February 21, 2014 Common Thread Collective Poetic Conscious’stream Is.14

Based on the Missoula Independent Cover Story (Vol.25 No.8 Feb 20-27 2014):

http://missoulanews.bigskypress.com/missoula/the-damage-done/Content?oid=1932025

The Damage Done by Kelly Conde

 

1970s, NE Montana, on the Fort Peck Reservation:

The cool springs of water off Road 75 still offered temptation,

Luring the townies with jars and jugs in preparation

They knock on the door… “You’re water’s so sweet,

Can we get a little please?

That cold natural flow is too much of a tease!”

 

Get in while the people are oblivious...

Get in while the people are oblivious…

In the 1950s the lands nearby fell under the scrutiny

Of three major oil and gas companies

Who tapped in with their drills and pumping machinery

To the depth of a 300,000 year old ocean creation.

The 1st encroach on the Bakkan formation

Has devastated today’s cool sweet water on the Indian Reservation.

 

It took 20 years, it happened slowly…

First it made the pipes rusty,

Staining the sinks and drains;

Then it colored all the white laundry.

Once the clean dishes remained oily,

Then it was time to drink bottled water only.

The smell of sulfur like rotten eggs wafts

From the bathtub, the bubbles aren’t enough to cover the stench.

The skin of the youth is too delicate;

When it began turning blue, then even the bath water they hauled in.

 

One concerned Lady, made early inquiries

She wondered at the change right as the faucets began rusting.

It took two decades for a community member to move into position to help.

She opened her ears to the strange tales being told of the water.

“My water is yellow, it smells awful and looks like pee.”

“My water is reddish and it’s staining everything!”

“My water, can you believe, it’s 0 degrees Fahrenheit and it still won’t freeze.”

“My water, it tastes salty; how can that be?

Seriously, check it out! It’s even fizzy!”

 

This lady took her brain muscle and personal grit to the USGS,

Where accumulated evidence was piling up higher than the depth of Butte’s Berkley Pit.

Add on 10 years for an in-depth investigation

10 plus the 20 it took for anyone to do anything

Plus the 20 it took for the contamination to begin coloring the plumbing

And that’s 50 long years of environmental, soil and water being tainted

Just at this stretch of prairie land in Montana.

 

40 square miles of land has been tarnished, it’s undisputed.

Somewhere between 9 and 60 billion gallons of drinking water polluted.

That’s enough water for the lifetime of every Montanan,

But no one’s counting the gallons the wildlife depend on.

 

Murphy Oil Corp. was the 1st to find the Bakkan oil;

In 3 years had built 35 wells.

Other companies came and together they claimed

The oil for their profits

So the future’s destruction lined their pockets.

 

From 1952 to ’55 there were no guidelines for the wastewater created.

Into unlined pits- directly onto the ground and unregulated,

Ancient hot water still slick with oil residues devastated.

Sadly, legislated regulations do not enforcement hone.

C.C. Thomas Oil Company was still dumping up to 42,000 gallons of waste water per day alone!

In 1961, at a public hearing, a company Rep. claimed “It’s not hurting anyone.”

 

Retired wells are forming more dire straits.

Just a ½ mile from Road 75 one sealed up just couldn’t wait

For the end of time to advance its impertinent fate.

The cement bonds loosened and underground pressure forced

Oil and tainted agua back up to seep into the shallow aquifer.

This well, close to the residents is monitored for its vicinity

The impact of its hot plume of oil-stained water has been, for its neighbors, devastating.

But there are numerous wells in the East Poplar fields that don’t get the same monitoring.

If only it was profitable to speculate how many of them are leaking.

 

14 families filed suit with a tribal attorney

A pipeline for WATER is what they were seeking.

Meanwhile an EPA toxicologist discovered Benzene

A definite carcinogen linked to over exposure

Now giving real cause to the high number of cancers found in the neighbors

The oil companies now had two strong contenders:

The People on Road 75 and the EPA wielding safe drinking water standards.

In 2002 this suit was finally settled.

