Category America

Oct 5 2022

All Found And Again Lost…

Love reminds us of the equality of equals! Of woman and man and the spirits of all trapped and living sentient sentences inside body while minding body.

A universe of angular momentum is turbulent from dust to black holes. Notches of rotation are slight, are massive and just happen. What splendid adhesive preserves the Whirl-of-the-Twirl?

We and the dust of us are voyagers. We are scattered ‘cross places of everywhere? We are not timed or blessed or wonderful or gifted or fortunate or meant-to-be ‘something else.’ The dust of us is without a price-tagged-branded-commodity of enhanced steroidal surgically modification. We create cartoon fashions and lip-stick mouths pouted and picture perfect when replicated glossy imitations of sport models swish as a dish of corruption and a wiggle of splash-dash hope and fanatic fantasy.

We build twelve inch wide maple shelves inclined and staggered up a soft and painted wall. Upon this vertical presentation, we place flea market choices, colored jars filled with copper and stones discovered. We decorate and we change as season alters sight and sound and scent.

We travelers internally detect or obtain from ‘reliable sources’ a “sorta” source sorted through search or lurch internally through structures only to reach and teach or bleach amid many throngs of wrongs as ‘sure truth’ is torn from snow-bright-right to lies-lily-white. Deceits detected or accepted or rejected or corrected from inside-out applicability is not workable until altered internally and externally prior to exposed or imposed upon the confusion of mass-squeak-speak. What a righteous cycle; when whispers, smiles and sighs and quiet nods could or would be better?

“So, does that mean we’ve got to rest contented

And say, ‘That’s how it is and always must be,’

And spurn the brimming glass for what’s been emptied

Because we’ve heard it’s better to go thirsty?” by Bertolt Brecht

This time of days of times ago and today, may the old man vision touch those other ones and whisper, “Not this time and never this time, will our children ever go to war.” Others know that this time of times will not be the time for dead families and metal touches-to-body-madness. For these flashes in time, fighters are not compulsory.

The whole world appreciates humanities’ finest minutes. “Love and Peace and Touch and Trust” with no controls or advances or imaginations. Just connecting the realities of reality and sensing those sweet spaces, just an instant before lips touch with co-mingled breath and the cold nightfall warms. A second when no one stares into empty space without noticing starlight’s star bright and star-ships’ passing between light-speed and arrival, silently appear. A rational response to a rational insanity.

When all and sundry realizes that what we do not have-does not mean anything. When hearing a lover’s voice touch our heart before substance becomes words of meaning-or-reason-or-another notion. When silence completely fills all senses with rumble and clatter and music and notes, chaotic or symphonic simplicity. Then duality ceases and singularity melts into universal polarity and truth.

The love-of-man and the love-of-woman must not be divided by the capital of greed. Consider! All are fashioned by the equal blending of us and beyond the borders of a-wherever-boarder for non-reasons and steeped in-the-fallacy of color, big guns, ‘atomic destruction’ and the perpetual diatribe of isolation, individuality and fear.

Remember that we have the right to be Everywhere.

And! Beautiful you are…

May 16 2022

A Total Love Of Motions…

Shangri-la and Immorality and Death, oh my! We are the confirmation of a far-flung people. Demigods decided to create women and men in countless locations about Sirius and Mars and Earth and back again? Our rulers and our dominated and our voices and our religions have rewritten our starting points in so many places and in so many ‘might have been’ accidents that our truth and fiction has blurred the start of lost and the loss of start.  And! Still the rest is eternally approaching. ‘And! 

Why do routines and understanding collapse the possibility of peaceable processes? Inspirations rely on just how to reach and where you are as flare striae before haze stinks and eyes burn. Tears and fears and by the warps of notions; peace ceases, just prior to small recollections developing into nice content and bright smiles. Just bump-bangs away or a simple sail set-to-wind rail balance ‘neath ruined ‘the bridges of seven’ or on one more earth-fall underneath one more sky. Dwellings to construct and caves to clean and for a little while landing life reaches mountain homes. Be better than missile’s explosions and sites too far gone to search for hazardous sanctuaries. Please pray for Peace…I certainly do!

We are all Children of this Universe and We have the Right to be Everywhere!

