Alpine Trains

Alpine Trains

I forgot to mention the other trains, which are located in the alpine regions of the continent called Sansara. There is quite a lot of track to ride through the mountains and snow fields, and a regular service, stopping at all stations along the way. I took Edward to ride the Alpine train. Will the bear ever forgive me for taking his cave? He's growling on about getting an old dog house, because, he grunts, I wouldn't want that. What if I got a dog? 

Train Watching

Watching out for Trains

Looking out from the art class room in the gallery at Pawpaw Station, watching out for trains. Ya never know who will turn up on their journey around Second Life. At Pawpaw Station, three lines meet in the great network of tracks running around the continent called Heterocera, which is the only continent with a trains network. There are roads on the other continents, but trains have a certain romance attached to the metal. More metal, to use metal in another way. At least once in your second life, everyone should ride the train lines around Heterocera. You can get a free train to do that. See the Notecard in the board out the front of the gallery.

There Was a Bear in There

There was a Bear in There .....

When there is a family of avatars to please, it can be a challenge to sort out who gets what. After rezzing out the Watermill House, I put out a cave for Edward, and started setting it up with Edward's odds and sods, but, it just didn't look right. I put bars on the entrance to protect the population of Second Life from my ferocious bear, and then decided, I wanted it. That is I as Jaqi, which may mean that Jaqi is a dominant avatar. Strange meanderings. Now seeing another role for this cave, I kicked Edward out, and made it mine. I find it nice to lie here and reflect. The main delights are the three paintings, all aquatic scenes, which I have in real life, and which I like to look at in the cave. Is that bear at the door again??? Poor old Edward. He still hasn't got a cave of his own.

Second Dawn ~ poem

Second Dawn

Could a weapon be so terrible to wield
that it would bring about the end of war
because it would herald the end of life
if used to settle an angry score?

It was a second dawn
when the first atom bomb lit up the sky
and a second dawn again
when sent to remove a city from time

Mutually assured destruction
made the angry think twice
about another second dawn
that could send them out of time

As the clever tool-maker builds spaceships
and creates machines that can think
is the second dawn weapon a sign
that its time for peace to have a fling?

More terrible weapons wait in space
with the power of a second dawn
and no radiation fall-out
when kinetic weapons are born

Just a telegraph pole of metal
falling through the sky
that cannot be stopped
until striking where it fly

The fear of kinetic weapons in space
may make peace a thing to last
as everyone watches everyone
to make sure such weapons are past

So is space the key to peace
and the end to second dawn death
as folk spread out in space
and find happiness is a better bet?

Where creativity displaces war
where dreams can have their day
in the light of the Sun in space
folk can find better ways to play

Jaqi
Bluh

Monday
12
November
2018

NOTE ~   Will space reveal a new phase in human evolution? Once in space, with direct access to the power of the Sun, unlimited resources, and factories set up for endless production, kinetic weapons could be built that would threaten all enemy cities and bases on Earth. Kinetic weapons cannot be stopped, once on their way to a target, use only the gravity of the Earth for acceleration, and upon impact, have the power of an atomic weapon, but with no radioactive fallout. The simple realisation of this may lead to an unexpected wave of cooperation in space, with demands for transparency, so that kinetic weapons cannot be made, stock-piled, or deployed, by governments or free enterprise. With plenty of space in space for expansion and development, war can be left in the past, with conflict displaced by creativity. If space is the key to peace, then a future in space is quite critical for human health and survival, both on Earth, and in space.

Implications of Kinetic-Kill Missiles ~

https://stargategrid.forumchitchat.com/post/article-implications-of-kinetickill-missiles-2-sep-2018-9836575?pid=1305318366#post1305318366

J. Robert Oppenheimer ~ "I am become death, the destroyer of worlds." ~

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lb13ynu3Iac

Cork with a Sail ..... poem

Cork with a Sail

A cork on the ocean with a sail
is quite unsinkable
and can take an ant around the World
if food it has
and something drinkable

Some people are like corks
sailing on through life
who go into a wave and seem to drown
but then bob up again
surviving the strife

There was a man from Denmark
who took to the sea
rounded the cape of Good Hope
to explore old Van Diemen's Land
adding gum leaf to his tea

The son of the royal Danish clockmaker
his life tick-tocked along
as an officer on a British ship
as a whaler across the Pacific Ocean
and as a sea captain for Napoleon

