Sunday, February 28, 2010

What, Where, When, How, And Why


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What is the upshot; what do we gain? What's the prognosis; why then abstain?

Where is our wisdom; why is it loss; how are we wrong, and where are we lost?

When is our hour come? Why do we kneel? Why won't we struggle to see what is real?

How are we hoodwinked? What do we give? Why all their guns, and why hide their shiv?

Why are we scared? What's been foretold? Where is our courage? When are we bold?
...
Well, most won't know a real deal if it bit them on the ass! "Reality's" a made-up thing; be in shock and stand aghast! Rock too hard on bad foundations? Your "heavens" crack and fall —falling down around your ears— never really there at all...

Ones living's so conditional. It's shifting in dark sand, while the sky you see above you is without surcease or end. The potential of that sky provokes new spirit from those wronged, greatly tests the courage — makes us doubt... but makes us strong!

You're pushed too hard believing that the answer's not at hand ... that UFO's aren't under-seas.. extant upon the land! A "bait and switch" is offered up as proof of hope's "profusion"; then dismissive of the Mexican who has FILMED some real confusion!

My laughing ass has come undone, is rolling on the floor. It rolls on down the street sans shame, and though it guffaws... I'd implore.

"Open up your mind," I'd say. "Don't give in to "the man." Broaden up your scope (...ah hell!) ...yank hard upon his gland"! Pull the damn thing off, I say, just yanking ain't enough... ...that's the wage for psychopaths... as "betrayers of your trust"!

There is some dark truth afoot, and it reeks of fish in Denmark! Conspiracy's alive my friend! We see its sign and hallmark! Whipped into a frenzy by those who sell soft soap, we are dazzled by anomaly dismissed to sully hope!

Have you checked into the multi-verse? Have you felt its length and girth! Do you really think we're all there is? Do you think that we're the "first"? …Discount the paranormal? Think the "milieu's" full of shit — when it's fact that mere "attention" changes all  abused  by it?

...Got your Walmarts and your Save-U? ...Well then I guess you've got it made! You're in the pink and nothing stinks? You're laid back in the shade? You've got a job? The works not hard? Why... you're even getting laid? Well, slap and call me Susan, hoss; just dismiss all I've just said!




All of it... then tune in some American Gladiators.

Item: ...On an "exhaustive internal investigation" of their records, the CIA has absolved itself of all wrongdoing and conspiracy allegations in the matter regarding the involvement of a profit made from the international transportation and sale (!) of illicit, destructive, and exceptionally hard narcotics. You know the kind I mean... the kind that turns people into cockroaches... We can, of course, expect them to be entirely forthcoming as regards UFOs!

See, if what is passed off for informational relevance is good enough for the patronizing talking heads of network multimedia, and it's good enough for the individuals with pre-programmed brain cells, then... what's my problem? ...Didn't I watch the news?

"...It's true, Marge! ...don't you hear the music?" -- Homer Simpson.

You know... your consent for what you pay for should be at least minimally informed... don't you think?

Sunday, February 21, 2010

...Heaven's Promise...


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Is it Earth-like in space as I travel vast distances? Can I breath the Earth's sweetness in transit twixt stars? Can I live in a "can" that retreats from the sun, or in rings that we built from the moons around Mars?

The answer is yes, is my own learnt opinion. The answer is yes, in all ways, shapes, and forms. The answer is yes; even frat boys are grudging, as they plan their dark business in churches and dorms.

We could push to light speed, or real close to it anyway... We could slow elapsed time to a glacial-like crawl. We could do in a moment what the eons were taking, and we'd seed our environs with life, after all.

It's all in the living the joys of continuance. It's all in a place you can stand safe, and watch. It's finding and knowing, and beating the nightmare that nibbles at your nether-mind, then bites you on your haunch!


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What's passed grows small in a rear view glass, retreating with the sun.
See, all you need is with you in your city on the run.
Not running from some consequence, or running on the lam,
but running to a future where one gives a tinker's damn.

This city's where you're living, then. Its travel spans the stars.
The Earth is carried with you; Earth you've coaxed to live in jars.
All the people you have with you, that you'll ever see again,
'cause time erased those left behind like, indeed, they'd never been.

...But... ten thousand years still passed on Earth, and these had found some way (!)
to obviate realities that we endure today!
Less is more, they had discovered, and could travel in a *wink*
what our ship in space had traveled, then, in all that time — just think!

...They meet you at your journey's end; they visit on the way.
They upgrade all your hardware, but they never judge or weigh.
They don't peer down their noses … don't insist upon new prayers.
It's rather like you meet nice folks while climbing cosmic stairs!

