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

Peace Circles and Wind…

Dion_Laurie Records

‘Abraham, Martin And John’

“Anybody here seen my old friend Abraham?
Can you tell me where he’s gone?
He freed lotta people but it seems the good they die young
You know I just looked around and he’s gone

Anybody here seen my old friend John?
Can you tell me where he’s gone?
He freed lotta people but it seems the good they die young
I just looked around and he’s gone

Anybody here seen my old friend Martin?
Can you tell me where he’s gone?
He freed lotta people but it seems the good they die young
I just looked around and he’s gone

Didn’t you love the things that they stood for?
Didn’t they try to find some good for you and me?
And we’ll be free
Some day soon, it’s gonna be one day

Anybody here seen my old friend Bobby?
Can you tell me where he’s gone?
I thought I saw him walkin’ up over the hill
With Abraham, Martin, and John”…Written by Dick Holler

Sea–side level and sand away from beach mist—fog scatter and clear sides—tucked along the bay. Hill high and east watch—Look Valley deep—as seep fog—softens light—from holler cabins—lined close—not circled—but—throw stones close…Too late for flowers now—too warm for dying grass—and leaves to fall—catch ground and turn brown. Somewhere between—cooling shines—sun mixed air—and breath—into—not light—and night. Before Moonshine Clear—nearby fire shine—bright sprite dance—’round about—where hollers begin—and sunlight’s end.

In Marxism and  Psychoanalysis—hidden somewhere between—word scare—twin modes—both radical pairs—are standing—understanding and constitutional—reconstruction. Stress levels—high—both granite hard—from—shiftless sedentary shifts—begin mountain curves and valleys’—trenches from park benches—bus-ride thought—the sought and bought—fought—often taught and life made-to- paid—and—lived once—again. Features’ surface—once or twice—and over-to-over regain—again begin—social’s abnormally—normal speak—behavior tweak—pattern’s seek—reek just below—perceptions of analogous penetration—and just above the surface—of a long—last phenomena…End products borne—and born from workers’ womb—society’s tomb—and necessary—necessities of the—we-us-them-those—needed—blended—desired—recalled—rejected—injected—and still forgotten—while watching—front-facing—backward—gathered mirrors and—cross winds—of rhythms and rhymes.

Fire—Blue light—‘a sort of’—start-stop—dancing—yellow streaks—red coats and journey starts. Screaming—moons toward—light and still—horses run Martian Ridge. We are children of those—salted seas and spirit trees. And! Clouds often look for—skies. …Hollow men—are robots 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 the unification of eternal spirits. Butterfly—kisses—wishes made—wishes chant—and grant—soft wings and slips and flits— ride currents of breeze—so slight—against soft skin—often switch directions-of-fancy—will by—choice or wearied of time—trips to beginning and endings of time shifted—drifted and lifted and forever gifted—to lines of—crafted beings—being for  moments—above moonlight and—day—bright. Space between lines—of coded-cold-color—fine word pour—from puzzle—one or two—twins in-step—and reasons to-be—to-see special—twin-twines—through tunnels and into the night.

Launch now—code filled balloons both alpha and numeric—fluid—lines of rows—switch—crosses—across drops-of-lengths—between space and press and touch—and—a distance—between winter’s flakes and snow. While dancing dream’s mind-merge—spirit winds a clock of choices—known by forgotten—dust-swirls—desert winds and salted seas—as foam merges with sandy shores. Rain bounce—by moonlight—against a million miles of asphalt streets—where tiny sprites of weeds—meet—push through—to break the symmetry—of path—life once again—is the birth of nature’s chaos—and nothing is as natural—as creating—-creations. Life’s power is—eternal notions—of—goddesses and gods—witches and warlocks—wizards and shamans—and—the blood-bond of women and men—creatures-features— and the dynamics of Love. Remember! Love is sex-less—without form—without flesh—and—-when shiver—shapes humanity—love—is touch—magic required—as beings require air—mixed—blood red.