The companies will build a pipeline connecting these residents to the water

In the township of Popla.r

They will also pay each family $60,000 in damages

And $5,000 to replace the pipes in their houses

They still sent bottled water as well, for 10 additional years

Or until they are certain their tap waters are clear.

 

5 years ago, in 2009

The Poplar Dialysis Center cried out with a sign

High levels of chloride were found, the mark of the ancient ocean’s brine.

The contamination had caught up with the town’s water too.

The EPA quickly charged the same 3 companies with responsibility.

Of course they appeal and deny any accountability.

 

And I’m sure you’re all wondering, how I’m going to end this long sad story.

http://www.nemontel.net/~dprw/actvities.html

Dry Prairie Rural Water Authority

The waters of NE Montana are diseased

The companies- Both oil and agricultural are free

From healing the waters for the lands and creatures in need.

They chipped in to pay for a rural treatment plant

That is cleaning the mud from the mighty Missouri.

They paid for the pipe that brings water to Poplar.

But they don’t have to suffer

From that pipeline breaking 20-30 times a year

For it was rushed into production without proper planning

Just like they rush into drilling, pumping and scamming,

As they put away special savings

To pay lawyers, when the time comes for evading.

 

February 7, 2014 Common Thread Collective Poetic Conscious’stream Is. 12

“I pledge allegiance to Mother Earth

And all the life which she supports.

ONE planet, in our care,

Irreplaceable, with sustenance and respect for all”

-not my words… not sure who’s…

Image

inseparable

We are ready for the change

Gather us in

An accumulation of crystal visions

Each perspective adding contours

Like cumulous cloud forms

Ready for the transformation

The alchemy of time transfiguring mind and matter

Into new physical forms and ways of being

Ready the floodgates to be open

Filled with precious intuition carefully collected

Over years of listening listening listening to the sound of a world gone awry

Let them open and spill into the drought worn land of our disillusionment

Let them open and spill forth with the creative quenching

Washing away the chemical manipulation

That dried up and hid how heirloom phantasies are withering

That mirage on the horizon is waiting for our belief in the water we need

This year is a horse at my side and ready

We both made it through the muck left by the coal ash, chemicals and bitumen spilling

Now to spring forth, for this toxic deceit is not worth drinking

The fire inside is set for cleansing

Set muscle to bone taught tendons to vault beyond their barbed fencing

The foundations running away from our feet

Are the stones they made to appear perfect but their lies are hollow and empty

We toss the stones the Builders refuse in front for our trodding

Each step faithfully grips a new reality

With each breath together we define what is to be seen

Our visions form vast expanses of vibrant hues of every brilliant color

Feeding fully from the compost of unnecessary deceit

To grow strong wills, opening with transparent clarity

Unafraid to blossom with potent vulnerability

We are ready

To be seen as interdependencies

Rotating lines of horizons and vertices

Spiraling perfect geometry

There is no musician and instrument

We are all fingers and strings

We are all elements of breath and brass and reed

We are all pores in the skin stretched taut

And we hone our will to stretch with what’s taught

By the breeze and the bird and river canal

By the root and the worm and rotting core

By the stem and flower and fruit into seed

We hum with the rhythm of the Universe’s composing

The drum of the heart is our gospel singer

Inspiring

Hands to grasp the hoop of all relating

Here we find all once lost

Is still rippling with longing

We are ready.

December 13, 2013

December 13, 2013

Reality Bytes (Poetic Commentary)

Alexandria “Rain” Smith

Dedicated to the transfigured bodies that have been so asked to trade pounds of flesh and bone, for radiation and chemotherapy; asked to “Slash, burn and poison” their own journey. Spirit whole despite body.

