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Monday, May 25, 2015

Apocalypse - by Bob Atkinson




(c)2015 Bob Atkinson

evaluate potential
see if a mind can make
sense of prospects if
civility were to dissipate


tell me true do you believe
survival a possibility
in a world without restraints
and food enough to eat


sometime in the future
perhaps tomorrow or today
our sense of organization
might go on a holiday


civility surrenders
to needs of basal thoughts
eat, sleep and reproduce
and conquer all who walk


some take up guns
to shoot their power veins
with thrills of annihilation
beyond simple fits of rage


in the end creates a world
not different from what's now
just with less people
so many buried by the plow

Suffering for What? 

 in the end why do we
feel this tragedy
helped good cause of our world
where is the light we seek?

no man in this situation
can claim he has the right
to destroy for purpose
what could be life done right

none involved can claim
existence good for humanity
only redemption evidenced
would show elimination of insanity

 

Inter-rebel conflict during the Syrian Civil War
Part of the Syrian Civil War
Date 2 January 2014 – ongoing
(1 year, 4 months, 3 weeks and 2 days)
Location Syria
Result
Ongoing
  • ISIL captures Ar-Raqqah province by January 2014,[1] 95–98% of Deir ez-Zor province by July 2014,[2] 20 towns in Aleppo province,[3][4] half of Hasakah province, and some areas in Homs, Hama and Damascus provinces
  • ISIL fully withdraws from Idlib and Latakia provinces and from the northwest of Aleppo province



Belligerents


Commanders and leaders
Brig. Gen. Abdul-Ilah al-Bashir
(FSA Chief of Staff)
Jamal Maarouf
(SRF leader)
Zahran Alloush
(Islamic Front Military leader)
Ahmed Abu Issa
(Islamic Front leader)
Adnan Bakour [14]
(Al-Tawhid Brigade leader)
Abu Hussein al-Dik [14]
(Suqour al-Sham Brigade leader)
Abu Khaled al-Suri [15]
(Ahrar ash-Sham senior leader)

Abu Mohammad al-Julani
(al-Nusra Front leader)
Abu Muhammed al Ansari 
(al-Nusra Emir of the Idlib province)
Abu Bakr al-Baghdadi
Abu Ayman al-Iraqi
(Head of military council)
Abu Omar al-Shishani
(ISIL field commander)
Haji Bakr [16]
(Senior ISIL commander)
Abu Baraa al-Jazairi 
(Emir of Saraqeb)[17]
Abu Dajana 
(Emir of Deir ez-Zor)
Abu Mohammad Al-Massri 
(Emir of Manbij)
Abu Haidara Al-Tounisi 
(eastern Qalamoun leader)[18][19]
Units involved
Strength
40,000–50,000
40,000–70,000
5,000–12,000
15,000
2,000

5,050–8,000[27]
31,000–100,000[28][29]
Casualties and losses
2,764+ killed[30] 2,196+ killed[30]
605 civilians killed[30]
76 unidentified killed[30]
an additional 1,200 combatants and 150 civilians estimated killed[30]
Total: 5,641–6,991 killed[30]

Syrian Civil War




Friday, May 22, 2015

Screen Door Flying in the Wind - by Bob Atkinson

Screen Door
Flying in the Wind
(c)2015 Bob Atkinson

I left my screen door flying to the wind
open, flapping, telling me to come back home again
never thought trying would last until the very end
but I'll stay off that there mountain 'till I win

cast aside my home in part because
my goals they were on fire
wanted to partake of life
as if a king for hire

I tried most everything I knew
to succeed in all I done
yet when push came to shove
my race was barely run

I saw forever's failure
staring me right in the face
yes, shameful destitution
carried me from birth to grave

but, money doesn't buy the kind
of peace I have in mind
trying to reinvent myself
because of foolish pride

my cause became a wonderment
of things I'd re-arrange
but, my ideas floated to nothingness
and my name just became a game

for when one sets out to do something
he doesn't have a clue
how hard one has to try to live
among those motley fools

and I left my screen door flying to the wind
open, flapping, telling me to come back home again
never thought trying would last until the very end
but I'll stay off that there mountain 'till I win

over some blue hill I walked
out toward a setting sun
well, seemed to me that life began
when you did what you set on

on to do with grace and style
back there in that darn place
yes, my morning's bright and sunny
but my face has been disgraced

and I left my screen door flying to the wind
open, flapping, telling me to come back home again
never thought trying would last until the very end
but I'll stay off that there mountain 'till I win

now, someday in my solitude
my feelings won't be hurt
with that shroud of mystery cover
I'll begin to laugh and blurt

blurt out those triumphs I
have made of which were few
not because of lack of courage
but by cause of being true

true to spirit of that mountain
where home once was of mine
where a winter wind sent snow
so deep 'till one was blind

where my face turned toward the sun
when spring time finally came
and those flowers grew so colorful
and so did tall grass grains

and when feelings of accomplishment
finds my soul has been consumed
will take that worn path home again
and light an evening fire for my moods

when troubles again cause me
to try another path
will sit right down and ponder
right here upon my ........

