Thursday, December 19, 2019

Wishes for Christmas and New Year 2020

Here are some Christmas poems from years past, with best wishes for Christmas and for the whole New Year 2020. Let us all be filled with love, gratitude, forgiveness, and generosity in a spirit of  Love.  Forget the darkness, focus on what's sparkling bright, love and laughter!



Good News

Did you know that Christmas is
Love, Love, Love, only Love to
be given, shared and cherished?
When baking together, hands
covered in flour, your fingertips
sweetened with chopped figs,
or roughened from wrapping
hundreds of tamales for family
dinner, while the honeyed voice
of Nat King Cole asks you to have
yourselves a merry, little Christmas.

Love means sharing a laugh
at the antics of the dog that runs
in circles on the lawn, so happy
to be free - without leash, without
orders to sit, roll, obey the master.
Love is a quiet moment of writing
the sweetest of wishes to be mailed
far, far away – this year even further. 
Love is a letter filled affection, kind 
feelings, gentle words that glisten 
with happiness & warmth.

(c) Maja Trochimczyk 2018




A Music Box Christmas



I wind the spring on the music box

Silvery specks swirl in the snow globe



The twinkling of “We wish you a Merry Christmas” fills the air

Santa on the rooftop falls into the chimney.

Are you ready for the holidays?  With Scottish whisky cake

Polish makowiec, American apple pie? Will you cook

Tamales on Christmas Eve, your family gathered

Around steaming pots, laughter mixed with hearty flavors?

Will you roast turkey with fixings on Christmas Day?

Will you nibble slices of chocolate oranges, after unwrapping gifts,

Will you taste walnuts and sesame snaps from your stockings?



I wind the spring on the music box

Silvery specks swirl in the snow globe

Memories of home swirl before me



I make cranberry sauce with pears and apples

The way my Mom taught me. Do I still know

How to chop figs and dates into finely ground poppy seeds

Boiled in milk, re-fried with honey? The favorite flavors of childhood,

Float away with OgiÅ„ski’s polonaise, Farewell to the Homeland.

Under blazing sun of California, I still taste the exotic desserts

Of Poland’s eastern borderlands, where cultures mixed

And worlds mingled – Poles, Lithuanians, Tartars, Jews –

Cornflower blue skies, shimmering gold of rye fields.



I wind the spring on the music box

Silvery specks swirl in the snow globe

I make a promise to myself I will not break

 

This Christmas, I’ll read a novel, wrapped in a plush red blanket

And a Santa hat. I will walk alone in the park, come back

To the empty house and watch The Lord of the Rings,

The epic battles of the elements, good versus evil,

Good versus evil  - twirling and waltzing - the silvery specks

Dance in the snow globe. I sing along “We wish you

A Merry Christmas”  thinking of the Christmas play

My daughter an Angel waving a green pine bough

Singing, in a sweet chorus of children’s voices:

“We swish you a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!”



© 2015 by Maja Trochimczyk








Wednesday, October 23, 2019

Morning, Noon, and Evening in California


There are moments, or times of the day that I am really fond of, first – morning light around 8 am in California, bright and cheerful, ready to tackle all that the new day will bring. The sun is somewhat low on the horizon, not directly above head as at noon in the summer, the shadows are longish, the contours of the bare hills beautifully outlined, each ridge and gully… and it is time to think of where we are… I wrote “In Morning Light” when I was finishing the edits for the “Grateful Conversations” Anthology of my writing group, and needed a new nature-related spiritual poem. The inspiration came from two experiences – watering the garden with a hose and playing with water droplets in the air, making patterns – circles, eights – and noticing a strange anomaly in the calendar for 2018. Indeed, all these holidays coincided that year, and thus gave rise to my poem.


In Morning Light

We live on a planet where it rains diamonds —
hard rain, sparkling crystal droplets — in the clouds,
in the air, on the ground under our feet.