Cancers have come to ask us to bear the scars of the relationship our species has come to inflict upon the equally living body of this planet at our feet and there are as many variations on how this cancerous disease grows into our being as there are seeds blowing on the winds—well as used to be blown about before the Economic entomologist figured out the most profitable reasons to develop chemicals on massive scales. With a greatness now that truly rivals the development of petroleum, but they are more like monstrous Siamese twins than competitors, for it is so convenient that atomic science has enabled dead-creation to fracture the ancient flora’s fertile compost into pieces far removed from the peace of the ancient waterdance that helped give birth to the black gold we defile the water with today. Spilling it through patched and inspected to be unworthy pipelines like intravenously shooting up with a needle shared too many times and hungry to infect life with compounds enabling Auto Immune Disease Syndromes to seek and conquer like Drones precision shooting up entire school yards and community activist family homes with their shrapnel with their undiscriminating aim to kill kill kill, the echoing refrain of the fear of the unknown or the fear of being figured out. Work! Spend! The capitalist refrain of the empty economic theory of endless growth that only makes sense to me if you perceive that the earth itself enabled the human species along with countless, incredible others tens of hundreds of thousands of circles around a star to endlessly grow into new and ever more enchanting life forms until one became so pompous to believe that life could be so vital to the one that it could bear to live without all the miraculous relations that openly offer up the medicine another soul is calling for. For when you open your perception to encompass the whole story being told upon this little spinning blue reflecting ball there is more compassion being shared across the species borders than within and between our own…

In 1981 at a Conference held by the National Alliance of Business, Pres. Ronald Reagan said, “Excessive Government spending, taxing and regulating no matter how well intended is a formula for disaster. Volunteer activities and philanthropy play a role as well as economic incentives and investment opportunities. To be certain we’re talking about America’s deep sense of generosity (HA!)—but we’re also talking about a buck for business if it helps to solve our social ills.”

As for the former message of this statement I’d like to know what it’d be like in my lifetime (I was born 2 years after that conference took place) to have the branches of our government that are imagined to be regulating the products in our markets to protect our health and safety actually doing that, but if the Trans-Pacific Partnership (TPP) gets passed that’s never going to happen.

And as for the last bit… Yeah, if it helps to solve our ills, that’s the business best engaged in, a job worth doing, if only because vitally necessary the worst job is born with deep dignity and pro’vocation to be busy. I’d personally love to see more beings beautiful busyness watching out for bees, helping them and all the countless interrelations flowing from their pollinating making the world more vibrant, verdant, colorful, a scent’suous dance —as though the path to sweet honey’s making secretly weaves sweetness into the daydream of the planet, innerwoven like the tides of the Moon’s song beating seas, rocking seeds into their beds, may they find, en’root, be’hold, be’held, be’leaf, be bud be blossom to flower, may be fruit capable to cradle new seed…

Lettuce, let us release belief to be held, beholden to the part we play in a dance far greater than the plastic castle of bitumen sludge spewing hydraulicFRACKtured blanched waters like chemotherapy for the Earth Mother’s body, evaporating up to be spun through turbine jet wings, exhausted now, spinning lines of free radicals growing cancerous cloud covers, raining acid to accompany the thunderous megaload transfers of raped materials industrially manipulated to create massive machines whose sole purpose is to rape and pollute a world we might be able to live healthfully and creatively with indefinitely if we can end the successions of the mighty few who profit now by the tens of millions of people made slaves to the purchase and wage enslavement of products that are weakening our immunity, toxifying the planet and numbing us like Huxley’s “soma” in the Brave New World the colonial patriarchy create by killing the Goddess and disparaging(despair raging through) the Mystic Creative power of the unknowable Feminine that whispers our names on a moon breeze of soft qi only your true presence can perceive because it’s speaking through the aggregate of every atom of your being calling out to you: “See you are a shining knight, a star of beauty to transform visions of brutal night, not in the least bit little, but a big bright phenomenal Light!”

…just imagine when we unite…

Quan Yin

Compassion Heals

 

 

Peace.

Selah.

Blessed Be.

 

This commentary was especially inspired by Trey: Harold Fanando Owens III and the Documentary: Pink Ribbon Inc. Directed by Lea Pool.

http://www.firstrunfeatures.com/pinkribbonsinc/