Sunday, May 27, 2012

Posted: Reality Bites...


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Step on up! I'll fill your bucket... and I'll give you much to chew when I show you what's around to be assessed! At first a little scary when the ground begins to quake, but "comeuppance" is deliverance! It's too bad that we're distressed!
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...The detritus we have countenanced befouls the air we breath, our faux-patronizing "crap," good Sir, precludes respect we need. Our patriotism's juvenile, just a lie one tells ones-self to sooth a cognate's dissonance and an interest rooted self.
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Our Republic is at peril. Our credo lives in threat! Our Constitution's promise is despoiled in sad neglect...but not the way the "baggers" mean provoked by their "white pride," where "Christian," they'd impose their "will"... on me and mine!  Denied!!!  
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...See, they support the makers of immoral crooked systems and so sip the neo-Kool-Aid as required. They gladly voted thrice to juice this current clutch of psychos! They "covered up" for fascist thieves and liars.
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So? Quit whining you "don't understand," or at best, I'm "too loquacious"! That I "dance around the point" too much. That I'm "portentous" or "audacious."  It just may be I bounce around and mimic... real life!  Life denies the "linear" though it cuts just like a knife...
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No, we both know what the problem is... no point in playing dumb. The future makes your blood run cold, and you're lacking "stone" on sum.  You lack "imagination," you deny yourself, I fear, an essence of humanity that's yours alone... and near!
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Besides...
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I'd say what I'm provoked to say... It's a finger in your eye! So I work to make it pretty... or there's injury, McFly!  Immune, myself, to insult or insipidous critique? Discover I get meaner when I'm sneered at...
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I get piqued...
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See... your "lack of understanding" is convenient and expedient. Your understanding's obvious! You possess required sentience!
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...So, I won't reward your ignorance! I won't validate your claims! I won't confirm your "genius"! I won't countenance your "games"!
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Dare call me ostentatious! That *inflation* you perceive? It's packed with eager muscle of alert solidity!
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See, I'd produce what you would read... improve us both thereby, words of "use" in metered time... it's how one soars and flies!
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...Don't "understand"? Oh yes... you do!  You're getting every word. ...But I attack your hubris, and your *science* undeterred.  Too, I won't respect your "feelings" where, imposed, they suffocate; where you'd return to "ages dark" escaped, once, as our fate!
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I report "unevenness." I abhor a lack of sentience. I point out infidelity. I am counseled by my conscience.
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See? You're not so freakin' blameless... if neither, friend, am I. Psychopathic "patriots" have usurped our reason's why.
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I find these types revolting. I'm provoked to speak my mind... or I become what I'd abhor... to validate their kind!
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...I'll write what keeps my button pushed—show some of what I need—a place to study stuff I find to bring me up to speed. A place to lay a tired brow that's clean and fresh and right. An engagement of my faculties that's mine alone: my muse's light!
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...An unpolluted "meadow," clean rivers rife with "fish," there's finding there are other ways to be successful—rich! It's receiving due respect from those you work to keep afloat, and suffer, not, their sneers... derision—or failing while these gloat!
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...Happy satisfaction (?) or despair in your distraction as they milk your gelded glands for what they have! ...And you'll do without a piss break, so you won't have much to drink, and your wounds will see no medicine or salve.
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And while you're shorted on the front-end your *specific* contract pay? You're shorted on the back end to erode your health away!
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...They FAN *detested* gonads (!), then, to sell their toxic "soaps," decrying sex—which happens!—as the wage of Satan's joke. ...And them the ones so teasing (!), as they rub it in your face! And them the ones you're pleasing when you buy your own disgrace!
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...Why... we're taught to keep sex dirty—a forbidden price is high!  If sex was honored ... natural (?)—the "price" goes down, is why!  I digress, but it's the same with "drugs," the war on which has failed, except to feed "slave labor camps" of persons thrown in jail...
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A tease regarding UFO's is wall to wall TV! They're in our papers/magazines—displayed for all to see. Festooned with woo-woo music, and a digitized effect, we're jerked beyond credulity, so the facts lose their respect.
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The mainstream keeps it's distance, and our NASA stays aloof! They won't go on our pod-casts friend! They won't discuss the truth.
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They're not open and forthcoming, and it's said these might conspire with the forces of *convenience* who would keep us from... our heart's desire!
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Why ...It could mean that we're autonomous, and too strong to be assailed—on the lip of newer wonders that some *Star-folk* might detail?
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It could simply mean there's star-folk, and a lot of them... out *there*. We've discounted Drake's equation (when we could not take that number's dare)! Let sleeping dogs alone, we whined (but out of cruel convenience)... ...Our lives contrived on futures which exclude our craft and genius...
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Anything is possible given surface, space, and time. Even pieces such as this: sincerity in rhyme.
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See? We make these strained assumptions naught but castles in the air, to deny the watching Starfolk who have always hovered there! From time beyond recording they have haunted Human skies. Have they made some vast recording of our litany of lies?
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They'll play it for us soon, perhaps, then wait for quick denial. When crying's done we'll find, I'll bet, comeuppance's clean and final.
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The future that we *planned* is surly gone, I am assured, but the future that replaces it?  It is greater, to be sure!
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Yes! That future I've portended can be seen and not pretended, and the satisfactions gained will awe inspire! We will live beyond pretensions, and ignore our crass distinctions as we build on firmer ground than what we now know was conspired!
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...We will build upon new ethics in a wealth of new eclectics—that we did not know abundant in our fog. ...And we'll find that our behavior's more inclusive—it's our SAVIOR—while élitists see their errors in our past, or not at all.
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C'mon up and fill your bucket with the facts you haven't chewed yet, and don't worry that it's tasting much like crow—it may taste a little poorer 'fore you finish what needs chewing, but then tasting, far, far better than you know!







