Of Silhouettes Angled Away…

Smiles are not forced, and laughter is not heard, not from or by our own design or madness. We are born of yesterday’s parents and tomorrow’s ruin. Even-steven gentle waves softly touch spaces where sandcastles fade and eastern stars’ faint twinkles await the rolls of today’s day, touches expectations, and ends. We are those barefoot children of yesterday. We assign the slightest of indentions in the sand, semi-wet and cooled by the absence of sunshine. We; the children of another dawn, touch hand or swish jacketed shoulder once or twice or often without the counting of times or steps or memories. We are the happening of breath and as silhouettes angle away from us caused by a western moon to fade or go away by whimsy cloud or art. However, right on this moment and now on this side of second slide, we start this minute or instance of day just past this night’s sweet hours. We live only on this stretch of sand and with the catching up of tides’ flow, we believe the ice and water before and behind us are our ground and our chapter of seasons lived and written against the sands of shifting grain and  wind.

In the 20th century, the USA preferred dictators over independence throughout South America. Nearby! Cuba is near, nearly Florida. Why is the existing embargo nonetheless the veracity of an ‘old-white-men’ régime? Another nuisance of Free enterprise? Why is Social democracy an enemy of the People? It is not a crime nor is it against the rights of People anywhere? Reallocate the costs of Cold Wars perpetrated against humanity during the twentieth century and individuals may succeed? Equality? Presently in America if you are not wealthy you are a slave? Wage slaves are universal? Wages are never reasonable because the lust-for-gain is potent? Truth, Justice, Love and Life is never finer than Yield?

Solar Lighting begins behind the evening sky. Stellar Illumination persists for fourteen weeks. From skylights to fire, one million-acre-lands are ignited, and fire ultimately damages the domes of cover crossing Calimesa City.  Life ends and life begins. A discrete life also creates-stops and starts for several thousand where water starts and then evaporates. Sovereigns gather and superiors perish. The death of middle ‘workers’ on shell-worlds are countless and seldom varied. The restoration of hidden memories and secret powers, in times of sorrow, prevail.  Prosperity changes and impecuniosity arrives suddenly, from above the sunlight and descends to below ground levels, where cave dwellers and their children survive.

Across spaces of agile atmospheres and places absent of everything except views above and across an angled galaxy, a rivalry of rearranged arrangements, begins and ends in victories and losses. Not many acquire more of less, and some lose everything to those dwelling above these spaces or below this ground in caves and cave-ins and areas where life hides from death and awaits the end of silent lightning and the reaches of flash. In the twirl of the whirl and amid the steps of Android Warriors, we activate unity and the hope of Earth’s renewal and the premised promises of days-to-better-the-inside-outside motions reached without notions-of-greed and the failure of ‘too-much-too soon and too often.’

Now open! Hearts and Spirits before the finale of fantasy as miracles craft an ancient dowry and the resonances of closing jeweled doors, prompt remainders of once was and will again be, behind these secret places and scattered among the norms of whimsy. Combine blood keys and unlock sites known and the undetermined knowledge of uncertainty forgotten and repeated as the  antediluvian ecclesiastics sketch the ruins of devices and seasons recollected.

And! Beautiful you are!

Stories of Life and Joyful Sounds…

“When it can be said by any country in the world, my poor are happy, neither ignorance nor distress is to be found among them, my jails are empty of prisoners, my streets of beggars, the aged are not in want, the taxes are not oppressive, the rational world is my friend because I am the friend of happiness. When these things can be said, then may that country boast its constitution and government. Independence is my happiness, the world is my country and my religion is to do good.” by Thomas Paine

No secrets on a lucid walk. A proposal of mystery so different as thinking not so much mystery as only plain plans and sweet whispers. Dawn slips away and day’s almost lightest and slightest sights commence. Gentle rain not storms are best although lightning and thunder is sometimes missed.

Now and then as the laughter of strings from harps’ sings transpires, as poetries dance along these leaves of parchment and thin tin portraits. Dust spreads across this land as too much wind and too late water cannot increase fast trickles and tickles of streams and lakes into oceans of fresh liquid ‘cross another salt-less-sea. And! On this sandy shore we will caress soft sounds and acquiesce to our sweetest songs.

Dancing glides of wheels and those of ice rails arrive via feet and our ancient selves of balance and twists of turns and freedom without the gravity of graves. And! Again, singing strings of violins and cellos and bass satisfy twilights with song and rhythm and rhyme. Fiddlers play music late into evenings and dancers form circles near fires of light and far from darkness empty space and silence.

