Thursday, July 28, 2016

POETRY: Unhealthy Human Screams, Reptile Shadows, And Sunbathing in Emotionless Calm

I was the nerdy kid who used to stand up, cross my heart, and cry when TV was shutting off for the night, the Pledge of Allegiance was said, the Star Spangled Banner played. I still cross my heart and cry when I hear the Star Spangled Banner; yes, I love my country that much.

So, when hate based on fear a person bent into his politics and then told everyone he was running for the most powerful office in the world for one reason, t
hat reason being that he is the ONLY PERSON who can conquer that fear, I felt my obligation finger-snapping my mind. This is the result.




© Unhealthy Human Screams, Reptile Shadows, And Sunbathing in Emotionless Calm

Mimi Wolske
All Rights Reserved

Don’t mind the burnt circus smell;
Just swirl the political garbage with a jiggle of the handle.

Ignore the paper-mache media;
Soaked in wine and coffee; investigative
Skills won’t be found with a hammer and chisel.
Recork the bottles; empty the grounds— search the dregs.

Tossed behind the Dempster Dumpster are
One unqualified, soulless man’s ignorance of mendacity
And his treasonous invitations for
Enemies to commit cyber espionage.

Don’t mind the burnt circus smell;
Just swirl the political garbage with a jiggle of the handle.

Spit shining his hooked cross with
Unhealthy human screams that can’t hear
Unjust hyperbole and hate-filled rhetoric,
He dominates the chaos of those gasping for oxygen.

Corduroy trousers, reptile shadows,
and those sunbathing in emotionless calm,
He slides his demagogue ass across my page
Calling sciences he cannot comprehend fallacies and hoaxes.

Don’t fall under the cyber propaganda
While the fear monger has them dancing like
Marionettes to their worst fears and unthinking
Followers readily believe only he can fix what he calls broken.

Don’t mind the burnt circus smell;
Just swirl the political garbage with a jiggle of the handle.

.
.
(art: There is no title and no attribution could be found)

Tuesday, July 26, 2016

Poetry: Is Critical Thinking Obsolete?

Once upon a time, there was no Google. "Playtime" was when children played with empty boxes, pots and pans, or just about anything that could be found, and they had to use their imaginations the entire time and they drew on both sides of their brains to solve problems. 
There was a time when flying a kite meant learning to build one and what materials could be used and even that there needed to be a tail. 
There was a time when "speech" and "debate" were special classes and in those classes, students learned to research, to not find facts only but to think of arguments and how to evaluate the information they found, and to find a few good reasons that supported their argument. Then they learned to consider counter arguments and to find disconfirming evidence or the merits for the opposing view, and then, find further evidence to counter those. Plus, they learned to document their findings and provide accurate attribution; and, just as important, not to plagiarize.

We need to help our children today:

  • learn to pretend
  • to solve problems on their own and without Googling; 
  • to question and analyze what they hear and read and not take everything as truth just because they found it on the internet or because someone said it; 
  • to learn how to solve all sorts of problems and then test their results for evidence their answers are correct; 
  • to be able to present dual perspective arguments
  • to be able to find and discuss the costs and benefits of each position; 
  • to eventually be able to figure out what new data would help resolve a controversy.

We need to help our children learn how to not just survive but to lead or feel confident on selecting a leader using critical thinking.




© Is Critical Thinking Obsolete?
Mimi Wolske
All Rights Reserved

houses built on the edge of ambivalence
where origami occupants’ dreams are
filed in loose-leaf gliders while plumped
breadcrumbs nick their interests when rivers rise, swell

bowler gods and kitchen goddesses
rally around a dark apostrophe
or a fire-starting catastrophe
like flies and bees ‘round freshly picked wedding bouquets

whether words squared and re-used in a scrabble game
by the photo-op holocaust without substance
or the punctuation with questionable content and leaky leaks
both entice the gods and goddesses with broadcasted-war decisions

will time lick it wings or slap them flat
against its ancient pendulum of a body
or will snakes in the grass and pigs’ ear purses
manage to reach insouciant, perilous, uncritical-thinker constituents