"distiller" poems
There's a yellow green gas,
You can't see in your glass.
Sometimes you can tell,
It's there by the smell.
It does a great job removing bacteria,
Like Diphtheria,
Or even Listeria.
But what do you think,
Happens to the chlorine in your drink?
I don't want to alarm,
But there's a chance it might harm.
It protects at a price,
Attacking our bacteria that are nice,
And I'm sure it excels,
At killing your own cells,
Forcing new ones to grow,
When a mistake could cause woe.
Some studies have found it an enhancer,
Of bladder and bowel cancer.
Whether old or young,
Do you want it in your lung?
You have the power,
To remove it from your shower.
It's rather grim,
To have to breathe it when you swim.
You're more likely to wheeze,
Or sneeze.
Do you think it will please,
Your inflammatory bowel disease?
Perhaps it's the key,
To why there's Crohns and UC.
Do you think that your skin,
Might become a little thin,
And be filled with dread,
As it starts to turn red.
Can you not feel,
How it's harder to heal?
It makes our tissues grow old,
From what I've been told.
Our cells can only divide,
A few times before they're stupified.
With asthma and chlorine on a map,
You can see they overlap.
Sadly in the West,
Not everyone has guessed,
That there may be a link,
With the gas in our drink.
“But!”, I hear you cry,
“Without it people will die.”
Let go of your dread,
We can use something instead.
The answer is well known,
It's called 'ozone'.
Made from pure water,
It's gone when it reaches my daughter,
Unlike chlorine it's life is brief,
What a relief.
There's many a city,
That make it with electricity,
Splitting water into hydrogen,
And best of all, oxygen!
For ozone is made from O2,
Yes, it's true!
Imagine if you had,
Water with nothing they add.
Already there's Paris and Nice in France,
Where people can dance.
San Diego and Los Angeles in the USA,
Have water that's ok.
And Osaka in Japan,
Now use this plan.
But you don't have to be rich,
To make the switch.
Ask a clever committee,
To stop chlorine in your city.
See if you can arrange,
To have your water change.
I hear you shout,
“Can 'I' get this chlorine out?”
If you leave water in a jug overnight,
What's left will be slight.
Boiling will send it away in the air,
So there's no need to despair.
You can also remove it with a filter,
Or a water distiller.
To learn more have a look,
At 'Question Chlorine' on facebook.
Aug 26, 2014
Aug 26, 2014 at 5:05 AM UTC
Lost between words, buried by thoughts.
Tonight the distiller is dripping moonshine I drown my sorrows in.
The smoke of ****** marijuana mixed with tobacco takes over the gallery.
A handful of souls still awake. One thing in common we all have, the dream of freedom.
Killers, robbers, dealers, here one is no different than the next.
All government merchandise.
With the late hours of the night comes the silence.
As silence takes over, the hypnotic sound of the moonshine dripping from the distiller take one’s thoughts on a journey deep inside the mind.
Little by little the bottle fills up as the mind empties.
It is time the ghosts visit. Time to leave this place with them.
Cruising the known world in my mind. To be with the loved ones, at least on my imagination.
They seem to show up in waves. She is usually the first one. We talk, we dance, take long walks, but is never enough.
There is so much to know about her still.
Then come the friends, family. Eventually some actual ghosts even.
Slowly the moonshine and the writing give place to sleep.
The chance of meeting her in my dreams, moonshine inebriated.
Aug 3, 2018
Aug 3, 2018 at 1:26 PM UTC
Still like a waters edge.
A sense of no sense and nonsense.
Puddle drunk, a nun to nothing and cross dressing monk.
You cannae hide, seek the tongues that speak.
A riddle of the weak, a bridge that saves both sides from falling away to a mountains edge,
the tiller, distiller lookalike Windy Miller,
converse, adverse no rhyme or reason to build a better will.