This man of cork resilience
ruled Iceland for 50 days
served as a spy for England
through Germany and France
until made a convict for his gambling ways

Sent off to Van Diemen's Land in chains
he found his feet as a policeman
hunting sheep rustlers in the bush
where he met an Irish lass
and asked for her hand

She could not read and could not write
and was in and out of jail
a wild young Vandemonian
with a rugged old sea dog
made an interesting tale

A legend in his lifetime
a myth that walked the land
popularly called the convict king
the Viking of Van Diemen's Land
the ex-king of Iceland

A highwayman sent to build a bridge
another convict in chains
made carvings in stone of stories
found in this wild new land
and there on the bridge remains

A king and a queen now ruling a river
an echo from the past
the man of cork who sailed the seas
the Irish lass who met his needs
now joined in stone to last


Jaqi
Bluh

Sunday
11
November
2018

NOTE ~   The Danish adventurer, Jorgen Jorgenson (1780-1841) has often been described as being like a cork, because so many times he would seem to drown in the vicissitudes of life, but then bob right back up again, and sail on. There are a few books that tell his tale, and he wrote his own story, published in Van Diemen's Land, which was renamed Tasmania in 1853. Norah, the Irish convict lass, was younger than Jorgen, and they were an off match: such is love. Jorgen and Norah, having been married, were in the township of Ross in 1833, when Jorgenson was sent as a police constable to investigate why the bridge was not being built, even though the convict gang was busy every day. The simple answer, which everyone knew, was that the local settlers expected the convicts to supply them with building materials. So the bridge wasn't getting built. After six months of being throughly stone-walled, and quite frustrated, the Jorgensons departed Ross, to head south to Hobart Town. On the way they arrived in Oatlands, when Norah got into a fight in the street with another convict, and was locked up for three months in the Oatlands jail. Woe is me: and it was on Christmas day too. It could be a stormy life in those wild colonial days. Frustrated at the Ross bridge not being built, and being needed for the King's highway between Hobart and Launceston, a former highwayman in England, who had been sentenced to hang, but then dispatched to Van Diemen's Land for the term of his natural life, was sent to Ross to finish the bridge under a new supervisor, Capt. Turner. Well, the bridge was completed within a year, was opened in 1836, and is now the third oldest bridge in Australia. Built of sandstone mined at Ross, there are three arches, and along both sides of the arches, there are 186 large stone carvings. The Ross Bridge is the only stone bridge in the World with carvings along all of the arches. So why are the carvings on the Ross Bridge? They were not part of the original plan for the bridge, were never mentioned in reports during construction, and not commented on at the opening by Leut. Gov. Arthur. Why the carvings were made is an absolute mystery, which runs deep, because all details of the colonial administration of convicts and public works were reported on, in detail. Nothing, and I mean nothing, just happened, and for no explained reason. So why does all this convict art exist on the Ross Bridge? The only reason that I can find, is that it was a ploy to get the convicts to build the bridge. Folk were very superstitious, and stonemasons were held in high regard, even convict stonemasons. The story still surrounding the Ross Bridge, is that the art is Celtic in design. It is all very mysterious imagery, but the carvings are nothing like any known Celtic art found in history, or at the time of construction. My deep suspicion is that Turner and Herbert cooked up a plot, and told the convict gang that there were to be carvings on the bridge, and they would be magical Celtic art. That may have done the trick, so that when local settlers came looking for building materials, the convicts were found to be very busy, building a bridge. What a frenzy of work there would have been, to make so many large stone carvings within a year, as well as build the bridge. Daniel Herbert was newly married to Mary when they moved to Ross, and it can be pondered if the passion of the first year of their life together, was also driven into those stone carvings with a chisel. Herbert spent the rest of his days in Ross, working as a stonemason in the surrounding districts, but no other grand work in stone exists, beyond the odd head on a church, and gravestones. It is believed that the king and queen on the Ross Bridge, are portraits of Jorgen and Norah, as the convict king and queen, and for Jorgenson, depicting the myth he walked with, as the ex-king of Iceland. If this is so, it is significant, as there is no other portrait of Jorgen Jorgenson, our Viking in Van Diemen's Land. The original spelling of his name is with an "e", as Jorgensen, but he anglicised the spelling when among the British. Another mystery to boot, is that there has never been a documentary movie made on Jorgenson, or about the amazing story of the Ross Bridge. That drought may yet be broken, and hopefully before all there carvings weather away in the regular floods that strike the bridge, when the river rages. There is a song on Jorgenson by a Tasmanian punk folk group called The Dead Maggies, which is slightly hilarious, but does include strong language ~ and maybe that is fitting for an old sea dog, now sailing in stone above the waters of the Macquarie River .....