Here and hear now heart calls and sobs sans light and waiting without notice then just waiting begins wanting again. What happiness happens is possibly happening on dust speckled earth-side through goals higher than justified. Please maintain happiness for dust speckled us. Is a dust-speckled ride a stand-alone stride a solitary goal without end and without beginning or without purpose, but-to-be-point free?

Together words of joyful life thru songs and sweet harmony and true balance, are melodies of love. Tales and lies and glories’ deceits and tall words, historic speak and heroic praise are not required when the fiddlers play. Then arises exact strings of liquid verse and those actions toward peace. Seek hopes’ beginning in fires of spirit strengths and life’s power.

Together, our story of magic life and world love just is…We venture into drying air and cross wet sands and blooms of desert flowers and fresh air. We rejoice with a firm knowledge of knowing thru almost certainty another night and an added brighter day. And! We appreciate the erudition of virtue and of wonderful desire and of noble love.

“A long habit of not thinking a thing wrong, gives it a superficial appearance of being right, and raises at first a formidable outcry in defense of custom. But the tumult soon subsides. Time makes more converts than reason. by Thomas Paine

Gather now for rooms-to-find-to-fill have crowded again, and nourishment is consumed as others line sidewalks where grate-covered warmth wafts upward from Calimesa’s underground to ground and around those standing watch or asleep with one side-warm and one side cold or one side dead and one side gone. Again, the living and dying and the thinking of dying and praying of leaving or staying another moment or second or minute or hours of night-time’s twinkles or mornings’ wrinkles, remain.  Once flesh was fresh and spirit smooth and times of ages changed as faded lights start and stop and start again.

“May you hear every song in the Forest…And if ever you lose your own way…Hear my voice like a breeze whisper soft through the trees… May you stay in the arms of the Angels.”  From— ‘Lullaby for a Soldier’ by Dillon O’Brian

And! Beautiful you are…

Approaches of Articulation…

There is an easy slip-slide escalation in curving path shifting from horizontal to a moderate acclivitous ascent. About ‘these parts’ are levels and soft hills then abrupt driveways and mountains. The foothills originate beyond the driveways and rise to forty-nine hundred feet o’er the conurbation named Windsweep. We happen twelve miles away in a town called Creeshrugs. We are governed by traditional rhythms; intricately and spiritually fused with the natural world. And! The lights dim as the shadow dance begins.

Sing-Song sounds as specters sway ‘round twilight flames adrift in a far-off time. We start with the stars and concurrently we vanish into the mist. With gentle voice in silent rooms with stemma stroked throats and emptied tombs. Passage move toward skylight’s scream while choosing sight of sinking dream. Warming suns of days ago. Salted mist and taste of tongue within lights of passion and times of rain. Wolf cries shout of sands and home. Across this universal stretch window shine in candle’s light. And let us touch another piece of safety sleep and lover’s reach.

‘Refusing to acknowledge an active force in things and instead “simply to absorb this force into a command of God’s – a command given just once in the past, having no effect on things and leaving no traces of itself in them is so far from making the matter easier to grasp that it is more like abandoning the role of the philosopher altogether and cutting the Gordian knot with a sword’– by Gottfried Leibniz—from ‘On Nature Itself’

We can climb and defy the Mountains of ‘Overworld.’ No demons’ depraved. And! No rhythm or rhyme nor times’ that happen when forgotten or acceptance is abandoned or uncovered via sets of eyes right-sighted, united, divided and shared ‘cross finale starts.  As inceptions finish single races and commence in other times; additional competitions, wind-curve-win or lose or race-place again and all over again, ad infinitum…

We sustain soul-touched shivers. Beneath drops and beyond opaque places, animation is born and form from kindle or care or wash or wear and never far away from strikes and sparkle. Coven Isles removed from ‘Martian’ Beach lives, and once recognized by diamond eyes, now dry of surface rain, though still alive and seen through other selves in other times and in other places. ‘Tis driest in desert winds away from dark sights and silent night. Sleepless slights and magic lights ‘cross crater crash and runners’ dash into caves where life is born where cycles form and disappear into light-slight and fright.

The third then handles those words that end in a sibilant or near-sibilant, and the last picks up everything else. Signals are distorted, sibilant, and overly compressed. ‘Sibilants are louder than their non-sibilant counterparts, and most of their acoustic energy occurs at higher frequencies than non-sibilant fricatives.’ Sibilance is a manner of articulation of fricative and affricate consonants, made by directing a stream of air with the tongue towards the sharp edge of the teeth, which are held close together; a consonant that uses sibilance may be called a sibilant, or strident.”

