Sunday, December 21, 2008

Collective Sorrow

.
I write to make a music of the sort that won't pretend what the errors of our past produce... today. All the terror raining bombs, insulted Arabs, wounded Jews... all the hate that's running rampant while some *Christians* hold their sway.
.
Still the saucers slither in the blackness, if in sight, and we cower in indifference to pretend that wrong is right. To wit? The least of us are sacrificed to pad our feathered halls with pumped up teats of trophy wives oblivious to all...
.
We tear our eyes from lights that fly. We laugh and smirk and don't ask why. We're mired in mistakes so plain, mistakes so senseless, cruelinsane.
.
Make some man a public figure, think him... somehow... better, bigger! Place him on your pedestal—too soon held up for ridicule. Listen to his radio. Hit his site. He's getting bold (?)—then cast him out you fickle bitch! You whining... puling... fawning snitch!
.
It all comes down to us at last. It's what we catch in nets we cast. But them! So safe (and in position), spewing Right-Wing impositions. Wrapped in their convenience—proud! ...And at the suffering?  Laugh out loud!

.
The truth is ravaged—used, abused! Tormented! Savaged! Depressed! Confused!
.
From where would come your laughter, then? You're not a clueless JERK, my friend... Truth comes clean if it's but faced, though most will not and earn disgrace.

.
Conspiracy's alive and stark! Insidious and plainly dark, it thrives too well in quick denial—is nurtured in conniving guile. It preens itself in our distraction and grows too bold in our inaction!
.
...I AGREE the water's filthy, but save the baby—could we? Will we?

.
We're mushrooms to the non-elected. We're in the dark, fed crap—detective! We don't have a wit or clue... clear evidence of said abuse. Faith and trust is just pretended, crass betrayal, instead, extended!

.
Nothing's as it must appear if first drawn through ones lens of fear...
.
You say that's false, but then stop looking... blinded to their looting—rooking! It's like we *know* and just don't care, contributing to angst still there! ...And in your bubble thought secure... you rationalize these lies—absurd!

.
Hidden in this churning madness, caught up in elitist gladness are the truths that we would have if we would cop to what we've said. Hallowed *treaties* now deplored, around five hundred, *slightly* more—ripped apart by "Uncle Sam" to fill the vaults of shadow men?  Fixing prices, built-in failure, planning for a short-term's nadir, building walls to hide behind for insulation's sake, one finds!

.
Knowledge IS the power, friend, explaining schools that just *pretend*. Autonomy is what we're missing, then *teams* have power beyond dismissing, but THAT is what "the man" must fear (above all else) it so appears.

.
Flying in the skies like crickets, *somewhere*, it has been admitted, are reflections of ourselves who look and wonder for themselves! But they're not here 'cause we're not there (?), our science says... but oh—contraire!

.
Much better that we treat them like... ...they're watching us just out of sight. The evidence: historical, photos, papers, anecdotal—these just tips of massive 'bergs which float serenely I have heard...

.
We're not LOOKING! We don't admit it. We're lost to our indifference with it! Our focus is on learned sneering, proudly bloated profiteering. We've no thought beyond tomorrow, and THAT is our collective sorrow.




alienview@adelphia.net
www.AlienView.net

Sunday, December 14, 2008

Explains All Reticence

.
Everywhere are UFOs to saturate the news! They're written into histories we didn't hide or lose. They're tied to an environment that evolves beyond the *few* to a brand new kind of living that is right for me; I bet, you too!
.
They're hinted in psychologyphilosophy, etiology. They define much more deliberately... the strange and other worldly. They turn your world inside out; you learn "anew" what it's about.  You find there is adjacent thinking, responsibility from which we're shrinking, strange potentials we ignore so circumspect we'll be no more.
.
See, floating in your airy castle, crashing down ~is~ such a hassle. Still, you erected in that air the plans of psychos preying there! These are persons, minds made up, who tell you "what to do." Enough!
.
These don't refrain and will propound that we must wear "creation's crown." Though, we are NOT the "dead lock nut" to stake our claim beyond the rut... of that which we shall not admit — denial, and we're steeped in it!
.
Around us monstrous rocks abound, are coasting in their dance, we've found, a threat to us right here on Earth, a MAYHEM like our God's own curse!
.
We'er herded like mere brainless chickens clucking scratchy faked pretensions: WE have lit this torch of *light*, and strive for *God*, and *Truth*, and *Right*... ...but nothing's further from the truth, we stand unmasked, too proud—effuse. Too proud by far—our small advancement loses an *attacked* enhancement... ...as we find we're mewling infants... ...wallowing in filth, contented.
.
Edit all our moldy tomes for evidence THEY keep alone... Read their works of snide derision; accusing us of imprecision.  Peppered speech of fallacy must prove your thoughts have callused knees. Dredged-up *phacts* all out of context; cited like they'd have no pretext; these hide behind their noxious nyms like souless imps and evil men...
.
These, spewing proof they have no stone; that they’re the pest (and not alone!).  Mere errant bugs who suck the blood of spirit they misunderstood!
.
Hear their message, hear their lie... that you see nothing in your sky.  Laugh at a conspiracy; pretend that YOU'RE not on your knees; denying scales afflicting eyes to masturbate a fear contrived.
.
Fix your eyes on starry skies, and watch the blackness you've despised. Time is what you witness there—time enough and more to spare! Moons and planets, gassy clouds, cosmic dust—there is no doubt... ...Beings from space look back t'wards you, and wonder that you're there—it's true.
.
Energy exists in time, the frequency we see—a rhyme. Power's found at zero points? We've fossiled farts! We're out of joint!
.
Too busy with our "ethnic cleansing" we strut and preen in strife unending, holding out for just a few what blessings grace elitist's views.
.
I
n our histories it's been written, we turn our eyes away—we're smitten. Too much truth there slaps our faces filling holes and gaps or spaces.
.
What we cannot cop to yet, and where our bloated hubris rests, are questions on our *lofty* status, what we now accept, free gratis! Banking on old Aristotle—forgetting as a footnote, Plato—still buried in his "crystal spheres" containing what we choose to fear.
.
Wrapped in *blessings* of a church that hates the world as "devil cursed," we pillage, rape and pour abuse on that which NURTURES! It's SO abstruse!
.
UFOs are everything! From ancient times they wail and sing. Through the years they've shown themselves, we've pictures, film we've stacked on shelves. Anecdotes abound in waves, from Presidents without disgrace, to airline captains coming clean—these craft are NOT a specious dream!
.
I, myself, have had some sightings. They're not balloons, and gas or lightning—UFOs are everywhere, they "wash your clothes," they "set your hair"!  They've watched us through our trying times; they've likely got our history, Clyde!
.
And there's the rub—explains all reticence. This is why *we* hide the evidence. We're afraid we’d be found out—that all would KNOW what we're about!
.
UFOs? They ~are~ sedition and threaten all ones *prized* traditions.  In this I take some satisfaction, as much *tradition's* ...putrefaction.


