Solar Life and Flashes…

Sun_532Solar Lighting begins late in the evening sky and continues through the following weeks; first scorching the million-acre-land around Calimesa City and ultimately damaging the domes of cover across the skies above those made at home. Life ends and life begins. A different life also creates-stop-start inside several thousand—where water begins and evaporates.

Rulers gather and die.  The death of middle worlders on surface is many and rarely varied. A renewal of the hidden memories of power in times of sorrow and danger and fear prevail.  Wealth again moves and poverty descends from above the sunlight and below the ground levels of cave dwellers and their children.

Across spaces of lighted atmosphere and spaces absent of everything except views above and across an angled galaxy, war of rearranged arrangements begin and end in victories and losses. Some obtain more of less and some lose everything to those others dwelling above these spaces and below this ground—stretched places of caves and cave-ins and areas where life hides from death and awaits the end of silent lightning and the reaches of flash.

Once again upon these skies, a spinning whirl of land and seas of salt and lakes of salt less liquid, warriors stage the wars of rearranged arrangements and wealth distributes where the winners rejoice and the losers lament. The dead are discarded beneath the soiled blood and inside rocky renditions of those of victories in death and legend. Quickly forgotten are the response of battle and the rhymes that end with hunger and rearranged arrangements.

For these days of peace remember pleasant moments of above ground splendor and days of night and night of days as knights begin an uncertain dance of daze. Swords and shields never rust and the lightning of solar ruins again gather in place of suns and along a galactic twirl of swirling earth filled with the salt of sea and the breaking winter waves along the shorelines of a billion lakes without salt and filled with many lights of star sparkle and life.

These are the days of women and men and children and reaffirmation and survival’s rearranged arrangements and offerings. These are creators of ways and means and love and care in heart shaped reasons and certainty. The responsibility of these creations are moments before another war and the death of songs forgotten from those last days battled when reasons were few yet responses necessary. Always…Rearranged arrangements? Blood feeds the form and those forms cease flesh without it? Let it be written so let it…

And! Beautiful you are…

Shadows come to play…

s86Witches created the earth…Understand they will be allowed to save their creation. So! Come back…Maybe now is a good time?

Watch the dance of haunted lovers. Every moment they dance with unreal – realities. They dream the child’s discovery of life without muddy foundation and those many layers hidden behind the shells and walls of age.

Is this alternative similar to grieving for a fallen lover with sugar tears and fire-sweetness and the memories of Dance? We may arrive in Cloud early. In transition and seeking a flash-ride to spiral and skippy into framing time we often miss but do not fall…

Inside the ruin runes of Calimesa City and a tavern of crumble stone and moss and rubble and ruined wooden benches and tables turning to ground, life starts and life ends as breath starts and breathing ceases. Not a cloud fall missed but a spark’s charge headlong into the channel of paradise and kiss-love before the night ends and life trashes to light.

We are the robots of life—scattered and jammed across one thousand worlds set to twirl the galaxy lost and found and discovered discarded. A million mines of golden ones whirling inside drops of rain and trillion acre seas of salt and water and giant drops of life’s sparking rattles and battles in the birth of baby eyes and smiles.

We are the ‘off-grid-gridders’ of new plug-ins unedited and rejected from the norms of whisper’s folly inside a grid of lost souls and flounder bodies. Everything numbered dwells within this symmetry of stop and starts and the ones and zeros of reasons and verses and songs.

However; we are new robots unable to trace or spare chaotic notions beginning or ending without result.  We are not even noticed by other robots…We are chips inside other chips and notions outside the loops that loop ad infinitum. We are the memories of Calimesa City and created in the backseats of an auto or two sometimes past and always future, where taverns crumble and bridges fall.

And! Beautiful you are…

Before Thunder Words…

F34bCaution now and then the laughter of strings from harps as happens when verses dance along these pages of parchment and tin pictures. Dust spreads across this land as the too much wind and too late water cannot not spread trickles and tickles of streams and lakes and oceans of fresh liquid across a salt less sea. Lifelines of service—tonight we caress soft sounds and submit to our songs.

The dancing skates of wheels and those of ice rails arrive to use by feet and ancient selves of balance and twists and turns and freedom without the gravity of graves as again the singing strings of violins fill the evening with song and rhythm and rhyme. And! Fiddlers play music—lately into the night and dancers form circles toward fires of light and away from darkness or the empty space of silence.

Together stories of life are magnificent. Tales and lies and glories and lies and the tall words of historic wars and heroic praise not required when the fiddlers play true sense of liquid verses and the movement of peace endings and hopes beginning in the fires of spirit strength and life’s power. Everlasting is this spirit and life begins and ends as the fiddlers play.

