I have a Membership Certificate on my wall in front of me, in my bedroom, for being on your “Board of Directors” from the election. I’ve personally sent you some of my hard-earned money from my modest pay. I dedicated time and energy into ensuring your election, and my state elected you by a mere 40,000 votes (I live in Pa). I’m proud of being part of this movement.
I’m respectfully asking you to consider asking the Corp of Engineers to reroute the Dakota Access Pipeline so it can’t contaminate water. This would make many people happy. You’ve said that you consider yourself an Environmentalist, and Al Gore walked away from your meeting feeling hopeful. I don’t believe that you’re controlled by the Energy Cartel. You want these pipelines to bring back jobs. I think I understand where you’re coming from. What I ask is that you show the world you are what we both know you are: Not just another Republican or Democrat or Career Politician. You somehow beat this colossal, stale, corrupt system. You care about people like me. Please, be our President and help the people control our government again.
I’m also a huge gun rights advocate, so I’d appreciate National Reciprocity and even a relook at the NFA.
We all knew it was a suicide mission, but I’m not sure if it registered on an emotional level what that truly meant—were the worst to happen. For my part, I wasn’t ready to die. I would tell people that I was. I would tell people I would fight to the last breath against the Nazi pigs to defend France.
“The Moon is so beautiful,” I said as I gazed at her. “So sterile… glowing… distant.”
“It won’t be in about 5 hours for you, big guy.” My co-pilot, Hans Wagner, didn’t like me because I was landing on the Moon while he had to stay behind in the orbiter. The jealousy hung in the air.
I figured we shouldn’t speak anymore. Instead, I turned my thoughts to the mission. The idea of being the first man to step on the Moon scared the hell out of me. What if I botched the landing and stranded myself or blew myself up in a crash landing? How might that failure affect our entire species? Our Great Nation values the evolution of humanity, and I felt like I was the bearer of that ideal. This demonstration of ingenuity and ambition might have enlightened humanity and connected us together. The world’s states could put aside their paranoia and realize a globally stable world. I considered the posturing between nuclear powers as the possible end to everything, the economy encouraging cruel and unhealthy practices, and people all across the world consequentially revolting against their governments. Our world was tearing at the seams. I would have liked my part to stop mankind from self-annihilation.
“We’re in stable orbit, near your site. Time to get in the landing module.”
Completeness has to include lack thereof. Often, it is the steps between, and the travels toward, that fill up the content of our lives. Satisfaction may be appreciated in moments of silence and isolation. The space between particles, principles, and people helps define us.
I know people who put their faith in a man claiming to be a prophet. When people give away their personal relationship with God to follow someone wicked, it’s tragic. I won’t name names out of respect for all parties, but I will say this: Critically think; deeply engage with the divine; and always judge self-acclaimed holy people by their fruits.
I decided to write a poem that’s different than my usual syllable-based stuff. This is a ballade (not to be confused with a “ballad”). The rhyme scheme is A-B-A-B-B-C-A-B-A-B-C for the first 3 stanzas and A-B-A-B-C for the last stanza (the envoi). The theme may be considered political to some. The beauty of poetry is that it could mean anything to anyone.