Contracts are work and work is survival and support. Support is Love and Care and Responsibility, responding to our day-to-day needs too necessary to and a (nine-to-five) becomes a (six-to-six) then a Wowzer and rest begins and ends too quickly too. No complaints, just missing the touch of Creative Spirits in mind’s eyes, in eye’s mind and in heart beats and spirit seeks and pleasure.

Dancing with Code, a Creative Spirit walks into spaces between zero and one and one and zero. And! Those spaces between Yes and No are too small and too large to miss. Often never noticed. ‘Time flies’ when busy’ and the pulls tug both hearts and minds diverse and confused solutions both; simple and complex lost and found and again lost only to be found regarded or discarded or implemented or compiled and again Code Balloons fly ‘cross million wires into simple ‘Yes and No’…’No and Yes’  while surprises simple often operate the complexities of surprise and survival.

  • Why use dashes? A little wig-waggle, a stop and a start is simple fun scratching the itch of grammar, the rules of composition while those dash-dot-dash-dots—go Code Balloons into a sky filled with ‘Yes and No.’

“Love is the force that binds together and moves everything in the universe—creatures and objects are part of a total motion without top or bottom, gravity or resistance” … Chagall

“But time has no beginnings and history has no bounds

As to this verdant country they came from all around

They sailed upon her waterways and they walked the forests tall

And they built the mines the mills and the factories for the good of us all”…by Gordon Lightfoot

Is it Leadership or just the US requiring change and thinking solidarity—And! Needing Love. What is the ‘Cost of Poverty’ and the Charge for ‘Disappearing the Middle Class?’

The ‘Administrative Government’…According to Philip Hamburger (a constitutional scholar and winner of Manhattan Institute’s Hayek Prize) is Unlawful—“Our government can choose to proceed against (You) in a trial with constitutional processes, or it can use an ‘administrative’ proceeding where (You) don’t have a right to be heard by a real judge or a jury and you don’t have the full due process of Law. Our fundamental procedural freedoms, which once were guarantees, have become mere options.” (taken from the ‘Opinion’ page—A13 of the WSJ—June 10-11, 2017 by John Tierney) …

‘Bon Voyage’ and diversifies into smaller hopes and greater fears. Such is the evil-of-Greed and the exchange of Freedom for Less…and Farewell’ to our Bill of Rights and as our ‘Lady of Liberty’s’ tears continue to fall, the strength of Immigrants (now called aliens) arriving, diminished from a hopeful flood of honest labor and dreams—into Code Balloons of ‘Yes and No’…Thinking that; Diversity is Great, All Color is Life and All Life is Creation.

The rhythm of Zero and One is not the rhyme of  “Ghosts in the Machines’…Empathy is the only variable machines fail to match—or— Understand…Doncha Know!

And! Beautiful you are…

Dec 12 2015

Even Here—We Belong…

WL_591‘La Liberté éclairant le monde’

“Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tossed, to me:
I lift my lamp beside the golden door.”

The gentle touch—of skin—brushed-wind—morning stars—and angel’s dust… And! These precious feet-touch—wings-speak—to start another path—leading little ones—to another—precious shore—sustained hope—and—just wishes for a moment—of ‘good day’…Uncertain in world-scream—uncertainties-wide—grief—bowed head—always—certain in—the certainty—of swift chaos—and—tears…And so—no doubt—be found—from ‘cross this sea—travelers see—candles bright—‘cross this night—a coming home-to-us—delight—light shined—‘Welcome’—from windows’ space—of Safe Harbor—not race—just place—to stop—and—stay awhile…

Our People—our many—our injured—our women—our children—our homeless? We are Refugees—the running ones— from—strategic Genocide…White towers—and—meetings—and planning—and—meetings—and planning—and—still we die. And—Still! We are—refugees—of Strategic Genocide—praying—dying—crying—and—again planning—denying—and more Ivory Tower—White-world—meetings…Does anyone require God or Allah or Buddha? No! Only—‘We’ are required to ‘Live’…Be damned—the ‘Rulers-of-Anywhere-of-Anyplace and-of-Anytime’…Not needed—for our blood—to inside flow—where blood belongs—and—to ‘synchronize-in-equivalence’—with—sweet—Earth-spin—and—with-each-other. We are—so many—bodies—Lost-Broken-and-Forgotten. War is now! War is yesterday! War is tomorrow! Today—‘we free-fall’—toward—acceleration—and—annihilation—of—Everyday. And! The Witches of Creations Cry!

