Never-Ever Once Upon…

“But he who loves riches sits on a shaky limb; a little breeze comes—and it enters his head to steal, to practice usury, to drive hard bargains, and other such evil practices, all of which serve him only to acquire the riches of the devil and not those of Gods.”—Paracelsus, ‘Liber prologi in vitam beatam’ (1533)

Trail signs run—up and down south-ridge-side of—hill-high below mountain tall…Tracking the organic beast—disguised to survive—tend to inorganic challenges—and when snow fall—covers everywhere and everything—‘tis mountain tall—the safest refuge…Nothing rusts any longer…Well-oiled and fine—Gleam suits of almost steel—reflects sunlight’s glare—and deflects insults and injuries and wounds-to-destruction…And! When tucked inside Gleam suits—those hidden may be—Organic—Inorganic and both. Either—‘Runners or those Running’ can think—can wit and outwit both sides—equally well—equally fast—equally furious and always deadly—as trail signs appear—and—disappear from light dawn ‘til night. The paradoxical motion—of ‘man-steel form’ and ‘steel-formed man’—are quickly defined—and—impossible to divine…Notions-are motions-of head shakes—as land-side changes—rearranges—hills-to-valleys—and reverse flows streams-to-river glows.

‘This Land Is Your Land’

“This land is your land This land is my land
From California to the New York island
From the red wood forest to the Gulf Stream waters
This land was made for you and me.

As I was walking that ribbon of highway
I saw above me that endless sky way
I saw below me that golden valley
This land was made for you and me.

I’ve roamed and rambled and I followed my footsteps
To the sparkling sands of her diamond deserts
And all around me a voice was sounding
This land was made for you and me

When the sun came shining, and I was strolling
And the wheat fields waving and the dust clouds rolling
As the fog was lifting a voice was chanting
This land was made for you and me

As I went walking I saw a sign there
And on the sign it said No Trespassing
But on the other side it didn’t say nothing
This land was made for you and me

In the shadow of the steeple I saw my people
By the relief office I seen my people
As they stood there hungry, I stood there asking
Is this land made for you and me

Nobody living can ever stop me,
As I go walking that freedom highway
Nobody living can ever make me turn back
This land was made for you and me”…by Woody Guthrie

We—humans be—maybe or not human—enough to see them—since so many Gleam suits march—street-long-miles—fine parades—to war—‘too far-to-scar’—since consistent struggle—to perpetually maintain conflict—is industrial bonus—and—the focus of survival’s games. Born—to protect ourselves from one-another—our kind-of-mind—the most difficult notion to decide and so easy to embrace? Refined destruction? Now so polished and well-defined the ‘killing—so clean—enemy’s identities are ‘must-be’—‘have-to-be’ so ‘they are’ bad and ‘we-be’ great? And! Justice be—a damnable notion—to quantify—identify—practice properly—or continue its fragile and easily corruptible practice. All the while—we still build—walls and still we climb those—constructions high and wide—cause—suits must gleam and bridges built—to cover ever—wide seams and miles’-wide emptiness.

“They had invented a syntax of the eye, a grammar of pure kinesis, and except for the costumes and the cars and the quaint furniture in the background, none of it could possibly grow old.” —from ‘Book of Illusions’ by Paul Auster

‘Recall then—because something—somewhere—in a present—state-of-society—finds expression—in the crystallization—of a past—discovered—in past words’…Why not worship great battles—“payback is hell”—-heroes—of another age—and attacks happening—now or not immediately—in our future…I am English—I am not a religion…I am Jewish—I am not a religion…I am a Freeman—I am not a religion…I Am Not A Religion. I am ‘Being’—all dressed—in suits of gleams—seams of rust—and—internal dust…I am true—and—I am false—‘Yes-No’—switches ‘On’ and switches ‘Off’… Begins with birth—shining bright light—and matches—batches of baubles—rabble and babble—to be ripped from—Spirit touch—to WTF—confusion and gain…And! Mixed—with enough— control and material—chase—to wear bodies—into shame-same-tame-game—enough insane-pain—loss—gain—till death—move is light—bright—wrong and right…And! I was never Government and never-ever—a Religion…So! “Beam-Us-Up Scotty” ‘cause we may be heading home…

“When the accumulation of wealth is no longer of high social importance, there will be great changes in the code of morals. We shall be able to rid ourselves of many of the pseudo-moral principles which have hag-ridden us for two hundred years, by which we have exalted some of the most distasteful of human qualities into the position of the highest virtues. We shall be able to afford to dare to assess the money-motive at its true value. The love of money as a possession—as distinguished from the love of money as a means to the enjoyments and realities of life—will be recognized for what it is, a somewhat disgusting morbidity, one of those semi-criminal, semi-pathological propensities which one hands over with a shudder to the specialists in mental disease” … Poggio Bracciolini’s dialogue “On Avarice,” written in the 1420’s…

Is Dancing-in-the-dark a safe—practice or ignorance—as blissful—as stopping—to touch flowers—eyes-to-face-to ground and into oblivion? And! The scent of inorganic flowers never compare to the scent of a Rose…

And! Beautiful you are…

‘This Land is Your Land’…by Woody Guthrie

‘ Never Explain Love’…performed by Al Jarreau

‘Kiss From a Rose’… performed by Northern Kings

15 comments on “Never-Ever Once Upon…

  1. Philip, I have fallen behind but had you on my mind often. Hope you are well and healthy, trying to stay above the fray and in a place of bliss. We must stay strong but also shed tears. It is a tough situation and taking it moment by moment may work. I appreciate Woodie Guthrie’s song including the hungry ones within our country. I heard the possibility of losing summer breakfasts and lunches for the children and sobbed. Why, oh why? Hugs xo Robin

    • Hi Robin…Thanks and Hugs to you! Hoping you are–too–well and healthy..Hunger in America is ‘real’ and wrong…’Tis the Greed of Destruction’…For our young ones in this land to know one moment of hunger—so evil—so evil…Wishing you smiles anyway—and thank you for sharing your thoughts! Phil

      • Philip, the little ones should never go hungry in any society, especially one where there are inequalities in income. It is evil, so true.
        I liked the song selections you gave, a fantastic variety. I like the line in a song lately I have returned to, one about how people disconnect and “bow down and pray to a neon god.” “Sound of Silence.”
        We should try to treat those who are needy like in “He Ain’t Heavy He’s My Brother.”
        I appreciate your kind wishes for my health and sending me smiles, dear friend. Although I am serious and sometimes sad, I have to remain hopeful. You are a warm and kind voice in the coldness of our current political climate. Thank you! :) xo

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