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VzvJNXOasYU

Sand ..... poem

Sand

In the afternoon sun
by the ocean waves
I sit in the dunes
with the gulls at play

One hovers on the wind
nearby in the air
with the smell of salt
and free of care

Where waves crash in
upon the sands
where children make castles
with their tiny hands

The sand is warm through my fingers
like sugar with a spoon
to add to the tea
in the afternoon

With cakes freshly baked
still warm from the oven
like a witches magic
from the home cookery coven

The fire crackles near
the log glows slow
and I turn back to the book
about a time in the snow

Long ago and so young
we built an igloo for our camp
glowing at night like a lantern
a cool exotic lamp

A gum leaf in the billy
to make bush tea
ya can't buy that flavour
not for any fee

I close the door on those memories
and find myself on the beach
where waves crash in like breath
where gulls happily screech

I keep returning to that moment
in the sun of the afternoon
to be with the salted breeze
with sand in my hand like a spoon


Jaqi
Bluh

Thursday
8
November
2018

NOTE ~   Howrah was once a town, and may have been named after a city in India. There was a sign at each end of Howrah, declaring the ~ Town of Howrah. It is now a suburb of the City of Clarence. Howrah was once all farmlands, where I ran as a child on endless adventures, in the forested hills above our town, and to the beach, by the shore of the River Derwent, where it is a deep and wide harbour. From the beach there was a view to the ocean, and the sea breeze would blow in most afternoons. This is the setting of the poem, where I once played as a child, building sandcastles. And being by the ocean waters, sandcastles could have moats. Fond memories from days in the sun, like a dream. The igloo was built, on a National Fitness camp in the snow, by Twilight Tarn along the Tarn Shelf. Two groups built igloos, which were out of the cold wind at night. The third group went higher up to a ridge of snow, and made a snow cave. The tea and the book and the log fire is reflective of a wise old English gentleman I once knew, where I had my studio in his big old house, where he would offer a cup of tea, and in the evening, a glass of sherry. He kept his mind active by reading, and being wise, and having once trained race horses, many people would come to ask for Bark's advice on many matters. He told of taming the wildest horse, with the help of young women, who came to his riding school, and who frequently visited Bark. It was a happy time. As I respecting the wisdom of elders, I once asked Bark ~ "What is the most important thing in life?" Ever swift with a reply, the old man surprised me, with silence, for a time, until answering with one word ~ "Confidence." I took that lesson on board, and made it one of my cornerstones to build a life on. 

Rock Bottom ..... poem

Rock Bottom

When trolls see the daylight
they turn into stone
with bottoms of rock 
that no longer moan

Lost to the Moonlight
trapped in the day
stoned trolls are left
to silently gaze

The once ferocious troll
on the mountains danced
with lightning and thunder
along ridges pranced

At times under bridges
waiting for a traveler
to grab an ankle
and eat the rambler

Scattering bones
around on the ground
a warning to others
if that way bound

Now a troll of rock
no more do roam
trapped in the day
with a bottom of stone


Jaqi
Bluh

Tuesday
6
November
2018


NOTE ~   Rock Bottom is in the vein of a pun verse I made in the 1980s, when I had a studio and shop called ~ The Dragons Lair ~ in the Salamanca Arts Centre. This was an old complex of stores and factories, built in the early 1800s, with sandstone walls and great wooden rafters like a castle, and with bars on the first floor windows, where my place was located. I'd put a green dragon out the window, with it hanging onto the bars, and without looking, pour some water out, and then look out to see if a got anyone. Sometimes people would look up, but I think I always missed. Devilment. Once a Japanese publication made a story on the Dragons Lair, but I could not read Japanese, so who knows what they wrote of me and the Lair. Looked good, with the dragon hanging off the window bars. And when ere anyone ventured up the stairs to find the Dragons Lair, I would dare to share my pun verse ~

Fire breathing dragons may eat you at night
smoke fuming beasties consume you alright
Fried or grilled or roasted
they don't really mind
as long as you are tasty
with ketchup on the side