Fools and folly—of off-world—stops—our only way—to continue—to—be. Foolish—they—fail to see—their vision—be—a fade—into star-stream—and—moon-dust. They remove—our Love…He looked—up and said—”Scan the sky-sweet baby. Must leave… They will kill you—So somehow—go to them—and you will not die.” She too looked—and—only—saw his face— “Without you, I am dead…Without us—we end. Without you—without me—no Baby—and without—we are…” Ivory Towers—bring—Strategic Death—and Plans—to meet—and—Meetings-to-Plan? Still! Bank wide and Somme River wet—falls—physicals—thousands more—spirits all—stories’ lost—to-be-or-too-lost-to-see—tucked inside—smoke—wiz-bangs—teach—life chokes—barbed wire fears—and—evening tears—‘cross—‘Crimson Fields’—a million—one day long—lives—too precious—too quickly—gone. And! The Witches of Creations Cry!

We began—before the stars—And together we melt—into the mist…”We-Be’—Fire and shadows—‘cross a sky—Colored moons—of blood—of gold—and—simple-songs and thudding drums. Stars ‘light up’—home—and—we move by wind—across this place…In sunlight waves and dancing twists—of silver rain and stretching space—and—ship’s gentle streaks—in skies of grace—with muted voice—and—silent rooms—of—blood touched throat—and—emptied tombs. Bridge walked toward—and—skylight’s scream—by taking flight—and—failing dream. Warming suns—just—days ago—with salted mist—and—taste of tongue—and—passion light—and—times of rain—and—wolf cries shout—of sands and home. Across this universal stretch—window shine—and—candle’s light—and let us touch—another peace—of safety sleep—and— lover’s reach.

‘The Trail of Tears’

“The sunrise above them
As they make their way
In the early morning light
No backward glance
Frightened of tomorrow
On a lonely road
Shrouded in misted rain
The vanquished race
They felt the touch of loneliness
They felt the dread of fear
And found the path of wisdom
Along the trail of tears
So many ways of falling
A thousand barefoot tribes
Who trusted promises
No resting place
March into the wilderness
Time their fate decides
Leaving behind them
Treasures and gold
The sun sets before them
In another land
Withered in spirit
The struggle ends”…By Noel Ó Dúgáin

And! Beautiful you are…

‘Trail of Tears’…by Clannad

Jan 5 2015

The Seconds Next…

MarvinGaye“There’s something happening here
What it is ain’t exactly clear
There’s a man with a gun over there
Telling me I got to beware

I think it’s time we stop, children, what’s that sound
Everybody look what’s going down…” Buffalo Springfield

Not games of ‘I’— not a place of mine or yours—but of ours-our-lives—of we and us—scattered across the Universal Find—of fine places to live and to die and to again—begin—living clusters—angel songs—along the rhythm and rhyme of time…We do not need ‘Biblical Scourges’ and ‘Days End’ prophecies to end—our own ending-beginning—we are able to fulfill demises—devised by devices—ourselves…No great Lighting Gods or Evil Hosts required.

‘People Free’ create the all-of-best creations. Priceless-Plunder-Shares—shared by the creators of creation’s best are not gifts—are creations deserved—expected—rejected—accepted and built again—improved—imported—exported and to the creators—People Free…’Wage-Slaves’ do—own the creations of their creation—grown from their lands—harvested by their sweat and irrigated by their tears.

