Fingertip Stories…

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 émigrés of this sphere. In a blaze of mystery or notions or nicks or knacks or reasons or rhymes, we move through time and place and home and toward one-to-another. We are the directors ‘blood of red’ same air and the singers of fictional truths drawn by spirits same and the dreamers of courage and the chance of hopes. We are the past, the present and the days of future gambols. We are the virtuosity Gods!  We are life, all growing and all walking and all crawling and all swimming. We are Life; perfect and unstoppable. And! It is always better to fall in love than to fall in battle!

‘The young man goes out looking for the diamond in the sea
the old man rows his boat to shore and falls with twisted knees

And you’ll drown before the water lets you in
Yeah, you drown before the water lets you in

The feeling that I feel the most is the one that follows me
all across the starry coast from sea to diamond sea

Says you’ll drown before the water lets you in
Yeah, you drown before the water lets you in

I think the thing I wanted most was just never meant to be
a thousand waves, a thousand ghosts their sorrows follow me

And you’ll drown before the water lets you in
Yeah, you drown before the water lets you in’…
“The Water Lets You In”by Book Of Fears

These are the salty ways of salted seas and flecks of foam scatter along shore-sided shifts of sand from wet to dry and dune rise above and beyond watered edges before ruined boardwalks remind nothing of something once savored and watched and known by forgotten ones—once upright writers of the times and the sounds of ‘days of a future’s past.’ Still! We all cross spaces along these places of the races in time gathered and night ships crossing heaven’s ragged ridges…

Lights at the end of the world. Now! See those lights across these thousand worlds—welcome home to places you have started and places to begin again or again or on another day’s end and another night’s beginning. Drums to market those marks of time we call our own as heart beats begin again and ticks for a while of wills, coming around the corners of spaces in places seen or forgotten or found once for many crossings of spaces and races and time.

Steel Riders pause by waterside as tides of water kiss shoreline’s wavelength along with one hundred sounds and as gulls ride the dips of above and around piers of ruined wood and splintered ages where once the seaside existed and tide changes mattered to boat anchored and ships sailing against the evening lines. The water’s edge and the skies of blue and pink and red and orange and yellow turn as earth spins sets sunlight to softness and twinkles of sky lighted canvas sheets the blue gray into darkness and stars light the sailor’s way along the caverns of space and place and the race of time.

Entity Religion is in constant enmity with one another? Satirizes self-contented morality and suggests that in the end all religious groups are going to engage in violent and selfish acts regardless of their professed moral teachings. Just another Government and ‘governing whimsy’ is corrupt, nasty and destructive. Religions’ immaculate contortions, ‘American Style’ twist in-out of ‘the Separation of Church and State’ producing a ‘Governmental Right to Legislate Morality?  Wrong! For only Lovers-have-Lovers’-sacred-right-to-Love. Love is being! Morality is a selfish word…

Portion-for-us and scatter across understanding, simplicity and the variances in relativity either linguistically determined or silenced by rain loud along with gentle beginnings or the whispers of fire-fly wings and lighting. Wait! Eyes closed and listen to the thunder rolling ‘cross separated skies as unseen flashes knight the ocean and crash booms into that silent space between raindrops and life. Science eternally dances with superstition. Once and often either momentarily wins something-of-else or another choice-to-follow. Crossroads to matter, chances to spark and destiny always flirts with other, up-and-about or perhaps.

Real Sea, we will see and another and another; of water-ships up, and places far away. This is here and between landings another beach to reach quickly discovered then thrown away. Dragging the lines of surf’s fall and rise as waves dash high into moonless sky and crash along miles of sand and shoreline. Sea inhale and exhale and breathe again and time marks nothing when endless and everlasting. So! Forever ‘surf’s up’ on the eternal sea, so alive and just for me!

And! Beautiful you are…

Sporadic Simple Sets…

‘Memories that fade away
Have not left their mark
But you live on, every single day
In many ways.

It is the truth between his cunning lies
That hands him his suspicious alibis
Persuading with your force will never be the way
To our destiny.

Suddenly we have lost the force
To close our cursed doors
No one seems to realize
That wolves are in disguise.