...You can go or you can stay; you can have it either way,
either one has heaven's promise — the attraction!
No one "pays," so you can "play"; you make it work; you save the day!
But for you? ...Why, living grace in satisfaction.

Return then to your night of dreams where, nestled in the stars,
are the fruits these satisfactions can provide... ...in rocks from Mars!
I metaphor ideas, we then take our precious breath,
and we live among our stars to cheat a grinning, leering death.



Though, you won't be engaging your garden variety anomaly... friends and neighbors, while hapless children starve anywhere in complacent aggregate neglect right here at home.  We have to earn more passage than that.

UFO's will never be accounted for when billions of your dollars are poured into the greedy coffers of non-accounting black ops shops — facilitating, good Christ patient reader, god-knows-what!

A handle on the abduction phenomenon will remain forever elusive until we can put to rest who the 'man' really is... ...and understand, more, the mechanisms of his sociopathic and disrespectfully hateful manipulations, manipulations held over, as it happens, from an arbitrary and absolutist time of the *divine rights* of priests and kings, still!

...I'm reminded Voltaire believed the last priest should be throttled by the last King with the King's own entrails...

A conservatively suggested alien presence, I submit, will not treat with us on any level we'd appreciate as long as we environmentally foul our bed clothes and then throw the dirty sheets into the faces of a hapless lot of ever increasing *never-haves*.

If we do such as that to our own? ...How would a stranger fare?

All the fronts of ufology are tied together into this heaving mass of almost was, and could have been with regard to UFOs and their ancillaries... ties ephemerally into the reality of an aggregate other. This other is composed of part and parcel and affected by its own nuance and suggestion. The seemingly "understood" remains filled with rampant surprise, so a deepening mystery is no surprise at all. The bigger the fire the more the shadows will be perceived, forgetting that what's revealed by the new light is unspeakable.  No closure... good news.  Anything else eventually bores, I suspect. 

Too, though composed of all these form-defying portions and components, the "other" is still a whole that is greater than the mere sum of all of its parts. It must be seen thus eventually... ...as this *whole* is easy to lose into an infinity of ones... contested compendium of ideas... cowardly hashing and rehashing moot details until they have lost all meaning, relevance, subjectivity and objectivity, eh?  Eh-heh!

The imposition into our consciousness by this *paranormal/UFO "other" thing* is a management of our perception of the whole by this *other*, I suspect in a way discrediting much of the validity of our *cherished* traditions and *fundamental* foundations.  One is reminded that these *traditions* and *foundations* have debated, even outdated, utility.   Too, they are only a few generations in length early in an intellectual adolescence as ignorant as it is arrogant. The other could be millions of generations in advance if not billions of same.

Unquestionably, UFOs are a knock at proud science's stuffy stacking swivels. They're an ongoing reminder of how little we know... ...how meager our pathetic little intellectual fires... ...how deep the shadows they only begin to illuminate. Still, I have to believe that there is something more to our aggregate reality than sifting desultory minutia, following *rules*, paying taxes, and dying finally... fertilizer for a rich man's flowers?

We are fed a thin gruel of religion, work ethic, incomplete intellectual development, or gross and prevaricating sexual titillations from a learned media —a media knowing better!— ...a media decidedly low-roading, reader... ...all clearly a tool of some shadowy control body of sociopathic high rollers and their pyramid of eager support weasels (...you and me too, actually, against our knowledge and outside our informed consent...).  All are the game pieces of weasels and as Frank Zappa pointed out: they rip your flesh!

We don't get the real deal, just a distorted mist of half truths — a lie in the fog. *Traditional* disrespect you could cut with a knife.

Cop to that, and the mists begin to dissipate, the lie becomes impossible to even tell... ...for all the truth being told, you see, displacing it... ...and WE stand sorrowfully revealed at last...

...But Improved...

Worthy!

Read on.

Sunday, February 14, 2010

Misleading, Misled, Or Mentally Ill? ...Batsqueeze!


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Let's talk about guts, those of misery born: A collection of persons ragged, forlorn—a group labeled dopey, inane, and irrelevant, a group labeled, wrongly, as a rare fringe development.

True, some are glib liars and working their audience..  Then, some are mistaken in errant accustomance. Some are insane, or afflicted by curse... ...but some tell the truth ... for better or worse!

First? A pox on you liars—hope you're damned to perdition… hope you fry in some hell as a well earned contrition… hope you're found out, disgraced—run out on a rail, with bruises on your face, and tar and feathers on your tail!

