by rawclyde!

Okay ~ there is to be no more crap from Clyde.  I am pushing 70 and I am tired of it.  And I have a hunch everybody else is tired of it too.  From now on it’s only what is and that’s all.

For example, I am sitting right now in a 300-dollar recliner in front of a 350-dollar-a-month window ~ and I just finished my morning coffee ~ which I drank from a styrofoam cup.  There.  That is what is and that is all.

There’s going to be a lot of I’s from now on, because I am the only one here.  More I’s than usual.  Oh well.

I’ve got a rather sweeping view of the historic “Yuma Crossing” outside this window, here on the 5th floor of Hotel San Carlos.  Most prominent is the freeway on giant concrete stilts curving across the view.  When the window is open, like right now, I can hear it ~ motorists zooming back n’ forth ~ sounds kind of like surf.  But ever since I took a long walk in the desert beside a freeway, I think of freeways as ribbons of death.  So that’s what stretches across my view here.

Well, actually, what’s really most prominent is the desert sky above everything ~ wisps of white mist floating along in all that blue.  What’s least prominent is what’s in the gulch under the freeway, which is actually a bridge across the Colorado River, which is what is hiding in the gulch.  And behind that curving concrete is an older trestle bridge with less traffic, and behind this older bridge is an even older trestle bridge made of thicker iron upon which the trains roll by, which are partially hidden by all this as they chug along.  All this is bunched up in front of my window.  And between this and the window, down below, is a beautiful water treatment facility, in which are huge square pools of water whose only diving boards and cheerful swimmers are in my mind.

This is what is.  This is reality.  And it’s all passing me by.  I sit here.  Excuse me.  I recline here, as history moves on, and I have long conversations with what sits still for years and years on the other side of the river, facing me on the summit of a little hill, located behind and above the ribbon of death ~

The Saint Thomas Indian Mission Church.


(text copyright clyde collins 2019)


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the self, the world

by sister juana ines de la cruz



For a little while, sad Thought,

let’s pretend I’ve a happy lot.

You may actually convince me,

though now I’m convinced I do not.


In feeling apprehension

they say the trouble lies:

if you’ll only feel you’re happy,

you needn’t be otherwise.


Let my intelligence serve,

for once, as a source of comfort.

Must wit forever remain

an enemy to profit?


The world is full of opinions

of what is or is not true;

whatever is black for one

will be white in another’s view


What one man finds attractive

will make another recoil;

while what brings one man relief,

another rejects as toil.


The man who is sad condemns

the cheerful man as inane,

while the cheerful are greatly amused

when they hear the sad complain.


Those two old thinkers of Greece

were always of opposite cheer:

what split the one with laughter

reduced the other to tears.


The centuries since their time

have echoed their difference of view,

but no one can ever decide

which opinion is false, which true.



If my wits are mine alone,

why must they always be

inept at doing me good,

adroit at harming me?


Reason, just like a sword,

can be wielded at either end:

the blade, to wound to the death;

the hilt, to provide defense.


If, well aware of the danger,

you insist on using the blade,

how can you blame the sword

for a choice you yourself have made?


It’s no wisdom to use one’s mind

for subtle but hollow display:

true wisdom simply consists

in choosing the sounder way.


To deal in portents of trouble

and ominous speculation

will only compound disaster

with a burden of expectation.


When it dwells on imagined troubles,

the mind is all tribulation;

later on, it will find real danger

less frightening than anticipation.


How happy in his unknowing

is the man unlettered yet wise,

who finds relief from suffering

in what no knowledge supplies.


The boldest flights of wit

will be buffeted by the wind;

though aspiring to thrones of fire,

in tombs of tears they will end.


Learning is one more vice.

Unless deterred, its ambition,

when the learned least expect,

will lead them straight to perdition.


If its course is not deflected,

on subtleties learning feeds,

impertinently inquisitive,

indifferent to genuine needs.



What mad ambition drives us

to forget ourselves, to our grief?

What use is all our learning,

when human life is so brief?


What we need is a seminar

with no other aim than showing

not the ways of human learning

but the comforts of not knowing.


Exempt from need for caution,

taking pleasure in all things,

we’d scoff at whatever threats

the stars’ influence brings.


Thought, let’s learn not to know,

since so plainly it appears

that whatever we add to our minds

we take away from our years.


translation by alan s. trueblood


editors:  spitball fury & frank freedom


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locked inside lady wisdom’s vault ii


She makes me her slave

She makes me her drum

She plays me


the reality of my captivity

is shattered

by the dream come true


i sweep i mop for She

& She

bestows upon me wisdom


I smoke it like a pipe in my mouth

& wear it like a top hat on my head

& we waltz


finally She let’s me go

i hop on my little burro

return home


i see in the mirror

i am no longer a youngster

i am 100 years old



afghan elder



text copyright clyde collins 2019


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locked inside lady wisdom’s vault


whoa, burro, whoa

this is no ordinary house

it’s a temple

i wonder

if there be a fee to enter



the door slams shut behind me

& locks

freedom castaway

i seem to be

in a spiritual vault of strange design

wonderment in every direction

high windows statues stars

a galaxy o’ slavery to She

it spins around me

in a dog bone fetching manner, i gaze

i collapse

on bruised elbows

make it to the communion rail

stagger to my knees & pray, smiling

& wagging my tail


Sophia !