Here, the Valentine’s Day falls on Ash Wednesday.
Red strawberries, wine-hot passion and Ashes to ashes,
dust to dust — lessons of impermanence of the body,
constantly reconfigured in a vortex of quarks and atoms
until the pattern dissolves like snow at the end of winter.
Delicate snowdrops peek from under the melting cover
of phantasmagorical shapes and figures.

Here, the Annunciation Day of Mary’s greatest joy
falls on Palm Sunday — from rainbow wings of Fra Angelico’s
Gabriel bowing before the shy, blushing maiden in royal blue
we look ahead to the green of palm fronds lining the streets
of Jerusalem. We welcome the destiny of the King.
We see red blood on the stones of Golgotha,
the Place of the Skull. Not even this is real.
No wonder, then, that Easter, the greatest Mystery —
of Death into Life, Spirit over Matter, the Divine
in an emptied human shell — Eli, Eli, Lema Sabachthani —
Sanctus, Benedictus, Agnus Dei — it is done  —
yes, that Easter — is on April’s  Fools Day this year.

We fool ourselves when we see death as enemy.
We spin our lives into thin filaments of a spider-web.
Illusion woven into illusion. Deception after deception.
They rise and fall with the rhythm of seductive charm.
The smiling demon is the most persistent. Incorrigible,
it pulls us down, down, down into the mud,
from whence we did not come. Nothingness
ties us up with bonds of non-belonging.

My revelation is this — we live on the planet
where it rains diamonds. We walk on untold treasures
that we do not notice — we forget and forget and forget
where we came from, where we are, where we are going.
We spin our future out of spider silk and shadows.
Our lives fill with the sand of dreams, changing
like shards of glass, broken bits of colored plastic
in a kaleidoscope — transfigured into the most
astounding waltz of the rosettes, reflected
in hexagonal mirrors of transcendence —

My revelation is this — we are the children
of Sunlight — blessed by Radiance — wearing
Love’s golden halos — we shine and blossom —
in Light’s cosmic garden of stars — lilies — violets —
peonies — daffodils —and roses — always roses —
in this brilliant garden — on a diamond planet —
of what is — in the Heart of the Great, Great Silence —

— there’s no here — nor  there —
— no before  — nor  after —
— no inside  — nor  outside —

——— All is Always Now———
——— All is Always One———
——— Where We Are ———


NOTE: References to the Gospels, Giordano Bruno, and St. Germain.

(c) 2018 by Maja Trochimczyk, first published in "Grateful Conversations" anthology edited by Maja Trochimczyk and Kathi Stafford (Moonrise Press, 2018).




I wrote “This Evening” next, quite recently, in fact. I went out in the evening for a walk in the Big Tujunga Wash… it is nearly-empty river-bed full of rocks, and flats of chaparral on both sides. The valley is quite wide there, framed by hills on three sides, but open enough to show a vast expanse of the sky.  It changes colors so dramatically at sunset in California. The hues are so vivid, so fluid. The hills turn purplish, the air almost orange, and then the soft whiteness above the horizon turns pink or scarlet, and the sky above moves from sapphire to periwinkle, to lapis and indigo… Being born and raised in Poland, much further north, where the sky is mostly greyish, even when at its bluest in the middle of the summer, I am constantly enchanted by the vividness and intensity of California colors. That’s one reason the English nobles, lords and ladies of the 19th century had to go on their Grand Tour of Italy – to experience the sapphires, emeralds, and rubies of a foreign sky, before settling on their rain-trodden country estates.



But, after writing “Evening” I thought I needed a “Noon” to finish the trilogy. And here, I returned to my garden for inspiration, a refreshing place, sometimes tranquil, at other times full of buzzing hummingirds, melodious flutes of the mockingbirds, and the chatter and flutter of wings of house finches and house sparrows, interrupted by the sorrowful cries of the mourning doves.  At noon, birds get all silent, ornithologists and composers (Messiaen) observed long ago. Here’s a poem about that noon silence.