Dec 13, 2012
Dec 13, 2012 at 8:07 AM UTC
Oh she's a wanderer
She's a distiller of souls
You cannot catch her boy
She'll just continue to roam
For she was whisked away
Her mind you tried to hold like a tide
But then you glanced away
And she broke free from your bind
Oh hope, the hope you had
Oh grasp, the grasp you held
Oh life, the life you thought yours
The life you thought there
The life you thought you knew
Slipping and sliding
Life, that wriggly worm
Life, that trickery
It's spun up on you
Gone and done a complete turn
Oh, she's a wanderer
She's a tiller man's child
A mocking bird
Lone and gentle against that sycamore wild
Don't stall her boy
Don't shelter or cramp her style
For she'll fly away
No mockingbird stays still for any length of a while
Nov 4, 2012
Nov 4, 2012 at 5:20 PM UTC
Bridle of desires,
Wing above the storms,
He that steadies the Current,
Lord of my life
Gather me unto You
That these words may be holy
And worthy to praise thee,
Christ, God of my life.
King of Kings
With Your perfection in wisdom
Who rejoices in the little children,
He that is the Word,
Heavenly Shepard
That forms the stars and the skies
With a gesture
Saving those from
The darkness that looms,
Guide me into the Life
As I follow the immortal light,
Merciful One,
Jesus Christ
Distiller of men
Allow me to praise you
Son of God,
Savior of my life.
Jun 17, 2016
Jun 17, 2016 at 9:57 PM UTC
Recognize a feeling, but don't let it lead,
it will turn to want, instead need,
if your heart beats pitter patter, let's get at 'er,
"full speed ahead" cries the fool,
hopelessly already lost,
but what has luv got to do
to get through to you,
love is an engine
of a changed heart,
not a chained part,
of misguided pleasure,
love is not the strongest
emotion even if true,
it has to be pure too.
Love has and always will,
be a void filler,,
a trust instiller,
a faith distiller,
a Spirit infiller.
Luv becomes love,
after the novelty has
worn off and the metal,
of the relationship,
shines
purely,
surely,
as each,
day the
sun rises,
so do the moments
to show love.
Unconditonally.
Agape.
Apr 14, 2014
Apr 14, 2014 at 12:16 AM UTC
Pourquoi de tes regards percer ainsi mon âme ?
Baisse, oh ! baisse tes yeux pleins d'une chaste flamme :
Baisse-les, ou je meurs.
Viens plutôt, lève-toi ! Mets ta main dans la mienne,
Que mon bras arrondi t'entoure et te soutienne
Sur ces tapis de fleurs.
............................................
Aux bords d'un lac d'azur il est une colline
Dont le front verdoyant légèrement s'incline
Pour contempler les eaux ;
Le regard du soleil tout le jour la caresse,
Et l'haleine de l'onde y fait flotter sans cesse
Les ombres des rameaux.
Entourant de ses plis deux chênes qu'elle embrasse,
Une vigne sauvage à leurs rameaux s'enlace,
Et, couronnant leurs fronts,
De sa pâle verdure éclaircit leur feuillage,
Puis sur des champs coupés de lumière et d'ombrage
Court en riants festons.
Là, dans les flancs creusés d'un rocher qui surplombe,
S'ouvre une grotte obscure, un nid où la colombe
Aime à gémir d'amour ;
La vigne, le figuier, la voilent, la tapissent,
Et les rayons du ciel, qui lentement s'y glissent,
Y mesurent le jour.
La nuit et la fraîcheur de ces ombres discrètes
Conservent plus longtemps aux pâles violettes
Leurs timides couleurs ;
Une source plaintive en habite la voûte,
Et semble sur vos fronts distiller goutte à goutte
Des accords et des pleurs.
Le regard, à travers ce rideau de verdure,
Ne voit rien que le ciel et l'onde qu'il azure ;
Et sur le sein des eaux
Les voiles du pêcheur, qui, couvrant sa nacelle,
Fendent ce ciel limpide, et battent comme l'aile
Des rapides oiseaux.
L'oreille n'entend rien qu'une vague plaintive
Qui, comme un long baiser, murmure sur sa rive,
Ou la voix des zéphyrs,
Ou les sons cadencés que gémit Philomèle,
Ou l'écho du rocher, dont un soupir se mêle
À nos propres soupirs.
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