Tuesday, January 24, 2012

...Autonomous And Therefore—FREE!



.
.
.

What I'd have is time to think, to puzzle at, or ponder on the workings of reality—its vastness, scope, and wonder! I'd pay the freight (or my fair share) to lever up the rock that's there...
.
I'd know what's hidden deep inside our monumental pile of pride! Too much *stuff* is hid away: the taxes that the rich won't pay, the saucers flying high in skies, the black-ops of psychotic spies. Cozened by an *earnest* eviltormented by its pins and needlesbred respect-less in our billions, we're used like grease to ease and cushion... them who follow on the heels of those who make what's real... surreal!
.
Those who shall not care "who pays," so they can fill psychotic days. He (or she) to make us shriek ... encourage us, then, not to speak... of that which then must truly dare us, terrify, or spin and scare us...
.
This glad ablation kills our spirit!  We're close to meltdown—something near it!  We won't listen to the wind; we shan't see what signs portend. We're so close to what renews us, less respect from what's contused us—almost there, we breath upon it, yet we must let it go? Be honest!
.
We're harried by mad Gods, not Devils, bamboozled by their priests and heralds. All that's preached? Division—hatred! The least (if most)? The "chosen" hated.
.
Those who work to heat the water... washing rocks and forcing laughter, languish as the disrespected, bereft of choice and spurned—neglected. Poisoned and then, yes, infected... with glad toxins we're injected, a wasting of humanity. Viral vectors, memes like fleas...
.
Confined again by *old* disease we cower on new callused knees! ...Attention drawn to *hallowed* ground?  We miss the saucers most profound.
.
...And blinded by our jealous culture—"made to order" crows and vultures—wishing to reward the few their lack of vision, depth, or view) ...humans ape a hapless lot, so unaware of what we've got ... pacing to our shallow graves, but hoping for some "bone" of  praise.
.
Then we get a brand new car (!), forget, somehow, exploding stars—forget that real comets spring to smash our Earth when next they swing. Forgetting saucers fly our skies, though still they fly I would advise. We pander to convenient Gods made jealous by their heralds' cause... to keep themselves in unjust power—safe behind rich walls and towers.
.
These the folks who *killed* John Ford (at least as good as!)—scabrous lords! These remaining un-elected, these unseen, so undetected. These producing shadowed blight, these who would preclude our SIGHT—these who make our schools expensive, prohibitive, or bland—litigious. These performing "planet sodomy" with all pretension, grace—abominably! These who sell us out, for dollars—growing rich by fueling squalor!
.
THESE are who we should decry, and disrespect ... abhor—despise.
.
These, true devils—they confine us; their priests and judges starve and blind us! Yes, I'd try to do without the *God* Newt Gingrich mewls about; I'd trust the future, what it brings! When dams do burst? Potential springs!
.
I'd confirm that we're endangered—kept from goals by sullen strangers ... taking us from higher places we shan't find in rein or traces!
.
There is where I'd romp and wander, test my faith, considerponder. This is where I'd rather be! Autonomous and off my knees!
.






  • I realize there has to be a "cooperation" or store-bought socks don't get in the sock drawer and larders go unfilled. Though, when that cooperation is at the dire expense of the individual, eventually, that revered and ever esteemed *team* or corporation will suffer most egregiously! Sock drawers and larders contents dwindle. See, I offer that the quality of a team is DEFINED by the quality of the individuals composing it!  The quality of links in chains.  The individual, one can see: a link of chain... remaining key!

  • Consider, reader, the 'teams' that a collection of autonomously powerful individuals could undeniably make before you tell me there is no "I" in team. Without the "I" in team? You don't have a team! You have a limited, lack-luster, and unimaginative—entirely predictable—machine!

  • Moreover, autonomous people have time to think on their own! This is of course, exactly what *they* don't want us to have—time to think. When one thinks, the eldritch light comes up ... can't have that!

  • Moreover, cowards think no other way.

  • Case in point:

  • At around 13:00 CST on the first of March one year, a little piece of obliterating "anti-matter" made contact with Enterprise, Alabama, a still growing and productive little American town in the southeast of the state. My town.