...Those just mistaken? Don't feel like losers! Read some books, take some notes, then eschew your abuser! Look for your "proof" on each side of struggle... decide for yourself.  It's more fun if more trouble.

...Those of you crazy feel lost and alone? Your torment is real, and it goes to the bone. I don't judge you or hate you, even label you hazy, enigma may drive you and make you... well, crazy.

...You're telling a truth? You're the bravest of all! Your Alien View has compelled your tough call! At the risk of disgrace, and in spite of the penalty, you stand, take a breath, and engage this anomaly!

Now me, all I see are some lights "on the fly." Inconclusive, but strange, they are in the night sky! I've studied the "footage", and I've read the "accounts!" The enigma is rampant; It gushes from founts!

Conspiracy LIVES! It is not in my mind. The *news* is a joke! If we looked, WE WOULD FIND! But, the man holds his purse in his covetous fingers, and the *news* is his stooge, so our ignorance lingers.

So, those of you laughing, you're wasting your time; you've nothing to add and commiting a crime. Moreover, incurious, it's you being crass! You're lacking real courage, your head's in your ass!  It's you lacking bravery to open your eyes, pay a freight—take a stand.  You are truly despised.



Witness their terror and elation, and be, yourself, terrified and elated smirking klasskurtxians, whiney reductionists, and reflex skeptibunkies! When the coffee's perked through and it's time to throw the grounds on the compost heap? It is just as Michael Lindemann said to me in conversation once, helping to fuel my continuing epiphany, as it pertains to the paranormal.

"Most of it's fake," he said, "...but some of it—is not..."!

So, allow me to reiterate: A pox on you liars—hope you're damned to perdition … hope you fry in some hell as a well earned condition … hope you're found out, disgraced—run out on a rail, with bruises on your face, and tar and feathers on your tail!

A liar? ...Anybody who *knows* better... and then uses that knowledge against you out of mendaciousness.  That type...

This kind of person would make you pay, reader, were it you behaving as such! ...Make you pay as this errant hubrist grinned and sported his righteous smirk.  Bastard.

Moreover? ...Because you are the superior person... ...with more empathy and ethics in a nail paring than your *abuser* possesses in the whole of his body or finest institution? ...You'll STILL treat *him* —whatever you do— better than *he* would have ever treated YOU. You know THAT to be true, don't you...

...Heat your tar, fellow pilgrims, and bust open a few goose down pillows...

Read on.

Sunday, February 07, 2010

...Not Watching The Sky...


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...Not a new story that just came to me, as I sit on hard chairs, and I read I'm not free. There are charges of thievery, graft, and corruption ... the right writes their *writ*, and assures our dysfunction!

They're less than contrite with us; they destroy hapless families; they rob and they maim helpless folks — sheer insanity! This nation we love, in surreal dissolution, it is fraught with cold terrors at our top institutions!

Constitutions, as writ, are spat upon jokes to be used and abused, silken ropes around throats? They are tools of the mighty to be used when they're necessary ... when convenient, or useful, or expediently arbitrary?

They're to hide flying lights moving low on horizons who have "lights" of their own far beyond my describing! They are playing with secrets that spawn all the craziness... you'd refute if you knew it... ...and that's why they're betraying us!

Now most will not care in their drive to live lives that they work pretty hard for, but may learn to despise. We are ruled by the hatreds gladly fanned in our churches ... we are scared and upset, and our fear is discursive.

We look at the "few," but we're told we see many.  Distracted — bedeviled, we're shorted our pennies. The *right* won't help out when it comes to the sharing; though their mansions are built by the ones that starve... ...staring!

As we pray for our *gub'ment*, say, to "run off the faggots," but want its retreat when we'd spawn our detritus! Imposing our will when it complements business, but betraying the trust when we're called to be generous!

As they mask and they hide their fine mess of choice secrets, the watchers continue to tease and entreat us. ...But at the whim of that... "man"... to be born, work, and die ... we're *secure* in our rut, so, not watching the sky...



The man — all the while laughing, and having fun at your expense —able to "play" because you "pay"—knowing you're a fool (and worse), so programming your children not to be the leaders in the "new century." He'll play bait and switch with all manner of anomaly. He'll drag you back and forth across the line of credulity so hard and so often that you doubt the validity of your own reality as smeared as that aforementioned line...

The knowing, finally, is a foundation that won't shift beneath your feet. You look up with a hard new eye, see the unending expanse of the misty *always was* — and ask the question, … not why, but, "When"!

When will you have the pitching deck secure beneath your feet, and a real "star to steer by"? It's then you'll have your "why."