And! Beautiful you are…

 

When States Avoid Plagues…

1265“If a state is to avoid the greatest plague of all—I mean civil war, though civil disintegration would be a better term—extreme poverty and wealth must not be allowed to arise in any section of the citizen body, because both lead to both these disasters.”Plato regarding the dangers of inequality…

In fundamental stages, atoms occur in shapes, in assemblies and via the methods through which they coalesce. We! Atoms ‘gone wild’ write by mingling the letters of our alphabet in unique ways to construct tragedies, epic poems, comedies and outlandish legends. The combinations of rudimentary iotas fashion our world in its own limitless diversity.

These are the ‘Coming In’ times. The ides of moments ready-to-flash and center-of-day-to-ready-play and anticipate reasons. Then discover that life does happen covalently. No rejoice to understand or withstand and never required and still Ok. Momentum drinks to spill before air or fear tastes and waste’s rush before shriek-spear-kill where motion ends as hanging cloth covers wired thorns along ruined ditches of rain fill and maybe flows from boot smooth flat-to puddles of blood-mud waiting for sun-play and dry air and wiz-bangs and death.

Creative Creatures do gather one-time-or-maybe-two to watch sky etched forms dissolve appear and disappear while often dancing ‘cross so many places to many races as often they appear only to disappear and reappear again once-in-a-while…

Plato wrote in ‘The Republic’ (Book 7): “that men are chained at the bottom of a dark cave and only see shadows cast upon a wall by a fire behind them. They think that this is reality. One of them frees himself, leaves the cave and discovers the light of the Sun, and the wider world. At first the light, to which his eyes are unaccustomed, stuns and confuses him. But eventually he can see and returns excitedly to his companions to tell them what he has seen. They find it hard to believe.”

“We took the blood of the earth
and fell in love with death
with life itself as an excuse.

Black is the sunlight shimmering below;
it flows through life and the guilt we share

We are hiding in chorus as starry eyes close,
and seasons part in farewell;
‘because we drained her blood, then forgetting her face
to hide from everyone” …from ‘The Last Hour of Ancient Sunlight’ by Draconian

Burn with this exceptional song as extraordinary fog ‘cross liquids edged with split sanded reeds as from hill high vantage; pieces of fractured stone, as the broken rims of splintered faces silently shriek of spoil, of harm and of destruction. Three ships obscure the ternary ceaseless slivers of shiver war to collect or to evade again. Two townships too pounded, still need needless sorts to find forms alive or fallen upright. And! From waterside cannons a fortress sky high, twins slam shells and balls as death upon us falls. They; then us and not and again, they fall with and upon us. Ship pitches wood and steel and spirits toward sinking side with mast blast splinters and holes enough to die.

We paint and then leave for the ‘Coming In’ time. Neon glitters and shape-shifters-sighted-one’s blend against leafless limbs where standing trees fall and scatter ‘cross Viaduct’s crumbled-tumbled stretches of stone tops, cream colored rocks and pieces of dust and rust and the shadows of ruin or waste. Choirs race wagons of faded reds and oranges and brown streaks of muted yellow splash; again blend and rend groomed clones of oiled twilight clouds and fading light as the protector moons of three rise alongside globe line and stain shorelines ahead of the lubricious briny; fill with salted rains without sounds, and deprived of life.

Water and butterflies and beetles with purple shades and birds emerge from mist and race about lofty heavens or nethermost luminosities. Straightway, touch the life that flies, and from colors of lavender light into gull-white gray and totally liquid beside a sparkle of shoreline polish and moonlight bright. We! From spiritual linkage promptly to Earth, and now once more to rush into struggle to situate and into competition. Observe the exhausted and the dying ones. They come this way and fly away. Then! Gather here the shaped-shifters and one-sided sighted eyes to watch till wizards of crashes and dashes cease games of pieces on ground as our Witches appear or disappear into smoke and mirrors and magic shaped ghosts. Toast those; by those lifted glasses, memorized memorialized and as quickly forgotten as recalled.

“You see I really have to tell you
That it all gets so intense
From my experience
It just doesn’t seem to make sense
Still… You turn me on”… ‘Still You Turn Me On’ by Greg Lake

And! Beautiful you are…

Controlling Cybernetic Creations…

Are we possessed with humanity? We discover pasts, revise mindsets, twist sensibilities and redefine divinities. Considerable realization revolves ‘round us. Are ‘We’ the greatest beings in space?