It is the truth between his cunning lies
That hands him his suspicious alibis
Persuading with your force will never be the way
To our destiny.

Your engine was so strong
But the road was just too long
Hope is not the end
So never lose the faith.

If we can say
They can never take away
Our freedom, the most precious thing we have ever had
The reward from the blood, we have ever shed.

His quest for higher truth, life of eternal youth has just begun,
despite being on the run
Many virgins wait for him to come
Persuading with your force will never be the way
To our destiny
Our destiny’… ‘Safeguard to Paradise’ by Epica

The Glass Beaker Folk are glass managers. All gathered ‘round petri dish and dishing out samples of small fleshy beings as large bark folk decided to mix, and their creations are forms-of-forms and other-forms, of twin-spin shapes ‘cross planets’ twirl of simple complexities arriving with baby cries and little howls. And! Pondering if one stares into eyes-of-disarray one finds an honest illusion without confusing-disillusion or solution keep-seek or chose-to-lose? Deliberating, if the deities of Beaker Folk create creations with wrong formula uses and mixes of humor and myth. Immaculate contraptions birth and dissonance for every-other-sun; sister-brother, reasons and rhyme along with bottled time working cords of yesterday’s todays and tomorrows’ sighs.

The word ‘Honor’…Many descriptions and quantifiers involving this word…Honor is not just a word. It is a singular way of life. It is without description and not reserved for Military motions. It is not an Executive twirl or a Legislative swirl…Though legal twist and turns, it is not a Judicial term. Honor is a simple way of Life.

Sky films block pearl light as an evening of workers’ failed strengths; home bound as, the ‘Nighters’ replace the ‘Dayers’ and continue as work begins ends and starts along the edges of digital clicks and analog clacks. Time cataloged into spreads of pages indexed assorted stuff straightened arranged packed for space-spin or unpacked to go consumers consumed with curiosity; hunger required, needed or fulfilled desires. Oppression succeeds triumphs when its legitimacy is internally assumed. The freedom to write it right or write writing toward the right cross of sails unfurled and imagined as sea’s endless might and distance ‘tween stars ‘tween galaxies and ‘tween the universal folds of space. There be books here and just listen to these stories from spirit-speakers of volumes long and voltage sweet. We change everything with ‘Blue Planet Waste’.

“Beyond the Palace hemi-powered drones scream down the boulevard
Girls comb their hair in rearview mirrors
And the boys try to look so hard
The amusement park rises bold and stark
Kids are huddled on the beach in a mist
I wanna die with you Wendy on the street tonight
In an everlasting kiss…” Bruce Springsteen.

It is our nature to run with and from the many or the few. We often see through the curved ceiling of high doorways only when curved light enters tiny windows. Animation is symmetry without structure, save winds and rains and those foolish storms of chaos and belief.

Speculating currently concerning infrequent simple sets? Are these objects transuranic elements in the study of symmetries nearly impossible to construct, not likely to be found by chance but still necessary to the complete structure of the theory of Sporadic Simple Groups. Freedom for or from a Peoples’ will still be the imitation of an everlasting Robot. Or! We Robots be. Just you wait-and-see.

‘The most heroic word in all languages is ‘Revolution’–Eugene Debbs

“In the current phase of intellectual corruption, it must be stressed that, like democracy and human rights, the economic doctrines preached by the rulers are instruments of power, intended for others, so that they can be more efficiently robbed and exploited. No wealthy society accepts these conditions for itself, unless they happen to confer temporary advantage; and their history reveals that sharp departure from these doctrines was a large factor in development.”—Noam Chomsky.

A historian once wrote that future’s Child, did not need to be told that the angel of death had passed over the land; they had heard the beating of its wings’. So! Wondering if; ‘The reason the Dead do not return nowadays, is the boredom of it.’ One fare-to-fix and one fix-to-fair. Life is precious in every form. Life animates every style-type of flesh, smooth or fur and sweet life goes—becomes and ends and becomes again…’Tis good donchaknow…

And! Beautiful you are…

‘Letters From The Sky’ by Civil Twilight