Resiliency

Resiliency is built in,

we just need mind the days,

keep our heads,

note our blessings,

count the hours.

***********

Peasant Strength

I have never much cared for games

Of any sort

Not sporting games

Not board games

Not mind games

Not power games

I like poker,

Enjoy shooting pool

Tennis volleys can be nice

Cross country

Downhill

I love to swim, but only languidly

I have played the markets when younger

But never had the nerve to hold

I can play at what needs if I must

But mostly

My favorite thing

Is doing nothing

With nobody

Sleeping

Dreaming

My life in a constant undertaking

To heal

From this, that, or the other chaos self-created or put upon

I have long thought of taking a vow of silence

Of running far away

Of closing off from all

And I am pretty closed as is

But still, it all trickles in

The wars

The preppers

The religious zealots

The self-helpers

The woo woos

My mum was a woo wooer

When young and newly divorced

We grew surrounded by strange notions

Of horoscopes

Shirley McLain

The ART of war (that one helpful)

Numerology (kind of interesting / everything IS ones and zeros)

Runes (I kind of dug cause it seemed Viking)

Tarot cards (silly but I like the symbolism)

When young I had a game,

I guess where I would claim psychic powers

I was believed by a few

And I do have a knack for reading a room

But well

I don’t know

It has I suppose always been a grand hustle

Jesus upturning the trading tables of his day

It is going to continue as is

There will be no revolution per se

Whitey is on the Moon

The revolution will not be televised

Whatever you are watching today

Isn’t what you think it is

*

I can’t play chess

But I do know multi-level attacks

I do know a

multi-level game at hand

We are all more aware

But they have all the tech

They have all our coordinates

They know all our base desires

And purest dreams

This is powerful mojo at hand

*

But peasants are a crafty breed

And great art IS often created

Under duress

peasants might not write the history books

but our music, and our tales, and simple art forms

permeate, often infiltrate

I think that the peasant notions

Hold longer

For the good or bad of it

We still know ancient tales

The peasants carried them

The blues

The jazz

All that is from the peasants

From the slaves

Bluegrass

The old wife’s tales — so often with bits of truth

The eat this, not that

Need drill down into the obscurity of things and

Logic is often found

Laying quietly under the layers of riddle