Monday, June 24, 2019

UFOs... Again?


Yes... UFOs, Again... And Again...>
by Alfred Lehmberg



It does little good and much bad to maintain that these are not ...precipitous... times. Lawlessness abounds with a tyranny reminiscent of the Sheriff of Nottingham lathered and fluffed by his preeminently evil enabler Prince "John." Every day is a new barrage of intellectual insult and impossible civil outrage difficult and dangerous to abide. ...Where is our Lord of Locksley?

Du Jour insanity provokes insensibility... and the "fringe" intrudes itself in even MORE precipitous ways! Why, the United States Navy just lately allows as how it's been "close encountering" with UFOs for quite some time, and lately... wait. What?

The New York Times, usually a scoffer of condescending dismissivenesses and reflex scientistic (sic) reductionisms regarding UFOs, writes multiple sober articles... even on the subject's immediacy! Indeed, mass media has a certain unsettling sobriety going 'round like a high mass of fresh moral authority. CBS, ABC, NBC... uh... FOX? All are down for a seemingly new UFO relevancy.

Even what purports itself to be a body of sobriety and deliberation, and what should really be aspiring to be just that in all the "hard rain" alluded to, Congress has been getting secret briefings on same. Secret briefings always unsettle in the connotation that there might be some dishonorable NEED for "secrecy." 

Eye on the prize. Focus. UFOs festoon the skies? Only, there have been earlier "festoonages" before, even huge ones. ...But, what if these festoonages had a reality... What if they were of the existential and in the corporeal. What could that mean going forward? What new sobrieties could be aspired to, then?

On the one hand, we look into untroubled skies with a good clearing breath in our collective chest. We remark, observing a plethora of genuine evidence in support, that it's a grand time to be alive... for some of us.

On the other hand—well, the other hand is empty... empty and cold, near death and wracked by palsies and littered with blood spots, old grime, and creakily painful joints inured to its suspect and finally fated futility. We should have that looked at, eh? Could it be as simply addressed as seeing dirt for dirt and applying some soap...

See? We harbor hands entirely soiled, soiled and apart from any admission of same! Consider, the vast majority of individuals on this planet, a planet where TENs of THOUSANDs of children starve to death every DAY, are passing their squalid moments très miserable, at best... discounted by a psychopathic western civilization as bigoted as it is arbitrary and as wasteful as it is self-consumptive. Sucks to us.

Clearly, Culture would seem to eat its young after dehumanizing, criminalizing, and otherwise short-sheeting them in camps of concentration on our southern borders. ...Culture... it's not your friend, it's been pointed out, before. One has to see very little of the planet to know that this is entirely true. This writer has seen much of that world. 

We feel this. We feel this on levels underlying the brave fronts we put up during the day, holding this tenuous *thing we call reality* together in gnashing teeth and scratching nails. 

Some of us are able to hear the screams of those who fall to the wayside, or underfoot, in this mad dash to covet some suggested material satisfaction largely unsatisfying in the achievement, we find; we smell the acrid miasmas of those ground up for their humble greases just to lubricate the lifestyles of an expanding compassionless few; we see the disrespected staggers of real people suffering their nutritionally induced retardations; we feel the hopelessness, despair, and anguish of a MAJORITY of INDIVIDUAL persons who inhabit our insignificant and brown tinged, if blue and white, point in space... All this, and the Kingdom IS at hand?

I suspect in reflection that this cognitive dissonance nurtured between what could be and what is might explain the popularity of the ubiquitous "Titanic" memes—despairing themes of increasing frequency for us. We sense a singularity (iceberg) of some conclusive concrescence approaching... ...Justice?

These are worrisome trepidations, experienced by many, that our "ship" of civilization, a metaphor for us and some *impossible cataclysm* looming... approaches its fate of fatally cruel and ship-grinding shoals... shoals rife with some fulsome, if unknowable and inexorable threat of mysterious prerogatives, evidenced proclivities, not of some alien threat, but one of our OWN manufacture and facilitating the worst of us! 