High Noon

All silent, we wait with bated breath
for the next word from the Great Sun -
a life changing utterance of grace and might

Everyone drinks in the brilliance
in this land of butterflies and birdsong, where
birds doze off, hidden among tree branches.
Radiant light caresses their backs.

We fall asleep drunk on luminosity and lightness.
Each one of us tightly wrapped in soft down
of cherubs, overshadowed by smooth angels wings.

It is so quiet now, at the high noon of summer.
Satiated, tranquil, serene - all dream in the bright arms
of sunlight. Their DNA codes are cleared and sorted.

Their cells fill with liquid light. There is no absence,
need, want or sorrow. All is bliss - all peace - all is
perfect now -just now - right now


Now, then, it is time to look at the evening sky… The three poems together also capture the three phases of life: child, adult, senior, or, for women, girl, mother, crone… Growth, fruition, reflection. By calendar years, I should consider myself entering the “crone” period of wisdom and wrinkles. Yet, only yesterday I was asked to add M.P. to my name, for “Mary Poppins” – apparently I fly around flittering from event to event -  poetry, music, film, gala, reading, or party -  so much, that I remind people of her composure while flying around on her umbrella.  Of course, I like being “practically perfect in every way” – as we all should, as we are.




This Evening

It will be that way but for a moment - the light is dying
now as sunset dissolves into nightfall. The sky is the color
of soap bubbles - orange to pink to celadon and pearl gray,
with cloud stripes, below an expanse of periwinkle, a cupola
ready to burst open.

The hues are more seductive, for there is smoke in the air,
the scent of dying trees, grass, bushes perishing in flames
somewhere to bring us their last offering.  We watch
the sky glowing like soap bubbles – vivid, shifting, translucent.

Are we the most alive at the edge of dying? The most
attuned to living after we are told we have a year,
or maybe a month to put things in order? We admire
the bright maples and ginkgo trees covered in splendor
of scarlet and gold just before leaves fall. This is the sign
of passing, a farewell to their happy life.

Aren’t the iridescent hues of the sky telling us
that we still have time, so little time, yet time enough
to fully immerse ourselves in this moment, to reach
the zero point of here and now and be aware of its beauty?

We are content under the translucent sky of orange, gold,
silver and periwinkle, half-way between blue and violet,
just as we are half-way between life and death,
body and soul, heart and mind - suspended on an invisible
silver thread from the galaxy's web. One neuron
in the enormous mind of all stars, all beings, all trees,
all molecules of air and light. So much light!!!

(c) September 30, 2019 by Maja Trochimczyk

Southern California and Pacific Ocean from the plane window


For those interested in updates about my poetry activities, here are some links:

1. California State Poetry Society – californiastatepoetrysociety.com, is the blog for the Society that I now lead, with news about its journal, the California Quarterly, monthly contests, and other items that happen in the organization.

2. My poems appeared in Lummox vol. 8 (“Skylark’s Lesson”), Quill and Parchment (May 2019 – “My Mother’s Key”) and A Decade of Sundays (“The Song of a Key”) edited by Alex Frankel to celebrate his Second Sunday Poetry Readings.

3. You can also read some of my poems in Polish on pisarze.pl site, in two posts edited by Anna Maria Mickiewicz, who gathered together a representative sample of émigré poets based in America and the U.K.








