Monday, October 17, 2011

the Good Guys vs the Bad Guys

The Good Guys
The Bad Guys

(c)2011 Bob Atkinson

the good guys fought the bad guys
or was it the other way around
the mean ones fought the nice ones
I think that's how it's done

or is it that the ones who lied
pushed at their neighbor's door
and took to them a battle bloody
because they were overly bored

not happy with their station
they needed a smart ruse
to keep the peoples' eyes upon
something other than the news

yes, they were most insincere
taking all they could of treasure
from the banks that held the loot
monies destined for the better

this meant new roads
could not be built
no water for to drink
or spark to light the dark night
candles would have to do it

seemed the ones
who grabbed the power
from those who had abused
the position they had gotten
when the army helped them to

take charge from those who had
shot the ones in government
and murdered all of those who could
their supremacy challenge a bit

if this tale of regret
confuses you between the ears
and causes you to scratch your head
buddy, I'm with you through the years

I have no recommendation
as to what is next to make
in the order of this battle
which is a complex case

no simple salutation
can right now be made
the salutes go at different angles
to those who this game played

I hear we're sending troops
to straighten this mess out
and give support to the good guys
if they ever can be found

200 mph by Bob Atkinson

 Video of Katherine Legge's crash 
Road America

Another Interview
More guts than most of us !!!

(C)2007 Bob Atkinson

two hundred miles per hour
we ain't seen top speed yet
flying through the ess curves
track dry, or wet

feeling tires spinning
hearing motors' high pitched whine
pushing faster, always
to the front of the line

we're just a small band of heroes
our fame is forever known
how we'll hit the wall at 180
and still be ready to go

we see in speed a challenge
we hear our egos roar
as loudly as the motors
produced in mass by Ford

it's not such a little thing
to see the poles go by
as streaks instead of fingers
reaching high for the sky

it's not to win that keeps our fear
from crushing us like broken gear
we see ourselves breaking bonds
of Newton's Laws and Einstein's thoughts

no longer in a world set still
where quiet pauses cannot thrill
we need the feel of acceleration
to feed our desire and expectations

Two Twenty Five

Two Twenty Five
(c)2011 Bob Atkinson

Thirty four were in the field
scattering the wind
around the oval circuit
twelve laps after it began

up front there was a tussle
tires had argued much
over their place in this universe
which had more power to push

many had been there sitting
with their faces toward the sun
living an exciting day
settled in for a long run

but over there a problem came
shooting flames like large rockets
twisting, turning pieces of
what became man made coffins

the driver was from Canada
saw the smoke alright
and tried to slow not to become
one of those in flight

there behind another ran
his foot upon the pedal
that kept the powerful machine
in the race for medals

tire mounted tire
just like bull elephants
they squealed as if it was a fight
a contest for supreme dominance

up he flew, the champion
into the air he rose
at two hundred mph
into the fence he dove

parts scattered over many yards
flames shooting in the air
and the life of one brave person
simply ended there

Sunday, October 16, 2011

the Dark Poet by Bob Atkinson

The Dark Poet

(c)2011 Bob Atkinson

sliding through the end game
over and above
all seasons of the good times
into the club she'd come

gliding softly always
alcohol on her breath
not so much she couldn't see
or go out to meet with friends

was to be a night of poetry
performance by her peers
throwing emotions at the crowd
doing their best to bring cheers

her turn would come
in time they'd hear
what she'd written today
about those little children
and their miserable wicked ways

she brought to them her best stuff
to wow all in their minds
and tear at their emotional ties
by her psycho-semantic chimes

she wore much lace
there flowed a cape
away from her soft back
boots of black laced to the top
nearly to her sweet kneecaps

then came her turn to perform
in her own defining way
the poetry of emotion
always best of the day

the speaker called her up to 
the podium with starlight shining down
as if she were suspended
way far above the ground

she begins her set from a trance
nobody of her likeness
the way she moved as if she were
motivated by thunder and lightning

the lady of the darkness”
to the rolling of the drums
began the thunder of her delivery
as she had always done

she gave her dissertation
on the subject called “Love”
as drums chanted a melodic beat
to swell and shrink the heart

on she went until the eyes
of all were fixed on her
then she ended it with a slam
which brought the room to tears

