Creases In Time—Rhyme…

Wondering if the current wig-waggle of government—is attempting to swift change our distribution paradigm? Amazon’s purchases of Whole Foods—challenging FedEx and UPS as goods-to-consumer in reason—is a diversion of forces gathered to scatter—the rhythm as competitive realizations and dreams of small—all businesses—grind into troll’s dust and just as sealed diamond mine entrances—ends mineral searches and songs’ rhyme. The attempts to alter a distribution paradigm may—twirl and twist the structural and strategic foundations of Markets to win or to lose.

Last night was a ‘moving on kind of’ evening…Spirits do leave and head homeward—another place—another sun—places again where planet twirl does not matter and race-races—racing—starts ‘n’ stops do not exist—no time flavors or must do favors…Not an end—begin again—was always right along—side—’tis maybe that great mystery—we want to know and know anyway…Nothing judges—Eternal Spirits—no reason—no rhymes—not time to forgive—material needs—greed develop and disappear…Great church side—lurch forward—backward—more words of material gain—lost or found—still around—never necessary and always there…

“We must again become political equals lest we become an authoritarian society!  Openness and equality constitute a virtuous circle. Openness generate much better levels of prosperity. Prosperity allows prosperous peoples to invest in Superior Education—Universities and Schools. Basic Research leads to better health and healthy pursuits. Improved Infrastructures and Social Insurances…Adaption to change is easier when created within the righteous circle of Openness and Equality” …Author Unknown

Tired—Tried and Tested—rested and begins a moving away—a time to go—and a quick giggle before—looking back—is last time—a final rhyme—this time—and moving on—it is time to go…She saw that this time was good… Fire—Blue light— ‘sorta’—start-stop—dancing—yellow streaks—red coats and journey starts. Screaming—moons toward—light and still—and horses do run Martian Ridge. We are children of those—salted seas and spirit trees. And! Clouds often look for—skies. …Hollow man—robot without—spirit-animation-without ‘ghosts in the machine’…We be not—holy hollows—we be—imagine—imagination—beyond pushes of strengths—we dance—baby birthing—powerful protection and iron love—nothing stronger than love or better than together songs and ‘Us.’ We can move around—Universes—so deep and notions to keep—and safety shorelines forever wide—is good with or without the Sailing tide.

“Inequality, even among the educated—often leads to demagogues…Demagogues rejects Openness and blames ‘others’—immigrants, foreign manufacturers, news media, racial or ethnic or religious minorities. “Demagogues rejects openness and blames ‘others’—immigrants, foreign manufacturers, news media, racial or ethnic or religious minorities” …Robert Reich

We are not means to an end—others—may wish to accomplish…We are not tools—to be used. We are not servants of need-greed-to-be-freed—or bandages for other wounds—nor sacrifices to gods—come whimsy or rushing wings—gift bearing things—beads—baubles—glitter or flash…We are not born to be wasted or wasted-to-be-born…

Is it true ‘that’—“Ignorance is no bar to reason—for it is often a reasonable reverse?” A Society of Modern Thought and Venture is not totally immune from the social force of religions? What of the conditions of ‘human freedom’ and the challenges required by Capitalism and an obsolete system of political economy? And! How has mechanized labor affected individual laborers—restraining the union of voices—apart and in part because of coded words and the efficient destruction of blood-flesh-sweat and blood—again?

What—Why and How must—an economic structure—consider the—modernity of serviced—servitude—a renovated—rendition and a re-naturalization—of Societies’ Laborers—-while all-the-while—casting about impersonal laws—seeking—the removal—of logic from—Humanities’ control?

Václav Havel once wrote that; “the current crisis that the world finds itself in.” He identifies the crisis as a conflict between “an impersonal, anonymous, irresponsible and uncontrollable juggernaut of power” and the “elemental and original interests of concrete human individuals.”