And! Beautiful you are…

‘Abraham-Martin And John’…performed by Dion


‘You’ll Never Leave Harlan Alive’…performed by Ruby Friedman


‘Closer To The Heart’…performed by Rush


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”

A Cosseting Halo…

116732A little Galaxy up line—along ridges circling—the ‘Giant of Milky Ways’ always at angles right—to the main disc of stars—containing everything—even a Sun—of our shines—not scattered at random—but—ordered and held together—a swarm—by a cosset halo—of matters-dark—rarely seen—but always present…And! A well-stocked mind—is never bored—donchaknow?

When in love—distance from the ‘Object of one’s—‘Love’ is just formality…A spirit being “in-love’—takes no notice of Space—Distance—Time…Paley’s watch—keeps ticking—and—Universal continuation—continues. Our world of right now—words—worldwide—so many—too many—too often—are—persecuted—imprisoned—suffer sub-human disadvantages—and are killed—for religious reasons—beliefs political—their race—their sex—their loves—and still—the wisdom of engagement—on behalf of human rights—is not only a moral imperative—but eternally required—everywhere—every moment—‘cross the continuum universal—and still—Paley’s watch—keeps ticking and ‘too often’—occurs—eternally.

Does objective truth—deny that government is—the provider of enjoyments—and neo-progressivism—accepts that—enjoyments do become—entitlements and entitlements—eventually become—the right of the people? Standards for human rights—disappear? And! Still elites determine what constitutes—without a real constitution—the rights of humanity? These Elites are—also the ‘Body Politic’—purchased—bought—traded—faded—commanded—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—is how much gun smoke—issues from barrels—pointed toward the—people? If true! Then how must—political power be—judicially executed—limited once—as smoke evaporates into precious air? Paley’s watch—keeps ticking—and—Universal continuation—continues.

And! While enjoying—enjoyments and—entitled to—entitlements—of the ‘rights-of-the-people—complexities ensue—informal institutions—are formal—non-state-states—markets—organizations—processes are mechanization—relationships—mechanics-of-similar-speak—citizens—rich—poor—inter-governmental—non-governmental—collective interests—duties—taxes—obligations—privileges—equality and inequalities—mediated—not mediated and—WTF…What continues—when Elite Professionals rule—not elected—just collected—inspected—rejected—corrected—enhanced—romanced—only rule—until complex issues align against—the people and another Revolution—smoking guns—and mirrors into—the past…Paley’s watch continues—ticking—matters-dark are—never seen—and when—aligned—properly—another ‘cosset halo’ appears—for another—little while…

“Round-about—pinpricks and—holes into space—race the flights—of gulls ‘cross sky—where ending—starts—and reason begins…We do—remove those ‘for granted’—blinders’-of-right-sight—and often skyward—search and find—the light…Those wormholes—cosmic cross—universes—near and far—and still ‘we’ see—the vast—of power blast—possibilities—of relativity’s—loopholes—and just hope-know-now—‘warp drive’ may—span distance ‘cross—space—time wonders—wandering about—wilderness—speak—‘til speed—crease—cease—and earth-lock—unblock—free—‘childhood’s end’—and into space—we—seek-creep and star-child begins—again…

Along Martian Ridge—one line—eye stretched far—once was—a stutter of thorn—then throne—then grain—then throne—then repeated—until distance—failed seeing and sight disappeared— when ridge—merged sky—and—matter dropped—from surfaced rust. And! On these staggered thrones—Writers’ names etched’—crystal tags—attached—along the top-front—of every throne.’ A Spacer—thought these folk—may have belonged—to some—type of ‘Club’…Creative Spirits do—gather—one-time-or-maybe-two—to watch sky—etch 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—you know…

And! Beautiful you are…

‘Saving Grace’

“One time around the block
Two times around the clock
Three times, don’t cross the little lady

So pretty and, oh, so bold
Got a heart full of gold on a lonely road
She said, ‘I don’t even think that God can save me’

Am I gainin’ ground
Am I losin’ faith
Have I lost and found my saving grace
Thankful for the gift my angels gave me

Born alone, we die alone
‘n’ I’m just sittin’ here by the phone
Waitin’ for the Lord to send my callin’

Street wise from the boulevard
Jesus only knows that she tries too hard
She’s only tryin’ to keep the sky from fallin’

Any man who says it’s Heaven and Hell
Prob’ly got somethin’ useless to sell
You ask me if I’m saved, but what’s it to ya?