Those Who by Bob Atkinson

Those Who

(c)2011 Bob Atkinson

those who prayed were secure
in where their meals came from
and tasted wine when they wished
and savored warm bread buns

seemed a good endeavor
a roof over one's head
a place to pray and ponder
and give all of mind and heart

those who fought were not sure
their lives would continue on
but knew their place in a battle
and gave all, 'cause was their job

those that toiled did so always
for they had no other choice
but starve even more than now
or be struck with whip or posted

choice ran simple as the wind
always out of mind
was not something to be pondered
in their savaged lives

no way to change their lot in life
at night they could relax
and rest as best they could
until daylight brought them back

to the efforts sincerely made
to the hard part of strife
while thinking nothing of the cost
it took from their shackled lives

by the fire when wood was gathered
and burned for some warmth
and cooking meals of meager value
scant meat and vegetables in broth

little had they now to eat
not important to the ones
who held title to the land
and controlled the acts of armies

was a mean and wicked life
no softness around their lot
just worked until their bodies
gave out and sunk in plots

sometimes, a holiday was declared
good for a moment's rest
of parade, pomp and ceremony
giving reason for body to bathe

because they didn't know
a different way of life
gave little thought to their lot
just thanked god for what they'd got

so there in a situation
we could have been born into
others knew hard ways of life
difficult for us to view

would they have traded with us
their position or their status
would they have said our souls lack meaning
and felt really bad for us

Technology by Bob Atkinson


(c)2011 Bob Atkinson

the inventor had perfected
a machine of many uses
easily able to out produce
what the hands of men
had done

so simple a situation
seems no more thoughts in order
about this latest happening
of progress causing disorder

but tradition had been broken
change had come to those
who looked upon the old ways
for meaning in their hearts

their years of hard work doing
a quick and proper job
giving all they could to it
were ended and forgotten

pride it gave to their lives
disappeared in a flash
of binding gears and stamping sounds
as more product was amassed

more people could buy the lots
and use the newer things
while unappreciative of their nature
because they weren't expensive

and those who had toiled
for years at the bench
while making things with their hands
knew their lives had ended

no longer were they paid
for that which could be made
by machines so fast the gears did spin
endless products newly made

Friday, October 14, 2011

Fire and Blood by Bob Atkinson

Fire and Blood

(c)2011 Bob Atkinson

so many things had changed
here in the land of sun
so many of the old ways
had been silenced and were gone

so many of the wise stories
old men told at the fire
became a distant echo
not alive, yet sill admired

from beyond the mountains
came a band of the wildest men
who knew not compassion
for those not of their breeding

so many things had been taken
from within their hearts
that they chose not to allow themselves
concern for others' suffering

they took, which was the natural way
they hurt those that they could
they burned what they didn't take
or need for their own food

it was an act of desperation
it was justice in their minds
it was revenge, from a time
before civilization arrived

a primal act which justified
all the bad things they did
and kept their minds clear
of any shame or guilt

who is to judge what others do
who is to say what's right?
who is to give voice of sorrow to
what others feel inside?

I only know it isn't far
the buffer that divides
my being a good and kindly person
from my barbaric side

Wednesday, October 12, 2011

the Ship on a Rock by Bob Atkinson

The Ship on a Rock

(c)2011 Bob Atkinson

she lay there in the ocean
bow firmly on the rocks
leaking oil from her tanks
dropping overboard packaged cargos

so sad a well used hull of beauty
would be so under stress
that her master couldn't help
her float with pride again

pristine sand of beaches
and life attached to them
were fouled by the discharge
of the oils used by man

to extend his power over life
to give him more strength than the form
of a small, weak and spindly body
would normally command

surely in many years
the damage that had been done
would mitigate itself through time
perhaps after man has gone

after changes to the land
to the sea and air
to the heavens with shooting stars
made of plastic and titanium

after the radiation
would thoroughly dissipate
and leave behind new DNA
some good, some bad, some strange

so is it such a sad story
of the crashing on the rocks
of steel plate welded
to sides and horizontal bottom?

will the beauty of this ship
sink beneath the waves
and become a monument
to that which we tried and failed?

to fail to try would be the shame
to have given in to hardship
of circumstances stacking decks
against the pride of men's accomplishments

without a struggle of any kind
without the good fight we give
no trace of us would ever stay
upon land, sea or far off space

here in these circumstances
into which we were thrown
to progress beyond our little lives
and leave proof we were strong

requires risk to our small planet
seems like suicide
to kill that which gives us life
but is it that unwise?

death of our greatness
would be the sadder tale
not taking that which we were given
and pushing it toward hell

success and failure always leaves
some trail that we have gone
beyond the biological
to a new great world beyond

Tuesday, October 11, 2011

the Large Dinosaur by Bob Atkinson

The Large Dinosaur
(c)2011 Bob Atkinson

the beast lay on the ground
as if it were dead
but wasn't death that had it down
but a soft and cuddly nap

the grass of swampland then
wasn't like today's soft blades
but in the time of thunder beasts
was where they had to play

you think of beasts as large as
a yellow and black bus
and wonder how they could handle
all that massive bulk

when you ache from sitting on
your over sized rear end
you wonder how these multi-ton
animals prevailed on theirs

well friend it isn't that
I want to spoil your vision
but we see only bones that have
been dead for 65 million

years have zipped by
before we arrived on scene
and looked to the past
with vision not all too keen

if you think of the universe
as if it were a balloon
you'd see expansion taking place
it would soon fill the room

so two hundred fifty million years
before the present time
the world was a smaller place
compared to yours and mine

