Sunday, August 26, 2012

...Folk Wronged...




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I'm not all alone in a "meaningless" struggle, there are others who hunger to know; singular folk with their shorts in a bunch... ...who are yearning to "know" as they go!
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People aspiring dreams to come true, people aware they're un-free. Many who work, far too hard, for too few: those bereft of all wounds to their knees! The former might love in a good kind of way, precluding possession or pause; they're people aware of the challenge they seek, eschewing that "man made of straw."
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These are folk made of iron who prefer what is real—folk who would pay a fair share—folk "looking out" to the depths of their heavens... and who contemplate "God" as not there!
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These are folk with a mission, folk with a plan, folk who "engage" what they don't understand! Tolerant folk, with a generous flair, looking for truthfulness—caring to dare!
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Accused for the anger that measures the way... of the lives that we lead... that must lead us astray, I am held in derision profound if un-unqualified, then attacked by false gods held on "faith," so un-quantified!  So, how can I validate faith I can't own, when having such faith is as valueless stone?  See, I'm taking "big issue" with your "faith from behind"; I shove this up yours because you've shoved it up mine!
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...And ain't it a bitch as we bring it on home, as we wire the planet with cellular phones—may we limp to our dooms with our prayers on our lip as we pray to dim gods who might rescue our ship… but that's not forthcoming; we know it's not so.  We must count on ourselves for our "rescue" we know.
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You're "bothered" I'm angry, yet won't give an inch when it's me who's betrayed by "God's minions" proud "stench"... imposed by said minions for profits unfair... profits then claimed by the ones who won't share!
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Contused and abridged for the "hair on my head," for their lack of fair play ... them provoking real dread, I leap and I scratch for the air I'm denied, demand yet again, hidden "what's", "how's", and "why's."
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"Demanding" is harsh; I'll admit it up front. It writes a "big check" sans the trick, dodge, and shunt...

Though, I am compelled! I am moved to take pains! I'll soar, and I'd cleave, but I'll question my gains!
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I'll read and I'll study the nature of things that makes a new cloth of the stuff that I think, as I must conclude that the story I'm told... has been short a "mixed grill"... by a "chop" the *man* holds!
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I'm happy to say that I won't go along with intolerance, hatred, exclusiveness–wrong. MY definition, but so, likely, not yours—if you've stacked crooked decks with your hip pocket jurors...
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I WON'T tear my eyes from the fathomless sky that pulses in dances so often described as a shape changing saucer which stays out of view in a fog that's produced by the *man*... Is it true?
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Conspiracy lives in a cave that it's made by the profits achieved with its powerCRIME PAYS!
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...Though, where are the powers we've all been denied? They own them all! Friend—you're betrayed and deprived!
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...And you DON'T even know it... huffing their fog—heating in sauce pans so slowly, small frog. The heat is unhurried, and at first it feels good. And soon you are sleepy, as drugged (!)—understood?
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...And then all in good time, it's too hot... ...and too late! On menu, mere fodder, your legs on a plate! Then who might it be; who descends with a knife with his fangs all agleam for your flesh and your life?
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Don't blame the "Satan"—he's into free will! Yes, he's high on himself, but he's not as been billed.   "Do what you will" he had always proclaimed!  "But do it in love," was the name of the game.  No, Klasskurtxian "balance" (?)... been forcing your hand! It's "self-interested" judgment, bereft, understand?!  What's "up" may be "down."  What is "in" may be "out."  We're really not knowing, see, what we are about!  See, it's you not aware who's to "pay" for your "play"; believing there's (only) just "ONE" way to pray!
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What's this too do with the stuff in our skies? What am I on about this time you cry? Why am I angry, intense, and insulting? What's it to do with our "saucer consulting"?
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Well, what if *they're* watching us tromp on our dicks, recording us acting like assholes and pricks! What if they see us behaving like monsters–criminals, felons, or knaves and imposters!
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All "AGREE" that they're "out there," to a man and his dog! "Life has imperative," it's heard through the fog.  Though, we limit our *watchers*, assigning our fear—"We can't get THERE, *therefore*, they can't get HERE"!
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Were it me I don't think I'd forgive such temerity; amazingly, we go un-whacked... out of charity? Yes, what if they're watching us act like mere predators? What if we scare them (?); we risk an indebtedness! What if we blow our ONE chance to belong? What if we screw up our blessing?
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That's wrong!