Searching now as then and again in a forever reach of reaches—stretchers—stretching toward silver tongues and voices of gold—still—wondering why—maintain societies’ hierarchy—when social voices— many sounds of poverty silent—when greed so deafens—growls of hunger and the pleas of need…Listen! Our streets vibrate with good life—sweet blood and the strength of poverty covering America…’Feed my People’—strong words—weak wills to solve and still solutions are apparent and ready to use for many willing to share and to simply end greed. And! Please remember that a Police State is only allowed when governments—desire only—to protect and maintain—Societies’ Hierarchy—and be damn the People…The wealthy have forgotten with whom they once danced—and from where their worth began—developed and multiplied…

Why are a ‘force’ of ‘Police’ quickly—becoming the ‘Enemy’ of the people? America is awash with Swat Teams—Tanks and ‘Copters and Drones and—Snipers—Outsiders—Insiders—to Gas and Spray and Kill and Arrest and Convict and React—not Pro-Act…We are all people-of-people not Corporations-of-Departments—or Police-folk-to-combat-People-folk…We are neighborhoods—we are parts-of-parts—within-little-parts. The American Constitution—while written by rich-white-men—teases the People with words of Equality—Liberty—High Hopes and People—Strength: And! Still—’once upon a midnight dream’ we are just ‘Us’—little parts-within-ourselves and still unincorporated…Just Together!

In his new book, ‘Rise of the Warrior Cop’, journalist Radley Balko illustrates that the militarization of police departments developed—several decades before 9/11. He mentions—a few appropriate applications of modern—tactics and weaponry—obscure—routine use—each day—against U.S. citizens—accused of ordinary crimes, in ways that would have been repugnant to the nation’s founders. “To say a military tactic is legal, or even effective, is not to say it is wise or moral in every instance,” the president noted in his recent speech. “For the same human progress that gives us the technology to strike half a world away also demands the discipline to constrain that power—or risk abusing it.”

Evolve with us—from what ‘we-be’ into the may happen places of ‘second-next’—Once written—‘pretty words’ from ‘pretty-people’—pontifications all— an admonition regarding the dangers of armed and standing government forces—to people today—and for us—totally—acceptable for armed government storm agents—all dressed in garbs of armor and battle to rape—pillage—and plunder—private places in night’s ‘middling safety’—not to apprehend violent fugitives or thwart terrorist attacks, but to Enforce laws against nonviolent, consensual activities? Happens how and now and when and everywhere and why?

Protest and Speech Politic—twirls now toward the swirls of grenades that flash and crying sprays and RoboCops of ‘all-dressed up’—and still—the You and I of—Us against each-other…We were a place where laws were enforced by us without ‘dress-up’ and the notions of ‘bodily harm’ or the invasions of street-to-street—places with threats of harm by ‘other eyes’ often conditioned to see our neighborhoods and us (‘we the people’) as their Enemy…People-Person-You and I—We still are US…The New York Times reports; “according to Pentagon data, police departments have received tens of thousands of machine guns; nearly 200,000 ammunition magazines; thousands of pieces of camouflage and night-vision equipment; and hundreds of silencers, armored cars and aircraft.” Why?

Von Clausewitz said: “War is politics pursued by other means.”

And! Beautiful you are…

‘What’s Going On’…written by Renaldo “Obie” Benson, Al Cleveland and Marvin Gaye…

Jul 6 2014

Spinning Triangles…

5from the ‘Thunder—Perfect Mind’

“For I am the first and the last.
I am the honored one and the scorned one.
I am the whore and the holy one.
I am the wife and the virgin. . . .
I am the barren one,
and many are her sons. . . .
I am the silence that is incomprehensible . . .
I am the utterance of my name.” (a feminine power divine)

We End…Storm-side fury—then gone…Quick-to-die and always—short to live. Snow— drinking blood. Wind shifting sands—the path always found—footsteps always gone. Come and go—never footsteps just paths beginning and footsteps—gone. Pictures supply—by the pushers— drugs—be free and around every curve something still-stands—still-falls—still-prays—still raptures and always fades. And! I will love you until—the wheels finally come off… “The world is an indecipherable-essentially absurd but fascinating spectacle.” (From Joyce Carol Oates):