so anything left of those
ancient far past times
would have grown immensely
from then to now

back then they would have
been a bit denser than now
but to them it would be normal
not something real profound

the largest beasts would have been
like overgrown large elephants
or rhinos with their skin so thick
that we couldn't prick it with a stick

but nothing large as in musems
the bones have been expanded
through the years of our universe
puffing itself into oblivion

the Far Side of the Moon by Bob Atkinson

The Far Side of the Moon
(c)2011 Bob Atkinson

I don't think I want to go
to the far side of the moon
although the thought is tempting
it's not what I will do

no it isn't in my plans
there's no time for it
no time to explore the other side
which we can't see from here

we know our moon to look as if
it never ever changes
no difference from one night
to the next full moon gyration

no, I don't remember
seeing the other side
it isn't in my plans this week
to view its wilder end

it doesn't hurt my pride
that I won't be visiting it
and walk around its mountains
and kick its dirty grit

wouldn't have the greenest trees
or the clearest blue lakes
or be warm in the summer
or cold when snow flakes

wouldn't be a place where I
could be with friends of mine
or family if that is what I choose
to be right by my side

so I will stay right here on Earth
where I have chosen to live
is where my life began
and where it will eventually end

Friday, October 7, 2011

the Learning by Bob Atkinson

The Learning
(c)2011 Bob Atkinson
They stood upon the grassy hill
quiet as they tried to feel
the wind, the sky the green of growth
not saying much, if anything at all

the father's eyes held much sadness
the daughter looked to him for love
their eyes swept over land below
was broken where the river flowed

hoofs of large beasts hit the ground
as wild bulls played their running games
and butted heads and ran before
the older animals of their kind

the sky was blue beyond the clouds
no rain now as had been found
when they emerged from sleep sound
breath taken again on hunting grounds

of her father the girl was proud
he held respect of those around him
wise were his words though few spoken
he always knew best ways of action

for finding game that could be eaten
and leather hides for useful things
meant survival in this land
and protected them from roaming bands

now on the hill overlooking all this
stood a man with his young child small
though he said not a word to her
was a lesson for her young life to learn

to see the world as he had shown her
to look upon the living things
and gaze upon the flow of life
that fights and dies upon the land

brings meaning to the breath we take
our eyes were made to see the light
our hearts were made to feel the love
our feet were made to feel the soil

our strength in battle is multiplied
by our closeness to the land
by our love for those we can name
and our avoidance of any shame

Wednesday, October 5, 2011

Desert Nomads by Bob Atkinson

Desert Nomads
(c)2011 Bob Atkinson

years, they flew by so fast
through generations of
those who lived in the lands
not loved by nature's hand

upon the mountains way above
there stood the trees that grew
so green a color also seen
down where the rivers drew

scars upon the sandy soil
long depressions in the gravel
flat bottom plains below the level
of jagged lands above them

moving softly with the wind
taking what was needed
from the land or other men
no real bond between them

some say they were wild men
some say they knew the story
years of hardship fleeing those
with a different outlook's caution

who can say what is right
when different ways conflict
who can say now in these times
what the others experienced

I only know my life has been
without this mortal conflict
that hardens those who live upon
those rocks and salty outcrops

Fukushima Lament by Bob Atkinson

Fukushima Lament
(c)2011 Bob Atkinson

stepping into the street
my footstep bounced a lot
like stepping into jello
both feet began to rock

I stood there not knowing
what the problem was
could I begin to wiggle
or did the earth evolve

into some magic giant
that gave us a big groan
and heaved as if in agony
in spite of being stone

when you'd think it was over
it got so much stronger
giving me the feeling
which I didn't have time to ponder

rocking here and there
it tossed me off my feet
giving to me a big pain
in the middle of my seat

then after many minutes
of an absurd vibration
the grinding stopped at last
I started a meditation


that wasn't any little thing
was the largest one could imagine
a rocking earthquake in my time
no way to explain what happened

then out in the bay
where water came to shore
no water stood where it had been
before the shaking groaned



sirens blazed
an alert for folks
to begin heading
to higher ground

sunami warning was clearly what
the sirens tried to tell
get to higher ground now
or prepare to go to hell

then the wall of water
a hundred feet or more
poured on to the land
beyond what had been shore

it swept away all those things
that had been in its path
buildings tall made of wood
with walls of sparkling glass

cars and trucks and animals
people who had stood
when they should have run
to higher ground
were swept up in the flood

and now the cooling system
of the nuclear machine
couldn't work when generators
drank the muddy sea

down in the generators
powered by the atom
cooling water boiled away
and fuel rods shattered

melting down into a pool
spewing contamination
the rods gave out what could be seen
as deadly radiation

out into the pristine land
and into sea with fish
and over into the stratosphere
flew radiation's kiss

a kiss of death for an old life
in northeastern Japan
the land which had been loved so much
became useless for any man