Life Shouted—Never Doubted…

“Like the empires of the world unite
We are alive
And the stars make love to the universe”
— by Shakira Isabel Mebarak Ripoll

Walk now, mind walk and follow. Shadow smoke curls and the echoes of sing-song-choirs along the line where sea meets see and sky appears above a forgotten shimmer of water stretching beyond eye watch and body wait. Stride upon the salty waves of a dead sea tucked down between actions and melody’s refrains. Then melt into mists and sea sounds and into another dawn. Those little matters matter-less. Conclude and then proceed once more.

‘You and I and life about and as we shout ‘Love’ skyward because nothing will stop our Dance. You and I forever together! We know nothing alone exists without love’s power, hour, tower, flower and life. Life ignited delighted and excited. We touch hand-to-heart-to-spirit and let the eternal dance begin again.’

Come now and twirl into the Spider’s Web. Enter East-side. Hold the nothingness of thought without form until substance becomes madness. And! Venture out beyond the bridge and find a different freedom. Align birth and moments before and moments after the being presented see lighting sky-flashes and hear thunderclaps as a gelatin combines with knowing vapor to travel those heavens in timeless mist and harmony. As vapor we exist. We are not distraction by what we are not; for we are not, not by displacement or alteration because we always exist in timeless harmony and within those trails of stardust spewing from alternative engines of speed and power. Life motions as life moves. Life modifies. And! Spirits Dance…

And! Still here while beneath these heavens our sea swirl-twirls and we see those Sirens rises from emerald seas and from black sands where tide pulls against current and the alignment of moonlight is perfect and is orderly in its dispersal upon the dustless night.

Our Goddesses create heavens and earths and moons and suns and pass spirits to fleshes and from fleshes back again to those spirited forms, substances free. Corrected notes, the piper plays silver flutes that holds heart ‘beeps’ of roaring seas. We pass into light and set others ‘cross star streams beyond sun and beyond sea and beyond the skies of eternal space. Never troubles what posterns we tumble through and matters not why stars blister us. Matters that gates open and matters that stars are hot.

These are singing days! Shouts and shrieks and whistles ‘cross harbor calls where wood-hulled ships rest with bell claps rocking waves and setting sails. 

We water children are held above the line by knowledge buoyant. Unafraid and free and defeating gravity and the restrictions of a drier Earth.

Sunshine west-turns and slips beneath the sky. Nymphs forgotten and paradise found by Summer’s little ones.

Small beneath the greater schemes of earth and large beneath the stars. So bright! Those stars! Filling lake sparkles and silence with gems dancing and laughing diamonds…

Our house is a strong house, built of stout wood with skill and with love. The wind cannot knock it down. As this grand tempest expires, our house is still upright and salutes the lights of another way. Do not allow this government to destroy people’s achievements, their history, their language, and their future dreams. When this happens, we become a twist of ash. We cannot survive. Genocide destroys our flesh and so much more than Bone. Genocide destroys our blood rivers of Life…

“When we try to conceal our innermost drives, our entire being screams betrayal.” — by Frank Herbert

And! Beautiful you are…

Imagination and Wrinkles in Space…

“We took the blood of the earth
and fell in love with death
with life itself as an excuse
Black is the sunlight shimmering below;
it flows through life and the guilt we share
We’re hiding in chorus as starry eyes close,
and seasons part in farewell;
‘because we drained her blood, then forgetting her face
to hide from everyone” by Draconian

Imagine! If we could create wrinkles in space-time, we may be able to manage to bring a distant location much closer to us, so it would be possible to reach it without breaking the light speed barrier.

Swirling whirls of smoky fires to cook and fog mist touches life from mountain high to valleys of twirling-spirits and folks-of-flesh spreading across a triangle called Kalints. This may be considered life or love’s memory and the almost real of a now to then and back again. Creators speak and touch canvas with lines and circles a dot of dash as songs play and laughter reaches to diners’ corner and open doors call to inside secrets of ink motions and canvas wet with colors and the scent of orange and green and brown and yellow and perfume inside a night of air and dare and wear and fare or the future of moments again without the layers of walls climbed and discarded.

