Sunday, October 26, 2008

Bigotry Despised

Bigotry disgusts me. It's a bane on humankind. It's at the root of all that's wrong; a rot corrupting mind. It presupposes honesty; it's ignorance extant! Bigotry insults the sense of where one's really at.

Bigotry belies good sense, betrays the trusted heart, and leavens ones credulity to a paucity of smarts!

Bigotry's a liar! False witness shall it bear, and it proves it has no conscience spewing lies without a care. Authoritarian, inflexible, and dogmatic as it's wrong, it's prosecuted, flawlessly, malfeasance... all along!

Masquerading as the measure of the "way" to live ones life, it weaves a cloth of misery and exacerbates our strife.

It keeps us from reality, obscures a ready truth, and cuts the nose off faces like it's found its only use! It foments its resentment, provokes its earned contempt, then fuels its detestation with its slack informed consent.

It dulls the wit, betrays the trust, and breaks the "tie that binds," as is par with the small-mindedness shown from less than open minds.

Bigotry is why we fail. Bigotry? Conceit! Bigotry is where we lose. Bigotry? Defeat! It's a limiter of wisdom as perception is decreased. It's all the wrong ideas and its ethics are diseased.

It's bigotry that turns back clocks to suit an "arbitrary" so just a few can profit on the misery of many.

It's a lack of understanding and the conflict that must bring. It's terror in our futures! It's an awful... loathsome thing. It prostitutes our honor. It increases our travail. Bigotry offends the soul like Christ's three nine-inch nails.

Bigotry lacks all respect. Bigotry's despised. Bigotry is at the source of all that cheats and lies!

"This is a history and analysis of the infrared "lights" and radar "targets" that were recorded by the Mexican Department of Defense (DOD) between 4:40 and 5:30 PM (local standard time) on March 5, 2004 during a surveillance flight over the state of Campeche which is in the northern western portion of the Yucatan Peninsula."

The preceding link is from Dr. Bruce Maccabee. His was one of the few unbigoted and balanced works by respected members of the research community on the Campeche case. It remains head and shoulders above the first thoughts expressed by the usual suspects of the Klasskurtxian hoi polloi and remains also conclusive, still, only of the highest strangeness.

The first thoughts expressed from this canted tinhorn lapdog media regarding the Mexican FLIR UFO sightings in March, 2004 was born of sneering disrespect, laughing dismissal, and a reflexive bigotry refined in 100 years of social hijacking, corporate manipulation, and gross cultural connivery. The bigotry, again, went largely unchallenged.

The bleached neo-aristocracy concocting, nurturing, and otherwise maintaining this bigotry looks down its nose at the rest of the world, incurs huge resentment from the rest of the world, and through the aforementioned corrupt media's unceasing propaganda? It facilitates the creation of generation after generation of new bigots. It's the American way?

To be "black" was to get back and to be "brown" was an invitation out of town, or how else does one explain the very real difference between the United States comparatively closed Southern border when contrasted with the more open Northern one?

...And no Sean, I don't hate America; I just think she's better served by reflective and thoughtful criticism than she is by reflexive and thoughtless adulation. Question my patriotism, please. I'll eat your literary face... literary pistols at dawn, Sir.

The days are over when we can look around the world and see our 'superiority' born of what has been proffered to us by bad religion, conflicted agencies, suspicious institutions, and appointed governments. The people south of our border cannot be dismissed as taco-bending siesta takers sleeping off their latest "peasant banquet" of rice, beans, and tequila - cannot be dismissed as ignorant and credulous savages seeing angels and UFOs or living hand-to-mouth in non-awareness and intellectual squalor. The preceding is very subtly suggested by our official media and stealthily practiced by ourselves! We dishonor, humiliate, and betray ourselves -in the long run- not to mention them, reader, to perpetuate these egregious myths.

We are talking about human beings, reader, located immediately south of a dry dusty border - credible persons like ourselves with their own prerequisites, predilections, and prerogatives ... intelligent and educated people, forthright and deliberate people... smart, focused, and courageous people. Indeed, this is exactly what was demonstrated in the recorded behavior of the intrepid pilots with regard to the Mexican UFO FLIR case!