‘The bourgeoisie, wherever it has got the upper hand, has put an end to all feudal, patriarchal, idyllic relations. It has pitilessly torn asunder the motley feudal ties that bound man to his “natural superiors”, and has left remaining no other nexus between man and man than naked self-interest, than callous “cash payment”. It has drowned the most heavenly ecstasies of religious fervor, of chivalrous enthusiasm, of philistine sentimentalism, in the icy water of egotistical calculation. It has resolved personal worth into exchange value, and in place of the numberless indefeasible chartered freedoms, has set up that single, unconscionable freedom — Free Trade. In one word, for exploitation, veiled by religious and political illusions, it has substituted naked, shameless, direct, brutal exploitation. The reason the bourgeois exist and exploit the proletariat with low wages is private property, “the accumulation of wealth in private hands, the formation and increase of capital” and that wage labor is created entirely by competition among the workers…’ (Friedrich Engels)

Why compete—when together—we can ‘Over-Come.’…Xenophobia is fear of self…We have a right to be everywhere. When the rich become too rich—the wealthy—become selfish… Capitalist—classes abound…Now! On this earth too few people control the wealth—slave to wage folk are losing…Distribution of America’s wealth—Maybe—‘an only way to survive’ donchathink?

The Siden war of occupation and terror continued for too many generations. Unfair war! Unity Central participated across planet distance from Siden World…Memory slipping of why supported; however, wealth and greed and the war-breed-slide collided with the like-minded. Historians now practiced the slice/dice recording of the winner of the Siden War. The destruction of a people include the body-spirit and the ways of people. Gone from prime memory—their art and their language and their reasons-for-love…Gone—their family traditions—their celebrations and their reasons—of-living-life. Siden—gone.

History spins tales—of warrior-world and of victory spoils. Truthful-liars create their world and into sand and dust go everything else. The spinning of ‘truth-creep’ bumps into pages of ‘Urgent News—Read all about It.’ Attacks—are always proper and necessary. People destroy—always the enemy-mine. And! Let their story end…so we can forget all about it.

Not all people are warriors—Our little ones and our women and our elders (the teachers of tradition—life—wisdom—hope and continuation) also die. They are societies’ survival and their names and their lives must be remembered—Correctly counted and reported and cherished in the present and the future. The People of Siden? Ultimately—religion’s mad wiggle becomes the rhyme and the reason for an unfair world…Religion always kills…Death of life is wrong…When death seizes a life may death be a natural ending and not a war-forced sorrow. Then—‘We may not be born to be wasted.’

And! Beautiful you are…

Roads

“Ohh, can’t anybody see
We’ve got a war to fight
Never found our way
Regardless of what they say
How can it feel, this wrong
From this moment
How can it feel, this wrong
Storm.. in the morning light
I feel
No more can I say
Frozen to myself
I got nobody on my side
And surely that ain’t right
And surely that ain’t right
Ohh, can’t anybody see
We’ve got a war to fight
Never found our way
Regardless of what they say
How can it feel, this wrong
From this moment
How can it feel, this wrong
How can it feel, this wrong
This moment
How can it feel, this wrong
Ohh, can’t anybody see
We’ve got a war to fight
Never found our way
Regardless of what they say
How can it feel, this wrong
From this moment
How can it feel, this wrong” (written and performed by Portishead)…

May 25 2014

Especially Special…

123“If you want money more than anything—you will be bought and sold. If you have a greed for food—you will be a loaf of bread. This is a subtle truth: whatever you love—you are.”—by Jalaluddin Rumi

JSOC (Joint Special Operations Command) and its lack of Congressional Accountability—and; of course, the might of ‘War-Machine USA’ is responsible for military actions either directly or by proxy across seventy-four sovereign (define—you pick ’em) nations on our sweet world. The Executive Branch drives this machine of ‘kill-drill’ and no country is ‘off-limits’ to the military forces of America…JSOC is the ‘armée privée’ of Elected Presidents reaching into a past of genocide and into the misty future of faultless ‘kill-drill’ and civilian destruction. Even the CIA is occasionally restricted and occasionally ‘the Pres’…must pass-along a hop-along smattering of metering—that ‘kinda almost truthful information’ to his hip-hoppity group of hand-lickers [(Intelligence Leaders of the Intelligence Oversight Committee(s)]. Bah-Boom and let Drone-spray begin…