Blow a quarter, cop another eight
You’re runnin’ out of high, you’re losin’ your faith
Throw your hands up and scream, “Hallelujah”

Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah

One time around the sun
Another year older and my work ain’t done
It’s time for me to write the final chapter

Deal the cards and roll the dice
Sex, drugs and rock ‘n’ roll are my only vice
Tryin’ to figure out just what’s here after…

Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah
by Erik Francis Schrody

‘Saving Grace’…performed by Everlast

Clock Moves And Rockets…

St. Charles_167 (2)

‘Back To You’

“This crazy world will keep on spinning—Clocks will keep on ticking ’till it’s time to watch it burn—Right from the very beginning—We’ve been celebrating past the point of no return—To the sounds that come when lonely planet’s—Gently falling in and out of time—But clouds of dust have broken into atoms—Brings a chill directly down my spine—Every legend I create—Every move I ever make—Every action and reaction in my life—Every moment I’m awake—Every chance I’ll ever take—Every dream and every sparkle in my eye—Every second of my waking hours—And everything I ever say or do—Beats me with or what’s within my powers—Directly home and always back to you—Always back to you—Back to you—Friends of young and often talking—Tripping out and walking—Roads that never seem to end—Like stars that sparkle in the morning—Come without a warning—Miracles are heaven-sent—From way up high like rain or even rockets—Exploding in a light of clear blue sky—Like rings of gold falling out of my pockets—Or actual pieces of paradise—Every legend I create—Every move I ever make—Every action and reaction in my life—Every moment I’m awake—Every chance I’ll ever take—Every dream and every sparkle in my eye—Every second of my waking hours—Everything I ever say or do—Beats me with or what’s within my power—Directly home and always back to you—Every legend I create—Every move I ever make—Every action and reaction in my life—Every moment I’m awake—Every chance I’ll ever take—Every dream and every sparkle in my eye—Every second of my waking hours—And everything I ever say or do—Beats me with or what’s within my powers—Directly home and always back to you—Always back to you—Back to you—Back to you—Back to you”…by Jacob Bellens

Ages past—and often we become—sponges—gifted—gregarious—bent with insight—anchors—of both worlds—one frightful and one—enchanted—and—filled-to-edge—truthful with wisdom—both scary and fearful—as wisdom—sometimes becomes you—as age—bends body—yet frees—spirit twirl…From twins—of two—a power of life sparks—and alone-never—places begin—and fixes end. When again—‘surfs-up’—and high waves—reclaim shore-reaches—and land—would rather dwell in— the Villages of Fisher-folk—than in—the Hamptons of—Middle-bots— without spirit machines—without reasons-to-produce—and—stand with us—as wave-crash claims us—all…Because—together—we have done—everything…And! Magically—birds transform the air they breathe—into surprisingly sweet songs…

“All men recognize the right of revolution; that is, the right to refuse allegiance to, and to resist, the government, when its tyranny or its inefficiency are great and unendurable. All machines have their friction; and possibly this does enough good to counter-balance the evil.  At any rate, it is a great evil to make a stir about it.  But when the friction comes to have its machine, and oppression and robbery are organized, I say, let us not have such a machine any longer…” from ‘On the Duty of Civil Disobedience’…by Henry David Thoreau

Beneath surface—and far below—Segment Star—two and one half billion—souls live and work—and suffer and die—and love and hate—along with sunless days—and nights of starlight—gone or both forgotten—and—remember when—mind switches—between laminated illumination—and blind stir—slips between neon’s shine—and semi-sweet chocolate—call darkness. Where light—is saturated—creamy greys and night—are thick swirls—of vanilla—and warmth with—blended shadow shakes…Machine wonders—spirits that guide—the process of robot—arms and legs and watch—through robot—eyes and hear—through robot—ears and once or often—weep robot tears and die—never-ever-even—when a book-or ten—call living—‘sins of flesh’—when spirit robots must live—and die—and forever move—along dusted—star-streams while—dancing among a—trillion light twinkles—sketched across the—winter’s sky. And! Magically—birds transform the air they breathe—into surprisingly sweet songs…