I was a professional pilot for many years, reader. I trained, and was trained by, the absolute best. I achieved all the highest ratings available... like IP (instructor pilot) SIP (standardization instructor pilot) and IFE (instrument flight examiner). I had an 'experiential' 'PhD' in professional aeronautics and aviation systems management. I flew as Aircraft Commander in combat, served in line aviation units in supervisory positions, was the Senior TAC Officer at the Army's only Warrant Officer Candidate School, and finally ended my career as a military aviator evaluating candidate aviators for an aviation career track. I was the aviation judge, ladies and skeptibunkies, for many years. Verily.

The Mexican pilots in that aircraft, from what I have seen and heard thus far... were top freaking drawer! They were models of courage... just being out there to perform their duty (!)... forgetting that they encountered something decidedly off the 'menu' of what they were, already, bravely looking for... drug-runners, something a little dodgy to begin with...

The bravery they displayed was nothing short of exemplary! They found the grit, gravitas, and sizable cahones to laugh, however nervously, abruptly surrounded by the highly strange! Then, still under extreme duress and beyond duty's call - they functioned! With precision, calmness, and proficiency they continued to do their jobs. In a position to know, I can report that it just doesn't get any better than that. Yea and verily!

I'd like to think that I would have been as brave and professional as these men were in the performance of their duty. I would like to think that I could have been as cool and practiced as they were, undeniably, during this entirely out of the box -and far reaching- affair. Though... I don't know. I don't know, for sure, and I've flown down the barrels of some pretty big guns, boys and girls.

It remains, though, that these Mexican pilots know. Indisputably, they are on record and laboriously translated by John Velez among others, as such. And, in as much as they provided no self-humiliating ammunition -absolutely zero in this writer's professional opinion- they are just the thing to obviate the ignorant and baseless bigotry that is entertained by those north of their border, and fanned by that duplicitous popular culture for them... about their ongoing UFO sightings, the courage to be interested in those UFOs, and then, with real guts, their reports on same.

America? We can -and better- take the lesson.

¡Sur valiente hecho pozo de los amigos de la frontera! ¡Le saludo!

Pardon my bad Spanish brave friends... Read on!

Sunday, October 19, 2008

Inveterate Itinerate Invertebrates

It's firstly their intransigence to put my teeth on edge, that they're *cognition's* high ground, without fault, they would allege! That they would claim the dead-lock-nut on all that they survey, when it's merely their assumptions to support them, holding sway!

...And loath to re-do work that's proved them *wrong* at many turns, they corrupt the pool of data which provides what we might learn!

They defend the indefensible and contrive what we now know is a canted load of crap supporting jealous status-quos! They defend the indefensible lending credence to their lies; they laugh and smirk and grossly smear our "truth" or "fiction" lines!

They defend the indefensible and pretend the scientific when their "balance" is a biased mess of canted mal-specifics!

...And these would point at me with shaking fingers -I bite off!- and accuse me of the ignorance they contrive from air and cloth! It's them creates the *void* endured, and from which they'd employ: their "bag of tricks" they use against the truth we might enjoy!

It's them who fronts the "mainstream" and colludes to form the myth that there's no *point* to UFOs... that *point* they'd want to miss!

See, if they admit to UFOs their *tower* crashes down! It they admit to UFOs we'll know they're errant clowns! If they admit to UFO's their righteous slide ensues and we begin to win at last... as they begin to lose! See, what we win's reality that's larger than we knew, as we're recast to take that place... which has the wider view!

What we gain's advancement as the "door's" thrown open wide... (!) and from their cage we'll fly on out to soar and cleave outside!

Now I've no time for those described who'd keep us in their "box." Who'd LIE and CHEAT to keep us bound and in their mental stocks! Who'd prosecute denial, and proscribe the status quo by persecuting innocents reporting what they know!

I've no regard for these who prey! They are beneath concern. They block the way to truth and light, and from them we shan't learn!

They are beneath my stern contempt; they'll have no stock with me! They've lost whatever credit they had held; they are diseased! They abdicate trustworthiness; they lose the right to teach, as what I sense is out there, and it's them who blunts my reach!

They're dismissal and denial and as everything they hate; reality approaches, they would doom us to their fate!

...And that's a fate of slaves and drones and everything that's weak. That's the fate for all who hear the errant CSICOP-speak! That's the fate envisioned... by CSICOP, dim and slow, who thinks itself the center of the things it thinks it knows!

We are more than they allow; our future shines and gleams! We are more than they would think, to guess... or even dream!