copyright clyde collins 2019


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meanwhile the plot thickens




like to

knock & enter

at the front door with

a hard wind blowing

cape flowing

words glowing

loaded derringers concealed

a display of humility & swank manners


before you know it

i am crawling

out the back door


out the bathroom window

never to be seen again


i forgot my hat

i return to fetch it

yes, i am seen again

& again & again

a yo-yo

tied to your finger



courtesy of david loseau


copyright clyde collins 2019


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he’s a fast food man


i’ll have

a young woman old man combo


lot’s of lettuce


& a senior coffee





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remember afghanistan

Old Timer Chronicle II


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deep desert waltz

by rawclyde !

yuma az


we’re jus’ sittin’ here

my ego & i, lookin’

out the window, seeing

history roll by


under the blue fading

into a dim-lit night

rosey on the horizon &

i’m feeling alright


whoa, bus driver, whoa

i’ll be steppin’ out right here

there’s a room up there

with a chair saying “wait” for me


god almighty have mercy

look at what’s in front of ye

a journey into the sky above

fueled by her love


(text copyright clyde collins 2019)



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la conquestadora






blame the editor




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the empire is coming for tulsi gabbard


by Tom Luongo

Strategic Culture Foundation

August 2, 2019


The second debate among Democratic hopefuls was notable for two things. The lack of common decency of most of them and Tulsi Gabbard’s immense, career-ending attack on Kamala Harris’ (D-Deep State) record as an Attorney General in California.

Harris came out of the first debate the clear winner and Gabbard cut her down to size with one of the single best minutes of political television since Donald Trump told Hillary Clinton, “Because you’d be in jail.”

Gabbard’s takedown of Harris was so spot on and her closing statement about the irresponsible nature of the Trump Administration’s foreign policy was so powerful she had to be actively suppressed on Twitter.

And, within minutes of the debate ending the media and the political machines moved into overdrive to smear her as a Russian agent, an Assad apologist and a favorite of the alt-right.

Now, folks, let me tell you something. I write and talk about Gabbard a lot and those to the right of me are really skeptical of her being some kind of plant for Israel or the establishment. If she were truly one of those she wouldn’t have been polling at 1% going into that debate.

She would have been promoted as Harris’ strongest competition and served up for Harris to co-opt.

That is not what happened.

No, the fact that Gabbard is being smeared as viciously and baselessly as she is by all the right people on both the left and the right is all the proof you need that she is 1) the real deal and 2) they are scared of her.

When Lindsey Graham tweets about Tulsi Gabbard twice after a debate, when the Washington Post neocons like Josh Rogin are attacking her, you know she’s got their panties in a bunch.

You expect it from the Harris camp, obviously. But when it comes directly from people like Navid Jamali (double agent, navy intelligence, MSNBC contributor) you know the empire is beginning to get worried.

Gabbard is now getting the Ron Paul treatment. It will only intensify from here. They will come after her with everything they have.

In the past week she’s destroyed Kamala Harris on national TV, sued Google for electioneering and signed onto Thomas Massie’s (R-KY) bill to audit the Federal Reserve. What does she do next week, end the Drug War?

Tulsi Gabbard is admittedly a work in progress. But what I see in her is something that has the potential to be very special. She’s young enough to be both passionately brave and willing to go where the truth takes her.

And that truth has taken her where Democrats have feared to tread for more than forty years: the US Empire.

The entire time I was growing up the prevailing wisdom was Social Security was the third rail of US politics. That, like so many other pearls of wisdom, was nonsense.

The true third rail of US politics is empire. Any candidate that is publicly against the empire is the enemy of not only the state, it’s quislings in the media, the corporations who profit from it and the party machines of both the GOP and the DNC.

That is Gabbard’s crime. And it’s the only crime that matters.

When the Empire is on the line, left and right in the US close ranks and unite against the threat. The good news is that all they have is their pathetic Russia bashing and appeals to their authority on foreign policy.

Foreign policy, by the way, that most people in America, frankly, despise.

And the response to her performance at the second debate was as predictable as the sun rising in the east. It’s also easily countered. Gabbard will face an uphill battle from here and we’ll find out in the coming weeks just how deep into Trump Derangement Syndrome the average Democrat voter is.

If she doesn’t begin climbing in the polls then the Democrats are lost. They will have signed onto crazy Progressivism and more Empire in their lust to destroy Donald Trump. But they will lose because only a principled anti-imperialist like Gabbard can push Trump back to his days when he was the outsider in the GOP debates, railing against our stupid foreign policy.

No one else in the field would be remotely credible on this point. It’s the area where Trump is the weakest. He’s not weak on women’s rights, racism, gay rights or any of the rest of the idiotic identity politics of the rest of the Democratic field.

He’s weakest on the one issue that got him elected in the first place, foreign policy. Hillary was the candidate of Empire. Trump was not. It’s why we saw an international conspiracy formed to destroy him and his presidency. Now that same apparatus is mobilized against Tulsi Gabbard.

That’s good. As a soldier she knows that when you’re taking flak you are over your target. Now let’s hope she’s capable of sustaining herself to push this election cycle away from the insanity the elite want to distract us with and make it about the only thing keeping the world from healing, ending the empire of chaos.






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