When Flowers—Turn-Into-Glass…

33“All we had was Simon Finch, a fur-trapping apothecary from Cornwall whose piety was exceeded only by his stinginess. In England, Simon was irritated by the persecution of those who called themselves Methodists at the hands of their more liberal brethren, and as Simon called himself a Methodist, he worked his way across the Atlantic to Philadelphia, thence to Jamaica, thence to Mobile, and up the Saint Stephens. Mindful of John Wesley’s strictures on the use of many words in buying and selling, Simon made a pile practicing medicine, but in this pursuit he was unhappy lest he be tempted into doing what he knew was not for the glory of God, as the putting on of gold and costly apparel. So Simon, having forgotten his teacher’s dictum on the possession of human chattels, bought three slaves and with their aid established a homestead on the banks of the Alabama River some forty miles above Saint Stephens. He returned to Saint Stephens only once, to find a wife, and with her established a line that ran high to daughters. Simon lived to an impressive age and died rich”…From “To Kill A Mockingbird” by Harper Lee

  • Wondering how disease (plague-times) affect civilizations—their rising and their falling…Rome (circa–AD 165)—passed through a plague-time called ‘Antonine’. This illness, was responsible for a decrease of approximately 30% of the Roman population by (AD 180)…This ‘Civilization Killer’ recorded as being carried by the Roman Army from the Far East—also destroyed most of the military…
  • Wondering if—Better the devil you know than the devil you don’t…Wondering if control is illusion? Will—Democracy become a dictatorship—‘as we in-fear’—watch these motions and movements—toward ‘Martial Law’…
  • Wondering why Believing in—Open Boarders-Amnesty-Immigration-Multi-culture’ism-Freedom-for-Everyone and Life is called being an ‘Elitist Socialist?’ Wondering why— America’s Constitution claims “That All Men Are Created Equal” and America’s Slaves built the White House?
  • Knowing that—‘We’—the People—must never again be slaves of thought or owned by the richest of Slavers. Redistribute the Wealth-of-our-World—and Wage Slavery ends…And! Blue- Collar-Billionaires’-do-not-exist!

Ending a this-or-such-stuff-or-thing—things gone and still remembered in hazes and clouds—sometimes thick or sometimes thin—or remembered when those reasons for ‘tick-tock’ recall is not ‘at all’ necessary. And! Still memories along with the knowledge of futures’ days or yesterdays’ stop-starts—sometimes wisdom stumbles—flash words appear—and sometimes are transposed from wiggle-squiggles—to-words-to-letters-to-numbers-or-other such scratches—black-blue ink—into shapes—on white paper. Small square boxes—rows across and stacked—checkerboard-graphic-white tiles—framed-square—first sides perfect—then added rules of thickness rectangles—jumbles-or-mumbles of thought—frowns and smiles. The confusions of simple symmetry—good boggles—good toggles—mind flashes-in—rhythm or rhyme. If one stares toward glares of graph motions—of rectangles and squares—of ink and white spaces—will one—feel-free-fall—and sometimes—just disappear?

A spot of ship—quick-to-appear—touch-down and secure—no sounds—no noise—just-here-gone and back again. So often completed and always—the same motion—the same silence—the exact drop-speed-entry-and stop. However! While content same remains—the extra mix-of-touch-kiss-score and life—end-in-the-time—taken to breath-in—Earth’s night wind and Life-to-begin…Wondering why—survival’s song—may also stop—with a single note—not pitch—not harmony—nor—sounds beyond—a single note? Chorus or Choirs not required—donchaknow?

And! Beautiful you are…

‘For What It’s Worth’—Buffalo Springfield

‘Sunset Purples’…Tony Godsey Band

Judith Point And Ice Cream…

IMG_0270Discover time! A little step back-to fro-to-forward and back-to-beginning—down Ocean Road ‘cross Old Ocean Road—and on toward Point Judith Light House—Judith Point and Camp Cronin Fishing Area…Just uphill from Iggy’s Doughboy & Chowder House is—a place—Aunt Carrie’s Ice Cream Shoppe (childhood—little guy—more ice cream than—a sandy-salty-sea-foamy carpet—or—great gray hulks of steel—a meal of—Nathan dogs—mustard and bun—just right—chips and Aunt Carrie’s—one scoop white—and one scoop chocolate without napkins and sticky hands-on a warm summer eve.

