Haiku 78
* Haiku expresses through simplicity *
We are like eunuchs,
Big, muscular, strapping guys -
Can't create, just duds.
National W'mens Day,
What ignorance did Rush spout ?
Forked tongue venom.
When will women act ?
Called over educated -
Where's the uprising ?
War against women !
Rolls back time - women servants -
Viagra Nation !
"For whom the bell tolls",
High heals, sneakers, clogs, slippers -
When marching, you'll hear !
Takes critical mass
For reaction sprouting
Action - march, vote, march !
Ronald C. Downie
Saturday, March 10, 2012
Wednesday, March 7, 2012
Occupy Spring
Occupy Spring
I'm down on the lowest rung of the 99 step ladder realizing there's no climbing up for me anymore. Advancing age keeps most oldsters like me very close to the ground; although, if I was a 1%R my investment income would rise year after year.
I'm confused in understanding the makeup of these 1%R's. How many of them are truly working women ? These super-duper rich seem only to be populated by men often shown as the deep pocketed financiers of political elections. Some 1%R's, like Mitt Romney, appear at rallies with their spouses but did his wife or wives of the other super rich create the vast wealth their families now enjoy ? I would suggest the 1%R's are really an old boy's club reminiscent of medieval times when men ruled this World with an iron fist.
Neither do I understand the gender makeup of the 99%R's. I believe women comprise about 53% of the citizens of the USA, a substantial majority. Do females makeup over 50% of the members of the Occupy movement ? If not, why not ? The tide of change seem to be flowing against the struggle of women to finally get beyond the concept of submission. An alliance with the 99%R's would seem natural since both seem to be seeking equality from the powers which govern us.
After all these long years I should know quite well that simple logic does not carry the day. The struggle for equality, in all its forms, has been going on for millennia. It's like trying to go up a grassy slope slippery from a morning rain ; two steps up, one back, a fatiguing exercise to say the least. Many begin the journey but only a few will finish.
If women allow the tide to carry them backward they may not recover in a lifetime. The battle lines have been drawn by men legislators who historically believe they know best how women should be kept in line. By Devine Right men are superior is a strong message that women must debunk.
Women hold a numerical majority in America and they need to join with the minorities : the persons of color, the immigrants, the poor, the old, and the in-firmed so between these groups they gain a unified voice, played out with the ballot box, which may well change this World forever.
Ronald C. Downie
I'm down on the lowest rung of the 99 step ladder realizing there's no climbing up for me anymore. Advancing age keeps most oldsters like me very close to the ground; although, if I was a 1%R my investment income would rise year after year.
I'm confused in understanding the makeup of these 1%R's. How many of them are truly working women ? These super-duper rich seem only to be populated by men often shown as the deep pocketed financiers of political elections. Some 1%R's, like Mitt Romney, appear at rallies with their spouses but did his wife or wives of the other super rich create the vast wealth their families now enjoy ? I would suggest the 1%R's are really an old boy's club reminiscent of medieval times when men ruled this World with an iron fist.
Neither do I understand the gender makeup of the 99%R's. I believe women comprise about 53% of the citizens of the USA, a substantial majority. Do females makeup over 50% of the members of the Occupy movement ? If not, why not ? The tide of change seem to be flowing against the struggle of women to finally get beyond the concept of submission. An alliance with the 99%R's would seem natural since both seem to be seeking equality from the powers which govern us.
After all these long years I should know quite well that simple logic does not carry the day. The struggle for equality, in all its forms, has been going on for millennia. It's like trying to go up a grassy slope slippery from a morning rain ; two steps up, one back, a fatiguing exercise to say the least. Many begin the journey but only a few will finish.
If women allow the tide to carry them backward they may not recover in a lifetime. The battle lines have been drawn by men legislators who historically believe they know best how women should be kept in line. By Devine Right men are superior is a strong message that women must debunk.
Women hold a numerical majority in America and they need to join with the minorities : the persons of color, the immigrants, the poor, the old, and the in-firmed so between these groups they gain a unified voice, played out with the ballot box, which may well change this World forever.