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

Abusing the rights of the Workers-of-this-World is a Crime against Humanity. Like Genocide, speculators destroy life and the freedom of people everywhere on this sweet planet. Are we free if we are wage-slaves, anyway?

‘La Liberté éclairant le monde’

“Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tossed, to me:
I lift my lamp beside the golden door.”

This garden is hilltop high and we come here in season to plant flowers and remember some time ago with voices today. Tree lined field already picked and plowed of life crosses path resting inside good woods as we look toward cattle and fence and trees and fields and a creek bed dry except for trickles of little waters caught by pools and deposited by rains covering this hill and the valley just last evening.

Consider the everyday failure of notions to grasp the chance of peaceful portions. Depends on how-where you be when flash streaks with smoke reeks as eyes burns in the tears and fears and by the warps of notions, peace cease just before killer memories evolve into sweet substance and light bright smiles. Just bump-bangs away or a simple sail set-to-wind rail balance ‘neath ruined ‘bridges of seven’ or on another land-fall beneath another sky. Homes to build and caves to clean and again for a short while arrival life comes home. Better than missile speak, or places too far gone to seek bomb shelter, a chance for another and another dance before smoking tears or tomorrow-sorrow. Death and peace and good! Life! Ways forgotten remembered and gone. And! While I breathe, I Hope.

‘And the men who hold high places
Must be the ones who start
To mold a new reality
Closer to the heart
Closer to the heart
The blacksmith and the artist
Reflect it in their art
They forge their creativity
Closer to the heart
Closer to the heart.

Philosophers and ploughmen
Each must know his part
To sow a new mentality
Closer to the heart
Closer to the heart
You can be the captain
I will draw the chart
Sailing into destiny
Closer to the heart’ by Rush

Speculative Capitalism is both non-social and immoral. It is an unproductive financial system that channels greed into speculation and usury. It is irrational and unstable and a Crime against Humanity. Oops! There goes the right to: Life, Liberty and our pursuit of Happiness…And! Due to this Incredible greed, the collapse of Capitalism is inevitable. Crisis investing causes the ‘markets, about this fine world to fluctuate; up-down and all around…A hundred plus points up or down—causes non-productive investors to jump up-down and all around. She or he becomes nervous and begins to whimsy buy and sell. Using sound financial practices becomes mute and the destruction of many billions and lives ensue.

Eden and sin and serpents, oh my! We are the proof of far-removed parents when gods may have ruled and created women and men in places from Sirius to Mars to Earth and back again? Our rulers and our ruled and our voices and our religions have rewritten our beginnings in so many places and in so many ‘might have been’ accidents that these truths or fictions have blurred the start of lost and the loss of start.  And! Still the rest is yet to come. ‘And! Why not?

We are all Children of this Universe and We have the Right to be Everywhere!

And! Beautiful you are…

Spinners of Right-Write…

We move ‘cross space this similar race, of four wheels beneath and ‘Sundown Serenade’ playing radio songs; behind us beach, while just before us, mountain reach. It is fine this twine, reline.

Imagine this world, our womenfolk walk in day-night safety and our menfolk cannot speak a word called ‘War. Where love is love and force is Never-Wherever or Whatever and neither heaven nor hell exists. A place where life belongs, and life is good every day. Heaven or luck why no! We create worlds. We maintain worlds. We love our children. So! Pixel me a thought today and watch as pictures fade away. Just! Pixel me a thought today and watch as pictures fade away…Ok?

