...Capturing Belief...

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A "top-kick" for things 

keeping saucers away... (?) 

...is the stuff we call "News," 

or "the lies of the day." 

Attractive and structured, 

it seems non-facetious, 

but reality shows 

it's contrived 

and, quite, specious.  

.

...Some more than others, 

as agencies go; 

consider FOX News 

as Sean "sucks hard" and "blows"... 

but all of these "efforts"... 

somewhat guilty of same, 

consider Chuck Todd

and some others by name...

.

See, these dodge real truth 

in a mix of thin dreams 

to prevaricate "balance"...

..."Flawed" and "FUBAR" a mean?! 

Our Earth is in peril 

within and without; 

to equivocate "nonsense"—

while hypocrites pout?  

.

We're threatened by asteroids, 

imperiled with storms, 

we spin in a bleakness 

that CAN'T be the norm! 

...The face of the sun 

is bereft of its spots, 

but the news is of "Flotsam"—

and some *Jetsom* they've got!

.

Yeah, surf the foul "wave" 

of a "News" that is cable. 

See the evasion; 

you can—if you're able! 

It's "Birther" and "Teabags" 

or "Right-winger" brain-stain. 

These distract from alternatives... 

like a holocaust's freight train! 

.

Its cars are disaster, 

starvation—harsh times. 

The caboose is a time bomb 

and gravid with crime. 

...The engine's the "news"; 

so, derailed, abused... 

we're played, disrespected... too, 

we're wholly defused.

.

Our eyes, then, where they want them 

...on our "tricked out" bed of nails... 

milking meager livelihoods, 

and the spending that entails... 

...the middle-class dissolving 

like some sugar in the rain, 

earnest folk conditioned 

it's their lot to lose all gain.

.

The *talking heads* 

are quick to preach 

"sound channels" for our thinking, 

but their *news* is a distraction... 

from real scabrous monsters slinking!  

.

Its spoor distorts cognition—

clues us out (by all intention!)... 

distracted, then, 

from what it was they stole, 

is my contention!

.

So, what might these be stealing, then, 

employing craft and guile, 

what soulless machinations 

are deployed for such as styled?

.

They steal our sensibility. 

They steal our self-respect! 

They steal to feed the monster 

for their *stuff*; 

we write the checks! 

They steal our potential... 

built our castles in their air 

then stroked abused libidos 

so's to move us in up there!

.

No, as "suckers" shorted even breaks, 

admit that we're betrayed.  

Why, even now "they" tighten coils... 

these reptiles! Corporate snakes!  

See, employed's "malfeasant media" 

and it's used as needs arise 

by the class providing sustenance 

to a "news" we should despise... 

so, call it "news" or "entertainment"—

"infotainment" if you'd rather. 

It's a mass prevarication, 

shameful twaddle... harmful blather!

.

Too, the news is but a mouthpiece 

for elitists... ...we uphold!  

...Glad bastards owning "meters," 

the ones with all control. 

The unelected boss-man, 

the one who sets his tone, 

the one who shafts you endlessly? 

... It's you ensures his throne!

.  

Yeah, try to drink this "infotainment" 

when you thirst for real news, 

and you're choking on miasma—

confounded and confused.

We buy reversing mortgages

and the blue big-boner pills

and so sell out our potential

For a rich man's lurid thrills.

.

Too bad you learn your fear's respect 

for his kicking in your knees!  

He'll have his way completely. 

He does as he would please. 

He writes your harsh morality, 

then charges you its fees! 

"News" is a misnomer; 

it's a show to see—you see? 

.

There's nothing "news" about it; 

it's contrived for you and me.  

See, he owns the news-day *cycle*, 

or his "Lawyers" work for free!

.

...So, "he" makes a lot of nothing 

and ignores the real tale. 

You're imprisoned in your mind, you see—

a contrived but solid jail.  

Why, they can even hide the saucers 

surely filling daytime skies! 

They obviate more honest folk 

from "bully pulpits," right?

.

And, the *NEWS* works hard to keep you 

from its subtle—awful truth. 

There's little that they can report; 

they're muzzled, so, abstruse! 

Too, the "bone-yard" is awash my friends 

with the skeletal remains 

of journalists who won't "play ball" 

and were ejected from the game!

.

That's why they fill the airwaves 

with a blend of "panic stew" 

and the sex acts of politicos 

served up to me and you...

. 

Lo, the truth would storm their castles 

with its books "broke wide"—laid bare! 

It would shatter toxic battlements 

with the histories, it could share. 

See, truth swings a sword indifferent 

to the wishes of smug men—

reveals at last the callousness 

they've used upon us, friend.

.

See, truth lays the blame, 

isn't tame, 

can't be lame, 

or be defamed. 

It stands apart and is the frame, 

avoiding same, 

or any shame!  

...Too, so tuned in explication, 

understanding is relief, 

so truth as told, 

when told that way, 

will capture all belief!

.