Ronald C. Downie
Tuesday, March 6, 2012
Not Your Normal Sewing Circle
Not Your Normal Sewing Circle
The saga of working women in sewing factories a century ago depicting their trials and tribulations :
Women trudge to work before the dawn
Awakens slips of eastern peeking light .
They'll work to dark for which they're born
Only on Sundays will they daylight sight .
Clutching a meager lunch while dreaming sweets,
Shoulders hunched forward, black shawl draped,
Their children left home must fend for themselves .
Through cold and snow walk iced sidewalks caked .
Windowed high walls stand five stories tall ,
This building's the tallest to tower the town .
It draws them as ants to sweet nectar dew,
They'll squint at dawn by dark they'll frown .
Zig zagging up a stairwell all must climb to
Their sewing machines waiting them in the gloom ,
Settling in, as a tiring long day looms ahead,
Their bodily functions they need hold to noon .
Their rate a must six days each week .
Is there a song their hearts would sing
Above the din of machine needle strike ?
It's family needs their wages must bring .
Bosses want window's low cost light .
Dust and lint encrusted, dirty they'll be
Worry not that sewers loose their sight,
Cause seekers, a job is really all they see .
A forgotten era, a time so long ago,
These windowed old buildings quiet, silent,
Echoes muted, walls still stand starkly tall,
To the wrecking ball, they remain resilient .
Is there a new tune that we hear being sung
By people who want to live in an apartment
That could be built behind these old high walls ?
Hope ! Please choose a date for your settlement .
Ronald C . Downie
The shirt factory at South Charlotte and Cherry
was part of the Smith Pie Complex .
The saga of working women in sewing factories a century ago depicting their trials and tribulations :
Women trudge to work before the dawn
Awakens slips of eastern peeking light .
They'll work to dark for which they're born
Only on Sundays will they daylight sight .
Clutching a meager lunch while dreaming sweets,
Shoulders hunched forward, black shawl draped,
Their children left home must fend for themselves .
Through cold and snow walk iced sidewalks caked .
Windowed high walls stand five stories tall ,
This building's the tallest to tower the town .
It draws them as ants to sweet nectar dew,
They'll squint at dawn by dark they'll frown .
Zig zagging up a stairwell all must climb to
Their sewing machines waiting them in the gloom ,
Settling in, as a tiring long day looms ahead,
Their bodily functions they need hold to noon .
Their rate a must six days each week .
Is there a song their hearts would sing
Above the din of machine needle strike ?
It's family needs their wages must bring .
Bosses want window's low cost light .
Dust and lint encrusted, dirty they'll be
Worry not that sewers loose their sight,
Cause seekers, a job is really all they see .
A forgotten era, a time so long ago,
These windowed old buildings quiet, silent,
Echoes muted, walls still stand starkly tall,
To the wrecking ball, they remain resilient .
Is there a new tune that we hear being sung
By people who want to live in an apartment
That could be built behind these old high walls ?
Hope ! Please choose a date for your settlement .
Ronald C . Downie
The shirt factory at South Charlotte and Cherry
was part of the Smith Pie Complex .
Monday, March 5, 2012
Haiku 77
Haiku 77
Haikus to illuminate the obvious -
Tornado victims,
Do you want government help ?
Government does work !
Rush Limbaugh's cigar,
Disgusting phallic symbol -
Will change women's vote.
To lose everything,
Tests strength through adversity -
The strong overcome.
Before the ship sinks,
Lifeboats lowered to water -
Women first, Rush swims !
"When going gets tough,
The tough get going", ahead -
No's ! Turns us backward .
Put best foot forward,
To lead, to dance, to romance -
Daring rise like cream.
Ronald C. Downie
Haikus to illuminate the obvious -
Tornado victims,
Do you want government help ?
Government does work !
Rush Limbaugh's cigar,
Disgusting phallic symbol -
Will change women's vote.
To lose everything,
Tests strength through adversity -
The strong overcome.
Before the ship sinks,
Lifeboats lowered to water -
Women first, Rush swims !
"When going gets tough,
The tough get going", ahead -
No's ! Turns us backward .
Put best foot forward,
To lead, to dance, to romance -
Daring rise like cream.
Ronald C. Downie
Sunday, March 4, 2012
When Are We Going To Get There
When Are We Going To Get There ?