Seems plain that income is reasonably re-distributed down by a government of the People because the People know and understand that, left alone?  It will only "trickle up," dividing the People inside a house becoming increasingly divided and so unable to stand!   

Care to Dare! Dare to Care! Restore John Ford! It's your freedom spared!

Sunday, August 12, 2012

Iron's Irony


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Here's a song about some stuff I'm holding in my hand. It's an element of metal... near as common—made from sand.
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It's as used as it is common... somewhat vulgar, mean, and rude. Oh sure, it changed your history, caused some pain—but grew you food!
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See, it's simmered into plowshares. It's been folded into swords. It's used for span in bridges over valley, bay, and gorge.
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It's cage, and gun, or printing press; it's built our structures high—so high they sway in winds like sails while scratching at the sky! It made its mark in history. It's even named an Age—called the "Age of Iron" as it's written on the page.
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For all its notoriety... it is humble now these days, un-reflected and forgotten, though it's wrought in charming ways. ...Forgotten is the *magic* of what happens when it's made, so this element of IRON earns respect it's NOT been paid...
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Though yes... perceive pure magic. It's a miracle's been made where there's something "GOT for nothing." Yes! Nothing's what's been paid! Our physics are depleted, and so is what we "know."  Iron has a "quality."  It is the "seed" that's sown.  The eggheads walk around it—gloss it over, and pretend—that the physics are beyond us, "just at present," they'd contend.
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Do they miss a "bigger picture" in their aggrandized denial? Does "one plus one" make "three" with Iron; is shock so stern and final? "One plus one makes three (!) with Iron"? It's heresy I speak! "A free lunch is *immoral* and *offensive* (!?)—it can't BE"! Conversely, Iron's miracle: it's the provenance enjoyed, from ships to shoes to sealing wax... to cabbages, and... Freud.
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You owe it your existence; it produces ALL you are. You owe it your reality; that's not a bridge too far. You owe it your survival; it's the draftsman of your dreams. It's Iron making possible every THING that's dead or breathes!
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It’s the reason that there's cobalt, or there's nickel, copper—zinc. It's the reason for selenium... Rush's platinum bathroom sink. A creator of ALL after it—a womb of stellar fusion—it's here is where the magic's made. I assure: it's no illusion.
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Iron's cooked in monstrous stars. It's the last thing made by fusion! It's here the magic shall occur, the result of a contusion. See, it takes a star's tremendous size and burning very brightly to degenerate the silicons that "fuse" for Iron's, *Icy*...
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Sand is "fused" together for this miracle of Iron. One plus one makes two you'd think (?)—but watch the magic happen!
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The Iron is more special than the stuff that made it up! One plus one is *more* than two; it's fact, you look it up!
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What is changed (?) in property (?) exceeding "sums of parts"? What cosmic free lunch oddity gives eggheads fits and starts? How does Iron cool big stars, and suck up all that fire? The star begins to fall into ITSELF! Then, gods conspire!
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The star shrinks in contraction towards the center of its point—the acceleration's hellish and it's time that slows—the point. A place is reached where it gets *hot*—many billions of degrees, protons and electrons charge neutrinos—cosmic sleet! This rain of fierce neutrinos bastes new Iron fusion made, and all remaining elements are prepared as Iron's braised!  See, abruptly sucking "heat" up like a cosmic cube of ice, it's Iron makes star go out, and it implodes—a vise!
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The fall is monumental, the acceleration's hellish; matter's packed together in an angry blistered anguish!  The fall's so fast that time is slowed, and speed is kicked up, fast; it's force is irresistible... ...then it meets itself at last!
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...Rebounding, comes explosion that the *physics* still demand. The star "explodes"—read "fuses"— "elementals," understand?  ...Everything from helium to 'unoctium is fused...  from matter that is tortured and tormented, read abused!   Consider: ultra-violence un-imagined that contrives—to SCATTER all that contentsall the stuff that we'll desire! ...And from the gas and chunks of rock—and metal bits galore—new suns are born to light the sky... ...around them planets form...
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On these planets carbon stews, and seeded from the sky? The life that's all around us starts to live, evolve—and thrive!  The Iron coalesces into stuff supporting you, and with ironic sentience you observe its pristine truth. ...Stuff happens out of nowhere, a result of Iron's seed, and so explains these words you read—Iron's gift to you, from me.
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What's this to do with UFO's? Well, Iron made them, too. They're closer to the answer, to that "free lunch" I construe. They've likely watched it happen—put the process to their use—understand its implication, so for us?  We've no excuse!
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Something comes from nothing, and the proof's in singing stars. Iron's in the magic that is made to color Mars. The redness of the dirt is such to teach us, as it must, that it MAY be we spin our wheels to work for dross and dust. If Iron is the way God rolls in every place but here, then it may be we work too dear to stay this course we steer.






