When the clouds below turn to into carpet
Up there in the cold morning light,
The VFR pilot jitters and frets:

Time to check fuel, to come up with a plan
To search for a hole in the billow below,
And bring the craft in to land.

So it was when a pilot coming back from a lark,
Flew in a circle somewhere over Williston,
Above clouds turning thicker and dark.

In his office sat Phil, across the state line,
When the radio crackled, pleading a break:
"VFR practice," he thought, "He's probably fine."

Phil headed to lunch, had an errand to do...
Drove downtown for a couple of hours,
Returning somewhere around 2:00.

The radio tone carried tired despair
When Phil walked back in from his break
And heard the pilot, still stuck in the air.

Phil knew that the fuel must be drained
In the old Piper Cub overhead,
So he logged a flight plan and ran for his plane.

He flew to the east and banked to the north,
Rising above the gray carpet below,
And spotted the wanderer holding its course.

Coming in fast, cutting his distance by half,
"Super Cub over Williston, this is Bonanza
On your left. How much fuel do you have?"

"About 30 minutes," came a despondent reply,
Standard answer, but gauging the hours,
Phil calculated the response was a lie.

"I am going to fly by your side.
Follow me and dive when I dive;
Keep contact and enjoy the ride."

The planes in tandem turned around;
Phil flew by IFR to find the runway end,
Backed off the throttle, and led them down.

The tail dragger followed, did not complain,
Dropped into the soup gliding blind
Except for the strobe on the faster plane.

The old Cub flared when Phil said, "Land!"
Settled onto the runway end as the propeller stalled,
And Phil had saved a desperate man.

On the hangar wall now hangs a plaque,
Though Phil himself is gone,
The Governor's gift for bringing a flyer back.

--------------
My brother once watched Phil Petrik of Sidney Aviation fly off the Sidney runway, disappearing into a pea soup fog, carrying our father and mother on an emergency flight to Billings, to save my father's life.

I lay this poetic rose upon Phil's grave as a slim tribute to a man who earned my admiration and life long gratitude. Rest In Peace, Phil Petrik.

and there she is,
known as cruel wicked for speaking.

her hair was tied,
her neck was strangled,
her eyes were poked,
her lips were stapled,
her arms were rotated,
her feet were collected,
and she were dressed into something new.

but she did not like it all,
and broke the strings above her.
they called her a demon,
setted her into fire,
darted her heart with spears,
dragger her into venous snakes,
tangled her with ruling hurricane,
just to let her meet their god, lucifer.

yet she is still there standing,
hoping until her last breath—
after all, she is the woman of god
who died from people she devoted for.

"war may be over— but inhumanity remains" ; @wordsbyhami

My brother is a pilot,
Not just any old pilot...
A tail dragger pilot,
Champions
Cubs,
Super Cubs.

Planes made of spars and fabric,
Held tight
By screws
And dope,
And glue.

Airframes part wood,
Part aluminum,
Part steel.

Fuel tanks sloshing in the wings
Either side above our heads,

Set the mags,
Hand crank the prop,
Turn on the fuel,
Hear her pop
And roar to life.

We strap in
Single file,
Controls fore
And aft.
And rev 'er up
To join the winds.

Once up,
He yells, "She's yours!"
And I am piloting
Or rather gingerly sliding her
About the blue,
Skidding right or left,
Holding my breath,
Wondering how much I dare
To tip her up there in the air.

"I've got the stick!"
He yells, and I let go.
"Don't be afraid to fly it!"
"It's just a machine!"
"Make it do what you want it to do!"

And we are diving toward the ground,
Then bringing her up and tilting 'round.

"Give her fuel when you tilt to turn!"
He demonstrates, and we are standing
On the wing,
Perpendicular and looking to our left and down.

I know he's right,
That I am timid in my flight,
And he is brave with years of joy,
A pilot fearless since he was a boy.

"You want to land?"
I hear him say.

"No, that's alright!"
"Not today!"

To prove how safe it is to fly,
He touches down,
Then bounces high,
And vaults us back into the sky.

We flit across the fields,
And then,
He flies beneath the power lines,
To show how spray planes catch the ends
Of fields.