“Ruled by the will of little people and the middling people, and by the demagogues they elected…And! Hobbled by moral laziness and fear…” Jonathan Fenby

Brush—eye-lash-to-face—form dance in dreams and seems—as long pause—no cause— without voice—just breath-to-breathe—tiny freckles—lips to laugh—and—eyes to quest— together. Visions and quiet word—songs with gentle—space and no race—blends of—silence or whisper-speaks. Dreams-then dream quest—cease—increase those—creases in time—curtains’ climb—spaces die—and visit speak—of ways—of star-side streak—of starlight sweet—of gentle union—and love. Life—lives and mingle—heart touch good —as ring-circles—fancy-dance—into love’s rhythm—of love.

And! Beautiful you are…

‘Never Enough’…Epica

‘Still You Turn Me On’…Greg Lake

Pino-Donaggio

Of Balance—Of Checks…

Near Fort McHenry— began ‘The Battle of Baltimore’ and from a poem “Defence of Fort M’Henry”, Francis Scott Key developed what ultimately—would become “The Star-Spangled Banner.” In 1931, this song would become this Nation’s anthem… Francis watched the battle from a British ship called, the HMS Tonnant. ‘By dawn’s early light’ while still aboard the HMS Tonnant, F.S. Key caught a glimpse of the large and tattered Garrison flag still moving in the gentle wind… Resilience and Triumph; while celebrated through songs and stories, these notions are twin-twined—salted ropes—bondage chains—hunger—fear—gun-powdered air—laws unfair and—always War…

“Defence of Fort M’Henry”

“O say can you see, by the dawn’s early light,

What so proudly we hail’d at the twilight’s last gleaming,

Whose broad stripes and bright stars through the perilous fight

O’er the ramparts we watch’d were so gallantly streaming?

And the rocket’s red glare, the bomb bursting in air,

Gave proof through the night that

our flag was still there,

O say does that star-spangled banner yet wave

O’er the land of the free and the home of the brave?

On the shore dimly seen through the mists of the deep

Where the foe’s haughty host in dread silence reposes,

What is that which the breeze, o’er the towering steep,

As it fitfully blows, half conceals, half discloses?

Now it catches the gleam of the morning’s first beam,

In full glory reflected now shines in the stream,

‘Tis the star-spangled banner – O long may it wave

O’er the land of the free and the home of the brave!

And where is that band who so vauntingly swore,

That the havoc of war and the battle’s confusion

A home and a Country should leave us no more?

Their blood has wash’d out their foul footstep’s pollution.

No refuge could save the hireling and slave

From the terror of flight or the gloom of the grave,

And the star-spangled banner in triumph doth wave

O’er the land of the free and the home of the brave.

O thus be it ever when freemen shall stand

Between their lov’d home and the war’s desolation!

Blest with vict’ry and peace may the heav’n rescued land

Praise the power that hath made and preserv’d us a nation!

Then conquer we must, when our cause it is just,

And this be our motto – “In God is our trust,”

And the star-spangled banner in triumph shall wave

O’er the land of the free and the home of the brave.”—Francis Scott Key

Francis Scott Key used his office as the District Attorney for the City of Washington from 1833 to 1840 to defend slavery, attacking the abolitionist movement in several high-profile cases.” WTF?

We go to war for many-many reasons…And! Not often, but just once-in-a-while—we ‘the people’ almost become free people—but never-ever free of War. One can still love one’s country and hate War…One-can-still-love-one’s-country and Hate the war of ideologies—divisions of colors (‘red and blue and tattoo you’) …We share—we care and Governments must never separate the ‘We the People’ from the ‘US’ of America…And! If the Executive and Legislative and Judicial branches—treetop high—dance without harmony—hopefully—they will always—dance—check the balance and balance the check—donchaknow? Because of this dance—we may—be free for just a-little-bit—longer…

“Sign—sign everywhere a sign—blocking out—the scenery—breaking my mind—Do this don’t do that—can’t you read the sign”… by Les Emmerson

Venezuela: How do positive steps—Socialist reformation, a people’s transformation, a government of wealth redistribution—founded on the peoples’ needs—dreams of better days and hope for a long-term future become a failure? Venezuela has trillions of dollars in petrochemical wealth…It also proof of greed’s ruin and prosperity climax—ruin and end.

