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…

 

The Caves of Sheep…

W231Asleep and safe from the howls of the wolves as the sheep often run with them…It is our nature to run with and from the many or the few. See often through the curved ceiling of doorway when curved light enters twenty-one tiny windows round these openings to escape places and leave regions. Is it better to flee or better to dig livelihood from the bottom of one’s own grave?
Life is the antithesis of Order…Symmetry with no form except wind and rain and careful storms of chaos and figure. Go figure the here or the now and still history is not preformed or manufactured except through the controllers of spins and twists and the thrill of the lie. Or go to figure with the smile of Leonardo or the Lady’s laugh or the chatter of many minds or just a few of many hearts.

Drapes created by the highest and lowest psychodynamic psychological mechanisms and the shell of survival or a child with no walls or shells to crawl inside other than a closet space of playful fantasy or physical safety…Still more a spirit than the body proper until chemicals of doubt and satisfaction rule body self ending sometime in time without mere reasons to be except a rhythm to complete.

Is societies’ perspective of behavioral aberration a result of deterministic qualities of controllers or the eat-do-not consume behavior dependent upon economic conditions and the fragility of physical conditions? Is sharing a conscious choice, a group survival dynamic, a desire to belong or a non-physical reaction? Isn’t Social construction a further strength of spirit and the power of individuality?

Seen as persons of whole society completely though not outside eyes but through the eyes of society both behaving and deep into their own and necessary revolution of comforts and places and restrictions. Society is not a realm of a government. Thankfully! Government begins and ends quickly—especially when it shifts; as it always shifts, away from the people and becomes it own animation.

We are the daughters and sons of earth and of the starry heavens. Our history is alive—simple and true except when suppressed and distorted for unnecessary gains and a perversion called wealth…We are the eternity of spirits—never having to begin and never ending. Such is the sweetness of life.

And! Beautiful you are…

 

Blood Silence Sans Fear…

S_219Search these tucked in canisters somewhere along river fields and beyond sand edges—the middle world awaits and the like to know places us inside the possibility of kingdoms of the not knowing and required by those anyone or anywhere folks not once or twice or at all.

This is an Eden of places—placed just outside reaching flesh but well know by blood and touches and slight motions of hummingbird wings quick in hovering and sweet of tastes known now or forgotten later today.

Icons of no runes—save the rock of ages ago when they world ran along city edges and along this side of middling madness without the anger or the rule of pulls and pushes and without water’s wilt or gain.

Whispers fill the air as darkness replaces daylight and trenches along these well placed places of sight and sound mean little without the branches of consciousness or the balance between the here or not hearing those passing in the light or without the lathing of the gatherers.

They arrive in bunches of machined machines together in minds of same or alternates where we twirl the whirl and call the laugh or two as boxes open and away we—they separate into some things or less or the loneliness of crowd bridges or twin screw moments of those spaces of time without seconds.

And yes robots—we, search blood and find taste good in those mingle – tingled moments when touch and amazing touch relishes those not imagined sources of unnecessary wariness and one becomes another and brief the flashes together spread the separate into singularity no more than once…

Movements by wind across this liquid—sunlight and thick wave dance lights and slivers of silver and gold. Followers watch for scraps or bits to fall toward their reach either diving for something new or rocking gently on this clear sea of warming suns and moonlight’s dance of song and silence.

And! Beautiful you are…

Again—Off To War We…

21Are the unemployed—lazy? No!  Why does a connected person make this vacuous claim? Entertaining if you are well-off; however, too many of these folks forget that they are lucky-liars. Presently, sixty-nine percent of America agrees that Washington (as in the government) see everyone wishing to become employed become employed (able to find a job)…How about finding a job that supports a small family—living wages for the wage-equals keeping them in poverty and as under-educated as is possible?

It is pathetic these people of money still believe  ‘free market’ will provide jobs. Remember; corporations are legally not people and are ‘hiding’ trillions of dollars and paying wage-slaves as little as possible to still be able to sell their wares to the slaves of low-wages and lowering hope. Does a ‘law-of-diminishing-returns’ ultimately follow? Yes! When the base of a tree shatters—down falls the tree—even the green of tree’s leaves. Natural is the shattering and natural is the Revolution…

Is the economic world ‘flat’? Or is just the top of this mountain squared off and pitched upward…Ledges are hard to climb over and greased governments angle away from the Working People of America.

