings for the Olympics these and future ones. We don't have to Accept People like Mr. Caligula (Donald Trump) and his Minions in our lives and especially not in MY America. I love it and refuse to leave it. If you question my love for it read my poems, stories, and free thought ramblings.

Once again I ask all Children to Join Me in Creating A Change. My Goal is to see if One Person with a Desire to Alter The Course Of Present Day History Can Accomplish It. When my Revolution is Finished, We will be Operating a Healing Arts and Equine Rescue Ranch in Smowmass, Colorado, at a 3700 Acre Former St Benedict's Monastery, where People from Across The World Can Come and Touch Horses and Heal Themselves. Please Join Me! After you have used your Talk Boxes, Watch Boxes And Think Boxes, to repost these posts, set them down and create a World we can all live peacefully and joyfully in!

Joseph Elijo

Tupelo Honey- Van Morrison

Diablo Ranch Scene for She Sells Sea Shells, An Upcoming Short Story

 The Nevada bred wild stallion Diablo stood in the loafing shed of the Colorado Rescue Ranch. His stark white freeze brand stood out brightly against his shimmering dark black body, he nervously tugged at the lead rope that was holding him to the wooden side panel. Katie Stanton reached up and ran her hand just under his thick jet black mane in an effort to calm the tense and jittery animal. It had snowed several inches overnight and she had called the farrier to pull the shoes of the horses to prevent the snow from forming an ice ball on the cold metal. Diablo was extremely nervous.

 

     “Easy boy,” she tried unsuccessfully to ease his fear.

 

He was snorting and beginning to pace back and forth jerking on the rope. He was normally relaxed and calm. She was having a hard time with him. Katie had brought his companion Shilo in also. Shilo a 16 hand chestnut with a white blaze and four white stockings was starting to act up. She noticed that Diablo’s lead rope was coming undone. Reaching up she loosened it to retie the rope more securely.

 

Will Stanton, Katie’s partner was working at straightening the cover over the haystack. It was slid back and crooked. Something or someone had created a real mess of it. He reached down loosened the tie ropes and pulled the cover back. He heard the deep throaty growl of the mountain lion before he saw its big brown crouched body. Dropping the rope Will turned yelled out to Katie and headed toward the shed and a pitch fork leaning against it.

 

Diablo exploded back at the commotion and jerked the rope from Katie’s hand. Both, Will and Katie looked at one another at the same time that they heard the downshifting of the water tanker’s diesel engine. The tanker was rolling into the big sweeping curve before the fenced lined entrance to the ranch. It was headed to the gas well just down the road. Katie moved quickly in an attempt to grab the rope, just as Diablo wheeled about and took off like a shot down the narrow lane. He was accelerating rapidly as the tanker came around the bend.

 

The driver realizing the animal was loose slammed on the brakes and the tanker swung around and began jack knifing and sliding toward the cab and driveway entrance. The entire vehicle was precariously bearing down on the frightened animal galloping head long toward it and its demise.

 

“Will, Will, he’s going to hit him.” Katie screamed.

 

The wild stallion tossed his head high as it saw the truck bearing down on him. The lead rope slapped down on the ground just as the horse was stepping forward and it became caught under his hoof. The forward momentum coupled with the abrupt pitching down of Diablo’s head sent him tumbling and sliding down the lane. He slid to a halt several feet before the oncoming truck.

 

The driver realizing the horses forward momentum had stopped, accelerated and the rig righted itself and the driver gave several short tugs of the air horn as it rolled down the road past the ranch entrance, the stunned horse, amazed ranchers and the horrific scene that almost occurred.

Million Dollar Cowboy Bar (Jackson Wyoming)

 Elfie, Mr. Tweedy, and the Missing Insurance Claim Check

 

She is world renowned,

for her stained glass skiers in

Vail Village she cuts colored

pieces of glass places them carefully on

patterns of white Styrofoam

numbered in sequence, one

two, three in her shop she

fluxes between the cracks

before soldering with her hot iron

she reads novels in German

with and accent says,

“I still haven’t received my

insurance claim check for

Mr. Tweedy’s broken

World Alpine, 1989 piece.”

