Saturday, January 27, 2007

...Blame Sturgeon...

If you justify possession, or position an obsession,
Then an alien view is not a tool for you.
But if you wonder at precession, and embrace and trust strange lessons,
Then the view is sure a tool you can't abuse.

You can end run the conundrum, or deny where *others* come from,
But to do it you will pay a phyricc price!
The alien view ain't pretty, and in fact is downright pithy,
It can disrespect your *values*. It ain't nice.

...Remembering the hay ride we once called apartheid,
Or our own institution of peculiar infusion, instituted here, United Stateside?
Forget that the tendrils of a vicious white Grindel
Works today, at high levels, with torpedos and hindsight...

...It's finding your values are false... that you may be a louse...
Your values – an abomination of our God?
You're 'twixt your indecision, and awash with self-derision.
You find it's you the road, abused, so grimly trod.

...And you're filled with sinking potholes, bereft of maintenance... still paying tolls.
Your asphalt worn to drops and drifting dirt.
Your shoulder is crumbly, your signs all worn and mumbly.
You got what you deserved; that's why you hurt?

We infect trusting kids with our prejudiced shit,
Though new minds are a promised fresh venue!
We have the new info, but it hurts, and offends so...
We order old ways from the tired old menu!

I won’t cast aspersion on a school to teach Sturgeon
He’s the reason I'm the way I am today.
The way that Ted wrote opened clouds with a stroke,
And the hate -- well, it just goes away.

You can read my old posts which explain (or almost...)
What it means to cop to "watchers" in the sky...
These watch some live it up... watch others drink from dank cups.
They're watching children starve to death, too weak to cry...

And what would I do, but act out a "Hey You"!
"It's the man who keeps you hungry and diseased"!
"It's a man's lust and gold who has stolen your soul"!
He's got your sandwich, attends your college, shorts your needs!

Beneath mendacious steeples *he* says I don't know his people.
While he rubs expensive cashmere 'neath his palm...
He's spoiled royal oil, insuring other's painful boils.
He'll call his agent, read the dailies, breath a psalm.

And what of this soldier, who saw a glad warrior
Put a gun to a private's head and pull the trigger.
A red headed major, in that country? A mad stranger --
Provoking execution... Was he swollen much bigger?

It happened. It is happening. It will happen... again and again. The only thing to stand in its way?

Hey! . . .wait a minute!

Wait a goddamn minute!

Just pull it up there short, Skippy, and prepare for a societal short-arm inspection. Something's not quite right with Father Culture...

Saturday, January 20, 2007

...Aliens Viewed...

[[ Bube Haunted Hotel / Brewery ]]

Can I dare? Do you care? Have you looked out my window?
Are you brave? Do you crave more than tired innuendo?
Do you stare? (Are you bare?) Do you pray for sound sleep?
Do they hound you? Have they found you? Have you waded too deep?

Well, look through my eyepiece, and see what is seen.
It’s a light show, it’s a fright show ... not a credulous dream.
Drop contention, pretension, or avoid a distraction.
Imagine you live in the other guy's *mansion*:


Look – ! ...quiet, but thirsty, her mother was mean.
Her dreams were to rule as a maniac queen.
She keeps all the science from the lowly unwashed.
She powers her gardens with spirit she's quashed.

Look – ! ...inside deepest space where the heart is the faintest.
There lives a bad *god* who proscribes a mad pain quest...
It ensnares the sad traveler in a web of faux pleasure,
Then comes torture, and bleeding, and horror's own measure.

Look – ! ...still in space, at a world with lush flatlands.
It has mountains, and forests, and oceans of grasslands.
It has life without strife; it grows willowy tall.
If you had to stay here, then it’s not a bad call.

Look – ! if blessed with a thankful gestalt,
You stand just inside the rumored black vault!
What’s on those low tables; what sits in those stalls?
And your eyes, or your mind, make no sense, none at all!

Look – ! ...then he puts his old hand on her brow.
He has loved her for decades, but her time has come now.
He is scared to the bone to go it alone...
Too soon she’ll be gone, and he'l walk along home...

Look – ! ...there's the weak force at the *core* of the atom!
It’s a glue that reality needs infinitum!
With his sister the strong force he holds matter's sway,
Or the world, and all thought would just all blow away!

Look – ...and there's Lehmberg, a'bang at his keyboard.
To his left is a rocket, to his right is a broad sword.
To his front is an eagle, Class Rocks, and wrought metal.
To the rear is a past wrought of basses and trebles.

Look – ...and there's Science awash in staid dreams.
It counts, then divides into piles, scant beans.
Convergent, accepting of skeptical blather,
Ignoring the evidence of types it would rather...


...But that's more than abundant aliens viewed...
They'll take you up high and then sing the real blues.
Bewitched and betrothed, you’re abused by religions;
You’ve come to a crossroads of strange imprecisions.

You're not alone in the limitless vast.
Time is compressed from the fathomless past
Space is non-limited, expanding at speed
Producing the surfaces mined for your need.

And there at last? You. Though a flash in the pan.
With a culture who hates you, you don't understand.
Corrupted by science and betrayed by the man
Betrayed by the system and deceived by your glands...

"And with the refrain, thrust home"! -- Cyrano.

...Moreover, Check this out...

"Look – ..."

If you want to meet Frank Feschino Jr., the guy who is going to put the "UFO Summer of 1952" on the map with his definitively seminal piece of work, "Shoot Them Down"! ought to consider checking into the "6th annual Pennsylvania Paranormal Conference," April 14 at the haunted Bube's Brewery in Mt. Joy, Pennsylvania.

