Sunday, August 29, 2010

...Imagination's Ship...


It's time I grab the silver keys to my ship "Imagination," and fly out to the darkest... ...deepest space. Outside our solar system? I look back on —and can listen— to the mewling... facile ravings of my squalid little race.

Oh, we hold ourselves so grandly in pretended understanding, while presuming we're the bee's knees of creation. Complacent, hearing screams, and discounting righteous dreams, we wallow in a morass sans cessation.

I turn the key... it's on! We SHRINK down —almost gone— this to satisfy the physics of our punch to airless spaces. Then space —so quick— surrounds us, and in awe we are confounded as the glimmers of a billion stars entreat us from their places.

Turning this'a way and that? We see the planets, eyes like cats; Jupiter and Mars approach like brothers. Quick as 'that' they're gone, we're so far out... so far along, adrift now —can't phone home— we search for "others."

We think about new races in these everlasting spaces — volumes within volumes... eggheads say. Thinking obviates mere prayers and I wonder what we dare, regards a blue-white living marble where we stay.

There are *others*, out here with us? Do they watch —withholding trust— enigmatic and not coming when they're called? Do they lurk, just out of view, make their contact, it's their purview...Do they wonder why our engine, then, seems stalled?

We are a messy puzzle, so our watchers watch their sleeves; compared to them we're still a'crawl, abused on calloused knees! Perhaps old before our dirt had even crumbled from its rock, they knew planets in collision, third tier *science*— knew their "block"!

Too, they're interested in something — we might be novel, think of that... Though, perhaps the way we're interested in a monkey or a cat! I hope they think we're beautiful, as when we're bad? We're bad... It's when we're good we're really good... they might be gratified or glad. Arts and loves and musics are the source of satisfactions... Is it that they find so pleasant culled from chaos and malefaction?

Could it be that they're surprised by our peculiar little antics; for them surprises few and far between? They thought they had it figured out, then heard from us — what we're about? In many years of records ... oh... ...the *things* they must have seen...

They watched "Titanics" going down with all the *rabble* locked below-decks!  They saw the *function* of a *just* and *honored* Klan. They watched us filling prisons —persons culled from our society— while we taught our trusting kids to *understand*? They watch us hate our sex glands with our strictures, codes, and rules. They watch us blaming kids for riots, them we bullshit in our *schools*! It's a madhouse they're perplexed by, it's a dance of fever dreams, a chaos we're presenting — here we laugh and there we scream.

They see us give away our stuff — effect a grander plan. They see us paint and write, and sculpt in light on mountains, living land. They see us slowly waking up to find that we are not alone — getting over our embarrassment (...that will go right to the bone!)...

They see us rescue unjust fallen when we think to lend a hand. They see a teacher teaching truth to kids, sans "agenda," understand? They see compassion where it suits us and I think they know our curse, that we're only at our best when challenge... takes its turn for worse.

...Or maybe we're just useful ... like the laboratory rat, to help them with a problem that they're plagued with — is it that? We've got something special going, of that I feel assured, or they'd do like us and whack us... ? ... and they could not be deterred!

...I'll sit out in the blackness of this dark between the stars... far "brighter" here than does appear as close to Sol as Mars... I'll teleport you back, yourself ('s *pop* and you're back home...). Out here I'll sit and watch awhile... and still be less alone. See, we're the proof they're out there; nothing happens "once"... we exist, a constant! There're others.  Call it bunce.

 Well and truly a mere pipe dream in a fable I've contrived, to keep at bay despair presumed by castles in the sky?  Though, consciousness pervades desire, and what we think comes true; Morbius discovered that, but late for peer review.

We better HOPE they're more ethical than we are.  Sneer not at the film reference... it's a classic for a reason with roots deep in Shakespeare, one can read.  Squeezed from between the fingers of an arrogant, officious, authoritarian, and gauntleted "rationality"... believe it and it is so?  Make that so.

Restore John Ford!

Sunday, August 22, 2010




Take a break from John Ford? ...While he bears his affrightment? ...His memory fading ... injustice très strident? Forget he exists so bereft of his joys — all the things that he misses... his possessions and toys? Ignore his distress, and forget all his woes... forget that he suffers his hospital clothes?

Would that I could... but before I forget? I think of the watchers — them previously met. This other records, for the future's long memory, the regret that we'll feel. I'll bet it's compulsory!

Part One
...Before the sun rose up this morning, the first in many days, the pre-dawn air was crystal clear... the kind of sky that pays. But I only saw one aircraft, no peculiar points of light... I'm distracted by more thoughts: John Ford — his god-forsaken plight.

Darkness gathers overhead; the moon's in full-on leer. It's gibbousness is mocking all our madness ... loathing ... fear. ...And I saw the threat just hanging there, a sword of Damocles, and I knew at once the bravest can be brought to fearful knees.

