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Everywhere are UFOs to saturate the news! They're written into histories we didn't hide or lose. They're tied to an environment that evolves beyond the *few* to an efficacious living that is right for me; I bet, you too!
. They're hinted in psychology—philosophy, etiology. They define much more exquisitely... provide for serendipity. They'll turn your world inside out; that's something to be glad about! You find that there's adjacent thinking, responsibility from which we're shrinking, strange potentials we ignore not circumspect to what's in store.
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See, floating in your airy castle, crashing down ~is~ such a hassle! Still, you erected in that air the plans of psychos preying there! ...And you're the prey you come to find, your house, your health... your fate consigned. Beholden to some Koch-like ilk, polluted down to mother's milk, these are persons, "minds made up," who tell you "what to *do*." Enough!
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These don't refrain and will propound that we must wear "creation's crown." Though, we are NOT the "dead lock nut" to stake our claim beyond our rut... of that which we shall not admit—denial, and we're steeped in it!
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Around us monstrous rocks abound, are coasting in their dance, we've found, a threat to us right here on Earth, a MAYHEM like our God's own curse! Yet, see it through a different filter to see it like they're ship precursors, ships of humans living where they'd seed the solar belt that's there! A living bracelet for our star... a Ringworld, almost! There you are! Reach and grasp become as one, humanity at last begun! Not so presently, we digress for superstition's sad largesse.
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We're herded like mere brainless chickens clucking scratchy faked pretensions: WE have lit this torch of *light*, to strive for *God*, and *Truth*, and *Right*... ...but nothing's further from the truth, we stand unmasked, too proud—obtuse. Too proud by far—our small advancement loses its *attached* enhancement... ...as we find we're mewling infants... ...wallowing in filth, contented.
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Edit all our moldy tomes for evidence THEY keep alone... Read their works of snide derision; accusing us of imprecision. Peppered speech of fallacy must prove ones thoughts have callused knees. Dredged-up *phacts* all out of context; cited like they'd have no pretext; these hide behind their noxious nyms like soulless imps or evil men...
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These, spewing proof they have no stone; that they’re the pest (and not alone!). Mere errant bugs who suck the blood of spirit they misunderstood!
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Hear their message, hear their lie... that you see nothing in your sky. Laugh at a conspiracy; pretend that YOU'RE not on your knees; denying scales afflicting eyes to masturbate a fear contrived.
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Fix your eyes on starry skies, and watch the blackness you've despised. Time is what you witness there—time enough and more to spare! Moons and planets, gassy clouds, cosmic dust—there is no doubt... ...Beings from space look back t'wards you, and wonder that you're there—it's true.
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Energy exists in time, the frequency we see—a rhyme. Power's found at zero points? We've fossil farts! We're out of joint!
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Too busy with our "ethnic cleansing" we strut and preen in strife unending, holding out for just a few... what blessings grace elitist's views.
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In our histories it's been written, we turn our eyes away—we're smitten. Too much truth there slaps our faces filling holes and gaps or spaces.
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What we cannot cop to yet, and where our bloated hubris rests, are questions on our *lofty* status, what we now accept, free gratis! Banking on old Aristotle—forgetting as a footnote, Plato—still buried in his "crystal spheres" containing what we choose to fear.
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Wrapped in *blessings* of a church that hates the world as "devil cursed," we pillage, rape and pour abuse on that which NURTURES! It's SO abstruse! Craven morons steer the ship, the dummies brown so full of it; they take on faith what cannot be and bring us all to bloody knees.
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No, UFOs are everything! From ancient times they wail and sing. Through the years they've shown themselves, we've pictures, film we've stacked on shelves. Anecdotes abound in waves, from Presidents without disgrace, to airline captains coming clean—these craft are NOT a specious dream!
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I, myself, have had some sightings. They're not balloons, and gas or lightning—UFOs are everywhere, they "wash your clothes," they "set your hair"! They've watched us through our trying times; they've likely got our history, Clyde!
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And there's the rub—explains all reticence. This is why *we'd* hide the evidence. We're afraid we’d be found out—that all would KNOW what we're about! Atrocity would be laid bare! Sturm and drang! Outraged despair! The blame can deftly be assigned—men hanging from their wires find...
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UFOs? They ~are~ sedition and threaten all ones *prized* traditions. In this I take some satisfaction, as much *tradition's* ...putrefaction.
Everybody has questions to answer. The more one manipulates and controls the "game" the more questions one should have to answer! Anything else is excused tyranny or a clear and present danger of same. The more one holds themselves up as an example to the world of compassion, intelligence and decency, and profits for same, the more examination one should be able to sustain!
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