“If people bring so much courage to this world the world must kill them to break them, so of course it kills them. The world breaks everyone and afterward many are strong at the broken places. But those that will not break it kills. It kills the very good and the very gentle and the very brave impartially. If you are none of these, you can be sure it will kill you too but there will be no special hurry.” ―by Ernest Hemingway…

We are creations emergent into alternative maturities. While discovering novel advances to the previously known, we have gathered quarks, black holes, particles of light, the waves of space and virgin molecular assemblies in unfamiliar organic units. We are not subjecting apart. We are a fragment of something whole and constantly changing. By noticing, we realize that the undiscovered is greater than the established. To learn is to determine novel ways to realize additional encounters. Some are immediate. And! Some are creations gone. To recognize is to see we are not a universal’s majority. Space is curvilinear and our cosmos is spun from juddering quantum granules. We are currently extant within these fabrications. We are lighting at nightfall. We swiftly vanish.

Dragging the lines of surf’s collapse and climbing as waves dash lofty into moonless sky then fold along miles of sand and shoreline. Seas inhale and exhale and breathe again and time marks nothing when endless and everlasting.

Early daybreak calls are soft ‘gainst ear and progress darts and goes and stops or starts. Ponder no thought and chance as being ensues in sweet drifts of quiet seashores and moonlight bright. Waves gently subtract sandcastles and winds wane as eastern stars’ twinkle and today’s day traces future pauses and beginnings. We are barefoot children of yesterday’s todays and tomorrow’s sunlight bright. We allow dances and little pawmarks in semi-wet sand cool and without ever-care-never. Pipers play and kids dance into ragged-sorted-nights and when they swirl-twirl, Goddess flashes smiles as thunder those claps-of-tiny-hands and rings join little songs and glee as youngsters laugh and sing. A piper of the raggedy sorting day, the role of rolls and the rejoinder some; to ‘follow dance’ behind-beside and before, the flute of silver crafts and the simple-dancing song. ‘A better day,’ they shout, and everyone agrees—if you please.

Survival’s portion portioned and scattered across accepting simplicity and variances in dependence linguistically controlled or by muted shower, gentle starts or rumors of fire-fly wings and quiet lighting. Wait! Senses closed to thunder rolling ‘cross divided skies as secret streaks the sea and roll into the silent spaces between raindrops and life. ‘Fix your standard on fact.’ Science perpetually gambols with belief, doctrine, delusion, and dogmatic obliviousness. Once and frequently; these momentarily wins, something-of-else or another choice-to-follow. Crossroads-to-chance, sparks-to-light and destiny always flirts with other up-and-about or perhaps-maybes. Real sea, we’ll see with additional water-ships and a multitude of places far away. This is here and landings on different beaches reached are promptly neglected.

And! Beautiful you are…

Ascending Wind-up Stairs…

Walking hulks sulk and climb ending stairs skyward to beyond this rabble-rouse and quiet noise. When money creeps and changes; news leaks near power peaks alongside east-west motions and of the upward downs of truths returned. Word crests someplace in this somewhere time when twirling letters rhyme and time-to-know-to-yes remain-the-same. Confusions great relate to money swap and hanging pauses while causes of creation sells and souls pursue uninformed uniformity.

Touch me with Sing-Song poems and forget this world and find me with voice as we two too need those requiring words of hope and verse of love’s together-forever in dark dancing with rhythms in our minds and drumbeats in our hearts…

Demons and Angels dance same pin-top-tip-stop, one fall and catch below and climb those ending stairs and bop atop short pins with needles threaded truths dreaded and ever-speak thru noise and sporadic song. Sing speak the swirl-of-twirling lies. Truth man says he is and not-the-same and this time plain, and this fact not creations-to-entertain or too confused. So! Believe in the truth man and the bogus man and the bogey man and the politics of fearless lies. Believe in fearless fates and drown in something to purchase and throw away. And!  Acquire those accepted trusts in the end or assemble again, products to buy and this time keep-and hold and tossed away as ‘we’ proceed in need of failures and of successes.

Brush eye-lash-to-face and form dance in dreams and seems as long pause with no cause are without voices. Just breath-to-breathe and see tiny freckles and lips to laugh and eyes to quest together. Visions and quiet word songs with gentle space and no race and blends of silence and whisper-speaks. Dreams-then-dream quest cease and increase those creases in time as curtains’ climb and paces die. Visit and speak of ways of star-side streak of starlight sweet of gentle unions and love. Life lives and mingle-tingles thru heart touch good as ring-circles and fancy, dances into love’s rhythm and rhyme.