Friends circle around the camp fire :
Lengths of downed trees flame within
The blackened iron fire ring where
Aged wood burns, wafting smoke
To chimney up through the high
Canopy of tall pines .
Burning wood's cave ageless aroma
Escapes flames of carbon as hues
Of white and blue, also shades
Of orange and red, that join crackling ,
Popping gases released finally from
Spent embers to seek again the
Chemistry of union .
Before molecules, pre- atom, both ash and gas
Were big banged into primordial birth
As quarks - positive and negative - then
Chaining over and over, again and again ,
Linking for how many times, maybe into ,
Even my own DNA .
A child sees a journey as a destination, as an ending,
" When are we going to get there ? "
But force and matter, not knowing beginning
Or able to see an end, journey to connect
Into granite, or possibly, into you and either by
Magma or by fire, they are released as
Ooze or as ash to again travel .
Stalking silently within me, multiplying
And dividing, oblivious to the demands
For long life and old age, stealth cells ,
The aggressive minority demanding their
Pound of flesh cheat in line, as they become
The new order .
Downed trees or me makes no difference
To fire's finality of form .
I am, as is a child, as is ash to " there",
Release is to my continued journey .
Giving up their colors embers cool and
Die away, on the breeze ash drifts ,
There into darkness, depart friends .
Ronald C. Downie
Friends circle around the camp fire :
Lengths of downed trees flame within
The blackened iron fire ring where
Aged wood burns, wafting smoke
To chimney up through the high
Canopy of tall pines .
Burning wood's cave ageless aroma
Escapes flames of carbon as hues
Of white and blue, also shades
Of orange and red, that join crackling ,
Popping gases released finally from
Spent embers to seek again the
Chemistry of union .
Before molecules, pre- atom, both ash and gas
Were big banged into primordial birth
As quarks - positive and negative - then
Chaining over and over, again and again ,
Linking for how many times, maybe into ,
Even my own DNA .
A child sees a journey as a destination, as an ending,
" When are we going to get there ? "
But force and matter, not knowing beginning
Or able to see an end, journey to connect
Into granite, or possibly, into you and either by
Magma or by fire, they are released as
Ooze or as ash to again travel .
Stalking silently within me, multiplying
And dividing, oblivious to the demands
For long life and old age, stealth cells ,
The aggressive minority demanding their
Pound of flesh cheat in line, as they become
The new order .
Downed trees or me makes no difference
To fire's finality of form .
I am, as is a child, as is ash to " there",
Release is to my continued journey .
Giving up their colors embers cool and
Die away, on the breeze ash drifts ,
There into darkness, depart friends .
Ronald C. Downie
Saturday, March 3, 2012
County Seat To College Town
County Seat to College Town
Some years ago on the front page of The Pottstown Mercury (its name then) a story like this appeared.
Pottstown to become a county seat in the newly carved out county made up of land taken from Berks, Chester, and Montgomery Counties with Pottstown at the geographic center.
April Fools Day quickly showed through the intent, though, in fact, that image described was just what had been going on here for very many decades. Pottstown really was the industrial, commercial, professional, and banking hub of that designated area. We had little interface with Norristown nor Reading, each their County's seat. We felt as outsiders but we didn't object too much since we were self sufficient in our vibrancy. Pottstown's population rose above 30,000 finally topping out later at 32,000 before falling to 22,000 now. All walks of life inhabited Pottstown and lived in the surrounding townships. Though the poor were present, they seemed not to be totally destitute because an unorganized safety net operated quite effectively.
Up through the 1950's from Colonial Times the poor and needy were essentially disappeared into the community through the humanitarian work of the churches and, somewhat under the radar, by funding from social clubs. Clubs were allowed back then to operate games of chance overlooked by governmental authorities up until gambling became a no-no. The county had taxing power throughout the entire population and homelessness with its connection to the poor was not isolated to specific areas.