He skies the plane at either end,
Then bee lines it to the badlands' edge
Where suddenly we're swooping down
Between the canyon walls, and sinking low,
Then, rising, turning to our right,
He sails us toward sun's dying light.
My only hope is that we'll land
Before the night
Erases all our sight.

And sure enough,
The air is calm;
The night is coming on;
Gusting breezes are all gone.

We gently settle once again,
Back at the ranch,
I help wheel her then
Into her waiting hangar pen.

Life can be lived all in a panic;
Fear fills us with a lingering dread,
But we should live our lives
Just like my brother said.

"It's just your life, so make it do
Whatever it is you want it to!"

And when you're changing
Your directions, throttle up!
Don't let the fear of living
Bring you to a needless stop.

Since I last saw you,
You appear to have joined a motorcycle gang
You have signed a record deal
You have ''come out of the closet''
You are living on some sort of commune
You got engaged to a troglodyte/knuckle dragger
You got married to some sort of inflatable doll
You have gained weight
You have traveled the world
You have lost your appeal
You have done too many drugs
You look older, worn out
You haven't changed at all
You disgust me
You became a nudist
You started selling things ''off the back of a lorry''
You died
You started dating a guy twice your age
You got thrown out of your band
You might as well be a stranger.

When the clock strook twelfth
Her mind went high
Through darkness, she found her prince
Who wooed her through the night

While the people were asleep
A girl was awake with the moon
This, she loved
For in the darkness, did she only bloom

Although she believed it to be mad;
She soon found herself in love: “Is it silly?”
She asked. And the prince told her
“Darling, men are fools for the things they love”

“And how is it like to live on the moon?”
“I do not,” said the prince
“No. Oh no, you must be
For I have never seen you in reality.”

In time the sun was born
And It burnt the moon so bright
Slowly, the night collapsed
And with it, the prince was gone

Night turned into nights,
The girl looked far and far
But the moon shone no more
She went alone in the dark

Indeed, she turned mad
For she wished on the sun
“Please let the moon be free
only for love will I be greedy”

She begged the sun desperately
Alas, the glow does not feel
For her dreams were destined
Only for the moon to hear

And where has the moon gone?
Where did the prince go?
Why must the night surrender
To the sun’s blinding glow?

"Hear me, my dream, hear my plea"
Is this the fate of a fool?
I am so tired, my love and
The nights have been empty.”

The girl cried out for nights
And soon the people grew angry:
“Sleep by night, wake up by the day
And it’ll all be easy!”

But reality was not to be
For the girl was so unlikely
That while the people revelled in the sun
There she was in a world wondered by

The people were disturbed
By her pleas in the night
That when the sun has risen
They took her out in fright

"Take her!" Shouted the people
And offered her to the sun
“This silly girl has been in love
with a vain dream from afar!”

"Why miss the moon
When there is the sun?
It has brought light and warmth
While the moon showed none. “

"Don’t be a slave to the things that cannot!
In this world we shouldn’t dream—”
“Liars!”shouted the girl
“We are all dreamers by night!”

What the world did not know
She wasn’t in love with the moon
But it was the prince,
The prince who she made her home

For with the prince,
She heard the loud beating of her heart
Felt her soul in his lips
And knew of feelings that before did not exist

She believed that only in love,
did she feel true & alive
“Am I in love with a dream?”
If that is the way to live, so let it be.”

Hours and hours
She was exiled under the sun
Chapped lips & broken dreams
A girl and a victim of such cruel things

In her chaos
She found a dagger
an escape to the world
But a cheat to her life

She held it up with her hand
And looked at the sun
“You will no longer hear my cries
But let this be my dying wish:

My soul I devote, for the dreams that cannot be
Please bring me out there, up in the open nightsky
Where thoughts run wild and free
Where I could just be.

If my dream is indeed gone
Then let me be the new hope
Let me be the guiding light
For the souls lost out in your glow.”

She drew the dragger
Closed her eyes
She was breathing with no breath
Until It struck her heart

For a moment she felt her own agony
The pain, the fears, the broken dreams
The endured thorns of her soul, a tear
Eyes opened and she was no longer.

