Sunday, April 26, 2009

...Why Babies Cry...


.
It’s the rawness of an oozing wound I place before your eyes. It’s the septic vision probable I've shown you, you despise. It’s what you have ignored, pushed back, dismissed with your decries. It’s the reason for your anxiousness; it’s why your baby cries.
.
It’s what’s hiding in our heavens and awaiting our decision. It’s what’s beyond almighty God —his limited religion. It’s the way *they* hover teasingly just outside our line of vision. It’s the dust well raised when bunkies smirk their lies of "polled concision."
.
It’s the "lights" I’ve seen myself remaining strangely inconclusive. It’s the stifling dearth of news a whorish media holds exclusive. It’s the way we treat our mother world – unloving, cold, intrusive. It’s the way we treat our fellow beings, so thoughtlessly abusive.
.
We buy into a white-bread dream where we don’t pay our end! We weigh our gains suspiciously before we make a friend. Convictions of *tradition* we shall not break or bend. Though it detoxify our insides — we're bereft of all dissent!
.
Now I come by, and paint ideas for complicated stewardship, based in part on protracted thought, and garden variety scholarship. It’s inconvenient dwelling on the fact of our own kinship, see, we dump on those less fortunate, thereby, causing all their hardship!
.
Please dismiss me, if you must — a bleeding heart, or liberal. Though, the web of life surrounding me is more than just ephemeral. We slap the face of mother’s grace; we’re disrespect in general... as if heads had swapped with tails, somehow; our brains were something sphincteral.
.
I’m listening if you tell me when you think I’m wrong or – what? Or if you’re thinking that I’m crazy – writing crap, or not? I do this "thing" from something felt, and I give you all I’ve got; I share with you my conscience as regards the world we've wrought.
.
...Too, we but see a tiny slice of that which can be seen. Our science: profit driven, so elitists contravene! This stunts investigation, and inflicts contrived gangrene... the truth we should be searching for? It's truth contrived obscene.
.
I know that I should shut my mouth, and count my *lucky* stars. I know that I have been accused — a trumped up, heinous charge. I know that "they" could steal the sun, and put me through cold bars. I know that they hold, all, the aces in their crooked deck of cards.
.
But that’s not what’s bold, provides for soul, then loses face and honor. That’s not the play we put on here, on a stage where you’re the actor. The lines you speak are made-up lies, produced by a transgressor. His stock in trade? Prevaricate! Eclipsed — all truth, and candor!
.
They’re owning all the media – John Swinton makes that clear! They fan up all your hate, and what you hate you, also, fear! You draw your lines too hard and straight, and ALL that’s outside’s "queer." Then you’ll smoke a pack of cigarettes, and pound down too much beer!
.
When it’s all done you wake to find that nothing much is changed. Your life is still a treadmill, and your future’s rearranged! Science is dishonored, God’s seemingly deranged, you’re haunted by world you lost, from whom you’re self-astranged!
.
And blooming in your shadows are the monsters you’ve created. These thrive when you ignore them, because they’re not debated. The thirst for truth is lost by turns; its lost and abrogated. What should be said is not said, so the truth goes underrated.
.
I know that what I’m saying is uncomfortable to bear. Too, I know that we deplore the dark, and what we’re sensing there. Can’t you hear it’s cold breathing, can’t you feel its grinning stare? But indecision scares you more, so you’re too scared to care.



.
alienview@adelphia.net
http://www.alienview.net/
.


















Sunday, April 19, 2009

...In Torment...


.
There are persons in torment, and it’s genuine, bunky! These belie all your snickers and sneers! They’re smashed on the rocks of some highly strange weirdness, yet shoved to the fringe's inconsolate rear!
.
These write haunted letters seeming eerily truthful. These try to make do with their ruinousness lives! One has to lie to a spouse to keep *blending*... Another's alone, and abused, but *survives*.
.
Just say it ain’t so,” peoples relatives plead. “What's said's "science fiction," friend, anyway!” “You’ve surly lost everything – now let *it* alone.” “...Get down on your knees, stop sinning... and pray!”
.



~
...But these know just what they felt and saw and heard!
They know they weren’t just dreaming! That’s absurd!
What smells like that while dreaming? How's reality not disturbed?
...And this process of "abduction" goes its way, still, undeterred!
~

.
I won’t pretend to understand their terror... These events which must exceed... ...all sane control! Insanity inflicted has pretended their *discredit*! These are ...people... ground in gears... of steel and cold.
.
If they’re wrong, the bunkies reason, they're "pathetic." They’re a drain on *worshiped* science, at the worst! ...But if right they... ...readjust our worldviews, and our *white-bread* compilations split and burst!
.
If they’re right? They have an insight on these "changes." This may mean that all you work for is untrue... ...All the wealth you have amassed... may be snatched from your grasp; you may end up "leeks" and "carrots" in a stew!
.
If they’re right your personal world could get "uncomfortable"... All your children could be thrown up in your face. All your works? An abomination of some true God; all your thought’s? ...Mere filthy rags in time and space.
.
Is it best, then, not to know that you’re invalid, though the evidence may point out... such a case? For my part, I'd rather gladly "start at zero," than to live a life contrived, so losing face.
.
...And still these "walking wounded" write me letters. Their misery's complicated sans surcease. Abandoned, and alone, these are in tatters and impugned, and bullied by the likes of "mind police."