Assassinations around the globe—never reported or snorted—unless the odor-of-the-ooze reaches a press of free writers accidentally sniffing the night air and tripping over the forgotten bodies of JSOC whimsy—rhyme—or reason. They do embrace drone strikes and night raids and missile attacks using special ordinance and cluster bombs—oh my…And! The US military is a worldwide Landlord…Based in Germany, Japan, South Korea, United Kingdom, Italy, Turkey, Iraq, Saudi Arabia, Kuwait, Qatar and more… Licensed to ‘Kill-Drill’ in Afghanistan, Egypt, Iran, Iraq, Jordan, Kazakhstan, Kyrgyzstan, Lebanon, Oman, Pakistan, Syria, Tajikistan, Turkmenistan, U.A.E., Uzbekistan, Yemen, Georgia, Ukraine, Bolivia, Paraguay, Ecuador, Peru, Yemen, Baluchistan, the Philippines, Colombia and Mexico…. And let US operate in: South Sudan, Libya, Yemen, the Congo, Uganda, Mali, Niger (AFRICOM)—hey now!

Special Forces for Special Surgery…Since the middle of 2010—Special Operations have been presently-presented-as-a-presence in at least seventy-five countries…Oh no! JSOC strikes again and bah-boom—let Drone-spray begin again and again ad infinitum…’Kill-Drill’ and Civilians Die—Men-Women-Children-Families-Neighborhoods-Villages and…Genocide? Folks—Die! People are actually murdered?

There’s something happening here
But what it is ain’t exactly clear
There’s a man with a gun over there
Telling me I got to beware

I think it’s time we stop
Children, what’s that sound?
Everybody look – what’s going down?

There’s battle lines being drawn
Nobody’s right if everybody’s wrong
Young people speaking’ their minds
Getting so much resistance from behind

It’s time we stop
Hey, what’s that sound?
Everybody look – what’s going down?

What a field day for the heat
A thousand people in the street
Singing songs and carrying signs
Mostly saying, “hooray for our side”

It’s time we stop
Hey, what’s that sound?
Everybody look – what’s going down?

Paranoia strikes deep
Into your life it will creep
It starts when you’re always afraid
Step out of line, the men come and take you away

We better stop
Hey, what’s that sound?
Everybody look – what’s going down?

We better stop
Hey, what’s that sound?
Everybody look – what’s going down?

We better stop
Now, what’s that sound?
Everybody look – what’s going down?

We better stop
Children, what’s that sound?
Everybody look – what’s going down?” written by Stephen Stills…

Forgotten singular—Me and as lips touch—the You and I often become US…Love? Eternal Spirits ‘Be—We’…melted into formless formality—form ‘We’ into a powerful creation of creative notions—motion we move and Life is good—OK?

And! Beautiful you are…

‘For What It’s Worth’—by Stephen Stills and performed by Buffalo Springfield (Neil Young, Stephen Stills, Jim Messina and Richie Furay)…

 

Mar 23 2014

October City—Spring Flash…

132‘Shining candles and harbor flash…From sea today and follow tide…Come to harbor—sirens call…Shining candles and harbor flash…From sea to safety side tonight.’

Flash-Dash and Streaks touch world along these places called ‘Swindle Park’ and across those places tucked down-low between and below Triple Viaducts—twin ruined and one complete. Flash-Dash and Streaks ground to rounding shapes and sparks crash-burn among twin faced-tumble-rumble—crumbled slabs of once concrete-shapes and marbled disks and granite stones—marking graves of those more or less and always flesh-dead and flash gone.

Flash—Fear stir hearts and images dash among the ruins of loss-increase or additional decrease—not instructs of constructs-destructs—simply here and gone and back again. Way-of–life-facts-matter-more-less-import-export-unimportant—matters-little or lessons-less-scar—hearts stir—breathe—catch and release…Still—Animate-imitated life as the silent sounds of folk-scurry-hurry-worry cause days of notions known—and the motion of future wig-waggle prayer and intimate—initiate Life—mute-points—of stop-to-go and back-again. Wig-waggled stars—wig-waggled bars and scars of wig-waggled hope and strangled-wrangled strength.