Learned reports indicate that the annual PPC is a little known treat with regard to the paranormal conference realm. Moreover, it is officiated by some pretty cool people sincere about and interested in all things night-bumpingly paranormal.

Hear about the large number of 1973 UFO/Bigfoot sightings taking place in Westmoreland County. Hear about Ghosts of the Civil War and contrast them to Shadow People... hear about all this from some of the leading researchers in the paranormal field. The day is promised to be unforgettable.

Feschino is going to run his DVD "Shoot Them Down," and be on hand to answer questions in its regard. The question, remember, is the query regarding the potentiality of toe to toe aerial combat between our armed forces... and *theirs*... lasting for many years during the middle 50's... so, the reader might have some questions...

Also likely on hand will be Stan Gordon - Rosemary Guiley - Karl Petry - Ed Okonowicz - Kelly Weaver - Patty Wilson - Mark Nesbitt & Rick Fisher... with interesting things to say as well.

It's said the Brewery and Hotel (Pictured Above) are a very unique experience and that is why a satisfying lunch buffet is included with the cost of admission! Lunch will only last an hour so the conference hosts would rather you stay. I understand you'd be glad you did, the food is excellent, by report, and the whole experience very interesting. Moreover, a ghost tour of the historic Brewery will take place at 7 PM when the conference ends, and free for the first 20 who register for the conference. Another ghost tour will take place at 8:30 pm for those interested for a nominal fee.

...Door prizes! ...Author book signings! Cozy and informal: seating is limited to 100 people. *Aliens* and *Others* viewed...

Rick Fisher is on the blame line for all this... . More info at:

All reports say this is an interesting bunch, doing interesting things. And that could be... interesting. Hey! In the area? Get a leg up on the future where it's going to be nothing but weird... anyway!

That said?

Read on!


"Shoot Them Down"! --

Quadrature --

Wendy's Song --

Rudiak Rides Again --

HyperSpace --

Taken --

Always Searching --

SkyLights --


Saturday, January 13, 2007

...Practiced Poke's Promise...

I painted a kid once, an appropriated image.
Sitting in a swing swung from heaven.
His halo was huge, but it didn’t obtrude
A paper sack on his head, snug and seated.

This painting? It hung in a bank for a month,
And at the dress up ceremony?
They wondered at the dwarf white cross,
On the child’s breast small and lonely.

I said look at the cross, and the child in the foreground
Then take in the bag, and the halo at night.
The swing is un-swung, but a house in the background
Has a light in one room that is piercing, and bright.

The moon is misshapen, and the stars unfamiliar;
The child is not on this earth.
The mood is too solemn, but through old Doric columns,
There's the light of a promised rebirth.

Back to the foreground, the halo is golden.
Its light the reflection's false god.
The child could slap with a stroke, and snatch off the poke,
But remains seated, and clenched like a rod.

The hands cover genitals which must be unseen,
Or so the child seems to think.
The tension all comes from the thwarted desire!
It's why many avail a shrink!

Oh to reach up and snatch off the bag!
Oh, to uncover the unmentionables!
Oh, to see halos ... the sources of light ...
Oh to be sighted ... it would be incredible!

And sighted, one sees fluorescing flowers at midnight.
One sees a mansion of dark rooms, save one.
One sees an ocean of green grass far growing.
One sees the truth, never ending -- undone.

But freezing still to frozen swing
The bag will keep its place.
We'll cover up our genitals,
And shame will rule our race.

We'll hide our heads, a sack of blame
That cloaks these UFO’s.
Denying our divinity
And going nowhere, slow.

I won the first place at that art show,
And they didn't like the presage.
But they had to cop to the AlienView,
They had to cop to the message.

I had respect for Howard Stern from his beginning, even when he embarrassed the crop-stones out of me...

Sure, he talks about masturbation, and farts, and seems obsessed that the ladies take their blouses off. . .but his approach to sex, as seemingly crude, and superficial as it is, is still infinitely superior to, and much more honest and respectful than the cloying, teasing, and un-admitted sexual manipulations of Madison avenue and our general societal media selling motor-cars and Diet Bars.

These are the polluters of our culture – not Howard Stern. Howard Stern, in stark contrast to the mainstream, holding the higher ethical ground may lead us back to grace.

You know, if Christ did return, he might return in the form of a Radio Shockjock ... hmmmmm. That probably goes too far for some a’ya!

Examine that. That! That it goes too far... Consider, 'twixt Howard and Rush... who's the angel?

Try to back up what you're feeling with facts, and fall short ... the way I did. Look for *undiscovered* facts. Read, especially, what they tell ya’ NOT to read! Be the center of your universe ... it's not arrogance when you are taking responsibility for it. My center hails your center! Together we can be greater than the sum of our parts, and the diversity of those parts makes our cooperation exponential... or "Star Wars" taught us nothing.

Read on.

Monday, January 08, 2007


Art by Frank Feschino

"...ATTENTION RECEPTION STATION AREAHHHHH....!!" [Sorry... old Army humor...]

This just in from Frank Feschino, "Shoot Them Down"! author... (fore and afts by Stanton Friedman...) Startling news.

It seems O'Hare, and the Windy City hosting that airfield, have had a long history of the same kind ufological happenstance recently occurring, to date. Sightings, contacts, multiple witness reports, UFOs, and scrambled Jets have been interacting there since the summer of 1952, figuring heavily from the flap in that year and since.

Wow, huh? O'Hare is a heavily trafficked UFO Hotspot with a clear documented history of same, Feschino discovers, and is a hotspot chronicled prominently (...almost every chapter, he said...) in his new book.

What is it about O'Hare?