Everybody has questions to answer. The more one manipulates and controls the "game" the more questions one should have to answer. The more one holds themselves up as an example to the world of compassion, intelligence and decency, the more examination one should be able to sustain!

Our culture abuses its societal privileges. In the interests of a "Focus on the *Family*," "National *Security*," or a "return to traditional *values*" there hides an ingrained impetus so rich with arbitrariness, unfairness, and unethical practice ...it can scarcely be acceptably believed. I suspect we be better advised believing it...

The awful imperative drive is to maintain a status quo so ridiculously canted that it is actually beyond the limits of rational sensibility, eh? Verily, we're so organically *dirty* now that the mere admission of these derelictions and travesties explodes the status quo like it was a cheap penny balloon. I suspect this does not go un-noticed by penny balloons everywhere...

*Folks* from space... watching, recording, and perhaps even manipulating our ancient four million year old advance from the African Savanna... would have quite a tale to tell — told as it was from their unjaundiced "Alien View."

I'd sure like to hear that story, wouldn't you? Heh! All the news that fits, and that's all the news.

Restore John Ford!

Sunday, December 07, 2008

...First You Have To Look!




...Explaining lack of *comment* on my explicative ravings? I understand completely but declare: I'll let the reader read the work refined from honest observation, and be content to publish what I'd dare.
.
...Troubled by the nuanced words some writers use as paint? It's easy, now, to know them; it's understanding makes you faint. E-lectronic fingers"? A word is quick to find. ...And its meaning is that lightning flash to light the startled mind!
.
Don't call it "ostentation." That *inflation* that you see? It's packed with eager muscle of a mean solidity! It shall not take a prisoner or turn the other cheek, but too, it's not mendacious... That's for "klassists," — scuts and sneaks.
.
See, I have a MIND I have discovered, and what MATTERs most to me is the efficacious MOVEMENT that I sense must SURELY be.
.
Matter is the stuff we make, contrived reality. It withers as we watch it so they make more—don't you see?
.
Movement is the time you take to get from here to there; it *vibrates* with intensity—makes room for things, mon frere!
.
With all of this considered by the hyperspacial Mind, one makes provoked appraisals on the twitchy *stuff* one finds.
.
And therein lies the problem... ...if we make things disappear: ideas, books, or people... in our search for things to fear.
.
We find we're watching, frightfully, those things that we have made ... forgetting we have made them from the debts that we don't pay!
.
Too, *things* we watch for changes become indifferent kinds of *things* to the ones unwatched for changes — it's the watching that's the thing!
.
...Condemned then, saucer hunters, or your garden abductee; condemned, the individual who might search for what he needs! ...But leave the wolves right in your midst, "klasskurtxian embroilers," who complicate the issues as foul character destroyers!
.
Yeah, pay to trust your doctor who would turn his eyes away as brother doctors pillage you for debt they're sworn to pay. Trust the "men in blue," too much, to keep an easy peace, and find they are too powerful — watch tyranny increase!
.
Put your faith in Jesus and expect an absolution! Though, know the curse of strife and toil from corrupted institutions.
.
We'd wish for easy answers at the bottom dollar price. We want to have our morals, but we want to keep our vice. We want to keep our fortunes, strike the homeless from our sight, quibble on the Holocaust, and over NOTHING, fight!
.
Do you understand the problem? Do you want another hint? I'd use a verbal brickbat though I bloodied you with it! Life's a kind of "banquet," and you reap what you have sown. You sow your seeds in air, my friend? Then away they've surly flown.
.
...Here's an observation, though you'll find some barbs or hooks: if YOU expect to FIND some *thing*, then first you have to LOOK!




We, humanity extant, don't look. I try, you might ... but WE don't. Don't pretend that we do. It only increases the eventual humiliation bearing down like an asteroid.

Additionally, whatever "it" is, it won't be anything like you thought it would be, get ready for that. It won't be announced! There will be no news at eleven! No Meet The Press! The trust is too betrayed by same to countenance that!

It won't be found in prescribed literature of ANY stripe, only the proscribed literature if at all. It won't be found in the editorialization, any *submission*, or the silencing of the uncomfortable idea. Rather—consider what makes the idea uncomfortable.

Your *conviction* regarding ANY matter, perhaps, may be so much specious nonsense. Maybe. You'll never know but for the exposure to it, or a testing OF it, eh?

... Just one more way to lift the veil from our evidential, historical, and very reasonably conjectured *UFOs*.

Restore John Ford...