Sunday, May 23, 2010

Obscene, Unjust... But True!


Write it off as wallowing a hapless naiveté —and preferring empathic motes be near— though, ever there are these of whom I'd likely never find? ...I reflect that these are used to —ruled by— fear.

Likely way beyond "experience," and served up all contrived, this "fear of things" addresses what we're not. See, it's absent in the actions of the ones who make their living on this puzzle they're not showing we've all got!

It's everybody's puzzle and we all should get to question gravid mystery that lies — or cheats and teases. The ones who are researching are the ones so often hurting for the 'one' who's always done... just what he pleases.

Remember, then, John Ford, be reminded his confinement is a black mark on the labors we perform. "…Into UFO research? Then you might be like that 'loon': the 'flying saucer killer' named John Ford."

See, let the 'man' grind down on him without a single peep from you? ...And that deed is quicker done on you and me! If they cap off Johnny Ford then they have drawn their threatening sword, and they slash and hack at chances you'd be free!

Some of these are wolves who prowl a "land" they think they're owning, and are pissing on its corner's stems and twigs. These are vaulting over tick-turds so distorting apt researches!  They're dismissive as a swine farm full of pricks.

The *glee* that they're displaying when they vilify subjectives: It's a game the meanest children always play.  See, it's children they're revealing while engaged in doubtful dealing that the field has evolved to? ...Hard to say!

Too, suffer other's wrongful take-downs with indifference at your peril!  It won't be long they've made their way to you. What salvation will appear, my friend, when you're the one who needs it! Recall John Ford is languishing! Obscene, unjust — but true.

*Machines* exist — likely, always have... Still, we pretend, superficially, to eschew our criminal *machines  opting, in all pretence, for a more evenhanded efficacy in society. It remains, we tolerate our *machines* and pretend they are not there... when they appear to do our bidding or provide an illusion that they're staying out of our personal business while doing the people's business... there's a load, well defined, eh?

The "cooperation" alluded to is short lived at best — likely, always is. They don't have that requisite respect for individuality, remember. Respect for "individuality" is contrary to a fat profit margin and a corpulent —forgetting a thoroughly reptillian— bottom line...

John Ford's discovered such as this, n'est ce pas?

Verily, we must blow our horns now and again lest they be presumed to be funnels, friends and fellow motes!  Sometimes your horn's —even timid— music dispels its antithesis, I've experienced.  Why?  Because music, an under the RADAR communication, is compelling language after all! Consider rock n' roll, eh?  This language helps you "see" what is "meant."  That's why poetry will always have a relevance.  Also, in addition to the preceding: this musical language can be said to say things that could not otherwise be said, it's been said.  Poetry "says," reader! 

A song, it's repeated to efficacion, potentially.

Restore John Ford!

Read on.