These threats include wholly unregulated and unaccountable psychotic predators suffering contagious and brain-eating (if wholly tolerated!) disorders of pecuniary *religulousness*. These are slavering wolves among the misinformed but scared and hopeless sheep! These "prosperity Christians" would ironically welcome an end-times of complete and absolute destruction, even disappearance, of the very foundational social ground upon which the reader might already be shakily standing... all to facilitate the pecuniary few pilfering our social security like lying leeches... all THIS suggesting that sudden plunging out of sight into the black, high pressure, and terrifying unknowns of soul death and corporeal dissolution... for the unworthy infidel... all pointing to fun fun fun in those foreshadowed and precipitous time, ahead!

Yeah... Maybe we go out with some blustery passion, or not—but go out we do? The slide to crushing conclusion is complete for both?

...Maybe. ...Only... Victory has been snatched from the jaws of defeat. We're famous for it. We'd do well to keep that in mind.

See, we are hugely powerful as a species! Look around and be glad no one had to wait until you invented all this stuff, right? And Consider! This might be evidenced by that same "religulousness" alluded to, religion used to remove that power apart from us so we don't have to take responsibility for it? 


The "power" of the Gods? Maybe that's OUR power. Gods draw their power from suns and zero-point nothingness, you see. We do that, ourselves, to a degree.




Hey, this writer stands as round-shouldered and vulnerable as any, but he squares those shoulders to hoist a one-fingered salute to any fate that sweeps down on all of us, or just on him, come to it. I'll face what's true, and make it work if I'm able! Or not. It's what we do.

The salute, an existential reality of occurrence, remains... as do the UFOs chased by our military aviators at least since 1952, we're informed by one Frank Feschino Jr., and perhaps to be chased in turn by same. That's always been the reality! 

See..., and gird loins for this, it just may be that the sturm and drang currently projected by the aggregate social society... is to provide for the necessary distraction from the UFO, itself a middle finger to that same culture, science, and society. That's what UFOs do, remember. They invalidate our religious hypocrisy, implode our scientific hubris, and humiliate our misinformed arrogance. 

This is a science and society that is going to have to change to something altogether different given a newfound ufological consciousness. ...And don't presume that those changes alluded to are going to be worse than what we have. 

Consider the glabrous mendacity of current leadership and its desire to cancel a citizenry's already inadequate healthcare, for example, in a comparison. Sure, fear the devil you don't know... but the devil we know's pretty bad. 

Good, bad, or undefinable... un-englishable even, UFOs, an agent of ultimate sedition, offer to end-run the prerogatives and prerequisites of ready political betrayers, religious psychotics, lack-wit authoritarian loving lap-dogs and their warm-beer rank-file of deplorable lickspittles... their  ceaseless, unending, and interminable mendacity, and the two color no-space of their social philosophy... as caustic as it is toxic and as outdated as it is irrelevant

UFOs aren't lying like we do, at any rate... and since biblical times, ironically enough. This the soul reason UFOs get short shrift in the first place. One reason night be that Catbirds have always been loathe to be moved from seats traditionally reserved for Catbirds. That's root, seed, and stem of our seeming inability, as a mainstream society, to regard UFOs intelligently, at all, is the observation of this writer. 

The Catbirds? They're just going to have to suck it, aren't they? They will be reluctant. Sure, suffocation of any type is not a pleasant way to slough the mortal coil, eh? But what if you had to give in... lose yourself to the death of an ego not serving you so you could return to yourself wholly improved and the richer for it. This writer suspects that's what we're going to have to do. Give in to get on. Give up to grow up. Tune. Turn. Trip. Live. Learn. Know. Read on.

Thursday, June 13, 2019

...One Finger Salute...




