Unmanned Aerial Vehicles

On MSN, they called them "Drones."

But who reads MSN news, really?

Well, me, for one. Uber-light news in the morning. Yep, I often visit there. And then, if something piques my interest, I further explore.

This morning, though, this article on MSN discussed how wonderful Drones are: They have captured never before seen images of killer whales.

Pausing here for oooohs and aaaaahs.


I was interested immediately.

Not in killer whales. At all, really. (Not that I don't care about sea life, the environment, et cetera, et cetera.) I was interested in the article that is headlining today's news with this message that "Drones are Great!"

So, considering the source, I searched for a more credible source publishing information about this subject. I found the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration's article right away.

A government site.

The NOAA didn't use the word "Drones"; it preferred to use a more precise term, "UAVs."

I am ever interested in the way people convey information to an audience.

I find it interesting that The Powers That Be seem to be trying to make sure that a wide general audience sees the benefits of Drones.

"Drones help us learn."

"With Drones, we can experience things we've never experienced before."

"Drones are Good."

Yet, at the forefront of my mind, I can't help but think about all of the dangers, problems, and catastrophes these Drones may cause.

And yet, I know this:

The Drones themselves are not the problem.

"Drones don't kill people. People use drones to kill people."

So, I suppose my deepest concern is that I don't trust those people in government and corporate America, in militias and other organizations, who are hungry for power, hungry for control, hungry to enslave mankind. Because I have no doubt that such appetites will not hesitate to use these Unmanned Aerial Vehicles for Anything But Good.

http://www.nmfs.noaa.gov/podcasts/2015/10/uav_killer_whale.html

Another Year

Another year has gone by--

Nearly a blur

Full of triumphs and failures,

Heartache and victory.

It's been a year of transition.

Change has been a constant;

As the year progressed,

Something I could count on--

Because everything else?

More changed than remained.

The Year of Question Marks,

I could call it--for that's 

Exactly what it was:

What? and Why? When?

Not a lot made much sense.

Here I am in late December,

Wondering if I accomplished much--

Did I contribute anything?

Did any of this year make sense?

Late December musings, I suppose.

Another year is days away,

Not sure if I'm ready or not;

But here it comes, as always,

Welcomed or not:  The Future.

Is it just The Future or My Future?

Whether or not I take ownership

Is completely up to ME.

It's coming, whatever I decide;

I must make a determination.

I suppose I'll make it mine.

She wore Grief

She wore Grief for weeks:
-----hardened mask, heavy burden,
-----visage of stone
Pain came to live on the surface
Seeped into her pores
Coursed through her blood
And we were witnesses, all,
To the Damage it was doing.


Grief had stolen her Essence:
-----sweet smile, warm nature,
-----joyous spirit
Traipsed around pompously in surmised Victory
Accompanied by sounds of whimpering
Shrouded in dark clouds of tears
And we were witnesses, all,
To what seemed to be the Inevitable Decline.


And yet, today, I saw her, peering from beneath the mask:
-----kind eyes, forgiving heart
-----quintessence of tranquility
Caught a glimpse of The Woman She Is
The Woman She Was, The Woman She Will Always Be
No longer buried or trapped in Darkness
And we are witnesses, all,
To her reemergence into the Glorious Light of Day.


------------------------------------
This poem is dedicated to Vickie Thompson.

Musings on The Planet

Allow me to beat you to the punch: "What do I know about anything?
I'm just a school-teacher who has degrees in English and Communications.
What do I know about this Round Ball which hangs precariously in the universe?
(And why do I even feel thusly, that I would use this word, precariously?)"

Let me assure you: we are most certainly on the same page, Friend.
I suppose I find it strange to discover that I am an Advocate for This Planet.
Yes, Advocate. Not a "Go Green" Nazi, but a Rational Human Being
Who thinks it's dastardly to so blatantly disregard this human home we've been given.

Who cares what I think about it--I'm no physicist, no Einstein, no theoretician;
Just an Arm-Chair Appreciator of all things Nature.
I realize nothing has to last forever, and I see the waste and abuse of this Earth and think,
"We've been given such fabulous gifts!"...which we take for granted.

Call me crazy, but I am flabbergasted by the utter lack of concern
For our Earth, for the Nature God has gifted us with, for our Earth's Core,
And I wonder if it even matters that this total disregard for the Universe in Balance
Is due to Ignorance and Self-Absorbance and Ego-Centrism.