~


...Too, they know just what they felt and saw and heard!
They know they weren't just dreaming! That’s absurd!
What populates their dreams like shrieking birds?
...Showing horror's unabatted as abduction’s... undeterred.
~

.
Think “Ellen” was a brave soul with her swim to isle Lesbos? Think her courage so conclusive or refined? It’s, respectfully, just a piddle, when compared to all the trouble the abducted take on board when they're defined!
.
They are driven from their families far more often than mere gays? They are driven from their jobs... where they’ve worked and saved and paid? They cannot get a loan on a car or boat... a home? “They are "stricken," probably "dangerous" — "their mental roads must be un-paved!”
.
That’s the lot in life, perhaps, of those who put their trust... ...in our cultures admonition that it’s there for you! But show a little difference in *performance* if you must? And they shove you to the brittle ice... ...lonely, cold, and blue.
.
So suffer your affliction's tattered lives, my honored friends! Take heart it’s really happening, not contrived! Take heart that you're the vanguard and so, likely, closer still to what, soon, I must surmise, we’ll all imbibe!

.
alienview@adelphia.net
www.AlienView.net
.



Steven Stills soulfully warns via the "oldies" channel from 45 years ago, "Something’s happening here – What it is ain’t exactly clear..." ...and he was spot on. As I hear it, we're all in relative indeterminacy on an out of control globe and awash inky infinite space. Concurrently, we hurtle to some dark unknown as it is, at best, communicated from a lying rear view mirror. That's good news, really. Anything else would be boring.
.
So damn much is made unclear, though, and unnecessarily so.
.
"Made" unclear... eh? That suggests mechanism, and what is that mechanism? What is happening and how! We'll leave "why" to those who mistakenly believe they'd comprehend it or even have the stomach for it. Understanding is not required, eh? Who understands the requirements for electronically publishing this page?
.
So be strong, you woeful effected. Ignore the ignorant jibes of the indolently aspected, Wuff your wings as Joyce wrote and well be. You'll have company soon enough, and if you care to? You can have the last laugh, say a few well deserved I told you so's ... and then give these scared newcomers the help they didn't give you.
.
That said, and for what it's worth if I may, you "abducted persons" have my regard, as genuine whatever the provenance of your experience.
.
Try to remember, though, it may not be the aliens, so much, facilitating your torment. It's your culture, likely aware of it themselves, who is to blame. With its support, you see, one could stand tall to the enigma and not be cowed by it, or less cowed. Society is your villain, I maintain.
.
Read on.

Sunday, April 05, 2009

Space & Time & Surface Area


.

Yeah, that’s right, I’m a liberal! But not in the way that you’d think. I’m not all that fine with the Dems party line. I’m not in the need of some "shrink."
.
I began as a ‘knee jerk’ Republican, then, wrapped in a gauze of my youth. I’d learned I was libel to lean on the Bible for succor, and favor, or truth...
.
Well, I finished my job in an Army, and looking for something to do, I found inspiration in the stressed perspiration of the college I’d, finally, pursue.
.
Though, it didn’t take long with the reading, and I shook that endeavor with teeth, much *truth* I’d been holding, and found so emboldening... ...Was specious... facile, and weak.
.
Grammar and High School were dodges I'd found, of shame so obscenely enshrined; they’d made it all pretty... what I found was a pity. They'd stretched and distorted! They'd lied!
.
...The Crusades were an honest enterprise, then to take *Holy* land, back, from its thieves? ...And, J. Edgar Hoover was not an abuser IN WAYS EVEN KNOWN? DISBELIVED!
.
It was a "pulp fiction", our rogue CIA, selling hard dope, ensuring class dregs? No policemen caused "friction" in pre-staged "restrictions," self-created their "bad guys," instead?
.
...Or UFO’s would define who's weak minded? Our "environment" is at our command? "Manifest destiny" created no agony? The U.S. is faultless! Understand?

~

.
...So I worked, and I studied all day and at night, and I wept as I read startling pages, contrite. I drew from my texts, and their tracts... and the papers... I gleaned from strange pages amassed with a stapler...
.
I’ve done it for years now... can never stop doing it. My mind is a sponge, and a muse is imbuing it. The methods, strange knowledge, and facts of the ages are found in a story spun out of those pages!
.
Unlocked, and unfettered, now *free* from disease, I find what was Holy off made-of-clay knees! I demand honest answers, and I brook no intolerance! Decried is a rich man’s convenient mal-competence!
.
I find, late in life, with... that "learning which shatters"... a liberal new ethic addressing what matters! It is critical, though tolerant in what it construes. It is, but of course... just my own Alien View.
.
Please, let me proclaim this to all of my friends, who’ll agree with the best as regards liberal ends... ...Unwashed and mal-learned? One’s "conservative obsessive." It's learning provoking the "liberal progressive."
.
So, I've no apology and make no pretence to treat with respect the conveniently dense. Our systems degrade us with all disrespect, they tax us to breadlines and practice neglect. Solutions, of needs, fall to you... and to me. What's then required? We must remain free!
.

.




.