Where does flash of light and lighted-fit-to-starts-to-end-to-back-again—begin-again or end-again? Light-to-lighted again-of streaks and flashes—bright-subdued-enhanced-increased ’til eyes—too bright-to-shine fill—spill and will darkness soft-to-see—to be as streak-flash-dash ‘cross Swindle Park and brighten October City again-to-end and back-again and rumble-tumble sound—‘Say’—ground-to-clouds of layered sky and dawns of bright-grey—‘Way…’

To hell with Lies-of-Government—and we really know these lies—don’t we Now? Leave those Lies-of-Religion ’cause—if the Goddess had written a true Bible of Books—She would never have walked steps behind men…Paternal—Maternal..WTF? Everyday—She and He stand side-by-side—before the mouth-of-caves and die protecting their little ones? God created ‘first’ Man…WTF? ‘Religions first created God…There are many—first or last…Must be written by Governments to control—to kill—to rule and Governments—Religions do create hellish creations—donchathink? Oh Yeah! Around this wig-waggle-world—We ‘scurry-hurry’-folk do—Love-our-Children-So…Religions of Governments—Are ‘Never-Ever’ Required.

And! Beautiful you are…

‘There must be some way out of here” said the joker to the thief
There’s too much confusion”, I can’t get no relief
Businessmen, they drink my wine, plowmen dig my earth
None of them along the line know what any of it is worth.’

‘No reason to get excited”, the thief he kindly spoke
There are many here among us who feel that life is but a joke
But you and I, we’ve been through that, and this is not our fate
So let us not talk falsely now, the hour is getting late.’

‘All along the watchtower, princes kept the view
While all the women came and went, barefoot servants, too.’

‘Outside in the distance a wildcat did growl
Two riders were approaching, the wind began to howl.’…

‘All Along the Watchtower’…written and performed by Bob Dylan

Dec 1 2013

Gods of Alien Replacements…

P_95‘We cannot despair of humanity—since we ourselves are human beings’…Albert Einstein

Walls to build—too high to climb and the healing cliffs are for far fewer than require the magic man and the doctors of witch power and re-lifting structures—strictures—scriptures and ‘scripts.’ Branches and olive leaves and healing brews boil from green leaf and tea bag and mushroom blossoms and grass helping the blinding eyes to see and the broken ones to crawl—to run and to race again on also nights into soaking rains—bright lights and softener days. She is young and must live again—strong alive—medicine magic more and her chance increases the missing hits or errors of judges above the need to live where money written is a world apart and another chance of life or the liberty of living or the right-to-be an almost grown-up self ceases too soon…Poverty’s child has as much to righted life as those golden touched—few godless players of children’s games—born to—too much and fathered inside those mothers of greed and destruction.

Children born into struggle and war—our children—golden spirits among the uselessness of greedy ones and those ones just above understanding—that lines of separation are transitional momentary spaces between sharing shares of bread and revolution. And! Even on the highest ground— blood will fall across those lines between humanities’ humanity and descendents of these troubles and struggles will prevail until these also–separate by drawing transitional spaces between needing and wanting and working and flaunting and living and surviving and bleeding and dying in both doubt and revolution.

Build for those few humans—fortunate ones—leisure spaces and places and races and tastes and wastes and notions of better than…And! Worlds colliding will place smash and grab and death-kill in motions so bloody—that taste-the-blood-fever will rage until left in ashes and ruin—ruined humans shall crawl from that cleared wound to again rebuild the past of future’s hopes for another tomorrow until power again seals away attempts by many to survive another day-to-day and the ad infinitum of struggle—war—death—the glory of war and the industry of one nation under whatever—corrupts the notion of freedom for all into—subjection of all but a few ‘good-men.’

And! When those ‘few good men’ turn many guns toward the people—the concentration of their fire destroys the nations they are duty-bound to serve and protect. How can a flying robotic—machine controlled—creation of war—justify the nobility of protecting one home against evil? Why would a little child die and be the center of a General-of-Warrior-with-no-honor’s empty apology and worthless notions of peace and prosperity—when that coward’s notion of righteous war is collateral damage and alien weapons discharged into the home of life—innocent life?

Power corrupts and corruption is the strength of any government. Lift sword and if must—battle man-to-man into—the ‘one left standing’ doctrine…Call this a noble notion if destruction is the glorious path to the heavenly-worlds of evil’s good successes-excessively-expressed successively and please leave the little ones and their mothers alive—Leave their homes undamaged and their crops intact.  Better! Together destroy all walls of separation—share the wealth of nations—labor long days in the heat of sunshine and destroy all machines!