It's true. The Media's hiding saucers 

and our future from our senses. 

Machinations of elitists, 

through their newsfeeds: 

drive us senseless! 

The *NEWS* is just the corporate shill 

for "products" snakes must "sell." 

It doesn't really matter that 

these stink... or reek and smell! 

Too, the "watchers" are repelled anew 

with each new lie they witness 

and are frightened by our conduct... 

or the manner of news "business." 

It can even be most incomplete, 

salacious, and malforming; 

its "mission" is to sell bad "soap," 

and that should be alarming.

• lehmberg2002@gmail.com
• http://www.alienview.net/

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Think About...

Think About...

by Alfred Lehmberg

Think about the unconscious (?), but artful, effects of erosion on the surface of our planet spaceship Earth... Millions of years of some ceaseless something, doing something ceaselessly to the face of our globe... and all globes to one degree... or another!

On most, livid Magma gushes from tortured fissures! The Earth's crust shatters violently into raggedly ravaged "plates" shifting chaotically! Grinding by one another in its catastrophic chaos of stress and torture, attempting to rid themselves of the terrible excess heat, they prepare nature's canvas for an ageless kind of macroscopic artistry... art far older, even, than the age of our indifferent star! Water, we note, has always been water, too.

Concurrently in the hell-scape, one would observe torrential rains eat away at our forever evolving landscape like a hungry acid shower driven by the energy of creation—gravity! The inconstant extremes of heedless Sol further turns that stone-carving rainwater into tiny little "tool" mechanisms of timeless irresistibility—hammers and chisels ceaselessly contracting and expanding microscopic levers. These "hammers and chisels" of hydraulic irresistibility, working busily and unceasingly to sculpt the tormented surface of our rocky starship, render what can only be called natural works of art!

It is the water, finally, used like trillions upon trillions of tiny stone-affecting tools—shaping, restructuring, and reinventing the rocky masterpieces of our singular planet home. Some of the art produced by this profoundly perfect process suggests the (immodest) spire of the Washington Monument even, but, as an artist who can carve the whole of a planet's face with her knowing fingers... erosion is capable of much GRANDER artifice!

Beneath the tortured fissures mentioned earlier huge columns of the aforementioned magma rise! These battering lava flows insistently fracture the overlying rock with tremendous extremes—diamond-producing—pressures, and (finally!) spew forth into the open air as monstrously expressed and exploding GOUTS of liquid rock, boiling mud, and choking ash! Seen from above, it is Nature casually preparing to throw her monumental statuary!

The smoke-belching studios of her violent artistry run for eons, pushing the plastic rock higher and farther up into the centers of these angry mountains intruded—time passes and proud peaks are torturously produced... peaks with harder centers waiting to be exposed...

Time does, what it does. What inexorable means.

...Millions of years after these eruptions have ceased, the weaker exteriors of these extinct volcanoes have worn away to the ceaseless manipulations of their inexorable water craftsman... Then...

Revealed, reader! Previously buried, but now sky pointing, rocky interiors of breathtaking statuary! Hundreds of feet tall, they rise into the air like stony skyscrapers dwarfing the latter. The air howls and moans around them noisily like ephemeral companies of lost artistic souls... and time marches on!

These tough vertical interiors stand alone, at last (after millions of years), like the (too rudely) phallic Washington monument already described... unrepentant rocky columns of ancient basalt accusing the indifferent sky with rigid and unwavering fingers!

Returning abruptly to the ubiquitous water craftsman, and owing to water's peculiar ability to be at its most dense four WHOLE degrees above the point at which it freezes solid—a miracle (and why frozen water floats!)—it is the water used to shape and carve these monuments as only water can. It is the water—finally—constituting the real tool of this not-so-subtle artist of erosion! The proudly pointing pillars that the water creates, remain... chiseled from the surrounding weaker rock and leaving these unwavering stony structures as extant... like the unsung supports of the sky itself!

Similar pillars, monuments, or columns can be found on the surface of the moon. ...Wait. What? ...Tilt!

Yes. Consider the moon.

Stasis is a word synonymous with her lunar body. Her surface remains unchanged and unmoving but for the chance meteoric affliction or the shuffling feet of the—too-rarely-present—astronaut.

Virtually changeless, the only things that regularly MOVE on her silent lunar face are the sharp-edged shadows created by the unrestricted sun—hard cornered but insubstantial wraiths our star chases around as it bakes her previously distressed and pockmarked still-life surface. A lover's heart drawn in the dead gray dust of her lunar soil will likely outlast all the earthly pyramids and, even, the inexorable seas that wash those pyramids away...

There is no atmosphere to carry the wind-borne tools of erosion's artistry on our moon. There is no water casually moved around to be used as tiny rock scarring levers.

Little, or no, lunar volcanic activity PRECLUDES the formation of the rocky lava towers to begin with—irrespective of this dearth of erosive mechanisms to dig them away! Yet, they ARE there!

What are they?

. . . Somebody knows!