Spin this among a million worlds across thousands of sun/stars. Calimesa had once known riches…Crystal rich planet of star-drive fuel for thousands of Star ships…Colonial power cast about one thousand worlds…A rich center—wealth—work for everyone—educated—protected peoples…All good until greed destroyed Calimesa completely in one thousand years…Among the stars Power lives and dies much quicker—than Black Sun twirls—whirls of long-life and death fast—Explode and move on…Crow-man’s old world name, his Calimesian name—is Theodis—Carmelt-Shiamotory…Theodis was born wealthy—was born a beautifully shaped baby—grew into a beautiful being—moved beyond green water and green diamond foam— shaped-to-shift—to other shapes—another heartbeat—heat—bother body to another—space-place-race and graced to forget everything…Not an Earther—still earth-bound—gravity ground—added—pound—adapted to see—to be—to flee and survive another dive—spaced—race—paced—too fast-to-be-so-slow…

“Walls appear—Fear—No! Climb those Walls and Welcome Home.”

And! Beautiful you are…

 

‘Wooden Ships’…by David Crosby and Paul Kantner—performed by Jefferson Airplane

 

‘Volunteers’—by Marty Balin and Paul Kantner—Performed by Jefferson Airplane

 

Creatures Apart-Different Frequency-Different Sight…

picrelated.com

“Like grapes, we have always accompanied the vat.

From the view of the world, we have disappeared.

For years, we boiled from the fire of love

Until we became that wine which intoxicated the world” …. DR. NURBAKHSH

Is it true ‘that’—“Ignorance is no bar to reason—for it is often a reasonable reverse?” A Society of Modern Thought and Venture is not totally immune from the social force of religions? What of the conditions of ‘human freedom’ and the challenges required by Capitalism and an obsolete system of political economy? And! How has mechanized labor affected individual laborers—restraining the union of voices—apart and in part because of coded words and the efficient destruction of blood-flesh-sweat and blood—again?

Note:

  • A Japanese haiku has 6-8-6 words per line.
  • An Italian Sonnet contains—8 and 6 combination…
  • Is a metaphor—a poet’s essential tool: X “is” —“Y “is like” …

Linking words by alliteration…

  • Semicolon usually divides two clauses, each with a verb—two halves that could stand as a complete sentence…However, by using a semicolon one may both separates and unite two lines.
  • Good poetry combines concision and suggestiveness.

I know well—the sounds of–bombs-away—and the explosions—death scattered ‘cross—the lands—I have walked—I have loved—and I have lived—or died upon…Another war—against Communism—why—war against labor? Why? These Continual Wars—against Communism…Why! These Continual Wars—against Labor? Corporate Ownership—fifty percent—of the total—world wealth. Does not—benefit Citizens—anywhere…Contaminated—in Greed. The only way—we succeed—is together…Unions-of-Labor—Revolutions to—begin-to-end-then-to-begin-again. Presently! America’s economy is—no longer an Economy of—Hope or Change…Please remember—Billionaires—care nothing—for Laborers—‘We the People’—and while still— pretending to be—Blue Collar—they ‘Be’ Liars everyone…

What—Why and How must—an economic structure—consider the—modernity of serviced—servitude—a renovated—rendition and a re-naturalization—of Societies’ Laborers—-while all-the-while—casting about impersonal laws—seeking—the removal—of logic from—Humanities’ control?

Václav Havel once wrote that; “the current crisis that the world finds itself in.” He identifies the crisis as a conflict between “an impersonal, anonymous, irresponsible and uncontrollable juggernaut of power” and the “elemental and original interests of concrete human individuals.”