We are of the emerald seas. We belong to the black sands and tides that pull ‘gainst current as the alignment of this moonlight is perfect while stepping across another dustless night. Creations’ Witch creates those perfect notions and motions as she rewrites truth and confuses lies. The necessity of fire and cave to survive this night and live into another day is now, and through tomorrow’s light will create another constraint.

Freedom weeps. How may walls separate hearts’ hope and families? Walls of fears and falling tears stain and remain as trains move up sun runs ‘cross these sailing winds toward better sound coming round ‘cross these faded boarders toward better moments and toward better days. Does objective truth deny that government is the provider of enjoyments and new progress accepts enjoyments that may become ’entitlements’ and ‘entitlements may become—’the right of the people?’ Why! Do the standards for human rights disappear? And! still elites determine what constitutes without the ‘Constitution’ the Rights of Humanity? These Elites are also the ‘Body Politic’ purchased and taught-bought, traded and faded, commanded and demanded until the ‘rights-of-the-people’ are not products of objective truth embracing relativism but are the results of coercion and brutal power. Political power equals how much gun smoke pours from barrels pointed toward the people? If true! Then how must political power continue or be limited as smoke evaporates into precious air? And! Must this ‘universal continuation’ continue.

Ages past we became sponges; gifted and gregarious and bowed through insight and anchored to two worlds, one frightful and one enchanted. We are filled-to-edge with truth and with wisdom? Both’ are scary and fearful as wisdom sometimes becomes you, as age bends body yet frees spirit twirl. From the twins of two a power of life sparks, and alone-never places begin and fixes end. We together have already accomplished everything. And! Magically we all pass on!

Physics common reach and teach uncommon words with boundless risk and honest computation, manipulation contrived and derived through common wisps-of-wisdom exacted, reacted, contacted and rejected or projected. Creations twists boundlessly and meld into simple sense or corrected logic. Paradigm shatters as whisper-matters while sail ships and storm’s tatters, up righted-ignited-provided-decided and once-feared now tears along with seed sowing acknowledged knowing either real or almost correctly forgotten and then remembered.

Are we not all travelers scattered across someplace-somewhere? And! Does protection equal servitude? We know humanities’ finest moments.  Love and Peace and Touch and Trust.

And! Beautiful you are…

Feeling Profound Tempo…

‘Morning Song’

“Love set you going like a fat gold watch.
The midwife slapped your foot soles, and your bald cry
Took its place among the elements.

Our voices echo, magnifying your arrival. New statue
In a drafty museum, your nakedness
Shadows our safety. We stand round blankly as walls.

I’m no more your mother
Than the cloud that distils a mirror to reflect its own slow
Effacement at the wind’s hand.

All night your moth-breath
Flickers among the flat pink roses. I wake to listen:
A far sea moves in my ear.

One cry, and I stumble from bed, cow-heavy and floral
In my Victorian nightgown.
Your mouth opens clean as a cat’s. The window square

Whitens and swallows its dull stars. And now you try
Your handful of notes;
The clear vowels rise like balloons.” by Sylvia Plath

Sighted! Righted to view the shadows’ tuck within surfaces and specters and secret spirits in mirrored swirls of stellar light and lighted night. Is it true that if we build a shelving unit created with shelves structurally made to sustain heavier weights than the object we just purchased, should we avoid putting the object on that unit? Is a waste of strength practical? Earth is around (4.03 +/-) billion years old. Since initiating moment how extensively has our Mother Ship journeyed? Voluminous narratives have begun and ended. Conceptions constructed and inventions innovated. Dispositions devastated and creations confounded. And! Always life simple and vivacious and confidently dynamic. Awareness ascending and realization’s reputation is regularly rearranged as required. Senses appreciate countless choices. Dawn’s calm minus bend and sans movement of the gentlest woodland sprays offer delight.

Higher than the tallest mountains, impressive birds descending from the outermost sky reaches our rain-soaked shoreline in the here and in the now. In a domain occupied by fantastic fowl, to surround yourself with tall folks and well-built large houses is a “good thing”. Thoughts clear and precise. Additional editorialization and quantification if necessary, allowed when thoughts become translated into the fashions of truth or fiction both substantial and ethereal.

It is Ok! When scented moments mind trick memories through start-stop and pause-causes light-years ago to change to present places and races to mind front and almost touch-tease slight, flight-of-forms to know love-touch-spirit twirl. When love is mind’s eye strong and after-kisses taste, last longer when form-is-warm and need less than want is long and lingers until night cease-crease softens into sleep-sweet. Remember?

