Friday, March 28, 2003

Read the blog of Salam Pax. I hope he can continue and is unhurt in that place of danger that is his home. I am sorry for the non-combatants. When this war is over, I will try to donate to helping these people recover. Sort of put my *greenspells* where my mouth is.
Those fingers of blame are certainly a nasty weapon. Heard an interesting new term yesterday, "weapons of mass distraction". I'm not so sure that isn't true of what is happening.
It saddens me greatly to witness the destruction and harm going on inside Iraq.I hope that this war ends soon, and that people may go about their lives in peace there. I do not wish to waste time pointing fingers of blame at anyone, it is too late for that. I will craft many *PRAYER* spells for peace to come to that poor tortured place.

Monday, March 24, 2003

Unfortunately the juxtaposition passed with too little spell energy, the sorceress was missing a key spell. Perhaps another will be found.

Saturday, March 22, 2003

Hmmm... I detect the possible juxtaposition of concurrent positive spell energy between my whizzyrdly self and a sorceress in the know, that may bring one of my mundanitieverse spell dreams to *fruition*. It's still just a tenuous web in the eythre, but it COULD turn out. I cast a scroll on a gentle breeze in a *hopeful* spirit, perhaps the Good Spirit may shine on this...


Wednesday, March 19, 2003

Walking The Razor:

May God as he is bless the children,
His sons and daughters are far from home,
They come in so many colors,
Forgetting they are leaves of one tree,
As we must forget blame,
Grace the innocent with safety,
Grace the dutiful with speed and swift homecoming,
And when the whirling sands all fall,
Grant us all peace and joy of life,
In brotherhood and harmony,
Every step having been correctly placed,
Walking division's razor.


By: Daniel A. Stafford
(C) 03/19/2003

Author's Comments:
We need the light of every soul in prayer in these times.

Tuesday, March 18, 2003

Cocklebur & Rush:

That uniquely all pervasive stickiness,
And it's attendant wave-in-the-breeze plumage,
All wrapped up in honey-gold tones,
A staple of snowless Midwest in Fall and Winter,
In this year of bare ground,
See the snow's blanket is thrown off again,
And the sunlight meets it's Earthly duty,
Exposing the prairie bones left between suburbs,
In small woods and glens and all the creeks' windings,
The secret little friends that hide and dart,
Have known these two for eons,
And I all the years of my life.


By: Daniel A. Stafford
(C) 03/13/2003

Author's Comments:
Just after Summer, just before Spring, and in recent years,
Much of Winter. Tawny IS the official color of the Midwest.
This land is so rich in tones of Earth's own golds.

Monday, March 17, 2003

Turn It On A Dime:

Take the wheel of that heart you drive,
No one else has the key,
Spin it on a dime,
A complete one-eighty to keep you alive,
Healthy, happy, whole,
Soul deep in the best parts of happiness,
A place only faith can fuel your heart to,
Understand the words you say,
Looking in the mirror at your own eyes,
They hold all the power in your universe,
Your own miracle mile you will drive,
When you love yourself,
By treating yourself to only good,
In words, in thoughts, in deeds,
And the red flashing lights of ill fortune,
Await the first sign of rushing too fast,
To add fuel to telling yourself to fear,
To doubt or expectations you must cry,
Take the wheel of that heart you drive,
No one else has the key,
Spin it on a dime,
A complete one-eighty to keep you alive,
Healthy, happy, whole,
Soul deep in the best parts of happiness,
A place only faith can fuel your heart to,
Understand the words you say,
Looking in the mirror at your own eyes,
They hold all the power in your universe,
For how you bespeak yourself,
If you see yourself so,
How can God do anything,
But follow your choice of roads,
Or see anything different than what you see?

This is the truth of freedom of choice.


By: Daniel A. Stafford
(C) 03/11/2003

Author's Comments:
If you see yourself as good and happy,
so will God. If you see yourself as bad or sad,
so will God. It's all there in what you say to you.
The Sun Is Shining Down:

Even on the darkest day,
No matter the black clouds and rain,
Above there is one thing no clouds may change,
The Sun is shining down upon the Earth,
In time these clouds will blow away,
And after the rains must come the light,
Cycle after cycle cold then warm,
Never forget that simple fact,
The Sun is shining down.