Friday, August 2, 2019

Today, I'm Perfect - Poetry of Blue Skies and Jade Ocean


TODAY (VERSION FOR US)

We are a miracle of life

We do what we want
We want what we do

We are perfect

We are cosmic trees
We grow by the calm lake of light

Its smooth opal surface
Reflects the sun’s smiling face

Our roots drink liquid light
Our crown sparkles with stars
Our leaves are green with peace

Our flowers are gold with joy
Our fruit is ripe with wisdom

We are a living miracle
We are perfect

From noon to midnight
From midnight to noon

We love what we do
We do what we love

We are – We  shine
We are one with the One

WE ARE PERFECT

© 2016 by Maja Trochimczyk
From Into Light by MoonrisePress.com


I wrote this poem for my son, when he told me he was not happy, so that was my gift of affirmation for him to read every morning. I do not know if he reads it or not, but I occasionally do. I even gave out printed cards with this poem during the Independence Day Parade this year. I had over 500 cards printed with Today, Independence Day (my poem from last year), and two versions of America the Beautiful.  When I read it in a poetry event last time, I thought it would be nice to change all "I" to "We" and address it to all poets gathered at the reading. It worked! Yes, we are perfect!



It is too easy to forget and too easy to focus on what's wrong. For instance, with the sky.


August 2015


When I moved here from Canada in 1996, I fell in love with California azure summer skies, so saturated with color and intensity of sunlight, it made me dizzy. In the winter, my favorite was the fog rising from the ground and wrapping around hills like white cotton scarves, they were so cute wearing these scarves... I even loved the stormy clouds of winter covering the sky with thick, dense, clouds that were so heavy with rain they looked carved from marble. The next morning after the pouring rain, - all  night, non stop, as if the flood had begun - the sky was pristine, so blue, so clear, without a trace of smog at the horizon, but with small puffy clouds that rose from wet hills to form another set of thicker and thicker cumulonimbus clouds and maybe gather for another round of rain. And then, it was all clear, all blue again.







Of the Mountains



I.


I love you, my mountains,

oranged into sunset
of embarrassment.

Your cheeks aglow –

what sin you’re hiding,
in waterless creases,
what guilt?

Or is it first love

that makes you shine
with such glory?


II.


Bare mountains –

no – old grassy hills
worn out by wind
and torrential rains
shine in stark morning light
like exquisite folds
of red-brown velvet
covered with stardust.

Snow whitens the slopes

sculpted by crevices.

The earth sighs

in her sleep.

III.


I’ll never tire of these mountains

made from the earth’s dough
by the hands of a giant
who kneaded a cake
that was never finished,
the dough left in piles
on the table of smooth fields
surprised by their sudden end
in rich folds and falls
decorated with the icing of snow
on cloudy winter mornings.

From Miriam's Iris, 2009 (Moonrise Press)


Hills wearing cloud scarves, February 2012

Winter rain clouds, December 2011

Azure skies in June in Big Tujunga Wash, 2019

I first noticed that there was something different one sunset in July 2005, when I realized that the sky looked like tiger stripes, golden against turquoise cupola, they changed to pink, to magenta, to purple. The most amazing, unimaginable colors.  Somehow strange and unusual. When did I last see a bunch of stratus and cirrus clouds that were arranged just so, regularly in a pin-stripe pattern? Never.   My poem, Tiger Nights, was written a bit later, after I saw the same clouds above the Hollywood Bowl and listened to Joshua Bell. I was wondering about the hidden danger of these strange new formations and connected the tiger sky with a surreal dream, a warning of sorts...








Tiger Nights


Someone nailed gold-plated clouds
to the hard, polished turquoise of the sky.

Striated, like the stripes of a tiger
I did not know I had for a pet

until he bared his teeth
at the dogs flowing through the air

to corner him in my backyard.
The blond fur glistened in shadows.

Three golden labs growled
at the cat the size of a calf.

He turned. His stripes shone
with danger. I woke up afraid.

Now I watch the gold of the clouds
change into orange, scarlet and amaranth

in a quickly darkening cupola
that rests on the hills

above the Hollywood Bowl.
Smooth tones of Joshua Bell’s violin

glow in the air, escaping
the relentless chase of the brass.

Wind snatches notes from the bow,
plays with their glossy sheen.

Stars blossom on cloud-stems
in bouquets, wild as tiger lilies

you gave me that night.
Danger lurks in your smile

as you caress my ear
with a whisper: “Remember?”