Oh well—not to happen in lifetimes combined into another thousand years of greed and destruction. The governments of religion—plunder and pillage and rape and murder are the evil of death…Corrupt be government! Life is Love and Eternal is Spirit…No religion or God notions required…Nothing here but words…However— May Love and Hope and the Hope of Love-words and Touch-speak in another ten centuries—be another Song for the Peaceful—as voiced by Earthy folks across a less-than-barren world—and someday may these folks-of-planet-twirls never know of Robot-kill and Drones…Keep wishing—eh?

” I’ve been to so many places-
I’ve seen some things…
I know— love is the answer
Keeps holding this world together
Ain’t nothing better-
Ain’t nothing better-
And all the answers to our prayers
Hell—it’s the same everywhere.
Nothing ever breaks up the heart—
Only tears give you away”—Borrowed from ‘Miracles‘ by The Jefferson Starship.

And! Beautiful you are…

Jun 27 2013

Moon Color Red…

9A quotation repeated…”It is the duty of us all to ensure that our society remain one of which we are proud, not a society wary of immigrants and intent on their expulsion or a society that disputes the welfare state or a society in which the media are controlled by the wealthy. We would oppose such things were we true heirs to the National Council of the Resistance.”— By Stephane Hessel

We are immigrants of this world. Since a flash of mystery or notions or nicks or knacks or reasons or rhymes we move through time and place and home and one-to-another. We are the managers ‘blood of red’ same air and dancers of fictional truths drawn by spirits same and dreams of hope and the hope of dreams. We are the past—the present—and the days of future dances.

We are the art of the Gods!   We are life—all growing and all walking and all crawling and all swimming—We are Life—perfect and unstoppable…Needs fulfilled—Peace? Poverty is not a disease. Greed is disease and the antithesis of Peace. And! Better to fall in love than to fall in battle…

Medicine may assists us…Medicine never creates us…Medicine does not destroy us…Us…Life and the power of Love. Helping any life to heal must never be considered revenue. Must be without reason and to be applied without expectation of compensation…Medical—Life—Cost—Need—Always—Greed…

Ο Όρκος του Ιπποκράτη

“I swear by Apollo Physician and Asclepius and Hygeia and Panaceia and all the gods and goddesses, making them my witnesses, that I will fulfill according to my ability and judgment this oath and this covenant:

To hold him who has taught me this art as equal to my parents and to live my life in partnership with him, and if he is in need of money to give him a share of mine, and to regard his offspring as equal to my brothers in male lineage and to teach them this art—if they desire to learn it—without fee and covenant; to give a share of precepts and oral instruction and all the other learning to my sons and to the sons of him who has instructed me and to pupils who have signed the covenant and have taken an oath according to the medical law, but no one else.

I will apply dietetic measures for the benefit of the sick according to my ability and judgment; I will keep them from harm and injustice.

I will neither give a deadly drug to anybody who asked for it, nor will I make a suggestion to this effect. Similarly I will not give to a woman an abortive remedy. In purity and holiness I will guard my life and my art.

I will not use the knife, not even on sufferers from stone, but will withdraw in favor of such men as are engaged in this work.

Whatever houses I may visit, I will come for the benefit of the sick, remaining free of all intentional injustice, of all mischief and in particular of sexual relations with both female and male persons, be they free or slaves.

What I may see or hear in the course of the treatment or even outside of the treatment in regard to the life of men, which on no account one must spread abroad, I will keep to myself, holding such things shameful to be spoken about.

If I fulfill this oath and do not violate it, may it be granted to me to enjoy life and art, being honored with fame among all men for all time to come; if I transgress it and swear falsely, may the opposite of all this be my lot.”

Words and reasons of and for oaths are altered by translations and by time… ‘Ο Όρκος του Ιπποκράτη‘ is ancient in the time of flesh, however; seconds in the time of Life. Magic words are spoken and promises are broken or changed or forgotten. However; when flesh cries from the pain of sickness or fear or anguish—magic must never be diminished by the filth of money-changers and by the Greed of Destruction…

And! Beautiful you are…