By: Daniel A. Stafford
(C) 03/08/2003

Author's Comments:
No troubles last forever.
Blue Waves On Yellow Sands:

I was contemplating late in the night,
Cross-legged on the beach under the stars,
The day had been all restful soul,
In a place that reaches you wholly under the skin,
The winds blow cool under a powder blue sky,
Gentle clouds catch your eye and dance,
Soft yellow sand cradles the blue waves,
"Huuuush, huuush, huuuush": they whisper loudly,
So long and endless they fall under your mind,
Sea gulls float and glide and search,
Any bit of food or a twig to play with,
Parasols and lawn chairs and distant lone sails,
So when evening falls and they sky turns to pink,
Finally washed in deep red and indigo,
The lights of Chicago across the waves,
The stars straight up at night,
The tall tall grasses rustling in tune,
Wind and wave and sand and stars,
You forget to wonder,
You are.


By: Daniel A. Stafford
(C) 03/04/2003

Author's Comments
A very real place I love to be.
Time Bombs And Serenades:

That calendar rolled like a tank,
Blew holes in all the "might have beens",
Just like a mushroom cloud omelet,
Fast and furious from fifteen to fifty,
Pale ghosts blew out the door like Grand Central,
And Baby, I just ever wanted you to know,
It's a kiss now or regret later world,
Hey, ain't any hurry but dinner's got cold,
The table's made of plastic since the sucker was set,
But it was formica and chrome when the oven was lit,
I heard Mario Lanza on vinyl catch me quite by surprise,
I had red roses and homemade ravioli in my heart,
I had a violin I was afraid to play under the window,
And the minute you pushed me away,
Damn, how I miss...
The friggin' omelet went off.


By: Daniel A. Stafford
(C) 03/03/2003

Author's Comments:
Time doesn't stop in the same place twice.
Never waste a good "I love you."
(Old missin's.)
Bearcat Seven:

The sky is blue,
All I hear is the rumble,
No clouds to duck under,
Over or around,
Below the water sparkles,
Islands rush by at 400 knots,
And the radio is silent,
I'm low down on the deck,
My partner playing eagle,
Trying to flush bad birds out of the palms,
And suddenly black clouds burst,
Flack on my palm Sunday,
And a leaping Zero makes my heart race,
My eagle is in trouble,
Upon high and screaming in a dive,
I race up from the deck,
Under the Zero's belly,
Pop my tracers on his guts,
Break sharp to portside,
As black smoke billows and debris flames out,
A cartwheel upon the waves,
And he sinks into blue silence,
My wingman waggles and we walk tracers,
Dropping the heat on the pillboxes,
One look at the gauges and we're off,
These thirsty birds begging for the roost,
Eagle and I give it they eye,
A couple of holes in him,
But minor he's going back to the sandbox,
And it's one more day of alive,
For Eagle three and Bearcat seven,
Tires chirp smoke on the tarmac,
The radio's chatter with instructions,
Flagging port and stop on the flightline,
Chief's screamin bloody murder,
"You let 'im wop my bird",
And the WACs are wavin'
Sneaky how peaceful,
Palms and surf can seem,
But you never know what's poppin',
Here in the Philippines.


By: Daniel A. Stafford
(C) 02/25/2003

Author's Comments:
Back when it was up close and
personal comparatively speaking.
Fishing The Sea:

The sands were red today,
And they were floating,
Belly up like fish,
Tangled in the weave of wire,
Shredded like fish on dynamite,
A bit here or there...

Seventeen and lied about less,
In their gloriously lost thousands,
I wonder if they all had mustaches,
But the sun will never know,
What the sharks packed away that day,
Thank God the sweethearts and mothers,
Left at home with just paper to see...

In their blackened and burned hundreds,
The legions of Hell walked among them,
Pointing to this or that,
But they were as frustrated as ever,
For they could not stop them,
As the smoke rose from the wells,
Steel rain fell in the trenches...

You see the ghosts at times,
In their silver chairs,
In their parades or on the walls,
And the ones you do not see,
Tucked away behind white walls screaming,
God I wish we could give them all back,
The pieces and souls we asked they leave behind.

Agreement is not universal,
With those who wrote the sending,
But the givers,
Those all we can say to is thank you,
For we know it was duty done,
And just who it was really for...
As far as I can see.


By: Daniel A. Stafford
(C) 02/25/2003

Author's Comments:
Regardless of what I or anyone else thinks of
the morality or justness of war, the soldier on the field
is doing his duty as sworn, no matter the side. This is the lot
of the common man under the thumb...and not where choices
are much granted.