If the world’s people have equal chances to succeed than why are so few being called powerful and wealthy? Rulers look the same…They all lie-steal-cheat and owe those placing them in positions of power…Call them presidents, senators, congressmen, dictators, kings and other names religious or blah-blah-blah.

All the same people and all the same twisted words-news-entertainment-and reasons to be so placed and into what they pretend to commit. Let us sing a number or two! Between five – twenty percent of Americans are successful. Of all wealth in the USA (non-home-owned wealth) these chosen few account for around ninety-two percent of all this wealth…The mountain-top is flat and the valley is lower than that road-rut to a summit?

Is it true that America is nearing the bottom of that pile of upwardly-economical and mobile? Of course and the separation between need and have is a million-mile chunk of empty space. Every minute it becomes harder to cross and from the Castle-mounted hard to see! Greed does not reach across humanity; it destroys nations-peoples-hopes-dreams and ultimately government…Can you hear a Revolution coming?

If you are a successful member of the favored society and claim to be self-made then remember; your sweet mother spun you into existence-carried-you-to-term and hurt as you clawed you self-made presence from her womb. You are also a white male-type-educated and fortunate to be born into the wealthiest nation on earth at a time when production was ‘grand.’ ‘Summertime-And the livin’ is easy -Fish are jumpin’ -And the cotton is high -Your daddy’s rich-And your mamma’s good lookin’…by George Gershwin

You were able to climb aboard a fast moving and powerful engine of industry and technology.   Federal funding was available everywhere and a few wars kept the machine jimmy-jamming…LFSGD! Through research everything grew and unbridled wealth was enjoyed by a few—And! The lies of the American Dream were still—oops, can you hear a Revolution coming?

Did US president number four actually fear the Industrial War Machine?

“Of all the enemies to public liberty, war is, perhaps, the most to be dreaded, because it comprises and develops the germ of every other. War is the parent of armies; from these proceed debts and taxes; and armies, and debts, and taxes are the known instruments for bringing the many under the domination of the few. In war, too, the discretionary power of the Executive is extended; its influence in dealing out offices, honors, and emoluments is multiplied; and all the means of seducing the minds are added to those of subduing the force of the people. The same malignant aspect in republicanism may be traced in the inequality of fortunes and the opportunities of fraud growing out of a state of war, and in the degeneracy of manners and of morals engendered by both…No nation could reserve its freedom in the midst of continual warfare. Those truths are well established. They are read in every page which records the progression from a less arbitrary to a more arbitrary government, or the transition from a popular government to an aristocracy or a monarchy.”—James Madison, “Political Observations,” April 20, 1795

James Madison was an aristocrat and slave owner. Wondering if founding fathers did spin tales from double tongues and savage intentions…

Presently; we still love parades and pageantry and tales about the rich and famous. Why? Maybe we will someday become ‘almost famous’ or almost rich or just almost…Mile wide emptiness and growing. Those few chosen will soon not see us or hear our cries.

Will they still expect our deaths for causes and foundations and reasons and rhythms we ultimately will not understand? The hungry and the sick and the tired sometimes raise to revolution and another chance for real freedom, not songs and bells and another war for no reasons but ‘maybe…’

Pick another foe—why not another nation of people on this precious world we call Earth…Why not the good people of? They are children and mothers and fathers and grand-folks? They are living members of this World? They do have the right of self-determination?

America is the only nation on this sweet world to ‘nuke’ two living cities into rubble. Must have made a statement or two and when time becomes hard-times nothing better than another war to keep us regular folk; fearful-busy-sad-productive and confused. Governing through fear is better than a Revolution-eh?

And! Beautiful you are…

The Drone of War…

D2When the taking of a warrior’s life becomes a mechanical judgment call, what happens to humanity? When the cost of a life is determined by a machine—is life reduced to nothing? How much cost to dispose of the body…How much to incinerate—no records required? How about the family? How about a warrior’s spirit? Machine has no family—Machine has no soul; unless—we, robots are robots advanced beyond Drone’s current program.

