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Cori MacNaughton Oct 2015
The first in over sixty years
The whooping cranes are living wild
Now one young pair has laid an egg
And, too, with luck, will raise their child

They near Kissimmee were released
Beating the odds, survived to breed
A ray of hope they might increase
And ***** the armor of human greed

But cranes need water as do we
As still we pump the wetlands dry
Our chains of lakes sprout fat resorts
The river of grass condemned to die

Yet dare we dream we might reverse
This harsh inflicted damage done
Still apathy is our nation's curse
Which battles none has ever won

Today I cheer the whooping cranes
Who still have hope that they might see
Upon some far and distant day
Their offspring's offspring flying free
Originally written on 13Apr99, following an article I read about the first breeding pairs of whooping cranes released in Kissimmee, Florida, near Orlando, of which one pair was successfully (at the time of the article) raising a clutch of hatchlings.

We saw occasional endangered sandhill cranes, where I lived in Pinellas County, where the entire county is a designated bird sanctuary, along with literally dozens of other rare and threatened bird species from wood storks and roseate spoonbills to bald eagles and ospreys.
Dark n Beautiful Oct 2013
Sunday Morning blues

RIO DE JANEIRO all nights or LAS VEGAS nightlife
After two-three glasses of twisted Ice lemon
Or was it an Alabama Slammer which cut like a knife

My days and nights felt like a freight train ride
And that no lie!

I remember the Cuban Bulldog who bite me
three years ago, in Kissimmee;
which left me more than a little weak
those feisty drinks

Or was it that wicked, wacky Long Island Ice coffee
Which almost has done me in?
After, watching a news clips of Momar Kadafi
or was it an episode of Friends

Luckily, for me I met my sweet Marlin Brando
And it was hallelujah and amen in Key Largo
So many bartenders, so many smokes filled rooms
So, once again here I am nursing
Another Sunday mornings blues.
My favorites drinks............
Tina Fish Oct 2011
You have the right to remain silent.

                And why fight it as everything
                you’ve said and done are hung
                for all to see with no remedy to
                clean up the mess…

                You think if you say it loud, you say it best?

                It takes an acquired finesse to rescue
                damsels in distress, to slyly peel off
                that dress until your left with the
                nakedness of truth in between…

                The Indian word for the source of light is Kissimmee.

                And we all start from there,
                born shirtless and bare
                to an astounding glare with
                maybe just a couple hairs
                and fare skinned…

                And then the molding begins.

And the evolution is consistent.
                It trims at the dos and don’ts
                at the who breaks the rules
                and who won’t, until everything
                were supposed to be floats
                to the top, and what we really are
                finds itself lodged and locked
                somewhere between our heart
                and our gut.

My mind gets hurt when it tries to transcend,
                when it diplomatically tries to comprehend
                to offer interpretations, to excite revelations,
                epiphanies masked as inspirations, strutting
                with catwalk determination and suspended
                until cessation forces great ideas to result in
                elimination.

                Simply because, temptation got in the way.

                Simply because,
                You were going about your day,
                exactly like how they say,
                because you got paid and will pay,
                because, what the hey?
                You think…I might as well
                Make the most of it.

                -- but man seems only to push it to extremes,
                                And we find ourselves crying tears of desperation.

Or perhaps it’s depression?
                That sick gut pulling apprehension
                born from guilt and brewed over a
                low flame, until it is divided into them
                and me, into ‘I’m the one in agony!’
                and ‘how can nobody see?’
                but deaf ears have become as common
                as plastic trees and tears fall pointlessly
                on hardwood earth.

                But we all know how much it hurts, really.

                And how about I take you out today?
                Take your mind off and play with all
                the other boxes filed into this organized system…
                Remind you there’s a vision bigger than yours.

It may seem like they’re together but really,
                everyone’s alone.
                Simply an extension of their phones,
                and contacts, that lack contact,
                that stop at a ringtone or beep,
                that shuffle feet in the morning
                at sun kissed skies and sigh at
                the start of the day…

                -- Because either way…
                                we all have to start today.

Got to make our way through,
                and hope a pillow or two will
                catch us when we fall.
                That a pillow or two will
                form some kind of wall
                to shield us from tomorrow.

                Pillows catch so much sorrow.

                And borrow the weight of the burden
                                until we’re left tumbling into half built dreams…

                -- Yes, pillows I think, is what this world really needs.
Pillows to feed an entire nation!
                To be passed on from generation to generation,
                Spread the comfort…and hold the love,
                I believe the former takes precedence to the above,
                we can never have enough of that…

                My heart loves freely when it’s at rest.

                Not strained to take life’s multiple choice test,
                asking:

                What would you like best?

a)      To be Free.
b)      To be Me.
c)       To Comprehend a Divinity.
d)      To be me by understanding I’m free while practicing the ****** of my divinity?
                Or
e)      Not c or d.

                And remember…
                                We are who We want you to be.

                So give the world more pillows,
                                At least then we may Dream...

— The End —