The people knew of her misfortune
And thought she died from distress
But little did they know
She has only been re birthed from the ashes

Come midnight,
Behold, there it was
The moon which was gone
Now an alluring glory from afar

The people were left in awe
And thought the girl became the moon
The night has become an enigma
A difficult beauty to swoon

But after a few seconds
Something stellar bloomed from above
One and then another
Everyone, came gasping in wonder

"What is that thing up there
A thousand diamonds in the sky?”
̴Such ecstasy it gives!”
“I want to touch it, I want to fly!”

The people who feared the night
Now lied below to tell its stories
Always and often in wonder
If it was because of she

And up in the midnight
In the peak of the clock
They let their thoughts wonder
Of the majestic light up above

Soon they forgot about the girl
And of her lost dreams from afar
Instead there were these fascinating wonders
A magic which they named, the stars.

I can see right through you dragger teeth and all.
Don't think you can have me. I will not fall. Your words
cannot tame me. I will not fall. Smiling oh so gleefully.
Entertainment for us all. Your weak I will make you weaker.

   Players cant have all the fun. Predictable ~~~ ya Im bored!
                   So long.
Pretenders take the fall.
             Bye
                Bye!
Ya, I like that I can rip off your head and sew it back on the next day.
Or the day after that.
Switch *****, switch.
Four dead strands and you again.
Dance like you've never dance before.
I like watching you flip. Funny like a *****.
Who's the ***** now *****.
Who's  the ***** now...lol
Ya I laugh your funny. See you in the rain.

Ya, don't ya know Grandma lost it.
She lost it on a grain of salt.

That **** no good man (laughing)

Its all twisted up like you.

Ya, lets celebrate applesauce for all.
You grind your teeth to much.

I like to watch you while you fall.

The stalling plane fell,
A toy, yawing back on its tail,
Tilting left and down
And down.

The boy’s dad at the stick,
Frozen,
Face immobile,
Almost careless as they fell;
He, his mother, and his father,
And a stranger, next to him,
Tumbling above Montana
Prairie hills surging
Nearer
And nearer.

The stranger clenched the boy;
The tail dragger impacted a rising knoll.
The engine clanged and broke,
Dirt enveloped the shattered cabin.

Silence smothered cacophony.

Conscious of being dragged
Through a **** in the fuselage
Out into open air,
The boy saw little,
Couldn't make out the stranger's face.

His mother came through the side of the plane
A Cesarean section, reversed,
The boy's hope reborn
At the emergence of his mother.

She appeared dazed,
He thought, unruffled,
Dusty with a smearing of bright red lipstick
Stretching up from the corner of her mouth
To the edges of her right ear.

The boy knew it must be blood.

His father lay,
Crumpled oddly,
Head twisted between
Stick and dashboard;
Right arm somehow
Lolling through the fuselage.

Blood smeared the arm, the head.
Everything still,
Motion slow...
Echoes.

The stranger moved on hands and knees,
Inspected the boy
His mother,
Pulled them away
From wreckage,
Surveyed the scene.

Turning then to the man
Twisted and still,
Grotesque within the shell,
The stranger gazed.

Gasping,  the boy jolted.
Saw,
Thought he saw,
His father’s hand ****,
Move up and backward to his face.

The boy heard,
Thought he heard,
His father sigh.

Fear surging
The son,
Caught in a wave,
Realized his first response,
Horror,
A sense of ******* returning,
Having glimpsed,
If only for a few seconds,
Freedom.

My brother is a pilot,
Not just any old pilot...
A tail dragger pilot,
Champions
Cubs,
Super Cubs.

Planes made of spars and fabric,
Held tight
By screws
And dope,
And glue.

Airframes part wood,
Part aluminum,
Part steel.

Fuel tanks sloshing in the wings
Either side above our heads,

Set the mags,
Hand crank the prop,
Turn on the fuel,
Hear her pop
And roar to life.

We strap in
Single file,
Controls fore
And aft.
And rev 'er up
To join the winds.