Taste of you in mind rhyme our time and ever-dream moments deep twilight keep and never-ever traces of endless touch no rush just together ‘us’ and the harmony of ‘We’ remembered. Walk and talk and now us; hand reached, and fingers clasped inside near Needles Park, and beneath Bent Bridge’s dark hedge and ridge where green grass gone brown cooled, and the waves below lake shine bounce moonlight.

Stop and later measure and scatter across accepting simplicity and the variances in relativity, either linguistically determined or silenced by downpour louder then those gentle beginnings, the whispers of fire-fly wings and lighting with no sound. Wait! Eyes tightly closed and heed thunder rolling across separated skies as unseen flashes knight the ocean’s night, and crashes boom into those silent spaces between raindrops and life. Science eternally dances with superstition. Once or often either momentarily wins, something-of-else or another choice-to-follow toward those crossroads that matter. Chances to spark and destiny always flirts with other up-and-about perhaps. Real Sea we will see and another and another of water-ships and places far away.

‘Recessional’

“If, drunk with sight of power, we loose

Wild tongues that have not Thee in awe,

Such boastings as the Gentiles use,

Or lesser breeds without the Law—

Lord God of Hosts, be with us yet,

Lest we forget—lest we forget”! by Rudyard Kipling

This is here and between landings by another beach reach as 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. We are animals and fish and birds and reptiles and trees and flowers and skies and moons and suns and stars and planets across many miles inside universes of many smiles.

Forget to breathe. Fog horns groan and moan within cones of hearing on evenings rare without fog or mist. Held inside, air rushes into throat and through nose and mouth. Sea odor and eyes tear. Bridge time is fine and darkness safe. Search Sea! The Line shifts tighter to shore and ships disappear.

The share of poet-touch and story-spin and exile’s faith and disaster’s private pain; as speech native fails creative spirit, and often maims creature-speak and confuses the never-place-of-everywhere.

And! Beautiful you are…

Dancing Along Space Edge…

“Peace is not merely a distant goal that we seek, but a means by which we arrive at that goal.”Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.

The loves of men and the loves of women and freedoms’ sweetest notions must not be influenced or weakened by the principals of greed and the powers of dithered legislation, an impotent executive office or a purchased judicial robe. Pondering if America’s ‘founding-fathers’ did spin tales with double tongues and savage intentions since a mile-wide emptiness is emergent. Governance does not notice us or heed our cries and, they still await our deaths for causes and foundations and reasons and rhythms, we ultimately do not recognize. Sweet certainties are principles that all life is equal life that all women and men rich or poor are above borders of wherever boarders for nonreasons and never judged by color, big guns, nuclear death and the perpetual diatribe of segregation, inaccessibility and panic.

“Any man or woman who is willing to think. All those who know that man’s life must be guided by reason, those who value their own life and are not willing to surrender it to the cult of despair in the modern jungle of cynical impotence, just as they are not willing to surrender the world to the Dark Ages and the rule of the brutes.” Ayn Rand

First Amendment

“Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the government for a redress of grievances.”

  • On June 1, 2020 in Lafayette Park – Washington, DC…Wondering if tear gas and Stinger Ball grenades used to interrupt and hurt people peacefully assembled “to petition our government for a redress of grievances” was a significant contravention of our 1st Amendment? Of course! And to use this ‘illicit force’ for a ‘Donnie T’ photo-op? WTF?

 

To perceive and conceive and absorb and substantiate every notion and motion now or just beginning to develop something real or unreal is suitable. With no restraint to communicate every notion and motion either known or just discovered is sacrosanct. ‘Freedom of Speech’ and ‘Freedom of the Press’ is the motion of all notions correct or incorrect. Words are not eternally genuine or insincere. Context is often cover for lies or truths. Readers often determine validity or invalidity. Often this determination is not objective. Whimsey may not be independent. Reactions often supplant logic. Clarification often ignores emotions. Normally words spoken are received as the listener wishes to perceive those words and understand what is said or meant or desired or needed as both, truth and invention. Often the silence between all words interconnects everything.