I expect CSICOPian Dragons and out slithers mere garden salamanders, their moist little skins glistening with the moisture of the dead, damp, and necrotic leaves sustaining them. Out in the open, though, they soon start to desiccate and so must whine and moan - otherwise protest that you retreat into the smothering, light negating, moldy rot... with them... ...respect their rules, and tolerate their prerequisites... abide their censure ...respect their dismissal ...countenance their actions ...approve their activities ...validate their worldview.

Screw that! Considering how they've contrived to so openly betray the public trust with the officious, hyper-educated and duplicitous games they reflexively insist upon playing -I've got a spot for which they can pucker-up rarely seeing sun- their refusal to become remotely educated upon that which they would so authoritatively denounce in the mainstream challenges its harsh criticism

Granted, their prerequisites would be fine if you want to ape the salamander -with all respect to real salamanders, everywhere... which are cognitively superior to your garden variety klasskurtxian "debunker" amphibian newt in every way- but I'm a man, a human, specifically, decidedly mammalian, who aspires to the creative, the progressive, and the forward looking! I perceive a dead-end to the slimy path of the overspecialized moist-skinned skepti-bunky salamander, a dank reptilian purveyor of reflex negativity or old school 19th century philosophy, and the well rewarded so willful watch-fob for same.

...These pompous pelicanists who artfully collude and woefully conspire to preclude our emergence into the inexorable future; these mal-aspiring and label dodging CSICOPians... arrogant authoritarians who only assume the cloak of "legitimacy" and occlude our sensibilities with the misused and so then smothering folds of it!

See, I suspect these errant -if well meaning- two-percenters have crawled out on one of the lower reductionist-Cartesian branches of the aggregate conceptual tree. Having mapped out and minimally categorized same and close to the end of it even, they delude themselves that they are at the top of the conceptual tree itself! They don't see the reality of nearing the end of one of the tree's minor branches, I suspect, is a conservative estimate or seems conservative at any rate.

Verily: Inveterate and itinerate mal-invertebrates or other short-sighted, so errant, oxygen thieves... and that's the nicest thing I want to say about them.

Moreover, who do they think they are? How long shall we suffer their deceitful programs and dishonest prosecutions in this field already rocky with the imprecision and indecisiveness they've precipitated and nurtured in gross reptilian corporate pursuits?

When will we banish them from our considerations, boycott their somewhat less than promethean publishing houses, ironically, and let their metaphoric books pile up to molder into the dead and slimy leaves that they resemble and under which these hide? What will be the artifice of their eventual invalidation, their ironic slide into the discredited eugenicists, Flat Earth Societies, and Phrenology adherents of the past -their manufactured and well sustained voids producing them and *sciences* like them- those tired, now unsupported, and legitimately (?) invalidated "sciences" of the too murky and duplicitous near past... dead branches on conception's tree.

Verily! The present is already the past as the future accelerates to the present!

See, not only does this canted and conflicted "science" of the card carrying CSICOPian - even before he was called a CSICOPian- often misstep, err grandly, and grossly confuse the issue (consider Eugenics and staid Aristotelian thinking), ...under the guise of "process" and "order" and *peer review* it is allowed to blunt, obstruct, impede, thwart, and frustrate the honest, progressive, and far-reaching efforts of other, more gifted, individuals... ...or maybe the reader's never heard of Nicola Tesla! Many worthy men and women languish on that ash heap in history.

...And folks, think where we could be given the fruit of our human genius availed itself more equitability to an aggregate you and me humanity... Our star could wear our glittering stellar civilization like rings and bracelets. I digress.

It's clear that Debunkers could be a lot more tentative with their rejections, circumspect with their dismissals, and careful with their derisive refutations and knee-jerk refusals! Why, they might give them up altogether!

Verily, their rejections are always premature, their dismissals invariably inopportune, and their refutations and refusals too overtly (suspiciously!) negative. Increasingly, they only achieve an aggregate ineffectiveness with much of the population they'd, ironically, want to convince because they are so stridently arrogant with regard to the proclamations of their own unwarranted effectiveness! They sow the seeds for their eventual rejection and failure. Good thing, too! Their failure is finally our aggregate advancement, I feel, from the reptilian society we are presently to the mammalian society we are in fact, even if only presently individual!

You know what those skepto-guys are at the bottom of... search your feelings, reader! Debunkers in a legion of varied flavors are at the bottom of every bit of torturous behavior we practice on one another and afflicting humankind today, frankly! Searched feelings don't indicate an overstated case, I feel.