knowing we all get antsy when
we know not what we want
but, my feeling's now arranged securely
I find comfort in my bunk

and I closed that screen door securely in its frame
closed it tight, locked it firm, I'm back home again
never thought trying would last until the very end
but trying's good for something if you really want to win

Tuesday, May 19, 2015

Une Charogne by Charles Baudelaire, translated by Bob Atkinson

Une Charogne 
by Charles Baudelaire,
translated by Bob Atkinson

UNE CHAROGNE

Rappelez-vous l'objet que nous vîmes, mon âme,
Ce beau matin d'été si doux:
Au détour d'un sentier une charogne infâme
Sur un lit semé de cailloux,

Les jambes en l'air, comme une femme lubrique,
Brûlante et suant les poisons,
Ouvrait d'une façon nonchalante et cynique
Son ventre plein d'exhalaisons.

Le soleil rayonnait sur cette pourriture,
Comme afin de la cuire à point,
Et de rendre au centuple à la grande Nature
Tout ce qu'ensemble elle avait joint.

Et le ciel regardait la carcasse superbe
Comme une fleur s'épanouir;
La puanteur était si forte que sur l'herbe
Vous crûtes vous évanouir.

Les mouches bourdonnaient sur ce ventre putride,
D'où sortaient de noirs bataillons
De larves qui coulaient comme un épais liquide
Le long de ces vivants haillons.

Tout cela descendait, montait comme une vague,
Où s'élançait en pétillant;
On eût dit que le corps, enflé d'un souffle vague,
Vivait en se multipliant.

Et ce monde rendait une étrange musique
Comme l'eau courante et le vent,
Ou le grain qu'un vanneur d'un mouvement rythmique
Agite et tourne dans son van.

Les formes s'effaçaient et n'étaient plus qu'un rêve,
Une ébauche lente à venir
Sur la toile oubliée, et que l'artiste achève
Seulement par le souvenir.

Derrière les rochers une chienne inquiète
Nous regardait d'un œil fâché,
Epiant le moment de reprendre au squelette
Le morceau qu'elle avait lâché.

--Et pourtant vous serez semblable à cette ordure,
A cette horrible infection,
Etoile de mes yeux, soleil de ma nature,
Vous, mon ange et ma passion!

Oui! telle vous serez, ô la reine des grâces,
Après les derniers sacrements,
Quand vous irez sous l'herbe et les floraisons grasses,
Moisir parmi les ossements.

Alors, ô ma beauté, dites à la vermine
Qui vous mangera de baisers,
Que j'ai gardé la forme et l'essence divine
De mes amours décomposés!
  
  Dead Love
(Une Charogne by
Charles Baudelaire,
translated by Bob Atkinson)
my memories of a dead love
causes conversation in my head
how sweet she was when alive
how putrid when found dead

not dead of heartbeat such
but, of softness in that heart
always saw myself with her
she saw us a couple not


summer mornings we'd arise
after nights of naked lust
how sweet she was in the night
how horrid when by light touched

a rocky foundation formed
attitude arranged by hostility
to beat my self image flat with
her fits of stone faced surliness

a negative outlook adopted
nothing did she find as grand
mistrustful in her mocking
no soft edge to her habits


her speech full of hatred
stony hearted I would say
no seeds of dedication
to myself as her loved mate

she had the look of a flower
to others she was fine
yet when alone with me
all pleasure wasn't mine

to another she'd be a rose
to me a clove of garlic
to most she showed a soft belly
made me a prisoner, no pardon

in the end I saw her temper
as something to avoid
needed to surface for a breath
above water's touch of shore

world displayed much beauty
when we parted company
without that chain about my neck
found it easy to inhale, breathe

inspiration came to me again
what had been driven from
my life of simple illusions
that a woman would be fun

music again had beauty
watching water in the river
gave form to the movements
of children's pitter patter

I paint a picture on this canvas
of times I do regret
far from this I beg you
not something I'll forget


feel my life is sweeter
because of this wicked hen
found how pleasant love can be
when your lover is your friend