...Don't "understand," eh? "Stream of consciousness-flap-dash", you say! "Incoherent ranting," you sneer! Well, all that said, I should be pretty easy to take down, expose, invalidate, or neutralize... one would think.

But I wonder... what really fronts these smug reports that I'm just not making any sense; that I'm verbose, inflated, or longwinded?

Is it my lack of clarity? Is it my errant ill-lucidity. Is it my failure using the less common language of considered words thoughtfully arrayed and meaningfully arranged... but ultimately honoring reader and writer?!

I won't apologize for aspiring to write for a conjectured literary cyber-Louvre. It's a distinction, an art, and my raison d'etre.  I make no apologies.

Verily, expression is provoked and accomplished were the ink and paper required to be made myself. Breathing is a similar activity, but one can use the metaphoric bodily process they're more comfortable with, personally.  It's still breathing to me...

I believe words are paint, remember. Every word is a drop of color. Sentences are brushstrokes, paragraphs are portraits, and pages are the considered landscapes of our psychological sea, land, and fire colored sky... I regret you can't catch the "wave," if you can't, eh?

Tsk.

Yes, words are weapons and tools! ...Immortal and magic, too. They can be in more than one place at the same time and they even travel long distances in time...

...But first they are a paint perceived in a mind's eye. They create pictures in the brain with brushes moving at the speed of thought to take the reader where the reader's never been... or where the reader needs to go... again...

...Still not "getting it," unsettled reader?

I submit that you might try just a little harder than a quick read on the "can" to facilitate or assist same. I write to improve us both, Sir or Madam, as I said, and leave the lower common denominator—quickly-digested—banal... to a legion of others interested in such. No literary snobbery here, just a preference for off the established path, beyond the conventional wisdom, and outside the limiting box, eh?

As the past confuses us, the present tempts us, and the future frightens us? Uhhh... use _two_ visits to the can!

Besides, as I made abundantly clear in the entirely unashamed prosery above (if one was paying attention) maybe we need to more appreciate that "facilitating fog" protested! Perhaps these perceived mists are a creative mechanism, actually, a mechanism allowing the reader to get up a little closer to the discomfiting subject under scrutiny... for more of a shared and synergistic understanding, eh?

...Reality does bite?

Without this artful mechanism? What remains may be too threatening a figure to countenance? Perhaps.

This aforementioned and unrepentant literary zeitgeist is composed of hissing blades with claws like steak knives and teeth like envenoming Roman short swords. Seriously, let the verse and painstaking prose be a floral bouquet held in the dangerous paw of such as is described, eh? It remains, this intimated though offended beast won't suffer a disrespect, aspersions on character, or a treachery.

...Posted...

Back at the ranch, I concede that today's arrogant and pissed-off authoritarian neo-pundit or psychopathic faux-patriot finds it convenient to profess a lack of understanding even when confronted with an egalitarianly oblique—if entirely direct—address!

Shapeless drops from my pen... as hard to understand? I think not, reader.

...I don't remotely apologize, mind you, even as it goes without saying that one can query a specific lack of understanding at any time... sure, and we'll take it word for paint-filled word. But that's, actually, the problem isn't it?  Ask not what your blogger has done for you... especially when it's obvious; especially when it's constructively terrifying.

Trifling, one risks having the stainless steel blade-beast—alluded to above—leaping out of the fog, eh?

Was there an alternate prediction, aspiration, or initiative? Be the first on your block. That's why I don't often (ever?) get a "what did you mean by..."



I suppose, if there was that... ...lack... of understanding... but I suspect that there is no need to go there. In the first place there is understanding enough. In the second? Cowardice, I suspect, is a ready culprit.

...Though many have discovered a beating heart beneath the hissing metal. Most can rest assured.

It's the pompous human hubris sets me off, a lack of humility offends me, and sneers from the errant conflicted are to me as a full blue moon is to the "Loupe Garou." Attack my friends and unleash a real monster... eh?

...Not my problem though. I continue my epic song of conscience at my pleasure and the pleasure of a few friends not threatened by my sincerity or embarrassed by sincere aspiration to some instructive creativity. The rest can attempt to lead, intelligently follow... or just get the hell out of the way, eh?

I would soar and cleave. Lose a hand to belligerently restrain me. Poke me and pull back a painful nub. Prick me, and the pricker will bleed. "Lack of understanding" is not an accepted default excuse.

Restore John Ford!

Read on!