Adapts are Martian Blood—always upright—since time began and now—hurtle-turtle inside moon— and—outside of Earth borne—feet-of-four—and starting—a hell ride—world twirl—an adapted life. Launch—ride an Ark—massive wings and things—strong-fast-silent often wrong and never—incorrect—a change so small—that shadows tall—are gone and Martian’s world—never whirl—never forgotten—in curious minds—of New Men in—another—other times. Storm of sunshine began—late in the day of October 26th…Long strings—tendrils tall—licking sky for ten million miles—giant—great things-to-jam—slam space and homes from Mercury gone—to Venus and—Sun worship comes within the reach—teach that shine works—shine lives and light often kills. 

Seen Before or Used Again—OK?

Lives—gathering together and—strength—of one or two or many more—than them or us—or we—be—power of scatters—no rules followed—no moral folly—or man rules—called God speak…For those ‘world words’—are songs of death—of control—of fiction—to suffer swift—lies against Spirit—Speak and Life. Women Love…Men Love…Love is Perfection—is Touch—is Peace—is Spirit—is Song …Sweetness—‘gainst canvas—lines and circles dance—and—soft songs play—and—laughter reaches—diners’ corner…Open doors—a call to come— inside—secrets of ink—motions and canvas—wet with colors—scents of orange—of green—of blues and browns and yellow—perfume inside—night air—and—dare and wear and fare or—future moments—again without—layers of walls—climbed and discarded…And yes! With you—I do ‘taste beauty.’

Sunshine’s understanding—manning star ship search—deeply go—inside heated globes—round source of death-life—life-death—and—gravity—things-holding-wings—globes of mother-ships—many times ‘cross Universes—both small and great—combined with magic glue—crystal twirls and witches’ swirls…And! Equations speak concisely—formed from clutter speak—into quantitative models—derived and survived from—fury storms and qualitative impressions. Weigh—the Ways-and means—often far before—human thoughts—mediate the distances among—perceptions—laced biochemically—senses five—to reach six-seven-or eight—and reach—hand stretch—inside sunlight’s core—not to feel the burn—but just-to-learn…

Teach-speak now—and explain—a cosmic giggle-wiggle—as slashes—dashes—dots and lots—are only heard and never seen—have been ‘round—about this universal gash—and back again. Seek-the safety keep—without that—number sleep—and twin-spin—hieroglyphic’s deep—into—poetic speak—that trance and dance—to learn—to turn and—to almost burn—again…Vacuum’s void—avoid—an empty space—as often counting—does come alive—dusts-of many—particles—do swirl or twirl into shape—into mass—from nothing-into-something—then into unseen—not seen and also—never was—or will ever-be again.

And! Beautiful you are…

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

 

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

 

 

Sea Salt And Twine…

744“I counted the letters. There were exactly a hundred of them. I thought this must be important. Why should there be a hundred letters? Haltingly, I tried the word aloud. It sounded like a heavy wooden object falling downstairs, boomp-boomp-boomp, step after step. Lifting the pages of the book, I let them fan slowly by my eyes. Words, dimly familiar but twisted all awry, like faces in a funhouse mirror, fled past, leaving no impression on the glassy surface of my brain. I squinted at the page. The letters grew barbs and rams’ horns. I watched them separate, each from the other, and jiggle up and down in a silly way. Then they associated themselves in fantastic, untranslatable shapes, like Arabic or Chinese.”…from ‘The Bell Jar’ by Sylvia Plath