Some of us are still convinced that the Sun rotates around the Earth,
And/or that the Earth rotates around our human form: my life, my wife, my child, my concerns.
Surely THAT is the reason that makes people ignore what we are doing to our planet:
Poisoning Earth and Sky and Sea and Core...Somehow believing it doesn't impact us.

Yet one day, One Day, Friends, it will affect us all--every single one of us,
As our descendants, with our very own DNA in their bodies, struggle to breathe
And battle the carcinogens we are responsible for unleashing into their environment.
We lived for today so they can die for tomorrow.

"Drink this bitter cup with pride, my children," says our letter to their World;
"We did what we wanted and when, with little to no regard for you.
We never thought you'd live to see that day, anyway. Damned, from the get-go."
Our Legacy to them all: Fatalism in lieu of Altered Consciousness.

The Unwelcome Visitor: Death (Based on A True Story)

Death sometimes arrives with zero forewarning,
Shows up on your doorstep without invitation--
Sometimes with bags, to stay for a while,
Sometimes with a box to carry you away.

That happened, yesterday, to you, Friend.
There you were, on your merry way,
Minding your own business, embracing Life itself,
Looking forward to time spent with family...

And it came, then, awful Death, beating on your door,
Welcomed or not, making its entrance into your world.
It seized your presence of mind, threw you to the floor,
Rattled your vision and tore apart every filament of your existence.

I can't imagine what biology did then--did it respond?
On a cellular level, did you fight Death's advance?
Had you the strength to combat its fiery darts
And resist its all-too-sudden full-scale attack?

This Unwelcome Visitor no doubt thought it had defeated you;
There you were, frail human, lying in a pool of your own blood,
Facedown, the portrait of mankind succumbing to the inevitable.
"I am the Powerful One," Death laughed and scorned.

But someone had forgotten to tell Death about you.

While Death cheered its seemingly easy victory,
Watched your body reel and cripple at its merciless attack,
Something else was rising up in you, standing strong in you,
The most intrinsic part of you: your very Soul.

One thing The Unwelcome Visitor had failed to realize, yet again,
Is that we are more than our mere molecular construction.
What this Death could not comprehend was what was happening
On the inside of you, the Real You, the Redeemed You:

Shaking off the numbness, the sharp pains and the confusion,
The Soul within you cried out as it had never done before:
"Freeeeeedom!" It sang, repeated, as it stretched upward, for once,
To its full height--ten times taller than any human that ever lived.

Death faltered, for the first time since he had embarked
On this miserable mission: he sputtered, he twisted, he frowned.
"What is this?" he spat to the shadows that surrounded him,
"This thing," he coughed, "This thing is not human."

"Not anymore," rang a voice that at once shook the foundation of Death.
"You have just freed a Child of God!" Angels appeared, then,
An army surrounding you. You stood among them, tall and strong.
"This one is Mine," said the One whose voice sounded like many waters.

There was no mistaking that Voice. There was no mistaking that Authority.
Death fell face down to the ground, smelling the blood that was not yours.
It was Jesus. The Redeemer. The One they called the Lamb.
And He had come at once for you--because you belong to Him.

Oh, the futility of Death to a Child of the Most High God!
Oh, the wonder all of darkness must have at the Reality of Redemption!
Death could not overcome Him--and it could not overcome you.
You, my Friend, were and are and always will be His.


"O death, where is thy sting? O grave, where is thy victory?"
I Corinthians 15:55


--Written October 7, 2015, in honor of Grandpa Ray Yandell

Where to Go from Here

North? South? East? West?
Where to go from here?

Next step: I know it's coming.
Ready or not, I'll take it.

Close my eyes, clinch my teeth--
Hoping this isn't a ledge.

Here has been my home for so long
That I'm afraid to bid it adieu.

I've loved it here, I really have.
It's so final, that farewell.

But I must get my bags together,
Pack sparingly, efficiently--

This next trip will not be easy;
But it is time. It is time.

Done

That feeling that you get
When the world is not all it should be
That reality you sense
When you realize it's time for a change.

Like it or Love it,
Despair or Despise it,
This Thing is really happening:
The change is impending.

It's been inevitable, hasn't it?
Why is anyone shocked?
(Or was this their intent all along?)
This place is not my home, I sing.

How does the song go...?
Yes, this place is not my home,
I'm just-a passing through...
Through--from This to That.

If only I could see the That.
If only I could know it for myself.
Where am I headed, what shall I do?
Now that it's official: I'm Done.