You do come home. This is a place where monsters do not dwell except in the mystery of children’s thoughts and their laughter. You do come home, where bombs of war do not shatter dreams or disturb determination of freedom—folly and lives. This is our place without borders.  Only the religions of kings attempt to divide and conquer spirit wings and fiddlers speak.

Our bags of sleep are warm and not the humble man’s strait jacket. We gather to face fire for light and we turn away to sleep. Quick is the night and into the mists of morning’s gathering we shift and shape and move as substance occurs and flesh begins—warm of blood and energy. As day we begin another time without restrictions or reasons or thoughts except to begin as light spreads and we muscle our way into another way of day.

And! Beautiful you are…

Whatever Storms—Wherever Gods…

We watch Storm Gods…We! Tucked inside this swirl of trash and tin bobbles and cardboard homes of glass and stone wait the confusion to rise and winds to wind these narrow streets of matchbook stories and matchstick people…After the roar and the wetting and the flashes, the god of storms dart-departs to dash and trash another world apart from our own. Begin then the song of flowers. Without wails—those sweet tales with soft music and misty touches and peace are moment songs. 

We venture into drying air and as we cross wet sands and a bloom of desert flowers and freshening air—rejoice we of ourselves and our certain knowledge of knowing certainty for another clearer night and a brighter morning. And! We understand the knowledge of the good of something necessary and good. Together; our story of life is magic and our world is… 

s81These twisted places and the rust of metal frames and broken concrete stretch before our eyes toward sights ending and evening’s growling gloom where boxes of movement use to wind along ribbons of silent construction before tears filled the eyes and wind dried water. Home is protection from bombs’ early light and for those requiring protection, home is both sanctuary and safety space. 

By the fire light of these dwindling tribes, children marvel at both the dancing flames and the warmth of these lights against the nights and outside shadows beneath their eyes. They listen as stories tell the beginning of things now gone and of those grand places not started but imagined and seen in minds’ own spaces and in their most desired regions of just before a dream and just after ‘wishing this was true.’

Paint now a picture that loves these caves and these walls and these tribes of we and me and us and them and before the storm and after the end of rains and winds and bumping things and silent shrieks once loud now absent from ear and fear and tear. Sounds of life drawn across a million miles of rock and rolling till another day of storms and another night of passion shadow dance beneath a star-lighted ceiling. Once again, share moments and lives and the power of life. Blood and love is the matter of the matter and the survival of these survivors of wherever gods and whatever storms.

And! Beautiful you are…

 

Port-Passage In Sight…

1bIs nature the force that causes us to move through lives of our own creation? Are we able to remain as objects without motion? If this is a force, are we able to creep through life quietly—afraid to disturb a silence, too loud to understand or tolerate?

So much perspective longing by people of sanity or madness…Need to make or cause words to do what is wanted. May direct words…Listen and they will sometimes come…

Our endless supply of Creators…These presented God-Gods reach hand clasped and hand-handed across a bridge between faint notion, through foggy prayer and space jamming Orion – Virgo and Leo into an obtainable notion beyond earth-life somewhere beyond stellar distances and new portions of gravity-bound existence.

Wonders often; if the passage of time is as dreadful as the gaining of age and fearing nothing save remorse and regret for opportunities missed…still wondering if aging as terrible and menacing; for it cannot give anything back and has nothing to return?

Often wagged by both life and death – So/such a powerful confusion that one cannot be without the other? And the anti-poetic freak – a – spirit, too afraid to both soar and remain too grounded? Therefore, these fears reconstruct the affirmative impulse?

We do not quietly pass through this life. We remain in constant motion even when sleeping…As fearful travelers from unknown to recognized and then to the great unknown everlasting quality of not being, dead or very dead. Even in great everlasting we change and we further die…

When rest stops us, do we finally slow-down or do we simply vanish into…It is with a trembling self –we have seen it all, again. Alive and real across the heavens
of time, civilizations more or less and a part of these.

Alive and real among these columns of Mt. Airy granite through the shifts of sands of time both substantial and real. Alive and alone and having walked across these deserts and seas and upon these surfaces of time. We cause great and wondrous meanings from-confusion…

Yes and Yes and Yes! I and me and we and us have seen it all, again. The Universe from a speck to a mighty and hurtling Earth, a cross of heavens filled with multitudes of this and that. We see it all and please sweet dream-side, let us see it all again
until, I and we and us may again recognize – OK…

There and perched high on dream-side at a flip of mind-sigh, we move across the Universe so fine. Alive and gone and alive and gone ‘til counting-time catches us with mind-sides swirling sight of mind-light bright brings the way to see…

And Oh! What a wave to see,
to be, to know and again to have seen.
Yes! To have seen, so it seems and to
see it all through Love! Again…

And! Beautiful you are…

Rain Whistles-Mist Sings…

55Just above cloud-fall she dropped to Earth without trumpets or warriors or cries or the wailing of terrified folks. No swished angel wings or the usual thunder just after lightning bolts from sky-to-ground or back again. When angels fly-sound may become the music of both rapture and fear.