The soft sounds of wind—shoving pine needles ‘cross—autumn’s forest floor—and peace after snow’s—midnight fall. If impulse is—response—then decision is—evolution—maybe? In 1610—Johannes Kepler chanced a—walk across the great—Charles Bridge in–Prague and as snow fall began-to-catch on—his woolen coat–he brushed away—six-sided flakes—from the cloth— covering his arms. Catching more of these flakes—he saw that—they were all six-sided—and—he marveled at the convenience—of this discovery and the—very perspicacious brain—and the —extraordinary curiosity of—the human mind—quantified within the quality of spiritual being. And! Magically—birds transform the air they breathe—into surprisingly sweet songs…

“The lonely mountains o’re—And the resounding shore—A voice of weeping heard and loud lament; From haunted spring and dale—Edg’d with poplar pale—The parting Genius is with sighing sent—With flowre-inwov’n tresses torn—The Nimphs in twilight shade of tangled thickets mourn.” by John Milton

And! Beautiful you are…

‘Back To You’…performed by Jacob Bellens

Pixel Light and Thunder Rolls…

21687Thunder rolls or the sound of it—somewhere out there—both distant and near—moves along lightning ridges—somewhere—between ground level places—and a sky mix of—-gray and dark gray and scattered light. Weather changes—thunder and lightning right now—and season’s end—begin another’s matter. The changing grays—the raining ways—and crispy streaks of—darkening days—giving night’s—chance-to-stay…And! Do we dream of love—as a sense-to-scents—because of love—or—do we do or not do—what we do—had we been or not been in love—ones-time or again? And! In death do we really cure—love’s cure—as love begins or never ends?

Pay attention to Life—call it a modern Life—and all this modernity—simply wears a body— completely out…Call a Life—themes and structures and verbs and existentialism and authenticity—unreal and where you ‘be’ and who you ‘is’—stories be—unfinished collection—rejection—objection—subjection—detected—inspected and revealed. And! Many writers have fashioned varieties of these—“That art is the attempt to render the highest justice to a visible universe”: Wondering if this justice is rendered with and without sunlight? Still a visible universe is visible without sight-to-see? Why not?

The gentle touch—of skin—brushed-wind—morning stars—and angel’s dust… And! These precious feet-touch—wings-speak—to start another path—leading little ones—to another—precious shore—sustained hope—and—just wishes for a moment—of ‘good day’…Uncertain in world-scream—uncertainties-wide—grief—bowed head—always—certain in—the certainty—of swift chaos—and—tears…And so—no doubt—be found—from ‘cross this sea—travelers see—candles bright—‘cross this night—a coming home-to-us—delight—light shined—‘Welcome’—from windows’ space—of ‘Safe Harbor’—not race—just place—to stop—and—stay awhile… Real Sea—we’ll see—and another and another—of water-ships and places far away…This is here and between landings another beach—reach and 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. So! Pixel me a thought today and watch as pictures fade away.