We are not ideas to kill or fancies to perish. We reveal various packages of fabric and color and need and we all bleed red-same as liquid and air mix and body same moves across these places or other spaces in motions to exist together without prejudice or of religions ‘to-take-to-hate’ or to replace, irreplaceable life. We shift into objects of alternative daylights with the accepted expectations of extraordinary flashes of original thought and lights of magnificently creative creations through the perceptions of flashing preconceived originality and congestion repeaters across a wondrous land of sugar and cinnamon-spiced tea or coffee or me or you or us or…In becoming an impression immortally important and becoming another legacy repeated or recalled and retweeted we ‘amen’ to both, the previously consummated and the just about to transpire! “Ashes to ashes and dust-to-dust.” New ways to win, we-must-be-us.

 “Peace cannot be kept by force; it can only be achieved by understanding.” Albert Einstein

Our Mothership:

  • Spins at the Equator = (1000mph)
  • Around the Sun = (67,000mph)
  • Around our Galaxy = (490,00mph)
  • Toward the Great Attractor = (621.371/mps)

On Earth side’s moon, a great-walled plain called Mare Crisium- ‘the Sea of Crises’ is about three hundred miles in diameter and start-stop by a circle of colossal mountains. Once an ancient sea dried here and it took a thousand million years before the half mile deep water was gone? Dying achieved; right after life, animated upon another spinning World. We are all émigrés of this Universe. Since an explosion of mystery or reasons or rhymes or by sorcery, we step through time and place and dwell with one-another, together forever. We are the ancient, the existent and the ‘days-of-yet-to-come.’ We are the Gods of Virtuosity! We are life; all growing and all walking and all flying, crawling and swimming. We are Life. We are perfect and we are unstoppable.

Furnish us an Earth where women walk in day/night security and no one recognizes a conflict called ‘War’…Where love is love and where force cannot occur. Where there are no shadowy spaces called ‘heaven’ or ‘hell.’ A place where life does belong, and life is good every day. We construct worlds and we sustain humanities and we all Love our Children. For the magic and the mischief-of-life Gods are not required.

And! Beautiful you are…

 

‘Zombie’ — The Cranberries

‘In the End’ — Linkin Park

 

Interludes And Interruptions…

‘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.”

We are Children of the Universe…We have the Right to be Everywhere!

     In the region of dusky divided distance, among worlds of twirls and star lights’ twinkle wrinkles space-form as benders of light join and twisting swirls start and stop complete with endless jolts and bolts of flash across countless skies within countless spaces apparent and appreciated. Again, begin and sweeten life with dance, with drumbeats, with racing hearts and together strength. The ‘I’ is welcomed into ‘We’ power-to-be-a-sea of them and the gentle ends of ‘Me.’ And! It is OK to ‘Dance the Night Away. Machined wonders and spirits guide the processes of robot arms and robot legs and as androids watch through android eyes and hear through android ears and once or twice weep Android tears and die. Corporeal Spirits essentially live and die and eternally step into dusted streams of icons while dancing ‘cross twinkles sketched across the winter’s sky.

     Intervals begin and Gods of Greed square pairs of Hopes-Choice and Defeat. Then again, interludes become extended time and we spin again and sleep once more without need as war birds vanish somewhere inside these mourning’s of mist and slashes. Semantics is a means of expressions often inverted and succumbing to stranger contrivances? Are we articulated controllers or figures of too many twists of motion to be authentic pursuers of tranquility? Expressions happening often degenerate, often decline into inclinations to impressions without expressions impressive, or rhymes or rhymes or rationales wisdom?

     Remember! Beware of the center of certain sites where intermediates construct the non-productive positions of stationary worlds complete with no twirl spots and without tops of fashioned fastening clamps to fantastic swirls of chaotic creative creations. Space without the creations of wonder and joyful productive productions, crease and cease along ribbons in space-time and the continuation of any reason to be a being and melding into a together dose of universal power. We are light and darkness and silence. In another moment flash ‘we’ cross forever and ride with those Sweet Witches of Creation.

These are the days when good silence makes way for righteous noise, when sound-speaks another word-or-two then makes way for again good silence behind the tucks of night-light and morning’s hush.

     “Governments are power systems. They are trying to sustain their power and domination over their populations, and they will use what means are available to do this. By now the means are very sophisticated and extensive and we can expect them to increase. So for instance, if you read technology journals you learn that in robotics labs for some years there have been efforts to develop small drones, what they call “fly-sized drones,” which can intrude into a person’s home and be almost invisible and carry out constant surveillance. You can be sure that the military is very much interested in this, and the intelligence systems as well, and are using it.” by Norm Chomsky

     What is Freedom with no concrete meaning attached to the word. Freedom as idea, must have definition? If Freedom is a principle it should have definition to allow implementation. Opened-Eyes for an Opened Mind? And! Seek protection from ‘taking-a-stand’ when refusal to admit the nature of what is accepted, eternally supports those forever plans designed to achieve everlasting serfdom. Still! Love or believe in Freedom. What crime is committed if ‘crime’ is not crime and has not occurred in memory-man. What crime when ‘no-law’ provides for it? 