 © 2010 by Maja Trochimczyk



A pink fan of chemtrails at sunset.

I did not have a good photo of these tiger stripes, even though I saw them so often. To a version of the poem that was coupled with artwork, I added some "tiger stripes," cut out from photos of "tiger patterned" pillows, and created the tiger striped sky, using a chem cloud photo as the starting point. The completed artwork also had some blades of wheat, at the bottom, just for fun... 



Photo by Kathabela Wilson, 2011 exhibit of poet-artists at 
Susan Dobay's Scenic Drive Gallery in Monrovia

I did not know the word for chemtrails yet. I first heard it from a friend, when I showed my photo of a tree above Eaton Canyon in Pasadena, taken in 2010 maybe, where a strange linear cloud seemed to be emerging from the tree. I thought it rather picturesque, so I posted it and shared it. She said: "that's a chemtrail, don't you know?" By then, I started noticing the crisscrossing patterns in the skies. So many, more and more days with skies covered with the strange whitish mist that did not rise from the ground but rather  drifted down from above. The patterns were ugly. I called them "graffiti in the sky" and started collecting albums, taking photos in my neighborhood every day. There were months of these monstrosities, on end. And no rain, no fog rising from the mountains, no cumulonimbus gathering in their puffy vainglory.


2010, Chemtrails in Eaton Canyon, Pasadena

After almost a decade of exposure, and learning to Look Up! I can tell which of my older photos are of chem-trails, or unnatural chem-clouds, caused by chemicals sprayed from planes in the air, and attracting water vapor to form strange patterns that have nothing to do with patterns of clouds we saw in our childhood, and I witnessed in California in 1996-2000. Here are some older examples of "graffiti" skies. Notice the parallel lines stretching from end to end, horizontally, or diagonally, or criss-crossing. . . I collected those photos since 2011 in Picasa albums; then Picasa was bought by Google and all photo albums were destroyed. Now I can see the photos in Google photo albums, but these are for me, not public. I wrote a couple of posts about these patterns in the sky - they are so annoying -  and posted other examples of this strange and unnatural phenomenon on my previous issues of this blog: 

https://poetrylaurels.blogspot.com/2019/06/live-in-balance-in-harmony-in-sunlight.html

In March 2019 I saw with delight the rare lenticular clouds that looked like they are carved out of marble or as if they cover up an oval shaped UFO: 

https://poetrylaurels.blogspot.com/2019/03/on-joys-of-spring-azure-skies-and-light.html


Big Tujnga Wash, August 2015

My street in Sunland west, August 2015


OF DAYS AND SKY

I look at the cloud heart dissipating above the rooftops
Someone’s Valentine or a marriage proposal.
Cute - I sigh. I do not have a heart, a ring, not yet,
not ever. Day one.  Graffiti in the sky.

I read a book, lying on a blanket in my backyard.
I look up at the strange, striped cloud patterns
And wonder – there is no wind, it is sunny,
How did these long, even strips with serrated edges
Get there? Day two. Graffiti in the sky.

Dirty, milky white fog above the horizon.
Crisscrossing patterns spoil the view
of the mountains.  Where are the bluish
edges receding in the distance? Ridges don’t turn
From green, to blue, to deep indigo.  Not today.
My photos are ruined.  Day three.  Graffiti in the sky.

I read strange stories on the web of lies,
Sick imagination, horror, secrets.  Antenna arrays.
Bursts of energy. Fake drought in California.
Fake snow in New York. Tornadoes, blizzards.
Floods.  Over 160 weather modification patents.
Weather warfare?  Day four.  Graffiti in the sky.

Powdered aluminum, strontium, barium
Compounds fall from the sky, enter my lungs
Clog the veins in the tree leaves, settle in roots,
my cells, soil, water, air – the whole world
is poisoned. Day five. Graffiti in the sky.

