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Jul 2016 · 434
The Plague
Scott Sinnock Jul 2016
As the wars wore on, the bodies were counted.
Generals and privates, ideals undaunted.
Faces with eyes unable to see,
Turning away, fearing to flee.
       And the drums rolled on
       Boom      Boom      Boom

Wrinkled old men cursing the wars,
Squatting on knees unbearably sore.
Starving young children, bellies distended
Praying for peace when all wars have ended.
       And the drums rolled on
       Boom      Boom      Boom

Windows and doors broken and boarded.
Vision of riches jealously hoarded.
Windows and doors bordered in gold.
Words of obscure meaning by liars are sold.
       And the drums rolled on
       Boom      Boom      Boom

Proud tall trees, symbols of might
Stripped of their beauty, alone in the night.
Spiders in holes, hermits in caves
Escaping the wars.
But who will they save?
       And the drums rolled on
       Boom      Boom      Boom

Plague in the cities, stench from the rot,
Kills all the honest, feeds who are not.
Churches and parks forgotten and lonely.
Beauty and love, uselessly homely.
       And the drums rolled on
       Boom      Boom      Boom

Dancing in graveyards, singing of wealth
Satan’s disciples bring only dark death.
Rising from evil, blackening the sun,
Clouds of the wars that can never be won.
       And the drums rolled on
       Boom      Boom      Boom

Black hooded monks ringing the bells,
Tell of the death, the hatred, the hell.
The four horses speed on, their hoofs tear the ground;
Their riders are grim -- their destiny bound.
       *And the bell tolled once.
               and                       stopped.
1969 or so, at the height of the Vietnam war, but it could have been written today or anyday.
Mar 2016 · 247
The Way
Scott Sinnock Mar 2016
For those who wish to change the world
    for the better,
It is well to remember the relations
    between right and wrong.
For if you wish to add a right
    you must also add a wrong;
And if you wish to take away a wrong
    you must also take away a right.
For their relationship is such that
    one does not exist without the other.
I rediscovered this when going through some of my old papers. I wrote it in 1969, just after I took a comparative religions class (the same semester I took geology 101, my then unbeknownst career). This was written to express my then understanding of Taoism and the yin/yang concept. I carry both geology and the dao with me today (both lower case).
Feb 2015 · 1.1k
Wind of Thought
Scott Sinnock Feb 2015
I am the wind of thought
that flows through time.

I am Homer and Achilles
Sophocles, Shakespeare
Verdi, Ibsen, and Williams.

I flow through the generations,
following imagination,
leaving dark Chaos to rule the past.

I am Zeus and Hera,
And deeper, Mnemosyne

I flitter it seems as I pass
from moment to moment,
memory to memory,
soul to soul.

I am
Cleopatra, Jenny Lind, and Jolie
teasing, singing and dancing
to the delight of the Muses

I am Jesus and Buddha
Epicurus, Epictetus
Even Chinese too.

I am Descartes and Newton
Einstein and Plank
Math and logic
Love and hate.

I am God.

I am the wind of thought that flows through our minds.
I am the wind of thought that flows through our time.
Nov 2014 · 1.3k
Crows a' Play
Scott Sinnock Nov 2014
I watched some crows this very eve,
Play upon a blustery, early November breeze.
Wave upon wave of those corvid beasts,
Now going west, now going east.
Now rising up, now darting down,
Now racing east,
Now tacking west.
No sailor on the seven seas
Can tack so well as one of these.

Now up, now down
Now left, then down.
One flies north
Another south, then darts east.
Yet flock drifts by despite these feats.
Another joins in synchronous dance
Then up, then down, then back again
Waving together till parting perchance.
Then each alone, up,
Then down, then back again.

Some stall for several ***** and blows,
Remaining still to trees below,
Then a feather's twitch
Banks into the wind

And soar, ...... soar, ..... soar,
Soar away.

Down a ***** only birds can know
Racing faster than the wind
Above the trees below.

*It seems so wasteful, this fighting of the wind,
Futile and vain as a skein does not.
It's not hunting, I think, nor ***,
Except perhaps for showing off.
But I suspect play at play.
Jonathon Seagull's desire, it seems
Infects these playful playing memes.

Perhaps I see play where there is no play,
Projecting wishes onto senses.
But corvids do play, it seems.
Do you too so seem?
Perhaps they even dream.
I have a special affinity for corvids. I watched a raven preen and strut for 5 minutes in Canyonlands, then looked me right in the eye as if to say, "Aren't I beautiful!". But perhaps he just said, "What? No treats after that great show?" In either case, off he flew without looking back. He was definitely aware, as I suspect these crows out my window are.
Oct 2014 · 832
Come In, Come In My Friends
Scott Sinnock Oct 2014
Come in, come in my friends,
Let us talk of gods and men.
But I must warn:
I ride the dragon Confucius cannot tame.
We soar on winds the Buddha cannot calm.
I frolic free on Jesus’ throne;
Secured in stone of my Olympus home,
Whose whence and why I can not know.

So come in, come in my friends
Let us talk of gods and men.*
If you come to teach and learn,
Come in, come in.
Let us share our common yearn.

Else go away so as not to waste my time with God.

                                                           ­             August, 2011
August 2011, written for a couple of finely dressed, very polite Mormon boys on their mission who invited themselves into my home. About five minutes after I welcomed them and handed them a copy this little ditty, they scooted out with tails between their legs. I am sure they correctly soon realized I was a hopeless case and not worth wasting their evangelical time on, as there are much more receptive souls out there that would better appreciate the new words of Jesus they offer. Plus, as I am sure they were warned, people like us might just be the devil himself or herself. So I think they were right to skedaddle out of here for their own protection. For all I know, I could be the devil, citing Buddha for God's sake.
Oct 2014 · 1.2k
Beauty in Nature
Scott Sinnock Oct 2014
This summer I saw mountains
   Thrusting out of the sea,
   And mountains mellowed with age,
   Rounded, softer, quietly returning to the sea.

I saw Redwoods: massive
   Majestic, alive,
   And marveled as I held seeds
   From which they thrive.

I wondered at hands that could be so old
   As those that carved the living stone
  In rocks by the sea;

I stood in awe hundreds of feet
   Beneath blankets of branches
   Of ancient trees.

I listened as mountainous streams
   Sang songs of the sources
   Of life-giving waters.

I saw flowers too many to name
   Running up and down grassy hillsides,
   In and out of pine-scented forests,
   Along rivers,
   Through meadows,

But why am I telling you this?
   Because, of course,
   I must prove I am free,
   That I can see beauty
   all around me.
But it seems
   The less I feel free,
   The less beauty I see, and
   The louder I shout, “I am free, I am free”,
   The more I scream, “I see, I see”.
It’s all a game,
   You see;
   you see.

I just try to follow the rules.

                                                        ­        August 1, 1970
                                                            ­  *(edited 10/11/2014)

— The End —