Once up,
He yells, "She's yours!"
And I am piloting,
Or rather gingerly sliding her
About the blue,
Skidding right or left,
Holding my breath,
Wondering how much I dare
To tip her up there in the air.

"I've got the stick!"
He yells, and I let go.
"Don't be afraid to fly it!"
"It's just a machine!"
"Make it do what you want it to do!"

And we are diving toward the ground,
Then bringing her up and tilting 'round.

"Give her fuel when you tilt to turn!"
He demonstrates, and we are standing
On the wing,
Perpendicular and looking to our left and down.


I know he's right,
That I am timid in my flight,
And he is brave with years of joy,
A pilot fearless since he was a boy.

"You want to land?"
I hear him say.

"No, that's alright!"
"Not today!"

To prove how safe it is to fly,
He touches down,
Then bounces high,
And vaults us back into the sky.

We flit across the fields,
And then,
He flies beneath the power lines,
To show how spray planes catch the ends
Of fields.

He skies the plane at either end,
Then bee lines it to the badlands' edge
Where suddenly we are swooping down
Between the canyon walls, and sinking low,
Then, rising, turning to our right,
He sails us toward sun's dying light.
My only hope is that we will land
Before the night
Erases all our sight.

And sure enough,
The air is calm.
The night is coming on.
Gusting breezes are all gone.

We gently settle once again,
Back at the ranch,
And I help wheel her, then
Into her waiting hangar pen.

Life can be lived all in a panic.
Fear fills us with a lingering dread,
But we should live our lives.

Just like my brother said.
"It's just your life, so make it do
Whatever it is you want it to!

In the jungle monkeys look for a leader
He doesn’t need to be the best reader
He just needs to be a chest beater
Showing he’ll be a pest eater

An ape emerges from the crowd
Beating its breast
Proving it’s proud
Being the best
Is about being loud
So at its behest
The other apes bow

The lion has fallen asleep
So the ape stole its sheep
And its throne to keep
A mouth of foam to eat
Leading the rabid elite
With trampling feet
And fists that beat

His sharpened fangs
Above the breast he bangs
Cause excruciating pangs
Of torturous pain
In the forest that rains
He controls the brains
Of apes filled with blame
Creating an invasive game
That is their species’ shame

Monkeys think this knuckle dragger
Is more like Uncle Kracker
So they tumble after
His jungle laughter
As he hoards the bananas
Inside his comfy cabana
In a far off savanna

Can’t they see he’s escaping
To his savanna’s safety
After constantly taking
And rainforest ******?
They’re too busy flinging ****
To quietly sit
And examine his wit

Once things aren’t optimal
He avoids the topical
Where it’s sunny and tropical
But a heavy monsoon
Will be brought by God soon
To wipe out the barbaric baboon
And all of his goliath goons
Who are like ****** in the spoon
They’re boiled then used
To pacify the abused
Then filling their shoes

The monkeys’ malevolent master
Couldn’t be replaced any faster
Once every day turned into disaster
But the sour grapes
Dour ape
Escaped
Not an hour late
He ate the power plate
By building a tower of hate
And a coward’s gate
Sealing our fate
Of a jungle state

Pain might scare you but its my bestie
Turning my beats a bit dusty
Soon my lips will be a bit crusty
and my skin will be all rusty
My throat will be all dry
But I won't be thirsty
Soul will be gone back to its trustee
Nothing will be left only the memories starting to get blurry
Everything's been a bit too turny
Red is all runny
We all are just the dummy
Owner is the time
And it does not matter whether its the coffin or the mummy.
My life's been written from the blackest of the ink on the goldest of the paper
Thinking of jumping I've been on the highest of the sky-scrapper
Narrowing at the end it's the perfect taper
Skin so rough can not be penetrated by any dagger
Chained up legs, thousand of the drags and I'm the dragger
And I can not describe what is it like
Sometime I feel like abandoned by the life and rejected by the death
Not giving up is the talent of mine
Soul got murdered a long time ago
Culprit is the time
Every single memory is like unhealed wounds flooded with lime
Heart is still beating
Not being still is its only crime
Salt is too much and sugar is missing in my brine
My scars turned white now they shine.