...A siren in the distance wasn't shooting harmless blanks. Its piercing wail sought blood in chase! I shuddered, I'll be frank. See, with all our systems suspect (...what's in the "mainstream" news?), the cops and courts and black-ops corps should give us ALL the blues!

Part Two

The sun came up at last, thank fate, and I was there to see... ...a *golden dawn* discounted, friend, by those who see it free. ...The simplest thing for granted, like water from the tap ... where you control the water flow, or smell a puppy on your lap. To stroll outside to your back yard —they cannot take it from you— to feel the trees, the frozen ground ... see squirrels run around you?

A cloudless sky, your vision flies ... lost in the "grand forever"... you think it's right that this not stop — that nothing hurts you— ever! The cold air nips and numbs your nose, your breath is misted smoke, a chuckle made remembering... something clever, or a joke.

...Something to feel good about — "No worries," Aussies say! A promise from infinity to begin, exciting days. ...Feeling good with honor is that heaven here on Earth... ...that we scrabble and compete for, yes, from every squalid birth.

Part Three

All John has is honor; he's taken such a hit. I'd be beyond depression in their *mal-affected* pit. The sun not on my face, drugs and orders from nurse *Ratched*; I think I really would go nuts; and then I know I'd catch it ...

I hope I'm spared attention from that psychopathic lord... who's engineered confinement for the gad-fly Johnny Ford. Because *noticed* by this psychopath, then plagued by cruel devises? ...You'd let me suffer unjust clutches and ignore my unjust crisis! I'd speak for you —it doesn't matter— you couldn't be less anguished; you'd leave me my confinement... let me suffer as I languished.

It's not completely altruistic, see. You do this for yourself. You'd want someone to speak for you as you suffered, robbed of *self*. So I'll bleed a bit for "Johnny", 'cause I'd want it done for me. He who stopped a *bullet* so's to drop his scales and see.

...Portends the close of this "John Ford consciousness raising" iteration, the fourth in ten years... I know I have at least one more in me ... until we hear something new, then?
...But every appropriate piece I write, mentioned or not, is an apology —read, explanation— of our witless treatment of John Ford. This ongoing reminder of Ford's travail is deserved until John Ford IS restored?
Remember, plainly, the accuser in this toxic affair —John Powell— is the cited guilty one! He was even convicted, subsequently, for a similar criminal conspiracy wholly trumped up for Ford!  The, ironically, still incarcerated John Ford, on the other hand, is personified as an unblemished record, perfect in every way!! He proves supportably imbued with a staid community pillar-ship... A freaking saint in comparison to Powell ... an innocence framed and railroaded to protect a criminal elite extant for DECADES, reader!
Great suffering and most barragrugous ZOT, brothers and sisters, if you've gotten this far!
...Besides! Suffolk county, reader! Suffolk county! ...A prime focus for all manner of crimes, grafts, and chicaneries so abundant and for so long... ...citation is in no way required. This is forgetting documentations of weirdnesses expressed locally so extreme and bizarre that UFOs, riddling Suffolk County history themselves for those same decades, are only part of the mix in an aggregate weirdness of the county... Truth!
...Anything can happen anywhere. If you told me many years ago that I would later be vigorously defending two conservative republicans (even as I lived to regret one of them), and thinking about throwing support to a third ( Ms. Barwood of Arizona fame), I would almost certainly have been piqued and irritated. So you see, anything CAN happen. I digress.
Over the years, many of you have told me that I detract from myself with this series. That I court wackodom defending wackos! 
Christ on crutches people, how could the point be so completely missed? This is not about me; that I cheapen myself, prosecute a similar madness of my own, or even supply the reader a reason not to read what I have written! This is simply just not the issue.
This is not about me being read, or taken seriously. This is not about me one whit or particle. The closest this gets to being about me is that it is about you, actually, reader — you the individual. This is about your [our] freedom to think, learn, and love in a universe that you [we] take personal responsibility for. This is about your [our] personal efficacy and your [our] freedom to belong to, constructively achieve, and ethically influence a REAL world we build out of the senseless chaos around us! This is about our freedom to demand that the greatest are held to the same standards of accountability that you are. This is about a level playing field where everyone pays their fair share in a search to discover that... "truth that is out there."
...Your concern for same. It's about you.  I'm only one of you, see.  Only... I'm your albatross.  I will rot and stink around your neck until... until?
Early last century, Nazi Germany started to round up the "trouble-makers," people a lot like you. It started slow as the Nazis first tested the ethical waters, employing their euthanisms of murderous neo-Darwinism gingerly... ...actually, what *Amerika* had prosecuted for "four score and seven years" with their own indigenous peoples used as a ready model and proof of concept by Hitler... that hurts, eh?  Hitler followed the example of the United States...!
The Nazis were emboldened when an ignorant population chose to believe the skillful propagandas, turned their eyes away from the abject horror, called it something noble even... and then let it all slide to an eager and grasping perdition! As a consequence, the world slid as close to the lip of forthright hell as it probably ever had...
...Presently we contrive to glide even closer to that lip. The edge begins to crumble beneath our imported skates...
...Even "Tailgunner" Joe McCarthy is defended by the pundit neo-elite, reader. The progressive out-of-the-box-thinker individual interested in the general "rising and advancing" effort to deal with the fast approaching future? ...Suffocated from the bully pulpits of an unelected leadership who prefers to ignore, even facilitate, our inflicted problems with an exploding population... to cultivate same.
Why and how?
See... in an exploding population there is a diminishing measure of respect required to parse out to each bothersome individual. That's the real reason nothing is ever seriously done, for all the terrifying warnings of educated people (our finest minds, reader...) about the very well recognized "over-population problem."
The man, one comes to find, does not want to have to respect the individual, overmuch; it costs too much. The "man" wants to have his choice of individuals from which to choose, and then unethically manipulate those individuals with that choice!
Individuals, as a result, have to be ... the *right kind* of individuals ... ultimately coercible and breakable ones. Which is to say not individual at all...
The privileged arbitrary can pick and choose between the most malleable persons, set them against one another, codify and inculcate that behavior as healthy "competition"... ...when this couldn't be further from the truth... based, as it is, on rank disrespect of the individual from the start.
...And that is why we are overpopulated. It's desired! It's the PLAN! ...Can you dig that? Outrage is not enough, reader!
Oh, it's ok to be *kooky* new age, crystal squeezing, or channeling the spirits of boo-jum, ...whatever blows the individual's *spiritual* dress up... just as long as you don't ask real questions and then get STRIDENT as hell with the *authorities* (read "authoritarians") if you think you're getting "shined on"... that which you so very righteously criticize! Did our John Ford test the outer edge of some *un-elected* Suffolk county envelope of serial sociopathy, criminality, and evil?
Most likely. ...And showed us all something in the bargain:
When you, seriously, contrive to look for the *real deal*? The 'man' starts bringing out his social hammers and his static nails. There is no amount of due process or equality under the law to save you from those who command the houses where those laws are codified and employed.
John Ford became a distraction, a lawfully stinging gad-fly in their ointment, and he's being unjustly hammered for it. Lastly, and significantly, there, but for the grace of your jealous God, go you.
As post script, to qualify as a TRUE psychopath? One must be, by definition, NOT crazy! Bet you thought it was the inverse …consider the implications of THAT, reader! Who's the psychopath?
Look in a mirror. As I point out in the preceding link, he might be there.
Gods and devils ... priests and "appointed" presidents — be gone! You can no longer be afforded! You cause more problems than you solve. The trust seemingly EXISTS for you to betray it, Sir and Madam.  Save yourself; save us all!
Restore John Ford.