Lengths—knotted-note—brine soak and rope—twists —candy-cane twines—without white-reds—color dead—dark from baked-suns—and—sea-salt’s—rhythm and rhyme—over and under—time. Sometimes—the timing—of dancing words—seashells and wind—dusting shorelines—rhyme. Sometimes—V-shape flights—great shadows bound—northward—toward stops and starts—marshes of Horicon—and then again—until touchdown is Home. And! Great ships—straight lined—from—dock-safety-to-sea—tide-high-be—and free—bound southward—toward sea-wide reach—below right beach—and around the African Horn or into—the Orinoco Flow…

At time same—Starship starts—slow move-motioned—straight lined—from safety slot—tucks of—home port—gentle slid and simple ride—Year’s light-race-space—outbound-to-leave—blow leaf reach—and—careful teach—that travels’ dust rush—touches—light winds—riding shores—here-and-there—and everywhere—skies beneath—the far above—heaven’s cross winds—light’s speed or lesser sails—‘star-bright—or star-light—down Nebraska’s—highway—sky-way—before dawn’s—misty arcs—or Denver’s distance—night-light…

She said—Scorpion shapes—Physics common reach—teach—uncommon words—boundless twist—of honest computation—manipulation—contrived—to derive common wisps-of-wisdom—exacted—reacted-contacted—rejected and projected—twists boundlessly—and melded into simple sense—and corrected logic…Paradigm shatters—whisper-matters—while sails—ships of storm’s tatters—up righted-ignited-provided-decided and once-fears now tears—along—with seed sowing—acknowledged knowing—either real or almost correctly—forgotten—and then remembered.

Sunshine’s understanding—of star-ship’s search—deeply go—inside heated globes—round sources—of death-life—life-death—and—gravity—things-holding-wings—globes of mother-ships—many times ‘cross Universes—both small and great—combined with magic glue—crystal twirls and Witches’ swirls…And! Equations speak concisely—formed from clutter speak—into quantitative models—derived and survived from—fury storms and qualitative impressions. Weigh—the Ways-and means—often far before—human thoughts—mediate the distances among—perceptions—laced biochemically—senses five—to reach six-seven-or eight—and reach—hand stretch—inside sunlight’s core—not to feel the burn—but just-to-learn…

Teach-speak now—and explain—a cosmic giggle-wiggle—as slashes—dashes—dots and lots—are only heard and never seen—have been ‘round—about this universal gash—and back again. Seek-the safety keep—without that—number sleep—and twin-spin—hieroglyphic’s deep—into—poetic speak—that trance and dance—to learn—to turn and—to almost burn—again…Vacuum’s void—avoid—an empty space—as often counting—does come alive—dusts-of many—particles—do swirl or twirl into shape—into mass—from nothing-into-something—then into unseen—not seen and also—never was—or will ever-be again.

Lives—gathering together and—strength—of one or two or many more—than them or us—or we—be—power of scatters—no rules followed—no moral folly—or man rules—called God speak…For those ‘world words’—are songs of death—of control—of fiction—to suffer swift—lies against Spirit—Speak and Life. Women Love…Men Love…Love is Perfection—is Touch—is Peace—is Spirit—is Song …Sweetness—‘gainst canvas—lines and circles dance—and—soft songs play—and—laughter reaches—diners’ corner…Open doors—a call to come—inside—secrets of ink—motions and canvas—wet with colors—scents of orange—of green—of  blues and browns and yellow—perfume inside—night air—and—dare and wear and fare or—future moments—again without—layers of walls—climbed and discarded…And yes! With you—I do ‘taste beauty.’

Again to be—to see…Love-the-loving…Hands joined-to-body—dance…Of swings and wings and—Peaceful sighs and Spirit Sings…Creation—The Witch smiles and for instants—within this  moment in Time—‘Tis’ good this Loving Rhyme. So! Follow this time—this Twine Re-wind.