“Ruled by the will of little people and the middling people, and by the demagogues they elected…And! Hobbled by moral laziness and fear…” Jonathan Fenby

  • Our world is finally ‘almost’ a Border-less World…Much to learn—Much to anticipate—Much to welcome—and Much to Never Fear—again…’Viva La Difference’…

Night Shift

It was not a heart, beating,

That muted boom, that clangor

Far off, not blood in the ears

Drumming up any fever

To impose on the evening.

The noise came from the outside:

A metal detonating

Native, evidently, to

These stilled suburbs: nobody

Startled at it, though the sound

Shook the ground with its pounding.

It took root at my coming

Till the thudding source, exposed,

Confounded inept guesswork:

Framed in windows of Main Street’s

Silver factory, immense

Hammers hoisted, wheels turning,

Stalled, let fall their vertical

Tonnage of metal and wood;

Stunned the marrow. Men in white

Undershirts circled, tending

Without stop those greased machines,

Tending, without stop, the blunt

Indefatigable fact”…Sylvia Plath

And! Beautiful you are…

 

 

‘You’ll Never Leave Harlan Alive’…Patty Loveless

 

 

‘Joe Hill’…Joan Baez

 

Buildings and Lines…

1631“It glittered and it gleamed
For the arriving beauty queen
A ring and a car
Now you’re the prettiest by far

No party she’d not attend
No invitation she wouldn’t send
Transfixed by the inner sound
Of your promise to be found

“Nothing or no-one will ever
Make me let you down”

Kiss them for me, I may be delayed
Kiss them for me, if I am delayed

It’s divoon, oh it’s serene
In the fountains pink champagne
Someone carving their devotion
In the heart shaped pool of fame

“Nothing or no one will ever
Make me let you down”

Kiss them for me, I may be delayed
Kiss them for me, I may find myself delayed

On the road to New Orleans
A spray of stars hit the screen
As the 10th impact shimmered
The forbidden candles beamed

Kiss them for me, I may be delayed
Kiss them for me, I may find myself delayed

Kiss them for me, kiss them for me
Kiss them for me, I may find myself delayed…”

“Kiss Them for Me” written by—Susan Ballion and Peter Clarke

Buildings without prestige? Are structures rich or without form—do they appear—a wealth of shape and of rhythm and rhyme? Often—the eyes of Spirits—active are tiny orbs of specks—flecks of—gold and silver coats many—or layered but still seen—by both beholder and by the blind.  Lines hard and simple—revealing and hidden by few turns and curves. Harmony of sound—clear of body wraps—substance of the—perfection of bone and of muscle. Ice streams descending—long straight lines—from roof angle to—concrete sidewalks. Planes and plain models—streaks of many colors—colored glass—long pass nightfall—and—long out of sight–right?

Civil Layers never completely die…As traditions slip away—layers are forgotten—in time—as are—dances and songs. Touch your lips—finger kiss—yours to mine—time space—moments’ race…And! Silence—careful sight—tonight—as sail catches—spark and runs—to sea—see? What word means—“perfect competition”—and—“optimal allocation of resources”—and— “efficiency”? Perfect competition—is perfect for—a winner—Optimal allocation of Resources—are never fairly distributed…Efficiency costs—somewhere in time—some reason gone—some ration—divine…

Do neoliberals believe-in-truth? While promoting—demoted forms of deregulated—regulations—speculation-in-ruin—penetrating permissive—and pervasive—invasions—of individual greed so powerful—as to completely—dismiss all values—and—the strength of—Collective efforts…Real wages—gone—the influences of Societies’ Unions gone—and a Right—Wrong shift—in Economics—in Politics—in Labor’s market—and in—the Anglo-American—progressive Culture—‘All gone.’ ‘Trickle down’—a damned—everlasting lie! And! Remember—‘there are no Blue Color Billionaires…’ Hey Now! Celebrate Capitalism—when it has become ‘Greed—Sorrow—Inequality—Persecution—Quicksand Power—and—the ‘Real Enemy of—The People.’