Church parishioners began urban flight as the Green Wave of the effluent flowed to the suburbs, building homes there, while still maintaining church buildings in town. No longer did these parishioners need to be daily exposed to the poor so naturally many adopted an "out of sight out of mind" attitude. Once, what was a duty now was someone else's problem, the Town's or the county's. During the grand heyday of Pottstown's industrialization, work was more than plentiful and money flowed even into the causes which helped feed the poor. When industry folded or moved away, jobs became non-existent, gifting ceased, and the poor and homeless expanded in numbers and needs. Tent cities cropped up along the Manatawny and Schuylkill waterways in Pottstown since it was here the county established numerous agency offices which administered to the poor. Agencies begot more agencies which drew like a magnet those in need as their rolls burgeoned.
All the while the county measured the number of those poor and equated that as a sign for more section 8 dwellings needed. The spiraling just continued as Pottstown declined and, along with it, rental rates dropped compared to other towns in the county. Section 8 became a better buy here for the county so they promoted its acceptance which enhanced the spiraling down. Though mostly ignored, it is the ultimate responsibility of the county to care for the homeless and protect the poor. The county is the agent of the state and federal government for the dispersal of grant moneys designated to care for them. One has only to diligently follow the money trail from its source to its use, to see if it's spent properly.
The continued concentration here of the homeless, the poor, and section 8 took an additional toll on Pottstown's economic health. High Street was once a hubbub of retail activity but, a slow decline in people with disposable income shopping, caused weak shops to close up. The sidewalks which used to be filled with working people shopping was now populated with the poor who had no money to spend. In fact, the art of pan handling started cropping up, the million dollar Town Center Park began to be their meeting place, and sometimes they chose to sleep there.
Just as High Street declined so did the residential areas once the backbone of the Town's tax base. The school district, which receives four out of every five tax dollars, continued to raise taxes yearly to
defray the extra costs to educate students of the transient poor whose children's needs exceeded the norm. Retired home owners were caught with their fixed incomes while their taxes rose along with the
costs to keep up their property. Their "For Sale" signs joined those signs already erected on properties foreclosed on by banks when the mortgager, many out of work, could not pay their mortgage. The gross asset value of Pottstown continued to decline year after year; therefore, taxes must rise year after year just to remain even.
What would change this image ? 1-Bring back industry along with its jobs, 2-eliminate taxation based on property values, 3- demand the county to equitably distribute the care for the homeless poor throughout Montgomery County, 4- revitalize the High Street corridor to bring back retail, professional, and commercial vitality through an infusion of grant moneys, 5- embrace thoroughly the concept of Pottstown truly as a college town, 6- expect every public exposure of Pottstown, a college town, to be expressed in a positive light.
Ronald C. Downie
Some years ago on the front page of The Pottstown Mercury (its name then) a story like this appeared.
Pottstown to become a county seat in the newly carved out county made up of land taken from Berks, Chester, and Montgomery Counties with Pottstown at the geographic center.
April Fools Day quickly showed through the intent, though, in fact, that image described was just what had been going on here for very many decades. Pottstown really was the industrial, commercial, professional, and banking hub of that designated area. We had little interface with Norristown nor Reading, each their County's seat. We felt as outsiders but we didn't object too much since we were self sufficient in our vibrancy. Pottstown's population rose above 30,000 finally topping out later at 32,000 before falling to 22,000 now. All walks of life inhabited Pottstown and lived in the surrounding townships. Though the poor were present, they seemed not to be totally destitute because an unorganized safety net operated quite effectively.
Up through the 1950's from Colonial Times the poor and needy were essentially disappeared into the community through the humanitarian work of the churches and, somewhat under the radar, by funding from social clubs. Clubs were allowed back then to operate games of chance overlooked by governmental authorities up until gambling became a no-no. The county had taxing power throughout the entire population and homelessness with its connection to the poor was not isolated to specific areas.
Church parishioners began urban flight as the Green Wave of the effluent flowed to the suburbs, building homes there, while still maintaining church buildings in town. No longer did these parishioners need to be daily exposed to the poor so naturally many adopted an "out of sight out of mind" attitude. Once, what was a duty now was someone else's problem, the Town's or the county's. During the grand heyday of Pottstown's industrialization, work was more than plentiful and money flowed even into the causes which helped feed the poor. When industry folded or moved away, jobs became non-existent, gifting ceased, and the poor and homeless expanded in numbers and needs. Tent cities cropped up along the Manatawny and Schuylkill waterways in Pottstown since it was here the county established numerous agency offices which administered to the poor. Agencies begot more agencies which drew like a magnet those in need as their rolls burgeoned.