 

We had packed it and shipped it

ever so painstakingly in

bubble wrap, wrapped twice

after cutting foam panels for ends

and carefully placing it in cardboard,

suspended in foam peanuts

Taped in double boxes, prudently.

 

I should have known when

Mad Maxine the crazy U.P.S.

driver in her brown uniform

and red laced hiking boots

black smudged hands, from handling cartons

would come in to the pack-n-ship

telling dirty jokes,

“Do you know why Jewish women

have wrinkles around their eyes. It’s

from squinting at their husband’s

penis behind closed doors.”

Saying, “You want me to do what to it?”

 

She looks at the parcel with

the “This Side Up” and “Fragile”

stickers plastered all over it and

says, “Hey, what state is

the city of “Fragile” in anyway,

and did you know these

are supposed to be packaged

so that they can be

thrown at least ten feet.”

The, “Oh, My God,” Refrain

 The, “Oh My God!” Refrain

 

I have not many material possessions

material possessions are balls and chains

But, I know every inch of every trail

and every mountain peak in America.

 

I once walked from Dillion, Colorado over

the Continental Divide through Loveland Pass to

stop at Central City the oldest City in Colorado.

 

Where God made all men,

but Commander Colt made them equal

To meditate upon Virginia Canyon,

nicknamed, “Oh My God Canyon!”

after the first words that are

uttered by the view

of it’s grandeur.

 

Before continuing through Nederland

and the mountain tunnels of route six

where the prairie dogs play

at the base of the Flat Irons

rising out of the Gold Hills

to welcome you to the Valley floor of Boulder.

just to get the zipper on my tough traveler

knapsack repaired for free at the factory.

Suddenly Life Was Turning Out To Be More Than Mashed Potatoes And Gravy

 Suddenly Life,

Was Turning Out To Be,

More than Just Mashed Potatoes and Gravy.

 

Leaving Denver’s

snow capped mountain peaks,

tearing, tugging at my heart.

 

A slick, sleek, silver jet streaks,

over Pac-man like farm fields,

flying towards Charleston, South Carolina.

 

May, Friday the thirteenth,

me, joking with my travel agent.

Saying, “as long I am not

on flight thirteen,

in the thirteenth seat.

Why yes, you certainly are

professional for only

your first week on your new job.”

 

Changing flights in Atlanta’s

soft computerized woman’s

voice saying, “Concourse B-

Use shuttle platform C.”

 

I deplane in Charleston,

walk out of the airport,

into the evening setting sun,

standing with by blue suitcases,

in Charleston, West Virginia.

Elfie Mr. Tweedy And The Missing Insurance Claim Check

 Elfie, Mr. Tweedy, and the Missing Insurance Claim Check

 

She is world renowned,

for her stained glass skiers in

Vail Village she cuts colored

pieces of glass places them carefully on

patterns of white Styrofoam

numbered in sequence, one

two, three in her shop she

fluxes between the cracks

before soldering with her hot iron

she reads novels in German

with and accent says,

“I still haven’t received my

insurance claim check for

Mr. Tweedy’s broken

World Alpine, 1989 piece.”

 

We had packed it and shipped it

ever so painstakingly in

bubble wrap, wrapped twice

after cutting foam panels for ends

and carefully placing it in cardboard,

suspended in foam peanuts

Taped in double boxes, prudently.

 

I should have known when

Mad Maxine the crazy U.P.S.

driver in her brown uniform

and red laced hiking boots

black smudged hands, from handling cartons

would come in to the pack-n-ship

telling dirty jokes,

“Do you know why Jewish women

have wrinkles around their eyes. It’s

from squinting at their husband’s

penis behind closed doors.”

Saying, “You want me to do what to it?”

 

She looks at the parcel with

the “This Side Up” and “Fragile”

stickers plastered all over it and

says, “Hey, what state is

the city of “Fragile” in anyway,

and did you know these

are supposed to be packaged

so that they can be

thrown at least ten feet.”

Just Accomplish It!

 Just Accomplish It!

 

In order to put

mountains in the eyes

of your children,

keep them in the eyes

of your characters.