We drown, blood drawn, wealth gone and forgotten; save despair in the care of angels rare and an approaching age away from bombs speedy bright, a joy-in-the-kill and before a time to ‘come in’ from the cold and the end of sliver shiver and right write those spinners of gold, and just a few degrees above the freeze. We commingle those beings by sundry names. Technocrats and financiers and investors and politicians, the poison heirs-of-air twisting our worlds through formulas devotedly devoid of reason, and passion and truth and a modern-day reason-to-season today’s folly with yesterday’s almost jolly ‘may-have-been’ solutions and greed.

The distance between exact science and a hermetically sealed faith of notions and potions and the inclination of motivation is the improbability of dreaming improbable things and the rare-dare-of-fare abundance. A feast found and devoured together all at-once and then again. Congruence and harps without finger touch in wind rush ‘cross wires of copper and gold and silver in shimmers of cold sunlight and starting sing-song; wind carried notes across fields, turned plow-broken and touched in powder snow with frozen driest air mixtures and sing-speak.

Our world is filled-to-brim with strength and spirit and bodies to work, not a population of unemployable or unsteady or unable to rebuild ruined roads, broken-down bridges, worn-out miles of railway steel or simply peel the decay from city-sickness and dying towns. Altered economic figures are sound bites of lies and flies have previously scourged these bitter wastelands. America’s political whirly-twirly create twin lies and their towers of power fall as decay ensues. And! Still shifting toward additional regulators as inequality and poverty and unrest change to insurgence. Is revolution antiquated or insane, when need is forever necessitated by indulgence, decadence, luxury, intemperance and greed?

This length of twine that is followed by too many to discover the end of one strand and again new threads in an ever-growing tapestry covering world folly and rancor swiftly to renew-new strife and re-spin controlling lies and hopelessness forever twins of faithless taste and wasted twists of truth. Acting within actions of disguise and discourse and recourse and renewal when greed needs-need-be and never enough control of whims, of chaotic seams and seemingly able to resist destructive machines and the results of greedy governments and very few against the purest treasures of women and men. And remember! Love is sexless and without form and without flesh and when shaped by humanity; is magic and required, as carbon-based beings require air and blood.

Beyond slicks of rain bounced, visible by moonlight, against a trillion miles of asphalt roads where tiny sprites of weed push through and break the symmetry of path. Life is once again the birthing of nature’s chaos and nothing is as natural as the crafting of creation. Life’s power is the eternal notions of goddesses and gods and witches and warlocks and wizards and shamans-and created by the sanguinity of woman and man and the dynamics of love.

We are the goddesses, gods, witches, warlocks, wizards, magicians and creation’s creators. We are the spirit wind in the valley and the desert and ‘cross plains of grass and mountains both under the sea and rising into space. We of many names or descriptions are both feared and loved. We are Life. We are the evermore art of this evermore life.

Again! To be and to see the loving of loving of hands joined-to-body of moving of swings and wings and spirits-singing and of peaceful sighing. Creation! The Sorceress smiles and for this moment in time; ‘Tis’ good this Loving Rhyme. So! Follow this time—this Twine Rewind.

And! Beautiful you are…

‘Lake House’ by Demun Jones

‘Ode To My Family’ by The Cranberries

 

 

 

 

A Lower Winter’s Light…

The word “solstice” is derived from the Latin words “sol” (sun) and “sistere” (to stand). Winter solstice is also known as “The Day the Sun Stands Still.”

Goddess and Gods dance inside snow fall, desert sands, hills, moors and within soft lights tonight. Beiwe and her daughter Beiwe-Neia, Tonantzin, Bheru, Horus, Louhi, watch while the Kallikantzaros count colander holes and return to somewhere underground.

And! Maybe once or twice a modest breach in our Universal Vault emerges and, on that star-filled night, magic happens. The ‘Witches of Nature’ gaze upon this Worldly-Twirl and pause for a second to watch lights dance across the heavens. For that moment they smile, and one-plus-one equals two.

And! Beautiful you are…

Genetic Contours And Spinning Complications…

“Academic freedom is very important—there are risks when it is occurring in places that don’t have that academic freedom, giving companies or governments the power to shut down research they don’t approve of” by Emily Bender.