  • As the expected result of a quantity of meteorological "antimatter" coming in contact with any amount of regular "matter," there was an inclusive annihilation of the matter contacted. There was complete destruction. There was obliteration. There was much death. Homes were destroyed for the rest. Quality of life corrupted or negatively affected for those remaining... not 500 meters from my home.

  • The aggregate devastation was in fact complete enough for crass opportunist George W. Bush, that walking personification for disqualifying any vestige of the myth of "white supremacy," to descend upon us, uselessly, in a junket costing many millions... so fruitlessly grubbing for a political capital all but entirely lost to him late in a failing Presidency...

  • He would fly over in a fleet of pricey helicopters while I cleaned-up below, loudly reminding all around me similarly toiling that he probably thought he was looking at "Katrina's" Louisiana. There was no dissention to my observation, no protest, only laughter. Verily, a metaphoric "Disaster Area" over-flew the actual disaster below and everyone seemed to sense it. See, real people could use the money spent on Bush's wholly empty and self-interested gesture.

  • The point is that a 'team' of human beings rallied and continues to rally in the face of this calamity. Thousands of friends and other strangers have banded together in the fellowship of the assaulted, the obligatory hapless who will be shortchanged by their insurance companies, governments or other soulless corporate bodies... singled out for special high intensity terror only *God* can provide!  They are the 99%.

  • Individuals were forgetting personal concerns for a time and supporting shell-shocked neighbors they were not even speaking to previously. True giving and self-sacrifice by single persons empowered to give and sacrifice. Truly, and tragically, we are individually at our best when things are at their worst.  Read on.

  • Tell me there is no "I" in team!


Restore John Ford!

Sunday, January 08, 2012

Seditious Sky...