      Per Pope John II—Centesimus Annus’: “Ownership of the means of production, whether in industry or agriculture, is just and legitimate if it serves useful work. It becomes illegitimate, however, when it is not utilized or when it serves to impede the work of others in an effort to gain a profit which is not the result of the overall expansion of work and the wealth of society, but rather is the result of curbing them or of illicit exploitation, speculation or the breaking of solidarity among working people. Ownership of this kind has no justification and represents an abuse in the sight of God and humanity.”

     Speculative Capitalism is wicked! It is a lazy monetary scheme that channels greed into assumption and usury. It is unreasonable and unpredictable and an added Crime against Humanity. Our right to: Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness soon ‘vanishes into the hey’?…The collapse of Capitalism is inevitable…And! Do Capitalists eat their young?Abusing the rights of the Workers-of-this-World is a systematized Wrongdoing. Like Genocide and Suicide, speculators spoil sparkle and the self-determination of societies all over this sweet planet. Are we free if we are wage-slaves?

And! Beautiful you are…

‘In Your Eyes’—by Peter Gabriel

‘Love Will Come To You’ —by Poets of the Fall

Creates An Encounter…

Love Me Again

“Know I’ve done wrong,
Left your heart torn
Is that what devils do?
Took you so low,
Where only fools go
I shook the angel in you.

Now I’m rising from the ground
Rising up to you
Filled with all the strength I found
There’s nothing I can’t do” …by John Newman and Steve Booker

Hollow is the dismal man. Dark everywhere eyes must see and change where spirits be; a shape of things started, and races done. Blue light fires dance and yellow streaks find sky, and shrieking moons shake where gravity drag is rare and above, clouds often look for skies. This house is quiet and moments ago those leaving sounds stopped. Hollow man is robot shaped, sans spirit simulation and no ghosts’ twirl within his machine. Choices end as decision dies. Energy vibrates when spirits move ‘cross heavens and earths. And! Many spaces inside lines of coded rhythm and words pouring from a bewildered one or two or twins in-step without reasons to be or motives to discover additional avenues within tunnels and venturing courses across assorted lights.

Lucky we be not Holy Hollows. Understand imagination and beyond momenta of strength, the dances of baby birthing and powerful protection and the iron resolve of an iron love. Nothing stronger than devotion; or better than together, sing-song choirs and the fusion of life-forces. We are children of these salty seas and characters unified. We are the daughters and sons of earth and of the starry heavens. To hold and touch; too much, no! And! Forever is never long enough? The sweetest Dance, indeed. Together we be, for without love there is no peace. So! Surf waves crashing shorelines and discover Ghost Gardens near space-place center, where home is one planet east of sunlight’s door and along ridges of deep space in sky’s silent fog. Footprints spread across one trillion jumps of space teeming with twining twinkles and a trillion ground-bound souls.

Gravitational Lensing: “Light around a massive object, such as a black hole, is bent, causing it to acts as a lens for the things that lie behind it. Astronomers routinely use this method to study stars and galaxies behind massive objects.” The size of this ‘whirly-twirly’ may be both, big and small. An immense entity may bend the ‘space-time’ continuum just as a heavy object positioned in the middle of a trampoline, presses downward on this composition. Anything smaller often rolls around the edge of this simple-dimple and spirals inward toward the larger body; dragged inward bound, as the gravity of all planets attract rocks swirling in space.

Life is the antithesis of order. Animation is symmetry without structure, save winds and rains and those foolish storms of chaos and belief. Go figure the here or the now and still; narration is not achieved or fashioned apart from the directors of spins and twists and by the thrill of the lie. Or! Believe in the smile of Leonardo or the Lady’s laugh or the chatter of countless viewpoints or the convictions of our many hearts. 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.

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? We are the daughters and sons of earth and of the starry heavens. Our antiquity is animated! Our history is simple and true unless suppressed or distorted for unnecessary incomes and the perversion of affluence. We are the eternity of spirits, never beginning and never ending. Such is the sweetness of life.

And! Beautiful you are…

‘Caribbean Blue’ — Eithne Pádraigín Ní Bhraonáin

‘Under The Bridge’ — Red Hot Chili Peppers