The circle safely closed—the web building starts—the markers of builders old and builders new. Star Guide—folded into original shape— until it is—again required and opened to read and follow—‘cross sky-bridge….Bang-Bang-Bang and let the game begin—again…‘Tis’ good this Loving Rhyme. So! Follow this Time—this Twine—Re-wind. And! While I breathe—I Hope…”

And! Beautiful you are…

‘Kiss Them For Me’…performed by Siouxsie and the Banshees

‘Highwayman’…performed by The Highwaymen

The Gentle Ships of Beren-Pass…

Illinois Central_743

The City Of New Orleans Lyrics

“Riding on the City Of New Orleans
Illinois Central, Monday morning rail
Fifteen cars and fifteen restless riders
Three Conductors; twenty-five sacks of mail
All along the southbound odyssey – the train pulls out of Kankakee
And rolls along past houses, farms, and fields
Passing trains that have no name, and freight yards full of old black men
And the graveyards of the rusted automobile

Good morning, America, how are you?
Say, don’t you know me? I’m your native son
I’m the train they call the City Of New Orleans
I’ll be gone five hundred miles when the day is done

Dealing card games with the old man in the Club Car
Penny a point – ain’t no one keeping score
As the paper bag that holds the bottle
Feel the wheels rumbling ‘neath the floor
And the sons of Pullman Porters, and the sons of Engineers
Ride their father’s magic carpets made of steam
And, mothers with their babes asleep rocking to the gentle beat
And the rhythm of the rails is all they feel

Good morning, America, how are you?
Say, don’t you know me? I’m your native son
I’m the train they call the City Of New Orleans
I’ll be gone five hundred miles when the day is done

Night time on the City Of New Orleans
Changing cars in Memphis Tennessee
Halfway home – we’ll be there by morning
Through the Mississippi darkness, rolling down to the sea
But, all the towns and people seem to fade into a bad dream
And the steel rail still ain’t heard the news
The conductor sings his songs again – the passengers will please refrain
This train got the disappearing railroad blues

Good night, America, how are you?
Say, don’t you know me? I’m your native son
I’m the train they call the City Of New Orleans
I’ll be gone five hundred miles when the day is done”…written by Steve Goodman

Worlds spin—axis tilt—and—how we—matter-to-the-matter—as side-way twirls—the planets’ whirls—and—nothing makes them—straight—again…And! ‘Cross channels dotted—to lots of liquid black—lake fills and streams covered once—grassland—now trenches of oil—stretches from eyesight—until the watching ones are—unable to see—further. “Good night America”—we are all still right here—right now—these minutes in time—for no reasons—with all our rhythms and all our rhymes…And! We are all Immigrants—everyone—passing through age-long mysteries—masterly recorded or unrecorded with—dots and dashes—in time…

Just caught ship outbound—sun-ward toward third spin—shaped seas and peaks almost hill-high and wide as desert cross—pause—to wait and back again…Long way home—but getting there. How must this ‘long wind’—keep winding through sharp curves and peaks— too high to climb—when going home sometimes runs—ruins of circles…Following smoke—wisps or—sounds of sing-song-choir—along the line—where sea-meets-sea and sky appears—above forgotten shimmers of—flash—stretched beyond—eye watch and body wait. Walk upon these—salty waves—of that dead-sea—sing melody’s song—and disappear—into mists and sea—sounds and other dawns. Those little matters? Matter-less—Cease then gone—again.

Money short—and—without weapons—gather folks wise—to change histories’ futures—with few resources of tradition—warfare—to confront and destroy—the inequality of equality freedom—slave wages—with-out—to plentiful again…And! Maybe a little ‘more’ short-of-time do succeed in alternating—alternatives—and reversing certain terms—of public debate—to shift and to change a—certain—course of politics—without violence—and—without passivity…Obsolete not—nonviolence—is never irrelevant—whether—formed—from village speak—or global motions—’tis—strategy for confrontation and victory—without swords drawn— or thunder-guns’—final recoils…And! Creating a resistance movement—without blood’s shed—is solution strong—to solving—the current global crisis of—climate’s changes and miles-wide inequality—donchathink?