Sunday, August 08, 2010

...One Of You...


Your silence, as always, is bodeful and harsh!  Presume that I'm discomfited on this road that I must march. A point in graceless dissonance, though, John Ford is dissed — forgotten. His plight's ignored, dismissed, and damned — compassion's misbegotten.

...And it really could be one of you; you'd wish that you were missed. The measure I'm correct?  It's found to match how much you're pissed.

...Too, you miss the point forgetting John too easily — you do. Not as pretty as Whit Streiber, lived with Mom, so what's construed? He picked up homeless strays — could shed a tear when they had suffered... like Ford enduring sans sursease the hell that he must suffer!

What is it with Ford the "authorities" know? Did he play "dirty" politics? Does he have "dirty" toes?  When it's clear as a bell that the opposite's true?  Ford's record is perfect!  He's honest — true blue!

It's because he's Republican (très odoriferous!)? It's his guns? Or his friends? Or, perhaps too obstreperous

...Maybe unpretty — an "embarrassment" to some? You ignore him 'cause he's "nerdy," somewhat "addled" or "un-fun"? He wore "survivor" cammies ... had —and used— *decoder* rings? He fell at last to 'Keystone Kops' in the stupidest of stings? It's his tin-foil saucer beanie? It's an image thing, you think? Perhaps plagued with body odor, he must reek some stench, but stinks?

...Then it's you not thinking clearly! Oh, it's you won't have dissolved... ...the fabric of that tyranny from which you feel absolved!  Well, know you're not absolved or sheltered, and forget your piece of mind!  You're next to feel the boot-heel that John Ford's felt, you'll find.

He's one of us well hoisted on petards of dangerous questions! A casualty in the search for truth, when sought by Law's suggestion! He fought his battle, now lies wounded in a dungeon of his enemy — while we stand by, our eyes askance, ironic, his archenemy...

See, what's gravy for the gander —and it's John Ford's bird who's steamed— will be gravy for your goose, mon frere, and it's THEN I'll hear your scream!

…like outraged, insulted, and newly minted Castrati, whining about your human rights, or some such — goose's gravy for the gander? ...A little late then, eh?
John Ford was an innocent — injuditiously perceived as a lunatic tilting at mere windmills.  He knew those windmills were dragons all the time.
Suffolk County, restore John Ford!