Luz last night the hellioned beast raised its ugly head in NewCago.
The gangs have unleashed their secret weapon.
They circled the opportunity like a predator for months
Fires are burning all over NewCago and there are just too few good people to put them out.
Those who had a job have one no longer.
Most have lost their meager possessions.
Young men are empowered with hatred.
The police are behind their iron clad doors.
Leaders had their speeches prepared in advance.
Hearts have gone AWOL.
…and if I don’t find a way to extinguish these flames, NewCago will be nothing but ashes.
“Life in NewCago” is a fictional series. The protagonist, Sam, is trying to restore a city run by gangsters and most of the people helping Sam are dead. There’s not much a single individual can do to put out the flames even if he can’t be killed.
Baltimore, a city that I love dearly, is in a shambles today. Fortunately, there are community heroes who are trying to calm the heat. May those who care about their city prevail.
This is a rather sobering post for the letter X. I want to thank the A to Z Challenge coordinators for this month of blogging.
Photography: Baltimore by L. Moon
Some bloggers participating in the A to Z Challenge:
Today’s prompt at Poet’s United is foresight / prescience aka a glimpse into the future. Ineza was a student of mine in Crimea. If I could have brought her to my country, I would have for she had already endured too much. I have no desire to look into her future for it too closely is united to Crimea;s fate.
It is our objective at Carpe Diem to distill Ezra Pound’s sorrowful poem: ”The River-Merchant’s Wife” which is a translation of a poem by Li Po (an ancient Chinese poet)
While my hair was still cut straight across my forehead
I played about the front gate, pulling flowers.
You came by on bamboo stilts, playing horse,
You walked about my seat, playing with blue plums.
And we went on living in the village of Chokan:
Two small people, without dislike or suspicion.
At fourteen I married My Lord you.
I never laughed, being bashful.
Lowering my head, I looked at the wall.
Called to, a thousand times, I never looked back.
At fifteen I stopped scowling,
I desired my dust to be mingled with yours
Forever and forever and forever.
Why should I climb the lookout?
At sixteen you departed,
You went into far Ku-to-en, by the river of swirling eddies,
And you have been gone five months.
The monkeys make sorrowful noise overhead.
You dragged your feet when you went out.
By the gate now, the moss is grown, the different mosses,
Too deep to clear them away!
The leaves fall early this autumn, in wind.
The paired butterflies are already yellow with August
Over the grass in the West garden;
They hurt me. I grow older.
If you are coming down through the narrows of the river Kiang,
Please let me know beforehand,
And I will come out to meet you
As far as Cho-fo-Sa.
I have chosen to distill Pound’s words using haiku:
"There is but one straight course, and that is to seek truth and pursue it steadily" - George Washington letter to Edmund Randolph — 1795. Going beyond the MSM idealogical opinion/bias and their superficial focus on entertainment, sensationalism, emotionalism and activist reporting - this blogs goal is to, in some small way, put a plug in the broken dam of truth and save as many as possible from the consequences—temporal and eternal. "The further a society drifts from truth, the more it will hate those who speak it." - George Orwell