When the—you-of-me—becomes—a-never-ever—enemy-mine—and the boarders—between living and dying—fade away—as the greed-of-destruction—destroy—the greedy nations—of earth-sky—and—trades—of imbalanced—balance—earth-ceases—and—decreases—the rich-or-the-poor—or—the education of stupidity or—the ad infinitum of—better-me-than-you-god meaner-than your god—my way and your way—is not—a direction apart—instead—just another direction…Are we—not all travelers—scattered across—someplace-somewhere? We are not timed—or blessed—or wonderful—or gifted—or fortunate—or meant-to-be a ‘something else’— without a price-tagged-branded-commodity—of enhanced—steroidal—surgically modified—blast of cartoon fashion—or lip-stick mouths—pouted and mounted—on another pictured—perfect and—replicated glossy—imitation of sport manned—model swished—dish of corruption—with a splash—dash of hopeless—and—fanatic—fantasy. And! Does protection always equal servitude? When—brain knows—humanities’ finest moments…Love—Peace—Touch—and—Trust…No charges or gains or losses—Flashes between the realities—of reality—and those sweet spaces—just an instant prior—then lips touch—co-mingled breath—warms the cold—evening air. A rational—response—to rational—insanity. A second—when no one stares into empty space—without—noticing starlight’s—star bright—and—starships passing between—light-speed and arrival—silently appear. When everyone—everywhere—and—in-all-places— between skies—ground—realize—what we do not have—does not mean—anything… Feeling color—through both eyes—and—with our fingers. Hearing—a lover’s voice—touch our heart— before—substance becomes words—of meaning-or-reason-or-another—notion. When silence—so—completely fills all senses—with thunder and noise—and—music and notes—chaotic—or symphonic—simplicity—as duality ceases—and singularity—melts into universal polarity—and— truth. And! Does protection always equal servitude?

So! Pixel me a thought today and watch as pictures fade away.

And! Beautiful you are…

“I’ll Stand By You”

“Oh, why you look so sad?
Tears are in your eyes
Come on and come to me now
Don’t be ashamed to cry
Let me see you through
’cause I’ve seen the dark side too
When the night falls on you
You don’t know what to do
Nothing you confess
Could make me love you less

I’ll stand by you
I’ll stand by you
Won’t let nobody hurt you
I’ll stand by you

So if you’re mad, get mad
Don’t hold it all inside
Come on and talk to me now
Hey, what you got to hide?
I get angry too
Well I’m a lot like you
When you’re standing at the crossroads
And don’t know which path to choose
Let me come along
’cause even if you’re wrong

I’ll stand by you
I’ll stand by you
Won’t let nobody hurt you
I’ll stand by you
Take me in, into your darkest hour
And I’ll never desert you
I’ll stand by you

And when…
When the night falls on you, baby
You’re feeling all alone
You won’t be on your own

I’ll stand by you
I’ll stand by you
Won’t let nobody hurt you

I’ll stand by you
Take me in, into your darkest hour
And I’ll never desert you
I’ll stand by you
I’ll stand by you
Won’t let nobody hurt you
I’ll stand by you
Won’t let nobody hurt you
I’ll stand by you”…written by Chrissie Hynde

“I’ll Stand By You”…The Pretenders




“Wish I were with you but I couldn’t stay
every direction leads me away
Pray for tomorrow but for today
all I want is to be home

Stand in the mirror, you look the same
Just lookin’ for shelter from the cold and the pain
someone to cover, safe from the rain
and all I want is to be home

Echoes and silence, patience and grace
All of these moments I’ll never replace
No fear of my heart, absence of faith
And all I want is to be home”by Dave Grohl

Tick-the-tock—Tock-the-tick—Timed—counters red—flashing—descending time—without reason—without rhyme. Closed—too touched—to feel—die-to-live—to-live-to-die—not to try—not to fly—only to—tick-the-tock—and—tock-the-tick—and cry. Meetings—Children die—Meetings—Spirit fly—Migrants’ horror—News Reporters’—Cry—Die—Sigh—still spirits’ fly… Seas of Immigration—Wait—just wait longer and it will all go away—because people will always die…Casualties are always expected? ‘Better-Them-than-Us’… WTF? So many—good folks—are continually afraid—in danger—facing violence and unnecessary death—So many good people—leave Their Homes—too often—too many—to die—and children—Our world of—Children…WTF? Because of religions—governments—WTF? And! The only reason ‘we-be’—is for our—Children…And! ‘Nothing else matters.’

  • From Norm Chomsky during an interview with Simone Chun…

“Do you believe that Americans would support another war?”

Chomsky: “The public is easily amenable to lies: the more lies there are, the greater the support for war. For instance, when the public was told that Saddam Hussein would attack the U.S., this increased support for the war.”