This includes being swept up in the insanities of fundamentalist reactionaries of every stripe and flavor, an accommodating overpopulation of people kept purposefully ignorant (and terror stricken!) about vital aspects of their individual lives, and then even the ongoing and increasing death of the individual and respect for same! Interesting times loom, eh?

The incredible irony is that these obverted klasskurtxians would profess to be the default champion of the antithesis of these things!

They decry overpopulation, but, realizing that overpopulation insures that you don't have to pay any one person too much respect -always someone to replace the "trouble-maker"- they won't vociferously credit how dire the eventual consequences of that overpopulation will be! They decry religiosity but won't credit the new archeology competently refuting that religiosity! They decry the dumbing down of the aggregate population but still support the corporate educational philosophies of employee production; philosophies not shy about sacrificing every human consideration necessary to maximize efficiency for profits... profits not reasonably shared, I add!

Overpopulation and a numbingly incessant mal-education via media, institution, agency and government... all to insure the seeming inevitable death of the individual, increase punishment for thinking out of the box, and increase persecution for other victimless alternative self-expressions and creative enterprises... This is no less than the systematic Extermination of the individual, reader!

...CSICOPian pelicanists and *faith-based* debunkers help to orchestrate the social symphonies of their inhuman masters... Corporate Multinational Behemoths who care as little for them, actually, as the individual human being they would, handily... even gleefully, wipe out! Search your feelings!

Astonishingly, I don't believe I overstate my case. These errant CSICOPians are likely more wrongly motivated across broader fronts than we even suspect! They're against, for example, an alternative nutritional medical approach and four-square behind the big pharmaceutical companies and their passionate desire to manage disease rather than cure it. They're reflexively dismissive with regard to alternate power sources and so, at least indirectly, are proponents of big oil and the continued rape of our spaceship planet! The reader can think of other examples where the seriously erring CSICOPian very ironically fronts for the old regressive over the new progressive. Plus: they're the darling of the entirely disingenuous mainstream!

Could it be that they (these CSP's) are the invention of the mainstream, created to obfuscate, complicate, and otherwise obliterate an interest in the ufological, or any other peek behind that jealously guarded "curtain," and not the mere lap-dog as I suggested earlier? Who's to tell, the mainstream persecutions continue virtually unabated for those of us getting a sense... of some "reality" significantly greater than the one a CSICOPian would allow!

A chicken or egg discussion is moot. That there is a scurrilous symbiotic relationship is plain, and "what foul beast slouches off to [that CSICOPian] Bethlehem to be born," again, indeed?

I'm pretty hard on the debunker... I see him as an abject retreat from the enlightened and individually powerful beings that more human individuals might eventually become. He is a dangerous anachronism, an intellectual troglodyte, a fading ink stamp in a cultural passport where the borders have come down. I see him as the knowing or unknowing agent of the scales on our reality perceiving eyes and the calluses on our subjugated knees!

Further, I come to see it as lunacy that his DENIALS and PROTESTATIONS and DEMANDS for proof (proof he'd likely never accept anyway!) are remotely entertained as anything other than a time-gaining dodge to slow his advancement into a future he knows is coming... Worse, he seems that special kind of person willing to continue to profit, for as long as is possible, at the dear expense of others he couldn't care less about.

In the interests of balance, some would say that there are good people in CSICOP, just like there are good doctors, priests, cops, and even lawyers... with but a corrupted few getting the all the negative headlines... yeah-yeah-yeah...

Well - I've a hot flash for the reader... there are few good doctors, priests, cops, and even lawyers... or CSICOPians... who, if they don't stridently condemn, in busy prosecution, those in their institutions who make the transgressions alluded to, should be condemned as equally guilty. They are not!

As a consequence they'll smell of the same filth as the more active perpetrator. Sorry, not - the CSICOPian would be as generous with me, and gravy is gravy for goose AND gander. Balance requires that I'll allow him no less.

Read on.

Sunday, October 12, 2008

Bill Nye...Analogous Maladroit!

I've seen attacks in their manner egregious, off topic, insulting, and way out of bounds by persons encountered who practice malfeasance... are themselves what's accused in a way most profound!

These are *accusers*, and they work to disrupt —from a depth of their impotence where they can't get it up— research that is needed expanding our minds in a way efficacious but, in fact, unconfined!

Too, I am astonished beyond all belief that these are allowed in our midst... errant creeps — oh, not by and large or the object at all, but on the whole specious; they slink, slide, and stall!