Why do arriving angels come in lots of two?  Why either soft or hard? Why arriving as a girl or a boy? Or are angels of any physical realm saved or seen by the nonsense of non- angels? Why do angels arrive here from somewhere other than here on planet-side of heaven? And! How do they cross heaven’s length from where-to-wear and back to where-ever they begin? It is magic, wizard, dragon, fire, storm, calm, wind, rain and war.

Heaven’s gate is hard to find and many have perished-the-thought and died attempting to pass from star-gate to star-fall of the planet-slide of hell or paradise.

This angel was alone–both hard and soft and ready to purpose the reason of her travel and the respected message she brought to the mysterious magic folk and the very quick or the dead.

Angel she called herself and she imagined her image as double self and triple purposed with a silent drum of butterfly wings and the knowledge of both living and dying before the end of twin-planet sins times fourteen.

Power at the end of wit and the beginning of the rhyme of substance’s cessation. She was both good and evil and her reason was either a knowing or a complete confusion to those able to see or hear or know or imagine her path from sky to planet-side. She saved a few and she lost a few and those lasting through her visit–survived.

No! Angel was the good witch of spectacular whimsy and crafted stories told by magic men and the disciples of both the Gods and of men. Once upon a moment, Angel did visited Earth-land and found it was missing a reason for being the place of promise or ruin. She existed and…She calls to us sometimes and sometimes through no sounds we understand.

And! Beautiful you are…

 

Fantastic Future Fantasy…

21aWe are bourgeois folk perched on top of a bourgeois mountain and at the peak of a bourgeois civilization. We! Also are the bodies and the souls of Workers everywhere…Are we in the last minute of prevention or are we swallowing ourselves and consuming our own?

Tis the Greed of Destruction! The day of mechanized material ruin is today and our warehouses are… Nothing new has developed and culture has been reduced to banality, repulsion and stupidity.

Truth is gone… Replaced by the corruption of a worthless government—And! This government of US continues to purchase or pay ‘We the People’ just enough to forestall a Socialist revolution that already has started and is sputtering along in America. Faith in the economy and the dollar and freedom is gone from our precious society. Hope—as a tiny ray of sunlight or moon-lighted shadow is for; the Workers of the World, Dead!

Let there be news of nothing and entertainment, while those called intellectuals, argue pointless drivel and political fundamentals. Our nation continues war and the notions of future war and the preparation for war— Our government continues to purchase or pay US just enough to forestall the coming Revolution—Repeated?

Let us fabricate a notion that America feels thwarted or poorly treated. This notion creates an enemy and sides must be delineated. We are for US and against those whatever; is ‘auto-therapeutic’ for those of the unsuccessful many.

Watching the rich or famous or infamous and…instantly, we receive extra-rational cravings never to satisfy but possible, especially in this Tea-partied-extra-irrational, severely-to-the-right-wronged-sided American lie.

Then for your entertainment, let us watch the News created by money for money and your believing the unbelievable…Financial cliffs, foolish babbling between a Congress or a Senate and scandals and a garbage in-truth-gone-symphonic brought to you through discounted prices and junk food—wowzer.

And-by-the-way: The people of Iran are suffering due to US-created and committed criminal-sanctions against their country. An almost total embargo against a productive country in a World Economy is another crime against humanity. How about the people of Palestine and policies and injustice and the destroyer of society…WMDs are not just Chemicals and Bombs and Nukes—oh well! Not entertaining…So?

Everyday— unnatural death and destruction across our sweet world, is just a sound-bite or two from being ignored. No money in reporting actual news! Opinions are the new truths in Newsy-news and Juicy gossip.

The Supreme Government of America casts a large shadow and darkness across us. It is similar to dogs with no masters…Every moment it hurts and kills and destroys everything it touches. ‘It exists for the money and by the money.’  In a Capitalist society there is no Democracy or Freedom…Never was and never will be!

Do not allow the rationalistic truths and the materialistic lies of today to confuse the Revolutionary messages from the People of our World. Beyond the shiny beads and cheap trinkets we, ‘made in America folk’, are also these people.

And! Beautiful you are…

The Music of Angels…

23From these ridges of snow and ice, horse mounted Iron Riders watch and wait from a mountain-top. Below the wide valleys of snow and ice covered trees and roads of dirt and rock across the villages and towns and the City scatter from clearings and pastures and forest; they wait. These are warriors both of women and men, are armed to war against what requires life-death or more or less.