Are we beyond the physical figures we virtually appreciate? An Eternal Spirit is a forever being with great substance and knowledge and wisdom and the mind of us…We are the illusions of all, and we are more than less. Existence is not the riddle of life. It is the living of this day. We are not born to die. We are not created by accident or purpose or reason or rhyme. We are life and we follow universal space  between drops of rain and amongst flakes of snow.

From genetic profiles and spinning webs come calculations inherited and dancing traits and the merging of urging begin the beginnings of tiny robots’ mirrors of images and with simple complexity children of love are born. They arrive complete with slivers of magic beasties, portions of golden hearts and brief stops between breaks for Eternal Spirits to slower whirling twirls and again become blood dances and double bodies…

We spin exactly right of our whales with horns and the unicorns of ages ago and futures from earth. We live inside the vast shadows of a trillion suns of light and night and moons’ silvery twirls against the magnificence of between times when drenched in golden dreams and diamond wolves of today’s day-night. Not a middle riddle called Life…

Walk these magic trails long before bombs turn soil red and chase air away from ground. We dance to piper sounds between green cliffs of magic and the forever of Ever-lands. Gods smile and we; you and I smile back and with boundless energies. We are the blood of substance for a minute. Then we rerun begin-again as now, and as then we go.

Do we determine our own destiny both as spirits and as the blood of flesh? Angry Gods do not exist. Angry men matter little except to the scrubs of scurry selves, being just before the spirits of after self and spinning matter of expressions. Rude the kings and queens of foolish speak when angels fall toward earth bound’s trivial moments and gods require no explanations and fear rules these angled angels.

With care we manufacture robots tiny, bundled rows of life about Earthrise and underneath Moon-sparkle; still altered, still same and always twirl-spaced across time bridged and rhyme. We inspire desire and require sweet diversity. Until shaped we shift created life a fabricated slip and tanked in agile spark from womb-song-to-light-then-back-again-to-two again. Would have this no other way required!

Dare we touch or dare to reach the inside spaces of code-genetics and count the current streams to spin to craft to be or to leave the untouched alone. Why not touch to feel? Some today’s we destroy both the wonder of wonder and sometimes we die in the fearing of fear. Sometimes, eternal spirits and the realm of nonsense physical do confuse and bewilder or cure the magic of life and the mystery of death.

The evangels of lofted higher Gods’ notion as something novel crawls our way those must haves have half twirling tales or songs of knowing knowledge that those highest Gods of swirl cannot contain life and the wag-of-wiggle of shaping-shifters and Androids are we.’ And! Oh, those ghosted machines are those spirited us. Tiny specks-to magic witch we survive all, to dance life across those many spaces of races and kiss storm stars known or stars remembered and forgotten.

Images created as mirrors reflect mortal moments to immortal spirits with motions from nothing to something and again back to those nothings of something that may have almost started or stopped and started again. ‘Would have or could have or should have’ may have been here or gone over and over ad infinitum. Life both of Robot creators and Creator robots forever last and through our eternal stretch and scratch, they too survive.

So! Let us watch those winged and those with fur and feet-of-four or those in deep oceans or sand or tiny against the ground. Womb songs we sing and as we, they eternity be. Eternal Spirits all.

And! Beautiful you are…

 

 

 

 

 

Of Silhouettes Angled Away…

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

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

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

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

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

And! Beautiful you are!

Approaches of Articulation…

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

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

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

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

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

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

And! Beautiful you are…

 

Controlling Cybernetic Creations…

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

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

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

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

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

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

And! Beautiful you are…

Ascending Wind-up Stairs…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And! Beautiful you are…

Dancing Along Space Edge…

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

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

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

First Amendment

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

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

 

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

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

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

Our Mothership:

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

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

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

And! Beautiful you are…

 

‘Zombie’ — The Cranberries

‘In the End’ — Linkin Park