They say only corporations’-owned
GMO plants will survive in the new world
Made by the spawn of hell. We will all be slaves.
Who pays the pilots of the small red planes?
Who makes the poison to destroy the earth?
War on Nature. Day six. Graffiti in the sky.

Clouds gather for yet another winter day
Of El Nino without rain. The farmers
Will go bankrupt, the rich become much richer.
Do these billionaires live in underground caves,
With artificial air, soil, plants and sunshine?
God rested on the seventh day. They do not
rest.  Day seven. Graffiti in the sky. 


(c) 2015 by Maja Trochimczyk


Another view on my street, 2015

2012, the pink shape is a reflection from the sun (camera, not nature).

Sometimes the pilots of chem planes seem to be playing tic-tac-toe
or checkers. 2014. Big Tujunga Wash.

chemical weather –
we forget what we want to be
under whitened sky

(c) 2015 by Maja Trochimczyk

 
Others pilots seem to like flying in circles making an artistic splash!
This was my street looking east in 2014.


But there is no doubt that these "clouds" are made on purpose.
Here's one photo of chem cloud and new chem trail in front, with the plane making it.

their air is for sale
their water rights sold –
last breath of freedom

(C) 2015 by Maja Trochimczyk

A rare photo of "ribbed" (microwaved) chem cloud sky, with new chemtrail
and its shadow on the dense clouds. Very strange. Are we still on Earth? 
 
The Big Tujunga Wash, entrance. The landscape photos are over, you cannot really put it in your album and pretend everything is OK and these things were always in the sky. Not on days like this. 

I wonder how photographers make calendars these days...  The answer is very simple, they put chem clouds everywhere!  Even in animated kids movies so the kids would not know that what they see when they look up at the sky and see these patterns of lines  - is not normal, no, not at all. 

Some days, the "artistic" graffiti show the pilot's ambition, but no talent.

On other days, they seem to be working entirely too hard. A cross on a sky of stripes. Interesting? Maybe. It caught my attention. Beautiful? Mmmm, no. 

Oblivion

The clouds become milky, the sun death-white, like bleached bones on the chalky shore. Planes after planes fly high up, leaving patterns of crisscrossing chemtrails in the sky. The strange lines of clouds puff up and spread like cancer in the air. He takes out his camera, takes another series of snapshots for the series of Graffiti in the Sky. At home, he looks through his inbox, Los Angeles Sky Watch is meeting again. Same old, same old: aluminum, barium, strontium compounds, nano-particles stopping the rain, causing the blizzard, transforming California fields back into deserts. Only six thousands signed the Stop Geo-engineering petition he wrote. Only two hundred came to the demonstration he spent months planning. He thinks of ancient prophets, unheard voices calling in the urban wasteland.

           like frogs in boiling water
           they do not notice poison 
           raining on their heads

(C) 2015 by Maja Trochimczyk

First published on this website - 


The plane spraying us flew much higher than the earlier chem-clouds, also made by planes, but have drifted into cloud shapes. This was close to sunset so the plane's trail is white (higher up, still in sunlight) and the rest is charcoal. 

               

This seems to be a masterpiece, of sorts, made before sunrise. At daybreak, the sky is already full of these weird "sheep"  - that seem to have been made by hitting the chem- clouds with microwave radiation to heat them up and create a barrier for moisture that dissipates instead of raining down to nourish the earth. 

I live on a strange planet, with a sick, patterned sky.

And here are some  strange cloud patterns from this year, 2019 and last fall, 2018. 

Is this for real? Have you ever seen an M'shaped cloud? Artificial rain clouds, 2019


That letter M above is the most astounding. It is completely surreal. Why? My, oh, my, why? One hypothesis: "weather modification" to dim the sky. The recent "experiments" for the "first time" in 2019 dimming the sky in "solar radiation management" projects were widely publicized as if just started by Harvard University (that same evil Harvard University that bought out farmers who were bankrupt by drought that was created artificially in California for so many years).  The press reports to which I will not provide links, Google has tons of those, were all enthusiastic, all cheering - oh, what a NEW idea, dimming the sky! None of them admitted to the fact that this "SRM" has, in fact, been done all over the world at least since 2005. I think everywhere there are American military bases. 