“Do you mean that the media fuels lies?”

Chomsky: “The media is uncritical, and their so-called the concept of objectivity translates into keeping everything within the Beltway. However, Iraq was quite different. Here, there were flat-out lies, and they sort of knew it. They were desperately trying to make connections between Saddam Hussein and 9/11.”

“Do you feel that there will be any significant change in the foreign policy of the United States after President Obama?”

Chomsky: “If Republicans are elected, there could be major changes that will be awful. I have never seen such lunatics in the political system. For instance, Ted Cruz’s response to terrorism is to carpet-bomb everyone.”

“Why does the United States undermine efforts to reach an agreement with North Korea?”

Chomsky: “I don’t think that the United States cares. They just assume that North Korea will soon have nuclear weapons.” If you look at the record, the United States has done very little to stop nuclear weapons. As soon as George W. Bush was elected, he did everything to encourage North Korea to act aggressively. In 2005 we were close to a deal, but North Korea has always been a low priority issue for the United States. In fact, look at the entire nuclear weapons strategy of the United States: from the beginning, in the 1950s, the United States didn’t worry much about a nuclear threat. It would have been possible to enter into a treaty with the one potential threat—the Soviet Union—and block development of these weapons. At that time, the Russians were way behind technologically, and Stalin wanted a peace deal, but the U.S. didn’t want to hear the USSR’s offer. The implication is that the U.S. is ready to have a terminal war at any time.”

‘What’s done in the dark soon comes into the light’… Author unknown

Thomas Hobbes once wrote in his book Leviathan: “[in nature] there is no place for industry, because the fruit thereof is uncertain: and consequently no culture of the earth; no navigation, nor use of the commodities that may be imported by sea; no commodious building; no instruments of moving and removing such things as require much force; no knowledge of the face of the earth; no account of time; no arts; no letters; no society; and which is worst of all, continual fear, and danger of violent death; and the life of man, solitary, poor, nasty, brutish, and short.”

And! ‘Let there appear—“Free Market”…Government—not required? Without government— No ‘Free Market—can exist.’ It cannot be—without civilization…’True competition’ is a wild ‘dance of survival’ and—only the largest and the strongest win? Oops! Civilization is defined by rules—Rules create markets—and ‘Oh No’—governments’ are— the rule ‘Generator.’ And! Please Do Not believe—that if your paycheck is too small to survive without (2) + jobs and your partner cannot be a ‘stay-at-home parent’ you deserve this—And! That if a precious few—earn billions-of-dollars—for your work—with no sweat or blood—they deserve this—No way! Rules have been altered…Rules have been skewed and the American Government is to blame—it can’t intrude—on a ‘Free Market’—since it must—create that—‘Free Market’…The American Government—creates all ‘free market rules from Our legislatures—Our administrative agencies and our Courts…And! Until they are re-calculated—-‘Nothing else matters’.

“There are two modes of invading private property; the first, by which the poor plunder the rich…sudden and violent; the second, by which the rich plunder the poor, slow and legal.”…Author unknown

Wondering—if Preachers-of-Fear—and—Creatures-of-Hate and a—Collection of Hope—Fraud—Reality-show-Freaks—and Presidential ‘Wanna—Mights’—are nothing—more-or-less—than—distractions—entertainment-to-lure-both-you-and-me—from Legislature failure? And! Pillage or plunder? And! Still—Knowing that—Love Is—or—‘Nothing else—will matter.’