These are enabled enablers, see, enabled to process their craft and disease; standing between us... and heart's own desire! These piss on our flames and then crap on our fire!

...Yeah, these are in fact: merely rats in our walls (...with respect to real rats if offended at all!) who gnaw the supports of the truth we all need to transition ourselves and improve our whole breed!

These are "confounders" and "bounders" and "cads," who corrode our resolve and degrade us at last — who hate any thinking that's out of their box... the thinking, without which, these find they are lost!

These are a niggardly nay-saying lot with a two-color rainbow to show what they've got! ...Which won't be so much at the "old denouement" where "black and white" proves —wait— they are men made of straw.

This is the bunch I'd describe in this rhyme! This bunch who conspired the theft of our minds! This is that bunch who colludes, and it's stark , to "obscure", and "confuse" so we can't make our spark!

This is the lot who obstructs a just search! This is the lot who's deluding research! This is the lot who conspires and schemes to inflict "heavy damage" on rational themes!

These look in a mirror of self-involved need; it's a staid status quo that they covet and feed!

They do us disservice to keep us all down, our eyes from the sky, and our knees on the ground!

We're not alone! It's patently obvious! Still, there are deniers pretending no cant — who hobble expression and cripple cognition... dismissing this counsel as psychotic scat!

This ode is dedicated to the errant pelicanists and other fatuous piss-witted media flotsam-cum-jetsam-oid spokes-puppies interfering with the aggregate intellectual intercourse and retreating from the future et al. Without their spurious attacks behind the scenes regarding character, sincerity, and sanity... this particular piece, for example, would not have been produced.

I look forward to an "analogous maladroit" provoking similar expressions from me in that future! I won't hold back or remotely turn a cheek. Too, the irony amuses me that they are themselves the engines of their own ongoing, if entirely dismissive, critique.

See, we're 50 years, plus, down the ufological trail, ostensively, just to find out that we've been standing indolently and fatuously at the starting gate, still... Why is that, do you figure? Well, I don't blame the woo-woo contingent at all; I blame the preceding "analogous klasskurtxian maladroits." Who? Well, Bill Nye, the "Science Guy" is a current poster child...

...More in an upcoming UFO Magazine...

Sunday, October 05, 2008

Defense Of Poetic Commentary: Round I

How is it allowed at all, this *thing* called late night radio — programs we have beaming in... before the sun makes *day* begin. Sure, it's proffered in the *dark*, when most are sleeping, brains in park... marshalling shattered energies to match their mainstream's tyrannies...

So, many listen late at night to spite their days consumed in fright — days cheapened in the glare of that... well... distracting one from "where it's at"! Wars and cars and football games (and Billy Meier's murky claims...) bells and whistles; smoke and mirrors — mainstreams, plainly, nowhere near us!

See, there is more than is "prime time", but cop to that? You might do time.

You shall pay an unjust price if you discover "prime's" *device*, or find its *content* somewhat lacking or something more than just distracting!

How do Rense and Knapp survive exposing what we know are lies? How are Art and George allowed to say the things they say out loud? How can Marrs produce his books, or Stan report enigma's nooks? How does Strieber tell his tale, how do others pierce their veil?

It's been argued most are agents, the *mainstream* uses as their agents, keeping what the "man" wants hidden... what's been deemed proscribed — forbidden! When *these* report a truth, by golly, that truth can be dismissed as folly! Then, in fact, the truth can hide! The best of places, in plain sight!

... They tease our bruised credulity, contuse our incredulity, then leaven fear with glad distraction to lead us to our sad inaction? Then the *night* comes yet again and like a thief, if not a friend, you're reminded yet again —if you're awake to hear *strange* men— that there is more to light than "day..." to have your confidence ripped away! Then you're programmed for the sun, where "pretty lies," to sooth, are sung.

The folks of late night are but "tools"? A question begged to prove a rule: that folks of late night's *party line* pretend for cold percentage signs? They are slaves of corporate masters (?), covering all their bets (the bastards!)? Making like they're "all tuned in"... to truth and light and current trends... just to keep us off our guard — so faking they have truth's regard?

Just another entertainment masquerading your containment. Denial's ever plausible wrapped in what is possible, conflated truth to then corrode what truth is there... a mother's load!

Sights and wonders we'd perceive with senses grown by which we see... We might live beyond ourselves to transmute lead to gold, do tell! We would know non-speakables cast in wonders thought unreachable from reduction's squinty sight and from which we have outrun light!