As I was growing up in Poland, I never saw any chemtrails in a country of such cloudy skies, with ever changing patterns, from totally overcast, to stratus, altostratus, cumulus, cumulonimbus, all sorts of clouds. Yet, none of these long ugly crisscrossing patterns. Not until 2015, when American soldiers established their bases and promptly started spraying the Poles, too. Ruining the postcard views in the summer, and filling the air with who knows what? 

Here's sun and rain-clouds together, the weather maker could not decide, there is a little hole already in the rainclouds. It seems it will not be raining, after all. October 2018

April 2019. Notice that even though the sky is almost white, new stripes are still being added.

So that was the first idea that came to mind. Let's not pretend it is new. My friend Susan Bowen, who is as aware of the chemtrail nonsense as I am, lent me the book published by a notable historian of meteorology by Columbia University Press in 2010 and entitled "Fixing the Sky" It is not a new idea, but it is always done wrong and always has negative consequences for us, plants, animals and all living beings on Earth. There are plenty of theories about "Geoengineering" - Dane Wigington has a huge website and there is lots of information there: https://www.geoengineeringwatch.org/. I'm posting the link before Google makes it disappear in searches. Wigington posts current reports from around the globe, detailed analyses of weather anomalies, artificial droughts, winter storms, hurricanes steered to hit one island and not another. There are geoengineering patents going back to the 1940s at least, and the "science" of weather modification has been in operation at least since then. 

April 2019, the same  sky, closeup: a newer stripe on almost white grey skies.

There is another theory I have about all these fake clouds, intense fires everywhere - maybe, indeed, the Sun is getting so intensely hot, that we do need protection from its newly increased radiance? Maybe the governments collaborating on these secret geoengineering and sun-dimming projects are actually trying to  help all of us survive? Help the plants survive and not burn under the relentless heat?  Keeping the secret to not cause mass panic, suicides, unrest? Maybe, but judging on the past track records of government secrecy,  highly unlikely.

That one is my hypothesis, based on PR and propaganda put out by Harvard The problem is that a lot of this stuff on the internet is mixed with speculation, so it is hard to discern what's factual, what's hypothetical, what was really done and for what reason, and what seemed to have been done, and for what unseemly evil reason. I don't know. And I do not want to trust someone saying so when I do not have a proof in hand. A copy of the patent is proof enough. So I know that "weather modification" has been in the works for decades. 

What I know for sure is what I see. Every day, I look at the sky. It helps that I live in such an incredibly beautiful place - Los Angeles National Forest is not a forest here, but some gently rising hills, some covered with velvet of gold grass, some with dark bushes of sage, manzanita, buckwheat. The Big Tujunga Wash is filled with chaparral, between them there is enough open sky to be happy and free. But the sky is not as beautiful as it used to. The days of pristine blues, azures are exceedingly rare. 


The sun is no longer golden, but rather milky white, April 2019. 

In last two years I got tired of photographing the repetitive stripes of chem-clouds, they were so many and so boring, day after day, month after month of the same. Some photographers were delighted by the rich reds, orange-golds, maroons, and purples of sunsets with chemtrails making a display in the sky. These colors are seen after fires, due to particulate matter in the air, so when the sunsets are too beautiful something is wrong with the air. 

It is not about clouds versus blue sky. I love clouds. I was raised in Poland when there are always clouds, of so many shapes and sizes.  In California, too, we can have nice and puffy clouds.

This photo, from March or April 2019 is a beauty: cloudy winter morning skies, with lots of natural clouds, This is the sky at noon after heavy rain before the chem-planes returned. 

We used to have such thick winter clouds, for years! Here are some from a rainy day in November 2014; our lovely hills are covered with white blankets.