And! Beautiful you are…

‘Home’…performed by The Foo Fighters


A Lunatic Of One Idea…

1435In a couple of thousand years—the Travelers once again spread wings-to-fly and cross space—from fleshy beginnings—to a Mother ship—called Earth…With each arrival—many kinds call them—Gods—Goddesses—Wizards and Angels…The Travelers unite—divide—arrange—re-arrange—construct—de-construct—create and destroy…Ones to worship—to fear—to despise and each time—their comings and goings are recorded—written—re-written and replaced…Always wars—always…Ever—superior to Earthlings—these worshiped ones—do not know peace…And! If they are true—they are an—abomination to Life—everywhere…No one wonders—why Earthlings are always at war…

Expansion—shifting reds—to observe—Star Path—motions away—Suns’ red color suggests ‘out-bounders’ while—‘in-bounders’ are not—‘red’ shifters…’Bench markers’ —nova—supers—only depend on—the invariability—of time—‘tick-tock’—throughout—the Universal Divide…If Time—is—‘downshifting’—our notions of—solitary time—is on slow-bump-grind—into a dimension—of—New Space. “Twinkle-Twinkle-Little Star”—how we wonder—what you are? And! Even ancient stars—from Earth-spin-twirl—perspective—does appear to still be accelerating…

On Carta-Spin—a twirl of world-look—a revolution of sunshine—moonshine—tucked between—dusk or dawn and—somewhere outside—Sol-speak and near—Star shine—Police—the—Political Group—only serve—to—self-servitude—hating all—without real power—rich—were they—and elect—by them…Their roll—vast—their rock—solid and while—supporting—a demon—democracy—of token—spoken—lies and spies—nothing “of the people—for the people—or by the people—never-ever existed—no matter how—spin-spun—fought-thought—taught—or sought—And! While hungry folk—began to understand—their representation—accounted—for no—accountability and hope—was—viewed by arrogance—lies—bravado and skies—slime’d’ freedom—existed in words—not deeds-of-needs—that elites-of -few could-would obtain everything—anything—anyway…Realizing this…again Revolution follows—the followers—‘cross Cart-Spin’s heaven’s dark and sunless days…Again—hope—stops—blood flows…

The Crystal Ship

“Before you slip into unconsciousness
I’d like to have another kiss
Another flashing chance at bliss
Another kiss, another kiss
The days are bright and filled with pain
Enclose me in your gentle rain
The time you ran was too insane
We’ll meet again, we’ll meet again
Oh tell me where your freedom lies
The streets are fields that never die
Deliver me from reasons why
You’d rather cry, I’d rather fly
The crystal ship is being filled
A thousand girls, a thousand thrills
A million ways to spend your time
When we get back, I’ll drop a line”

And! Beautiful you are…

‘The Crystal Ship’…By The Doors

Hordes of Rage Street…

Yusuf Islam“Peace Train’

“Now I’ve been happy lately
Thinking about the good things to come
And I believe it could be
Something good has begun
Oh, I’ve been smiling lately
Dreaming about the world as one
And I believe it could be
Some day it’s going to come
‘Cause out on the edge of darkness
There rides a peace train
Oh, peace train take this country
Come take me home again
Now I’ve been smiling lately
Thinking about the good things to come
And I believe it could be
Something good has begun
Oh, peace train sounding louder
Glide on the peace train
Come on the peace train
Yes, peace train holy roller
Everyone jump upon the peace train
Come on the peace train
Get your bags together
Go bring your good friends too
‘Cause it’s getting nearer
It soon will be with you
Now come and join the living
It’s not so far from you
And it’s getting nearer
Soon it will all be true
Oh, peace train sounding louder
Glide on the peace train
Come on the peace train
Peace train
Now I’ve been crying lately
Thinking about the world as it is
Why must we go on hating
Why can’t we live in bliss
‘Cause out on the edge of darkness
There rides a peace train
Oh, peace train take this country
Come take me home again
Oh, peace train sounding louder
Glide on the peace train
Come on the peace train
Yes, peace train holy roller
Everyone jump upon the peace train
Come on, come on, come on
Yes, come on the peace train
Yes, it’s a peace train”…by Yusuf Islam

When peering through keyholes—of anecdote and description—we may discover—scatters and bits-of-bytes—self—no self—us—not us—and always—a something—somewhere—tunnel version—or panoramic—exhaustively great—grated spreads—facts of fictions—truths and not— exactly correct. Along thin—streaks of asphalt—and concrete side-way—the sidewalks of ‘Rage Street’ fill—with howlers and prowlers—simple symphonies—fiddler bows—and drum-sticks—silver and crowds—of the comers and the goers—of the blenders—and the unwanted—the home folk—and the strangest—strangers—foreign—homecoming—and the giggle-of-mirth.