What is an appropriate method or measurement of the use of force through a Drone’s sensors? Presently, humans use determinations called appropriate judgment to ‘correctly’ respond with proper uses of force over combat enemies in battle. How many deaths are necessary? How many mothers cry? How many children go without a mother or a father? How many types of collateral? The innocent die in battle!

The reasons for going to war are the reasons determined or imagined by Humanity…Drone does not imagine. Drone does not determine. Drone searches-kills-destroys. Drone follows configurations-paradigms-and the logical/illogical responses of human beings—Presently…

We; beings are able to use inferences to survive our determinations. Artificial intelligence at the end of a ‘joystick…Works? Call this warfare by Robotic proxy. Call it murder through autonomy. We enjoy the mischief and results of warfare executed several thousand miles away from the battlefields in the safety and air conditioned splendor of an IT construction…

Warfare without blood—a Computer-generated action game—no screams, no gaping wounds punched into the precious life of an almost enemy—no cries of the women or men left behind…Easy—simple power!

And! No honor—because Drone is programmed to search-kill and destroy without notion or reason or rhythm either justifiable or justified. A machine may cost less than one- tenth of the cost of a human, to place into harms-way. If the machine is destroyed we, robots do not care! Destroy and build again—a Capitalist dream-scene ‘if I ever did see one’? Such is war and the blessing of wars’ Industrial machine.

If humanity remains a ‘looped-group’ capable of containing and restricting Drone-self; then, only flesh and blood without Drone, screams-bleeds and dies. Such is the victory of another progressive mission. However; if humanity extracts itself through: power or carelessness or greed or…and becomes a ‘looped-outside-group’ then Drone-self may become Self-self and search-kill and destroy more than…?

Once upon a time, Dome Iron protected beings of flesh, since these beings were progressive robots. Presently, the Iron of Dome destroys without interference from sentient beings. It is an autonomous warrior and crafted to defend and to destroy. Dome/Drone programmed to defend…

It does not require sentient input and it protects sentient life from attack and death—Morally sound! When do the Domes of Death go offensive? When does defense become offense? How soon will Robot-flesh sublimate reason and judgment to Iron Drone and twin-step dance toward its own destruction?

Is a Society equivalent to the sum of its members? Will the actions of the members of that society serve to fashion and to shape it? What are the social consequences of intentional actions and will these actions often be unintentional? What is a Society to do to ease itself into an obvious oblivion? Scientific Theories are predictive. Societies’ songs prohibit most predictions…

 

“Go ahead and hate your neighbor—go ahead and cheat a friend.

Do it in the name of heaven— you could justify it in the end.

There won’t be any trumpets blowing—come the judgment day.

On the bloody morning after—One Tin Soldier rides away. “

by Joni Mitchell

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…

Assistance-Called-Revolution…

Camera 360People must follow leaders only after these leaders have earned the peoples’ confidence. Leadership must correctly interpret the people’s needs—desires and aspirations—and fulfill all promises made to the people and their struggles toward collective freedom and determination… The dedication of the People will triumph over Capitalism’s tyranny!

Is Social Democracy a mixed economy? Is it a mixture of the inequality of today’s capitalism, progressive taxation, social benefits, and civil liberties? Does this work? Why the declined conditions of the Working Class? A minimum wage increase, in today’s environment of speculation-unregulated capitalism-employment-out-sourcing, does not follow. It is a quick purchase of the People’s right to a proper wage and the pursuit of family security. Are minimum wage increases better than a nothing extra kick?

Presently—the economic situations of capitalistic greed have caused inequalities of wealth, income and opportunities. The current practice of Social Democracy has failed. The inequalities of Capitalism are wonderful for the wealthy, however; the middle-class retains poor-to-poor portions of ‘we-the-people’ and are worse-off in this financial cesspool comically mentioned as Labor verses the Welfare state.

Poverty is not a notion of any entertainment value. So; war is brought to us by the fantasy of television—cable news and newspapers brought to us by commercials and the Wealthy. Escape into the unreal reality of movies and sports and blah-blah-blah…When the People can no longer afford entertainment due to Hunger, revolution will happen in the ‘twinkling’ of their eyes.