Winter rainclouds sit on the hills, November 2014


Winter rainclouds are full of water vapor, and very heavy. 
Here you have a thick blanket of clouds before the rain.  November 2014.

In the summer, there are clouds low above the forest and mountains far in the distance. They never rise very high, just magnify the outline of the hilltops. They used to. Very rare these days too. But remember in the old stories of sailing adventures? When the presence of an island far away alone in the ocean was first announced by the clouds rising above its forests and mountains? I remember those stories, do you? 

Here clouds are rising from the hilltops, or sitting down on them to squash them.  March 2012

Nonetheless, I still prefer clarity, turquoise, azure, sapphire... Here you have it, after a rainy day, the sky is turquoise at the bottom and sapphire above. Perfect! June 2019.

Big Tujunga Wash, June 2019


I was driving to a poetry reading through Lake View Terrace, and stopped on Kagel Canyon,  so beautiful and pristine clear in June 2019!

If you look up above my roof, the hue  of the sky in the late afternoon, before sunset, changes to my favorite shade of periwinkle, slightly violet but still blue. It did have this amazing hue one late afternoon in July 2019!

One could say, maybe it is like that only in the foothills, far enough and high enough above the metropolis of Los Angeles (1300 feet).... So these clear and intense blue skies might be just a local phenomenon, just as sunlight is, in Sunland (so many days of sun! when downtown LA and the coast were shrouded in mists).  


Not at all. I saw the same intense blues, azures, sapphires above Lake Huntington in August 2012. It is four hours drive north of Los Angeles, north of Fresno, in the high Sierras:



Lake Huntington, August 2012.

And, of course, there is the huge expanse of the sky to be seen above the Pacific Ocean. For instance, in Hermosa Beach and Manhattan Beach. July 2019, after the China Lake base earthquakes, there was a notable break in chem-trailing. So much so, that people thought that China Lake base was out of commission and completely destroyed. Apparently, the "fixing the sky" operation for Los Angeles is run out of that naval weapons base. Supposedly, its runways were cracked. But they were fixed quickly... I do not know for sure, I have not been there, I have not seen it. But...



And if you look at the water into sunlight, you notice that it is a perfect shade of jade close by, and aquamarine in the distance...There is a layer of fog, or smog in these Pacific Ocean photos, though - it has not rained there for a while, so the atmosphere was not cleared from pollution... Or maybe there are chemtrailing the area far in the distance, at the horizon?  Who knows? I have not been there. I have not seen it. 

The important thing about these monstrous attacks at natural beauty of the earth is to do not consent. I repeat every day as I look at the "creative writing" by planes up in the sky: "I DO NOT CONSENT. WE DO NOT CONSENT." I continue: "You do not have permission to ruin my air, to ruin my view, to harm and hurt the trees, animals, people, all living beings on our wonderful planet." I wish the planes to malfunction on the ground so they cannot fly and for the spraying equipment to malfunction so there is nothing sprayed... 

If enough people have this intention of "I do not consent" and if enough people have this intention of "I love natural, clear and beautiful skies" - the latter is more important, since everything negative tends to bounce back - eventually, we will win. There is more of us than them. Also, we can have help, if only we ask... 


So here we are, in July 2019 enjoying a perfect day under azure skies, watching the jade ocean, one wave after another... 


On the Shore of Jade Ocean


Freeze the ocean mist
keep it, keep it
stop the waves from coming 
and going, stop it now

We cling to happiness

like children to their favorite
toy, a tattered teddy bear
that used to be white but is not

Breathe with waves

flow with the breeze
let the current carry you
through life into distance
into the unknown

Love the ocean mist 

in its pearl-blue silence
love the waves that breathe
with you, in and out

Love the translucent jade waters

that sparkle in gold sunlight
love the Sun, touching us
from infinity of jewel skies


(c) 2019 by Maja Trochimczyk