Summer Heat

 

In heat of summer

I oft dream of fall

When air turns crisp

Forest shades a bouquet of autumn

 

To walk paths laid by deer

Narrow by-ways

Neath stately trees

Brittle sounds beneath my feet.

 

A scent of cedar

With moss and dew

Visions of nature

My senses aroused.

 

Life surrounds me

Yet visage unseen

Their realm unknown

Mortal am I, merely a man.

Ladue Section 8 Housing?

 

Wow, now here’s an idea that just may work.

The White House wants to force upscale neighborhoods to accept low income housing. If I understand it right, this is their thinking:

Force poor people to live in government housing surrounded by million dollar mansions, swimming pools, manicured lawns, fancy cars, garden parties, and privileged neighbors.

Their children will be exposed to all this plus getting to go to school in their Wal-Mart jeans and shirts, hand-me-down jackets, yard sale backpacks and maybe, just maybe some half decent athletic shoes without holes in them. Let’s leave off the standard electronic equipment required for status.

This sounds like something every child would go for.

I can imagine a poor kid from the city (makes no difference what color) suddenly moving into his new home in Elite-Ville. He sees the pools, the grass, trees, flowers, dogs, cats, kids and more. He/she is in heaven – right?

Wait for it!!!!

“Mom, can I have a dog?” No Timmy, we can’t afford one.

“Mom, can we have a pool?” No Timmy, the government won’t pay for one.

“Mom, can I get a laptop for school?” No Timmy, we can’t afford one.

Whether the parent, or the White House realizes it, or not, the child is going to be continuously bombarded with cultural differences – day in, day out.

What the children of Elite-Ville take for granted, the city child may come to envy and, potentially resent. Will he/she adjust and feel accepted? No! Regardless of how one dresses it up, the differences between the haves and the have nots exists. It is a palpable barrier that cannot be crossed simply by moving into the neighborhood.

Over time, the child may grow to miss the culture of his previous environs. The friends who shared the same socio-cultural issues. Perhaps he/she will act out by breaking the invisible rules of the new environs – petty theft, vandalism, etc. Although these acts are minor crimes and should be appropriately punished they must also be seen as psychological cries for help.

You cannot remove children from one culture on Monday and expect them to adapt to the new on by Friday. It will not happen. Thinking it will is self-defeating.

I totally agree that we need cultural acceptance and incorporation in our communities but it has to come naturally. I say take the money planned for section 8 housing in Elite-Ville and use it to build culturally diverse neighborhoods and communities. Stop building the horizontal high rises and start building single and duplex homes with yards that each resident can call his/her own. A garden, a patio, friends over on a warm evening could be the beginning of acceptance, understanding and most importantly kinship.

Here’s an idea, how about building a circular walking community the core of which would be a circular community center? No motorized vehicles (except emergency and public transportation) allowed. Instead of honking at someone, say hi! Stop for a smile – learn to appreciate your neighbors.

The only two legged race allowed would be Homo sapiens, sapiens.

Could you imagine a new culture developing out of this? I could.

 

“Roses Amidst Rubble”

 

Maelstrom!

Terror unleashed

Madness ascending counterfeit throne.

 

Clouds of illusion

Storms of transformation

Thunder voices now silenced.

 

Torrential rains

Tears of the children

Cries from the east

 

Lightning spears

Assail the spirit

To strike down the soul.

 

What hope for the morrow?

Will thorns emerge?

Roses amid the rubble?

The Scale is Broken

The Scale is Broken.

 

I arose this day

Sleep still lingers

To face again

Life’s foul fingers.

 

I begin to stand

My bed still warm.

Something amiss

Change to my form.

 

My left eye wanders

Other sees night.

Right arm has flown

Tis nowhere in sight.

 

In panic I dash

Straight for the door

Right leg missing

I’m down on the floor

 

No pain do I feel

As in defeat I fall.

Desperately grasping

No rail on the wall.

 

My vision impaired

No sword can I wield

Powerless to progress

A fool on the field.

 

Now in failure

A struggle to survive

Those we misled

Aware that we lied.

 

We sought high throne

Our back to the door.

Forgetting the wisdom

Democracy’s core.