,¸¸,.»§«,¸¸,.·´¯`·.,¸¸,.»§«*¥*»§«,¸¸,.·´¯`·.,¸¸,.»§«·.,¸¸,.
We gaze upon the vastnesses 
of a starry, starry night... 
see washed out points of light-polluted
... symbols... of our fright. 
Then, sensing but a fraction 
of the vastness truly there, 
we pray its existential-ness 
won't put us to its dare!

Though, proceed into that "darker" space! 
Why, your fraction's even smaller, 
despite (because!) you're seeing more? 
...Enigma growing taller!* 
That "space" is huge, immense, unknown. 
Its girth is ever larger. 
Its length and breadth accelerate
and it's not a disobliger.

Space, plus time and surface area! 
A wealth of all potential! 
A wealth of what's required 
for the human existential. 
The lesson is: no limits... 
...for the perspicacious mind! 
The individual's paramount, 
and SHALL NOT BE CONFINED!

It's there are found perspectives 
...of a billion trillion ids! 
If you've thought it? 
It has happened, friend, 
and has happened, as it did
...And much, much more WILL happen 
than is thought of in those minds 
who'd inhabit our shared multi-verse... 
quickened hugeness—hoary time!

There is darkness which transcends Heer TЯUMP... 
or Hitler—even Stalin! 
There are miseries undreamed of 
in the foulness of the fallen. 
Despair so thick it runs in veins 
of toxic waste it dreams 
...reflecting all the misery 
of shrieks and moaning screams...

...But balance is equality 
so "the inverse" also happens! 
There is truth and light 
and sun washed right 
to complement its lesson. 
There's the loving scent 
of leaves of grass 
on a million peaceful worlds, 
a touch of silk
—so cobweb sheer— 
on healthy frames unfurls. 
Unclouded and so unafraid...  
never "screwing for percentage," 
they are living, laughing, loving
and they know their sweet advantage.

Like it's fiction in a "Star Trek," 
or a "Star Wars"? Love abides. 
This means: feeling good is honored 
when it's felt with humble pride. 
This means looking out to see new works 
as lasting... without sin! 
This means achieving all their dreams 
AND satisfactions found therein!

See, here's breathing free with honor 
in a world they help build
There's completeness 
for that *spot* within... 
you love it when it's filled! 
They respect the individual
the key to their success
So, they live in lucent Edens 
they'd construct, but I digress...

You're Garibaldi, something like him, living lives of looming failure; you're his "Captain" taking sacrifice to task... ...Anything can happen on a million billion worlds! Dr. Drake can only tell you 'cause he'd ask.
...And Drake's more than just a WAG, my friend; 
he's conservative as hell; 
he is science très myopic... 
...but he's got a tale to tell. 
See, he qualifies veracity 
that *others* do exist, 
could watch us span potential ... 
watch as some of us resist... 
...Could be looking from the shadows 
some avoid in abject fear... 
... go beyond that jealous envelope 
one maintains and labels: "queer."

We profit from our darknesses? 
We hasten from the light? 
We live our short depressing lives 
in disrespecting spite?  
Earth is but a point in space... 
and cursed with infestation? 
A cancer rages in her flesh; 
it's humankind's gestation? 
Those self-aware must wonder... 
"...will we meet our test"? 
Will we wallow in our toxic filth 
or rise to be our best?

Will we screw for best percentage,  
though, like Ms. Ripley once observed, 
and grind ourselves beneath our heel 
unrepentant... undeterred? 
Or will we work to meet these *others*, 
grok a history "handed down," 
though it crumble proud foundations 
of old systems non-profound?

I'd like to think we're brave enough 
to face our craven monsters, 
though these monsters be ourselves, 
any chance... we must not squander.  
We are poets, not pretenders, 
we are languages of paint, 
we are writers and we're song-smiths... 
we'd aspire to the saints!



It does little good and much bad to maintain that these are not ...precipitous... times. Restore John Ford.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
*The bigger the "fire" is built, the more the "darkness" is revealed. This writer suspects that's a good thing.