Well — not the light that I'm perceiving; there's little point their double-dealing. These are folks who just like me would want more truth. It sets us free.

These have honor as they have heart, and just like me would take their part... embracing wider paradigms with courage and an open mind!

...Are we conscious of abuse... from grander schemes, unseen.... abstruse, which fan the bottom of our streams to hide in truthless murky memes? Larry King's not ridiculed reporting saucers, or thought a fool; see, he is "prime time" and *proscribed*... to keep the status quo alive!

Now we would take our part in this and turn up what we find exists. There are heaps and gobs of data, evidence beyond errata; SCIENCE more than meets the needs of going where the data leads! Still, giggle-factors hold their sway, liars figure, players play, but most are mushrooms, fed mere crap... which "daylight" passes off — for fact!

So, now it's night with more folks listening, skies detailed and stars all glistening, going on in time and space belying *daylight's* false embrace! There are truths outside the box that we perceive; we've picked our locks. We have peered behind the curtain; we are not the least uncertain. Still, there is more to this, than us! Seems now it's *night* that we must trust!

A defense of ufological poetic commentary qualifies need and justifies desirability, use, and appreciation of same.

I called Art Bell twice in the mid nineties. The first, which seemed well received, was a speculation regarding what "April Fool's Day" was really all about. This encouraged me a few days later into calling on the wildcard line requesting I read this very short poem I'd written (like four lines) about something currently topical... I don't even remember what it was.

Art's attitude became unexpectedly irritated, dismissive, cold... like I had wanted to read the gooshy parts from a serial killer's personal diary or something... seriously, the revulsion was plain.

His attitude was so coldly abrupt and even hostile that I mumbled a shocked and humiliated "Sorry to bother you, then..." and hung up.

Later on, after the show was up in his, then free, archives, I heard my phone line go dead in his ear as Art explained to his listeners words to the effect that "we don't do *that* on this program," like poetry reading was a known mucoid slime on a hepatitis "C" sufferer's cheap chrome door knob...

Well... OK. Hey! It's -his- show and if he won't have poetry reading that's where the program bear goes through the "content" buckwheat... and I wrote it off for the most part, but it bothered me, still...

More recently, on Art's now defunct weekend show a very pleasant sounding woman wanted to do the same thing, read a few lines of poetry (about the harmonic convergence I think) and a previously affable Art assumed the same coldness with her that he had with me, and hung up on her. "We don't -do- that...," he said!

Do what, really?

What is his hyper offended reactionary behavior all about? What is its genesis? Just where resides its hostile provenance?

I won't even attempt to answer those questions. They are beside the point made in this piece except to say that it is stupid behavior walking hand in regrettable hand with the deplorable loss of art, music, and the humanities in our equally regrettable school systems.

Here's my concern. ...The utter and inexorable exclusion of poetry and the arts by authority. Why, consider the unreserved and absolute lack of toleration for same. Is it not the inescapable and unchangeable finality regarding erosion of the soul? It is in Bell's "obviously prejudiced conclusiveness" that the greatest concern is revealed. He feels good to be in a position to put it down.

Frankly... that behavior is too reactionary. It's too intransigent. It's too uncompromising. I think an alternate cognitive boat, accessible by more and more readily employable by most, is being missed. The boat is appreciative understanding of what 'beauty' is, and so behaving then in a way to encourage it around you.

See, what's being missed in a reflex rejection of poetry is exposure to the creation of an expression about new ideas, difficult expressions that very likely could be not be made (or easily said) any other way.

All words are paint... but poetry is the canvas and the brush and the initial human intent. A poem can broach feelings, attitudes, and ideas a lot harder to express effectively than mere prose... or popular songs don't define decades and Shakespeare has no relevance to our modern age. Which of course they do and he does...

The act of compelling mere words into disciplined meters and rhymes gives a creative expression an immediacy and authority it didn't have before, attaches meaning not as clear before, and provides for a meaningful repetition that wasn't encouraged before. One is encouraged to sing a song more than once if it's got a good tune.

The act allows for something more endurable, more memorable, and more intimate — something more compelling... something more personal... something more communicative... Poetry is the mechanism for the articulation of difficult ideas, and so, back on topic, is handcrafted for a ufological use.

There's more.

There's something extra normal about poetry many times. It makes reality focus in a way for both the writer and the reader that elevates both in a lasting symbiosis, a symbiosis fortunately not required for success.