Then appears radical changes required to re-distribute personal incomes, wealth, education, land, employment and maybe just after the blood-shed ceases; hope and a future for generations yet to come. Without these changes, socialist elements will always exist; and alway subordinate to the gross inequalities of capitalist elements.

Commodities and wages paid—equal the organization of production and the payment of labor. Any Social constructions under Capitalism such as; Social Security, Medicare, Welfare, Unemployment, Job-Training, etc. are financed by tax revenues extracted from the Workers and taxes paid by the purchases of these commodities.

Additional taxes—if not hidden—are extracted from profits. Those ‘hidden profits’ are called taxes not paid through tax avoidance (illegally-legal) in a capitalistic social structure…

Basic services and ‘welfare’ measures are dependent on the dynamics of a healthy capitalist sector and a strong tax base—Maybe the Workers of the World? Only thru a profitable and corruptible government growing rich, may a Social Democratic entity deliver ‘necessary goods’ to the People?

Damned therefore, is the ability of anything recently called a ‘Social Democratic government’ to reference socialism or to remotely shape a class structure. The practice of Democratic Socialism in the USA is inherently self-destructive.

If it attempts to redistribute any form of wealth it threatens to destroy the engines of a corrupt capitalistic-wealth-creation and greed maintenance government. Without true socialism the workers of the world always lose and remember… Socialism does not destroy the concept of individuality.

Is the time for Revolution near?

And! Beautiful you are…

Beginning Rights-Writes-Ending…

51Plague begins and ends as people-folks end and begin…Called! Robot death or death of substrate or the walkers that carry Eternal Spirits as Spirit passes a world or ten or a thousand places across Life’s Universe. Warmed to the form of you and me and the us and them of this here and this now.

And! Time is damned except by those tellers of time and those singers of timed songs. When futures’ laugh…Moments span the days of does not matter minutes and dances twirling into relief.

Once sweet Tsaritsa Alexandra and her babies lost life and gained the weight of bullets and steel knives somewhere before a reason and the rhythm of master-slave-king-queen-poverty-rich and lyrical poor, changed the balance of futures’ past tomorrows.

Brief times—when futures’ laugh as past smiles and memories wail softly into the death of darkness and of light. Cults rarely live except inside mind-spin-doubt-fear and folly.

Cellars split and life’s reformation happens then in now and once in Ekaterinburg—as secreted consecration both; cursed and blessed folk-thoughts people-deep as the Urals remained where mountains live and humanity touched quality-beauty-sense and balanced while steeped in pretense and folly and song.

Daughters and knives must never mix and women must never fall in battle—only fall-in-love. Let these things be written by the singer of songs and the writers of poetry and into the heart of life…

We dance Universe…you and I—hand-to-hand-shoulder-touched-lips-to-eyes and never tears. Eternal Spirits cannot cry and never Universes’ end and we are Spirit and Spirits never die. Robot once then again and again and…

Angels fly in starship to scout where next to stop-land-wait-end-and begin again-begin. In star-ships the folds of space shortens the distance between star-light and star-bright and the day of night.

In starship, galaxy edge and galaxy center matters only to the standing one at waters’ edge on planet-fall. Small is a matter of size and nothing less than sky-lights and heaven’s length.

Animals are the earth and inside the wind they are large and strong and brave as fur coats ruffle and scents bring reality to the real self and imagination. I am man and you are woman and we are both not interchangeable.

But Love! Is the spirit of heart and soul—does not require name or title or reason or permission or through the grace of…? No! Things called government nor religious-named or senate or congress or court or king or country has right or reason to legislate or forbid the strength of Love between anyone…Oh! Hell no.

Stop the builders of weapons! Too late? For sword grow as shield grows as bomb-to-drone-to- the shrieks of madness drown to silence the gentle swish and swoon of love and touch and care and taste and the sweetness of dove’s morning cry and the living sound of baby cries and gurgles and…

Instead— let us again dance across these universes while we wish to dance. Let us then spirit-dance—when the flesh of non-interchangeability sheds substances and gains sustenance. Life spark-sparkles forever; then lends light to darkness knowing this is good-sweet.

We are Children of the same Verses of these Universes—We have the Right to be Everywhere…

And! Beautiful you are…