All the while the county measured the number of those poor and equated that as a sign for more section 8 dwellings needed. The spiraling just continued as Pottstown declined and, along with it, rental rates dropped compared to other towns in the county. Section 8 became a better buy here for the county so they promoted its acceptance which enhanced the spiraling down. Though mostly ignored, it is the ultimate responsibility of the county to care for the homeless and protect the poor. The county is the agent of the state and federal government for the dispersal of grant moneys designated to care for them. One has only to diligently follow the money trail from its source to its use, to see if it's spent properly.
The continued concentration here of the homeless, the poor, and section 8 took an additional toll on Pottstown's economic health. High Street was once a hubbub of retail activity but, a slow decline in people with disposable income shopping, caused weak shops to close up. The sidewalks which used to be filled with working people shopping was now populated with the poor who had no money to spend. In fact, the art of pan handling started cropping up, the million dollar Town Center Park began to be their meeting place, and sometimes they chose to sleep there.
Just as High Street declined so did the residential areas once the backbone of the Town's tax base. The school district, which receives four out of every five tax dollars, continued to raise taxes yearly to
defray the extra costs to educate students of the transient poor whose children's needs exceeded the norm. Retired home owners were caught with their fixed incomes while their taxes rose along with the
costs to keep up their property. Their "For Sale" signs joined those signs already erected on properties foreclosed on by banks when the mortgager, many out of work, could not pay their mortgage. The gross asset value of Pottstown continued to decline year after year; therefore, taxes must rise year after year just to remain even.
What would change this image ? 1-Bring back industry along with its jobs, 2-eliminate taxation based on property values, 3- demand the county to equitably distribute the care for the homeless poor throughout Montgomery County, 4- revitalize the High Street corridor to bring back retail, professional, and commercial vitality through an infusion of grant moneys, 5- embrace thoroughly the concept of Pottstown truly as a college town, 6- expect every public exposure of Pottstown, a college town, to be expressed in a positive light.
Ronald C. Downie
Thursday, March 1, 2012
Beyond The Senses
Beyond The Senses
Clambering for acceptance,
Mediocrity cast, bogged down,
Not understanding why I am
So serious while the World
Wallers in its superficiality.
Is my life a drama or a dirge ?
Can I accept universal song ?
May I see nirvana in the arts ?
Will I, the painter's eye, perceive ?
Is this me or is it a mirror of me ?
Ankles swelled, strong hands shriveled,
Eyes for sight clouded with tears,
More gum, not white what's left,
Like Spanish Moss grey, less hair,
Dropped chest rests like a flat tire,
Hobbling's more than a pain in the ass.
No longer pungent are tasteful smells.
Where did my fine feeling fingers fly ?
Horizons, once sharp, bleed as if in mist.
Guttural rumblings mute my Earth's Song,
Flavors of a bountiful table have escaped.
Pre-eternity lives as an indomitable spirit.
Value acceptance of yourself
Within the boundaries society
Permits you're being a roll model.
Be yourself, not that method actor
Slipping on and off center stage.
With issues grapple, set your goals.
Ronald C. Downie
Clambering for acceptance,
Mediocrity cast, bogged down,
Not understanding why I am
So serious while the World
Wallers in its superficiality.
Is my life a drama or a dirge ?
Can I accept universal song ?
May I see nirvana in the arts ?
Will I, the painter's eye, perceive ?
Is this me or is it a mirror of me ?
Ankles swelled, strong hands shriveled,
Eyes for sight clouded with tears,
More gum, not white what's left,
Like Spanish Moss grey, less hair,
Dropped chest rests like a flat tire,
Hobbling's more than a pain in the ass.
No longer pungent are tasteful smells.
Where did my fine feeling fingers fly ?
Horizons, once sharp, bleed as if in mist.
Guttural rumblings mute my Earth's Song,
Flavors of a bountiful table have escaped.
Pre-eternity lives as an indomitable spirit.
Value acceptance of yourself
Within the boundaries society
Permits you're being a roll model.
Be yourself, not that method actor
Slipping on and off center stage.
With issues grapple, set your goals.
Ronald C. Downie
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