Comment

Comment by CHUCK W. on November 29, 2010 at 5:57am

We the people will NOT stop until the spraying stops.
STOP WHAT???.....................
BUT REALLY IT DOESN'T MATTER..,.. YOUR ALREADY DEAD.
COUNTRY JOE PUT OUT A SONG CALLED AGENT ORANGE.
ONE OF THE MOST PROLIC LYRICS IN THE SONG WAS.......
THEY KILLED ME IN VIET NAM BUT I DID NOT KNOW.
WELL, THEY HAVE NOW KILLED ALL OF YOU!
GIVES NEW MEANING TO THE TERM WALKING DEAD.
SO PLEASE TELL ME WHAT YOUR NOT GOING TO STOP?
HELL YA CAN'T EVEN STOP YOUR KIDS OR WIFE GETTING MOLESTED BY THE TSA, HOW YA GOING STOP THE SPRAY?

Comment by Colorblind Justice on November 28, 2010 at 5:04pm

Michael Murphy spoke last night, awesome follow-up Q&A...

Dr. Lenny and Michael Murphy discuss chemtrails (27-Nov-2010) from Kevin Gee on Vimeo.

We the people will NOT stop until the spraying stops.

Comment by Sweettina2 on May 26, 2010 at 3:46am

Good one! My mom read EAP to me when I was a kid, loved it!

Comment by CHUCK W. on May 26, 2010 at 3:18am

Lucky you! i have so many favorites............
I think I'll never see a poem as lovely as a tree... or
THE HAUNTED PALACE
By Edgar Allen Poe

I.
In the greenest of our valleys,
By good angels tenanted,
Once a fair and stately palace--
Radiant palace--reared its head.
In the monarch Thought's dominion--
It stood there!
Never seraph spread a pinion
Over fabric half so fair.


II.
Banners yellow, glorious, golden,
On its roof did float and flow;
(This--all this--was in the olden
Time long ago)
And every gentle air that dallied,
In that sweet day,
Along the ramparts plumed and pallid,
A winged odour went away.


III.
Wanderers in that happy valley
Through two luminous windows saw
Spirits moving musically
To a lute's well-tuned law,
Round about a throne, where sitting
(Porphyrogene!)
In state his glory well befitting,
The ruler of the realm was seen.


IV.
And all with pearl and ruby glowing
Was the fair palace door,
Through which came flowing, flowing, flowing
And sparkling evermore,
A troop of Echoes whose sweet duty
Was but to sing,
In voices of surpassing beauty,
The wit and wisdom of their king.


V.
But evil things, in robes of sorrow,
Assailed the monarch's high estate;
(Ah, let us mourn, for never morrow
Shall dawn upon him, desolate!)
And, round about his home, the glory
That blushed and bloomed
Is but a dim-remembered story
Of the old time entombed.


VI.
And travelers now within that valley,
Through the red-litten windows, see
Vast forms that move fantastically
To a discordant melody;
While, like a rapid ghastly river,
Through the pale door,
A hideous throng rush out forever,
And laugh--but smile no more.


End

Comment by Sweettina2 on May 26, 2010 at 3:06am

This is my favorite poem:

The House By the Side of the Road

...Let me live in a house by the side of the road,
Where the race of men go by -
The men who are good and the men who are bad,
As good and as bad as I.
I would not sit in the scorner's seat,
Or hurl the cynic's ban;
Let me live in a house by the side of the road
And be a friend to man.

I see from my house by the side of the road,
By the side of the highway of life,
The men who press with the ardor of hope,
The men who are faint with the strife.
But I turn not away from their smiles nor their tears -
Both parts of an infinite plan;
Let me live in my house by the side of the road
And be a friend to man.

I know there are brook-gladdened meadows ahead
And mountains of wearisome height;
And the road passes on through the long afternoon
And stretches away to the night.
But still I rejoice when the travelers rejoice,
And weep with the strangers that moan,
Nor live in my house by the side of the road
Like a man who dwells alone.

Let me live in my house by the side of the road
Where the race of men go by -
They are good, they are bad, they are weak, they are strong,
Wise, foolish - so am I.
Then why should I sit in the scorner's seat
Or hurl the cynic's ban?
Let me live in my house by the side of the road
And be a friend to man.

SAM WALTER FOSS

Comment by CHUCK W. on May 26, 2010 at 2:37am

To live as gently as I can;
To be, no mater where, a man;
To take what comes of good or ill
And cling to faith and honor still;
To do my best, and let that stand
The record of my brain and hand;
And then, should failure come to me,
Still work and hope for victory.

To have no secret place wherein
I stoop unseen to shame or sin;
To be the same when I'm alone
As when my every deed is known;
To live undaunted, unafraid
Of any step that I have made;
To be without pretense or shame
Exactly what men think I am.

to leave some simple mark behind
To keep my having lived in mind;
If enmity to aught I show,
To be an honest, generous foe,
To play my part, nor whine
That greater honors are not mine.
This, I believe, is all I need
For my philosophy and creed.

These poems from Edgar A. Guest, A Heap o' Livin'
(Chicago: Reilly & Lee Co., 1916)

Comment by Sweettina2 on May 26, 2010 at 2:29am

Excellent video, reposted. Gave you credit, thanks brother.

Comment by CHUCK W. on May 26, 2010 at 2:23am

Another passion of mine!
Plan on putting in a greenhouse with just the glass above ground,
and an air filtering system just so I/kids/neighbors can eat/grow
food that's edible!