Never despair—nor accept inequalities—for wealth is not created—to be collect by the few—for wealth must be shared—by everyone—everywhere ‘cross this planet—on this sweet sustaining mother-ship—we gentle ones—- call our own—sweet—Earth. While recorded history show us—inequalities in wealth and the capacity—to create wealth—‘cross centuries—patterns of imbalances have changed and altered and damned our human majority—to accept nothing-from-the-blood-and-the-sweet-sweat—of genuine labor—without apparent nor equal reward. From—nations—to between nations—‘balanced income’—is a ‘never-ever’ reality—for us—the outside worlds call ‘those species—of humanity’…Then—‘Never-Ever’—react to these—inequality-of- qualities with—absolute—resignation…People Strong—Revolution changes everything—and through—nonviolent means—while never politically convenient—often alters—imbalance.

And! Beautiful you are…

“City of New Orleans”…performed by Arlo Gutherie

 

“Home”…by Unsun

 

 

Flip-Flop And Vacuum…

4583“Hey you out there in the cold
Getting lonely getting old
Can you feel me?
Hey you standing in the aisles
With itchy feet and fading smiles
Can you feel me?
Hey you don’t help them to bury the light
Don’t give in without a fight

Hey you out there on your own
Sitting naked by the phone
Would you touch me?
Hey you with your ear against the wall
Waiting for someone to call out
Would you touch me?
Hey you, would you help me to carry the stone?
Open your heart, I’m coming home

But it was only fantasy
The wall was too high
As you can see
No matter how he tried
He could not break free
And the worms ate into his brain

Hey you, out there on the road
Always doing what you’re told
Can you help me?
Hey you, out there beyond the wall
Breaking bottles in the hall
Can you help me?”…by Roger Waters

And! Still the flip-flop shriek—wind sound—slips round—colder spaces between—broken brick corner—and crumbled mortar—time aged and weather worn—and–since-time-began—nature is never fond of vacuum. Crowman stumbles—sandal worn strap—from right side notion—of footwear—broken—a thousand years ago—causes flip-flap noise—skyward shrieks—bombers ‘cross—inside clouds—so thick from sky-to-almost-ground—as to hide nose rounds—fired—as jumps—loud then quietly—as pronounced—as gone… Statues—broken—some scattered round—park-of-lost—times—before the mime’s danced—unbroken and bending to—purpose—unfounded-unknown—or lost with—the rhymes of times—recorded-forgotten—and gone.

Arrives—those machined boxes—machine-sweet and together—in minds of same or alternates—where we twirl—the whirl and call the laugh—or—two—as boxes open and—away we—they separate into—some thing-or-less or—the loneliness of crowd—bridges twin screw moments—of those spaces-of-time— without seconds. And! We—search blood and find–taste good—in mingle-tingle moments—touch-amazing—touch not those—imagined sources of—unnecessary wariness—and one—is another brief—the flashes together spread—the separate into—singularity—no more than once… Feel intimacy—of rhythm-or-rhyme—as touches—speak hides deep—inside the formality—of syntax creep and syntax crawl—where ear-here—hears echoes bury—idiom not—conveyed by—dictionary’s space—between word-speak and why…The share of—poet-touch and story-spin—of exile’s faith—of disaster’s private pain—as speech native—fails—creative spirit—often maims creature-speak—and often confuses—the never-place-of-everywhere. Still! Sweet Witches-of-Creation—smile—womb-spun life—comes and goes—without road-speak and without—interstate shriek…

Twilight—Dawn—departure gates—to swirl through—go-to-spaces—-between places—both here or-there-or-back-again—to hear-to fear-to find—to die or to—live again—in places without time—signs-in-parts—or sums-to-hold-again…Ecliptic twirl—galaxy ‘cross—spaces when composite—forms appear-to-disappear—Serpent speak and Eagle reach—Ophiuchus—holder-or- bold—once again—Quetzalcoatl boys—and—fair Gaia girls—wander star-gates—through and touch-find-found—reaches—useless rhythms and trouble—times. Ophiuchus high stands— above sun—rises-feet-crossed—Galactic wide and planetary—substance filled—from brim-to-rim and back-again…