.
.
.
Enamored, I gaze into endless dark skies. Skies, yes, incapable of telling some lies.* The kind of a sky that snatches your breath; a beautiful sky that no one regrets... remains it's alive with an uncommon light to question "contentment" or query what's "right."
.
...Then it appears so abruptly I'm startled, A CRAFT (?) — or A LIGHT (?) ...but, you call it, Ronald!  I shall not be sorry for bearing such witness; dismissals are facile—sans courage and witless!
.
...And it swayed (!) and was pulsing across the dark sky! Its speed was inconstant! I'm seeing this, Clyde!
.
...And, I know I sound crazy! Yes, I know it's obverse; what I can't tell you outright I must tell you in verse!  See, the verse is a transcript of what has been seen—"disclaimer" provided as the verse is demeaned?  Still, happening in fact, all it takes is one time; self-honesty dictates a change of ones mind!
.
...It *wafted* along—its purpose a mystery—bolstering tales which litter our History!  Too, doing away with those tales we're told—to deify "fathers" to make us less bold—hear epics of "heroes" to which you're compared... when they never existed!  You're *unworthy*, Mon frère!
.
I portend our history's lies are toxic cloth we should despise ... a damned and thread-bare tapestry! A cloth of artless sophistry... contriving that which holds us down, supports too few—sports errant crowns! 
.
...For I've—so—seen *them* flying in the glittering above! It was certainly not an airplane, or a sea gull or a dove! This thing was not an airship, or a storm cloud, or a finch. It wasn't Hynek's' "swamp gas", then, you smirking son of a bitch!
.
...And then at once it brightened, and I thought it would explode! It dead-stopped in the star field and then, flickered, burned, and glowed! I held my breath to wait and see what this might be about, then, it did the damnedest thing! It but flickered and went out!
.
Awe struck—I stared, befuddled, into empty star-filled space, my chin around my weak and buckling knees—I'm so amazed; then *daughter* lights came out to play along "meanders" traced (!), and flashing red and white they're GONE, departing in all haste!?!
...
All the stars are laughing then, or it seems so on reflection, that I was there to process this anomalous detection.  A common man without "Doc's" letters, "without portfolio"—inconsequential... unimportant, hardly key, pedestrian ...non-essential... That I could be the one to see this para-normal light... which is visible to thousands, maybe millions, am I right?
.
That I would see this strangeness so belittled by the news—that I... more clearly fathom... all the wonder it imbues.  The "greatest story never told" and what it just might mean... the actualizing of oneself to better hopes and dreams!
.
...We have had our "trust" betrayed, been thieved from "fair and square"; our air and food are poisonous —water's getting rare!  So, I'll not then be buying what our "ruling gentry's" said, as they've clearly been untruthful, cousin! I would do this then, in stead!
.
...Cop to living skies, my friends! They're not an errant joke! Too, they're in no way beholden to those persons blowing smoke!
.
...To me at least, it makes no sense... this entropy of common sense; this desolation of the self; this final loss of mental health? The losses 'twixt your "hawks" and "doves"... The loss of wholesome cares and loves...
.
You so choose, at costso stow itthen, cheated and alone... ...you blow it?
.
...And STILL be optimistic in this blackened Winter night! Lights will still move strangely, but they won't increase ones fright.  They are, instead, stange "alternate"—alternative—new voice! They do not pay observance to the "man"!  They offer CHOICE!
.
See, that's the real problem with what "serves" us as "Officials."  We're offered an "alternative" which, then, could be beneficial.  "Kings" just as soon have none of that; they'd keep you on your knees—they'd introduce reductionists and substitute "disease."
.
UFOs? A comfort when compared to our own kind... who'd let their own just starve to death... driven crazy, sick, and blind! The lights can be, then, much preferred (!), compared to me and you or the fulsomeness of anger 'twixt the Christian/Moslem/Jew! Their lights are then more favored, friend, than governments of hatred—"governments" down primrose paths... to "hells" for which we're fated?
.
...And me? Well, I'll be watching for those "lighted cosmic ships" ... entities thought sailing in an ocean sky eclipsed? ...And I won't await "consensus," or a "scientific" nod, or the words of fulsome "ministers," or the mewling of some mob!
.
I've seen them fly—goddamnit! How worthy, then, your sneer (I've come to understand, my friend, just masks a coward's fear)?
.
You think that I'm affected by your lies and obfuscation; you think that I'm controlled or led by vast prevarications; you're thinking I'm a hapless clone to listen and obey—your drone?
.
Get a grip, you're almost through—our times are fast a changin'... ...true!
.


  • *If our sun, at *this* moment, exploded... we wouldn't know about it for eight and a third minutes.  Further away Betelgeuse—a monster sun the size of Jupiter's orbit and glaring balefully from the constellation Orion's right shoulder—provides for a colossal explosion we wouldn't know about... for another 640 years!  Further away than that is the truth, farther away.

  • *The lying skies lie as the sky lies.  What you "see" is not what "what you get," you see?  To the contrary, one looks at the obfuscating night sky and shall not perceive what "is" but, at best, what "was."  The sky is not current events, the reader discovers; it is a grudging "history," and history, remember,  further the farther we gaze.  

  • See the "sliding scale" of truth provoked by distance?   Consider, we really do advance into the future perceiving only the misinterpreted and so distorted reflections from a crazed and indistinct rear-view mirror.  The point?  

  • I suspect that this is the draw of a SETI program.   Fixed myopically on what happened "long, long ago in a galaxy far, far away," one can then use their cognitive dissonance to excuse their cowardice, reader, and pretend that a truth measured only as light-nano-seconds removed from fact—of the clock—is not there at all.

  • It remains; we really do perceive only a grudging and after-the-fact forthrightness from the duplicitous sky with regard to the truth, reader, because, facilitated as it is by a glacial "speed of light," it has not yet made TIME—to tell us the truth.  This lie becomes only grander and progressively unknowable as one moves ones perception further away, and is a tangential reminder that at center?  The only truth one can really aspire to is oneself.

  • When you "look," you "find"!


Restore John Ford!



"Shoot Them Down"! --


Quadrature --


Wendy's Song --


Rudiak Rides Again --


HyperSpace --


Taken --


Always Searching --


SkyLights --