Sunday, October 25, 2009
I'm just ONE voice in this crowd, and though I've listened hard (...out loud!), so presupposing are these men who'd preach we are *alone*, my friend.
I have listened to these *learned*, read their work (excelled at college), and these do NAUGHT but stunt my soul with shallow minds like shards of coal. These pretend reality, dismiss the facts that won't agree, and counterfeiting history, just hard-sell old hypocrisy.
I look into a starry sky and see potential, depth and time. I realize that there's enough —of all the truly needed stuff— but pass on specious proclamations to sail our imaginations.
See, all that we "believe" or "fail," our rabid fictions, legends — tales... has happened in those yawning reaches ... inspiration's task to teach us. Lost in time and dusty space could live the creatures of some race who'd solved the problems we all face or vanished there without a trace!
We're advised *they* CAN'T be here — assign to *them* our limits, fears, pronouncing that they won't surpass... achievements WE are yet to cast!
Still, we propound imagined *laws* and tell them where their line is drawn! Squirty guffaws given chance; perceive our errant arrogance!
We propose our churlish physics, airily, like fools not "with it". We ignore new paradigms if they don't fit convenient rhymes, and we don't care to spend the time to do REAL work — a likely crime.
We're a bunch of sad pretenders, charlatans and glad offenders living in a noxious past which gloats obscenely, if you'd ask. No one finds the facts they need all mixed with misdirection's breed to keep their status quo alive so they can *live*... while WE survive.
Hear them tell you "no free lunch", then bear down for their "culture crunch." Complacent, they're a charmless bunch; they just don't care. That's more than hunch.
Something's "hidden," no surprise, well wrapped within their maze of lies, and we can't put our finger ON our *strange* discomforts: "fear" and "wrong."
We're tied or mated to our fear in ways to make control more *clear*, and so won't question pretty lies that weave their phony web — disguised. Though, We have wives and husbands — children ... mothers, fathers, other brethren ... needing forecasts they can trust to plan a future as they must!
We would have things... "solid," "useful," "realistic," "substantial" — "truthful."
We grow tired of your "usual," grow cynical — have a snoot full! Riots in the streets, at last, when we discover what's gone passed ... that time just may be coming fast, when you're the one confused — surpassed.
I don't have the "facts", I'm told, by churlish goons and callow scolds. I'm the "liar," I'm accused, when I but show where we're abused, and offer that we can't get *facts* from cyber-thugs who grind an axe!
Something not admitted slinks behind facades of "fishy stinks," and it would change the way we FEEL to know, at last, what's true and real!
Someone knows the real deal, will take what they can grab and steal, and makes their judgment (if unreal!) as to, then, how YOU should feel!
I'm standing here, my leg is *damp*, they're saying that it's *raining*, champ!
Trouble is, I heard their zipper, hear the smirk inside their whisper, smell ammonia, (used asparagus?) — they should drink more water. Careless!
I can't believe what they propose; it's blown from Aristotle's nose — that saucers shan't command our skies, that time and space will prove they lie, that we are hidden, unobserved, so quite alone, and *undisturbed*. I don't believe their mechanisms; I don't go in for their religion; I don't *buy* their evening news, or think their system's not abuse.
These have earned my hard disgust. It grows as they provoke mistrust. Insult (try!) just makes me harder, more intense (increases ardor!), and I, at last, regard the sky — those moving points of light described, FEEL space (a living thing!) and KNOW there's more than what THEY sing!
Oh, and ... you know who they are.
...A likely crime as I said. See, a conspiracy is always criminal. There is always a victim victimized. You, reader, to some degree large or small!
I look up and hear Mozart and Beethoven. Offered an assumptive monotone of "How Much is that Doggie in the Window" in its place by suspicious systems, one can understand why I might be askance and akimbo in the offered's regard. Bitten and shy, eh? Building Seven.
Thanks, but ... I'll just keep looking up.
Posted by Alfred Lehmberg at 06:27
Sunday, October 18, 2009
Here's, then, something clever all the agencies must know. It's what keeps them in your clover; it's what drives them up your nose...
It's what keeps them in your business as you try to measure up. But, the scale's always changing. One considers giving up...
The harshest device, a contrivance of culture. Control all the *spice*, is the way that it's done. Compel all the motes to relinquish their freedom to a club, they're convinced, that will make the spice run!
Though consider the power in personal thought… Power driving nails —swinging hammers. Power that de-complicates the dirty, dangerous job. Power that can slap a face... distress 'the man' to stammers.
A person's key, my friend, in word and thought and deed. It's always been that true — that coldly simple. A team can do what's grand, but do not fail to understand: It's the person on a team who makes it twinkle.
This is your importance. This is how you're owed your freedom! This is why you're "key," YOU MAKE THINGS WORK! If it wasn't just for you the system crumbles from our view. Yet, you're the one who's made to feel useless, wane — like dirt!
You are yourself, yes, you alone, the object that they seek! It's to you they turn their energies. It's to you they burn and squeak.
It's to you they print their papers! It's to you they run their ads. It's to you manipulations they contrive to drive you mad.
See, it's you who buys the car, spends your money, pays the bills… See, it's you they have to fool... to keep you paying! ...And it wouldn't be half bad if they gave some back, it's sad, but the richest must get richer... ...so continue souless preying.
Yet, it's you who roofs their house, sets their tiles, tends their landscape. It's you who builds the places they inhabit. You must feel no contentment, and enjoy their harsh resententment! See, they charge for ground you walk on, friend. They really "let you have it"!
Sure, there're lots of "you"; it's the system; they invent it! If there are lots and lots of "you"? YOU lose your value! You're, then, easier to control as they continue to extol... a system working hard... ...to disallow you!
A smaller population, then, has more rerspect to savor. The sparser mote has value more in kind. Effort you've expended is to find "the man" dependent... ...on the mercies of your grace, he's shocked to find!
It all comes down to you, and that's the message that you're feeling. It's down to you and freedom you give up. It's you who drives the truck, swings the hammer, spends your bucks... ...It's you with concrete power in your hand and on a cusp!
This is why our "watchers" are in enigmatic "hiding." This is why they won't be "meeting" heads of state. This is why we must atone; we are, by no means, "alone." This is why we would progress. It's not too late.
Satisfaction's freedom. You just give it over, never expecting to have to take it back.
Your training is against it! The rules are writ against you. But if you want satisfaction's freedom, if you need satisfaction's freedom — if you expect satisfaction's freedom... you're going to have to take it... ...take it back.
See, "a chain is as strong as its weakest link" you're quickly reminded by the system. Though, consider. That's an admission that the individual matters! The team-member to provoke the failure alluded to is also the team-member who potentially insures a success with some new idea individually generated! In other words, that tired old saw is but more proof positive that the individual is key.
Yeah yeah yeah... there is no "I" in team... but there is a "me"! You just get creative with the letter order, eh?
Posted by Alfred Lehmberg at 06:19