Our nature runs—with or from—the many or the few…See often through—curved ceilings of doorway—when curved light enters—twenty-one windows round—openings through—to escape places or—leave regions. Still! More spirit than—body proper—’til chemicals—those-of-doubt or-satisfaction body rule—self ending sometime—in time—without reasons to be—except—a rhythm to—complete. We are—the daughters—and—the sons-of-earth—and of—the starry skies. Our history–alive—simple and true—except when—suppressed—through layers—distortion or—flashes of fears and—tears…We are the eternity of spirits—never having—to begin—and—never ending. Such is—the sweetness of life.

“The circle safely closed—the web building starts—the markers of builders old and builders new. Star Guide—folded into original shape— until it is—again required and opened to read and follow—‘cross sky-bridge….Bang-Bang-Bang and let the game begin—again…‘Tis’ good this Loving Rhyme. So! Follow this Time—this Twine—Re-wind. And! While I breathe—I Hope…”

And! Beautiful you are…

‘Hey You’…written by Roger Waters—Performed by “Smooth Jazz All Stars”

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…

Again—Off To War We…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And! Beautiful you are…

Orbits or Spins…

Are we actually able to destroy this massive orb we cling to as it twirls and spins across the heavens? ‘Hold on—we’re coming.’

I often wonder if our Global issues are more egocentric mischief and another grand marketing ploy-plan-joke-reality. Humanity is a self-centered, monotheistic, one world lived, jumble of lies and truth and refuse and life. And! Life is sacred…Life is beyond religion and ministry and belief and government and rule and control. Life is and thankfully Life happens—everywhere…ad infinitum! Why? Why-not?

We know and believe the pure chemical garbage—we intake, ingest, spew, create, destroy, plant, protect, pillage, plunder, use, misuse, mine, drill, refine, spill, clean, control, slave, market, sell, eat, love and hate—kills all that contacts these miracles of science and greed.

Life adapts or ceases. Life begins-survives and dies…Life does continue! Life happens and there is nothing humanity can contrive to stop this occurrence. It is the continuation that allows us to survive…Without us/humanity/animal/mineral/plant…Life happens!

Maybe those are the Gods we should worship…Life! Nothing greater or less…And! In our monotheistic confusion and the eternal hunt for center-plus-power-to-greed, we destroy the presence of this current humanity. Add the pitiful attempt to exact a slippery control of chaos and we produce war-destruction-death and inhumanity…Wowzer!

Words written and words overloaded.

Yes! We have Global Issues…Important problems and Actual solutions.  Work to be done now for Now and now for our Future. However, life will survive with or without us.

While everything may remove us from this Planet, we are cowards and we love our children! No religions or governments…required.

And! Beautiful you are…

Laced Magic and Sails…

Escape into this city filled to brim with witches and ghosts and spokes in timed harmony and choirs-of-one-chorus and harmonious enchanters along with magic made-of- lace.

This is the time of winged fire breathers and statues of motion and beaches of rocks without sand. Horses without wheels spin and donkey flocks carry unarmed soldiers into war covered places of blood without sound or shriek.

This is the mystery place. This is the dreamed stop-clock without time. A minute starts without beginning or time or reason to begin-end just a minute later ceases notion and substance.

The realm of call and words spoken are never sound. These same words flow across bands of bounded paper in font digital—and fashion stitched upon silk cloth and imagination.

We form the notion of eternity and dance upon timeless patches of cover underneath the most blue of skies just before rain-dusted night drives us underground to those places of swings and scenes of grass covered deserts in light and sparkle.

So! Escape to this city of oil rain, crumbled towers and rusted color skylines tucked just below sky ceiling. Walk upon the crusted sea and into the days-of-nothing-less.

And! Beautiful you are…

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