Behind the clouds and dancing lights, planets spin about suns and above these lands three moon risings fill the intervals of darkness and the setting and coming of twin suns. Even behind these clouds, high above the Riders of Iron and horses, these suns both rise and set and the moons come to walk-dance across the sky.

Iron Riders battle for the love of home and wars that happen. They do not fight against what maybe or is not happening or for religion or for the government of destruction. Think about it: Isn’t government the same word as religion?

The days of controlled weather and magnetic storms and the rule of one against many died times ago. Deliberate had the One’s creations been and destructive either planned for or occurring accidentally—because technology happens with and without complete control—especially if a ‘maybe war’ requires corrective measures and especially if a ‘maybe war’ just needs to happen.

Build it and destroy it and build it over and again or just because ‘we can’ and you cannot win and since you will lose we need to change your thinking or your social structure and remove your past from everyone’s history. We win—we write—you lose—you cobble together what remains from rocks and sand. “Oh well! Don’t you understand; because we do?”

Weather controlled controls those subjected to this control. A weapon of mass destruction is without negotiation. It exists—it will be used against…Words for these instruments of compliance are: HAARP, STAR WARS, ENMOD, NUCLEAR, SDI, NSA, FBI, CIA,DOD, NIMA, Air Force Research Laboratory’s Space Vehicles Directorate —Government and of course Religion.

Before the Iron Riders the Ones triggered immediate destruction via; floods, droughts, hurricanes, tornadoes, earthquakes and sound. The Ones studied imagery of flooding, erosion, land-slide hazards, earthquakes, ecological zones, weather forecasts, and climate change” with data relayed from satellites. Call this study for predictions and entertaining is the information In-Out of entertainment media called the news or the weather—still weapons were developed, perfected and used with the usual results expected and gained.

What remained was controlled by the instruments of financial ruin, fraud called: Speculation, IMF, WTO and the World Bank—gifts to the masses through Usury. Is there actually a real New World Order? Only the ‘one percenters’ really know—donchathink?

Now the Iron Riders and breathing upon a cold morning from; women and men and horses leathered clad all and armored ‘gainst wounds as animals strong-stamp in snow above this valley just before the coming of first sun and first light appears in a blue-white dawn. Still warriors and war will live and die as it happens, ad-infinitum. Is a battle among warriors better than raging against a machine?

And! Beautiful you are…

Capitalism is not Freedom…

111The word Capitalism is not another word for Freedom. And today! Democracy is an American prevarication. The Industries in the USA: Manufacturing, Services, Energy, Banks, Insurance, Agribusiness, Transportation, Media, and Medical facilities are controlled and privately owned and operated for the purpose of generating wealth for their Owners. This wealth is extracted from the Working people. These Workers are paid only a small fraction of what their labor produces…

Yes! This must be eliminated for world survival. Socialism is a solution. It does turn society around. The class producing wealth does collectively decide how it will be used for the benefit of all.

Imagine the strength of Worldwide Socialism. Global resources shared.  Capitalism defeated and removed. Its curse and scourge against the future and our children’s welfare—worldwide—ended. Presently, all things economic are global. Socialism prioritizes human needs. So! Is Socialism—Democracy? Socialism is both an economical and a political Democracy.

America boasts of its Democratic institutions. Because of Capitalism and power imbalances; these institutions are illusions. All political power is in the hands of those holding the wealth. America’s wealth and power is the profit motive of war, ecological destruction, and inequalities based on Gender, Race, Nationality and Sexuality. It is the Greed of Destruction!

The collapse of a Capitalist System is created through the results of its own contradictions? Democracy begins when the lies of Capitalism cease. Remember: Theories are only images of a phenomenon in the exterior world and dwelling in the consciousness of Humanity. Theory is practiced and maybe continued as an eternal lie.

And! Beautiful you are…

//

Change Body Change…

71In the beginning there was the violence of creation—and as womankind and mankind spread about the earth violence was their survival…Born in blood and dead in blood. Such is the way of physical life and being physical in the rhythm of here-today-and-gone-tomorrow. Within the cycle called life—we are born to be wasted.

Let us not fall in war but simply fall in love! A pleasant change—don-cha-think?

 

“Imagine there’s no heaven
It’s easy if you try
No hell below us
Above us only sky
Imagine all the people
Living for today…

Imagine there’s no countries
It isn’t hard to do
Nothing to kill or die for
And no religion too
Imagine all the people
Living life in peace…

You may say I’m a dreamer
But I’m not the only one
I hope someday you’ll join us
And the world will be as one

Imagine no possessions
I wonder if you can
No need for greed or hunger
A brotherhood of man
Imagine all the people
Sharing all the world…

You may say I’m a dreamer
But I’m not the only one
I hope someday you’ll join us
And the world will live as one”…’Image’ by John Lennon

And! Beautiful you are…

//