We are an instant in Time—Lined in rows of minutes…We are The People—Eternal Spirits all—We are The People—We are not Religions—We are The People—We are not Governments—We are The People—-We are not War—We are The People—We are not Aliens upon this Earth—We are The People—Children of the Universe—We are The People—We have the Right-to-be-Everywhere—We are The People—And! Governments All—Hear us Call—We are The People—All-of-Us—Right Now! Tomorrow Time—‘tis still the Crime—We are The People—We are the—Choice of the—Spin-of-the-Twirl—and—Spirits-of-the-Universal Swirl…So! Let us-be-written—So! Let-us-be Done…

And! Beautiful you are…

“Peace Train”…by Yusuf Islam…


“Dangerous Type”…by Ric Ocasek—performed by The Cars

Bent Twig Songs…

Dove in the air with wings wide open“Ain’t no mercy on the streets of this town
Ain’t no bread from heavenly skies
Ain’t nobody drawing’ wine from this blood
It’s just you and me tonight.”

“Tell me in a world without pity
Do you think what I’m asking’s too much?
I just want something to hold on to
And a little of that human touch
Just a little of that human touch”…by Bruce Springsteen

They do drop by Earth Twirl—donchaknow? And! Sometimes—not often—though—carry songs from—Outbound World…’Peace on Earth and Goodwill to Us All’…Family is never a burden—Family is always a privilege. Abstract Logic—spins—to make worlds— more—governable…Forests grow—with seed landing—symbiotic in mixtures—of soil—sweet fungi—insects and magic—resistant ways—and—protection from diseases—and—the pleases of mankind—governable desires…Life—always—in harmonious chaos—and eternally pleases Life… Even (imperfect) —perfect math—omits—variables…So! Our perfect future—can never be created—the matter—of-the-matter—will damn—‘us physicals’—every time?

Goddess is—the Dancing One—the Witch of life—Creation…And! Goddesses—create Heavens and Earths—Moons and Suns—and—pass Spirits to—formed matter—and—from forms—back—to Spirits’ rush—and substances’—free… Correct notes—piper of silver flute—held ‘gainst heart ‘beeps’ of—a roaring sea—pass others—into light—and—set others ‘cross star streams bright—and starlight’s sight—setting just—beyond sun—beyond sea—and—gentle morning—sky…

By the fire light—of—dwindled tribes—-children—marvel at both—the dancing flames and the warmth—of lights against—the nights and outside—shadows beyond—their eyes. They listen— and stories tell—-the starts of things—-now gone and of—-those grand places—-no start—just—imagine—and see—in minds’ ‘to be’—desired regions of—before dream—and after—‘wishing’ was true…’Painted pictures—loving caves—and walls—and tribes of—‘we’ and ‘me’ and ‘us’ and ‘them’ and—before storms and—after rains end— winds and bumping things— silent shrieks—once loud now gone—from ear and fear and tear. Once again—please share moments—and—lives and the power—of life. Blood and love is—the matter—of-the-matter and the survival—of these survivors—of—wherever gods and whatever storms. Instincts trust in…For anticipation may—often fail?

Walk around Village Square…A great man—takes his son’s hand—and—they wander the snow-covered—light-filled—place…Trees-huge-bright and sky-night-right. Hillside and just above them—choir calls—past songs—of moments—to be—and— future days—to see… “What do you hear?” Father asks. “Music” the boy answers…”And what else?”—Little children—hear the magic of sound—present—and questions—are never—answers…“What do you hear—Papa? I hear—the gentle wings—of middle angels—the thunder of snowfall —the twinkle of lights and…You”  he answers.

‘Peace on Earth and Goodwill to Everyone and Love for All Children’—would be sweet—donchathink?

And! Beautiful you are…

‘A Spaceman Came Traveling’…performed by Celtic Woman