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Benediction

The whole World is sick in mind, body, spirit, and heart. Our heads ache, our insides churn, our chests pound, our lungs burn, and our b...

Thursday, January 09, 2020

Isms…“A rising tide lifts all boats.”




Economies are a river, a lake, a tidal estuary.
They ebb and flow with the moon, the monetary system, the market, and luck, or lack.
The waters belong to everyone until the flow is dammed;
shared growth stymied by the hoarding of the few to starve and desiccate the many.
The only way we all survive, to blossom and bloom as a civilisation is to share the flow of wealth rather than pooling it all in the gilded heights and letting the many try to gather what they can
sip by sip as it trickles down to the low areas.
Where there is enough for all the few should not be drowning in it
while the many try to gather moisture from the arid sands of time.
Ronda R. Scott-Marak
©17 May 2018

Sermon of the Day (17 December 2019)



I hate injustice, intolerance,
deception and self-serving in any form no matter who does it.
I am uncomfortable with broad strokes, putting people in niches, and unfair name-calling but I will not shy away from calling people out for misinformation, misappropriation, mismanagement, ignorance or exploitation
I believe in the importance of ethics and Justice over Law; Law over power, and the Power of the People over the power of gold and twisted and misinterpreted rules.
I do not accept shaming and name-calling as acceptable behaviour; insult and abuse as discourse, or calumny and defamation as truths. I can disagree and dislike without rising to lower myself to the level of those with whom I dissent,  distrust, or whose integrity I question.
I will call out, stand up, and stand my ground.
Ronda R. Scott-Marak
© 17 December 2019

Monday, January 06, 2020

”The Fifth Horseman”


or The Horseman Named Chaos and Despair
The roaring in my blood is the thunder of the Wind
The pounding in my throat is the rhythm of the Wave
The rale within my chest is the throbbing of the Surf
The ringing in my ears is the siren of Alarm
The stillness in my mind is the silence of the Eye
The twitching in my limbs is the panic of the Mob
The burning in my eyes is the weeping of the Crowd
The stench within my nostrils is the anguish of Despair
The steam from out my lips is the poison come from Fear
I am the Horseman never named
I am Chaos
I bring beginning to the End. 
Ronda R. Scott-Marak
© 23 September 2005

Wednesday, December 11, 2019

Butterfly’s Wings



Everything is interconnected;
Poor decisions made a century ago led to a half-century of deprivations and conflicts
Well-intentioned choices made by powerful people changed borders, governments,
created countries, and destroyed cultures and histories.
Displaced people, upset by Empire and cultural changes split off into ever more narrow factions,
 religious fracturing, extremism, violence, intolerance, and hatred.
The desire for unbridled control led to ever-changing alliances, wars, and overthrown governments; the enemies of enemies became friendly allies eventually reverting to even greater enemies than those feared initially.
Those new enemies, knowing so much about their previous allies, turned that knowledge into cultural and actual weapons with the never-ending outcome violence, attacks, insurgencies,
and the mass murder of civilians and the exodus of refugees.
Migration of desperate people combined with global climate change, weather anomalies, famine, drought, floods, and other natural disasters resulted in political discord, closed borders, hatred, blame, and distrust of the other, anti-Muslim and revival and increase of antisemitism resulting
in the rising popularity of insular and autocratic governments.
Greed, the exponentially increasing desire for fortune, power, religious, cultural, sectarian, sexual, tribal and gender-based hatred having an inordinate effect on economies, violence, acceptance, and national and international ethos systems  
Technologies designed to improve lives adapt to encroach on living; causing insecurity, fear, interference, lies, theft, and loss of trust, truth, and independent thought.
Technology also leading to loss of jobs and entire industries, causing more need by people receiving an ever-diminishing portion of income and benefits while corporations and the wealthy become even more prosperous.
Every year, decade, month, week, day, and hour someone’s choice and action will be the catalyst for an entire creation, destruction, or unintended or undesired circumstance; everything is interconnected.
Your unthinking words or deeds might result in another Treaty of Versailles, another Cause of Action, Hiroshima, Overthrown Government, Al Qaeda, Daesh, Iran, Iraq, Libya, Afghanistan, Syria, Pearl Harbor, Tito, Mogadishu, Chernobyl, Fascisti, Pol Pot, Mao, Kim Jong-un, or Hitler.
History, past, present, and future are the roots, trunk, branches, leaves, and fruits of our lives; think before action or speech. Feed or prune the Tree of Life as needed, but don’t be responsible for any destructive growth undermining our foundations.
Ronda R. Scott-Marak
© 5 December 2019

Friday, November 01, 2019

Infernal Triptych


For California, (with thanks, and dedicated to Ross Steiner Z”L)


 “Ashes, Ashes, We All Fall Down”
Sparks, wind, kindling 
Wildfire, trees, businesses, homes 
Lives burnt into ash. 

Ronda R. Scott-Marak 
© 15 October 2019


“Seemingly Weightless Sliver of Ash” 
Dreamed lives left behind
Memories and futures burnt
Deadly Winds of Change.

Ronda R. Scott-Marak 
© 28 October 2019

"Phoenix Rising from Ash”
Flames burning, cleansing
Cauterising, destroying
Rebirth from ashes?

Ronda R. Scott-Marak 
© 31 October 2019

Sunday, October 20, 2019

Lyric(al) Poetry

(for Patti, Carrie, Vance, and Ann)

Write as you’d sing it
Phrases, rhythms, and intent
Sing like a writer

Ronda R. Scott-Marak
© 20 October 2019

Sunday, October 13, 2019

Grace Notes



It's chilly, but I'm warm enough.
My muscles ache, but I can still walk.

The clouds are grey, but the trees are in colour.
The squirrels are hoarding, but I have food to share.

My footsteps play counterpoint to my heart’s beating drum. 
The traffic is noisy, but I can hear distant singing.

My nose is running, but I can still breathe; 
it is mid-October, and I can smell the air.

The days grow shorter, but I am nearly home; 
the nights are long, but my books and bed await me.

Ronda R. Scott-Marak
© 13 October 2019