The writer writes to be read of course... the writer is an artist and artists perform... but there is a deeper imperative occurring if the writer is not writing so much to be understood, but to under-STAND, to make sense, or provide a history. Then understanding gets done regardless, perhaps.

Poets, from the start where articulation was only poetry, were ever in touch with something useful that is creative and out of the box — instructive or informational just for that! Poetry is not a frivolity or needless icing on the verbal cake to be shunned and discounted or arbitrarily dismissed; it is the cake in fact!

Poetry, that well turned if not necessarily rhyming construction of words, is the thing to reach beyond the mere word! The requirements of metric discipline or the rhyme itself is the device that reaches further and grasps more... is more significantly penetrating than other literary forms. Poetry is that first exploration of unknown worlds. Prose comes in later after poetry to document and provide for a record, sometimes even an inaccurate record.

Verily, boys and girls! Poetry is the literary form that all other literary forms humbly follow. An essay won't ordinarily inspire a creative painting, or a painting a creative essay, but a poem might. It's no surprise if it does.

Poetry has a value, a seriousness, and necessity that is forsaken —forsaken, I add, by notable persons like Art Bell who should know better— and forsaken in the easy dismissal, uninformed intolerance, or unenlightened prejudice against it by persons who should be paying it more respect.

Poetry takes one where one's never been or where one wants to go again...

For example, where else but in a poem could you suggest the truly heretical and live to produce a subsequent writing? Where else but in a poem could you propose that the sparkling night has usurped the occluded day... usurped it in spirit, in letter, and in deed ... in fact... the current champion of the greater truth!

Postscript on effect:

When I write a ufological poem I am absolutely taken to another place, self-abducted if you will... if I am... to a parallel world (or dimension) where cold words take on living attributes — personifications of truth, justice, empathy and enlightenment. They line themselves up into forms and meters, provide rhymes for themselves and then deliver themselves whole and at once to be banged onto my computer's keyboard as they swim in and out of focus in my short term memory. It's like I'm not writing them, initially. It's like they suggest themselves to me. Like someone or something outside myself is speaking to me... just so. Not from me but through me.

When I am writing —or thinking about writing, what I'm writing about, or thinking about thinking— the world around me, many times, is a transformed world where perception has a translucent transparency as if it was made of crystal or some strange new glass/metal alloy. I get high.

Winding up... at 2000 plus words this piece is not as concise as those demanding such prefer, I'm sure. I suggest that these print it out, roll it up in a tight tube, and poke themselves in the eye with it, repeatedly, for the intended effect. For the un-conflicted reader, then, "I'd take you where you've never been or where you'd like to go again."

You, reader, understand that there is a place for words as paint... or there better be. Words are paint.

Oh, they're weapons and tools of immortal magic, too, you see, as they can be in more than one place at the same time and they even travel in time... they can be two places at once when they're not anywhere at all! ...But first they are paint.

They create pictures in the brain with brushes moving at the speed of thought to take the reader where the reader's never been, or where the reader wants to go... again, eh? Every word is a drop of paint. Sentences are brushstrokes, paragraphs are portraits, and pages are the considered landscapes of our flotsam-ed and jetsam-ized Sea, Land, and Endless Mental Sky...

Why might that be?

There is a general feeling of complete satisfaction, accomplishment —a sense of contribution and connectedness— the senses feel truly quickened... sight, hearing, touch, taste, and smell seem enhanced and extraordinary! They confuse themselves with one another in a kind of synesthesia. I hear a little color; I see a little sound; I taste a little touch.

Sometimes pleasant and exotic odors waft inexplicably by perhaps enhancing a thought just had. Notes and chords not heard before are heard in a chance bit of music playing — the whole body feels like a finger tip non-salaciously but appreciative tracing an outline on a lover's face... time and space are eternal and I (we)... part of that eternity... ...and then the piece is done.

It's a little like a death, I think, or a seasonal fall suggesting the (not so) inevitable spring that has come back, every time so far... Still, whenever I finish a piece I wonder if this is the last one.

Will a tyrant's society provide me with one too many duplicitous distractions to achieve whatever it is that is required to be inspired... to even produce a new one... re-enter that hugely satisfying adjacent universe of beauty and creation as different from the everyday world as eight bit color is to 64... and a universe to be shared as the universe aspires to share, free of charge to anyone sharing an expanding connectedness!

I likely disclose too much... compelled though I am to disclose in fact... still, welcome to my world...