 And! Beautiful you are…

‘Nothing Else Matters’…Metallica

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
Amen

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
Amen”…
by Erik Francis Schrody

‘Saving Grace’…performed by Everlast

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

Tick-Tock-Time…

78946

‘Home’

“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

 

Fluid As Liquid Pours…

14259

“I thought then I should save one small warm true thing from the flood.”
—Zbigniew Herbert, “Elegy for the Departure of Pen Ink and Lamp”

Our lives are fluid—liquid pour—consume—replace—replenish— and then—recall. Surprise! How we shift—habits and ways—allowing for empty space—of balance—restore. Darkness seeps—slowly into day—end bright…Night fills lighted places and turn-on bulbs—share grays—shades many—always simulate and always fail—to cheer the sun…And! Rain does pour from sky—onto roof—through spirals both—short or long—gutters or just eaves—from leaves’ soak—or arcs—golden tricks of night light—inside—as outside water—splashes ground—collects—sidewalk—flooded cracks—into pools of wet—and of—mud carvings—and pavement soaks.

Still here—beneath these heavens—our sea—swirl-twirls and we hear—whale sing-song our mother— into-necessary-sleep. Whale—sing-songs—the heating of blood-self—until warming is—non-fear. She rises from—emerald seas and from—black sands—where tide pulls current— and—lines-of-moon-light are perfect—and—disappear into the—dustless night. Now! Touch— the Dancing One—the Witch of life—and taste—her creations…Goddesses do create—Heavens-Earths and Moons-Suns—while passing—Spirits-to-flesh—and back again…Spirits do form—and substance—is free… Correct notes!—Pipers of those—silver flutes—held ‘gainst heart ‘beeps’ strong—as fair—seafarers often pass—others-into-light—as others ‘cross— star-streams-to-suns—above sea and beyond sky…

‘These are summer’s small ones. Little boys—a lake—a sun—a length of blond hair—red hair— freckles and frogs. Brothers—little and younger—play in tiny waves-too small-to thunder toward sandy shore and pine trees. And wind—wanders through those pines—growing in rows above—rocky places where shadows of— fern and grasses cling and mingle with—swimming life—aquatic things—rainbow-colored trout and fish brothers—hoping to catch…These rafting days—orange and yellow circles—filled with air and noise across a quiet bay. These are singing days! Shouts and shrieks and whistles—‘cross the harbor call—where wood-hulled ships rest—bell claps—rocking waves and setting sails. Snake twins—those boys—brothers of blood and the eternal bonds—of water and of mud. Water children—held above the line—knowledge buoyant—unafraid and free—defeating for the playtime—gravity and restrictions of—a drier Earth. Sunshine—West-turns and slips beneath the sky. Nymphs have forgotten—paradise found—summer’s little ones. So small! Beneath the scheme—of earth and large beneath the stars. So bright! Those stars! Filling lake—sparkles and silence—gems dancing and laughing diamonds…Tiny—brothers’ sleep fast and safe—within their dreams. And! A father listens—to the brief and passing sounds—of laughter.’

Frantic! This talk—‘America’ speaks—and ‘Failure’ reeks—long lengths-of-rhythm ‘Lies’ as ‘Freedom’ dies or never—was—does-as-trouble—double-entertains—prior—to longer-nights-shortest-lights—still counting times—as errors made and ever-never correct—when realization—is always—too late. Never! Allow Government to destroy—the people’s achievements—their history—their language—their future dreams. Happens! And we—become ‘winds-of-ash’ then gone—We! Then—never exist. For Genocide—-does destroy flesh—and—more than bone. Genocide destroys Blood-Rivers-of-Life.

‘You and I—and life about—as we shout ‘Love’ skyward—nothing stops our—Dance—You and I— Together! We know—nothing exists—without Love’s Power—Tower—Flower and Life… Life ignited—united—delighted—excited…We touch—hand-to-heart-to-spirit—and—let Eternal Dance begin…’

And! Beautiful you are…

‘Send Me an Angel’…by Klaus Meine and Rudolf Schenker—(Scorpions)

 

‘National Anthem’…by Lana Del Rey