Iron is still a light element, actually. It is lowly positioned in a periodic table we humans use, perhaps, to help us reinforce our infuriatingly pathetic and arrogant—obstinately maintained—ignorance... regarding the world in which we live. This would be an especially vile ignorance regarding our inability to grok stuff in the aggregate multi-verse without the invariable malice aforethought...  See, it's all "bigger" than we knew, know, or can know, eh?  Gawd, but we're stupid, and worse than that we're "stupid" knowing better.  That's what I mean by "malice aforethought."

Beyond the suppositions regarding conclusions of the aforementioned ignorance? A silicon atom fuses with an adjacent silicon atom to produce noble Iron in stars bigger than human imagination!

Forgetting for a moment its extraordinary potential in an equally "magical" magnetism... Iron also has an elusive physicality that may not be fully appreciated. See, as Iron is produced in these mind-numbingly monstrous stars, a produced-from-nothing 'ability' materializes in the newly formed gargantuan Iron crystal at the center of that star—as if by sorcery—to magically suck up ambient heat in a profound and mysterious way.  Where does the heat go?

Verily, this instantaneous and newly formed heat sink where none was before sucks up heat exponentially like a big cake of dry-ice suddenly appearing at the center of a campfire! The "fire" goes, decidedly and abruptly, out.  Begins the productive apocalypse!

With regard to the star? It was the anxious activity of a furious fusion fire keeping trillions upon trillions of tons of degenerate matter aloft in the star's ablating and inflated atmosphere in the first place!  It's abrupt cessation consequently causes an implosion as the previously expanding energy, the energized matter allowing for the stellar inflation at all, suddenly has nowhere to go... but down.



Said stellar matter is crushed to a central point at a speed approaching the speed of light...*...and then, at last—the terrible "irresistible force" meeting the equally terrible "immovable object," its own self— there comes the titanic and re-percussive explosion, an explosion transcending time, space, and as I said, imagination.  The accelerated matter hits the center point and... well, "rebounds" won't do the production justice...

...It is in this terrific and titanic if rebounding explosion that all the rest of a material reality is hammered out and wrought—fused into being—all that is known and unknown, all that was, is, and will ever be. From a lover's lips to huge war ships, reader—scattered to hungry space... all a result of the creation of Iron.

Spider Robinson, humanist and writer, once wrote "God is an iron." I would amend that slightly to say that God probably IS Iron. But for the miracle of Iron's creation as a creator, all that we know, will know, and will NEVER know, would simply cease to be.

...From ships to shoes to sealing wax
to cabbages, and... Freud.
 
Restore John Ford!