Please forgive this small presumption.
It's something more than mere assumption.
Remains I've drawn a sword I'll use.
Will I be "kind"? Be disabused.
.
I'm "nasty" with those too contentious,
those so gleefully pretentious—
those professing "dead-lock nuts..."
Their "truths," it's found, are "ifs and buts"!
.
Reality's detracted from,
and from what's "truthful," these will run—
a quick dismissal is their creed.
When that is lost? They cease to be!
.
Existing of conflated coattails,
blown around by moneyed main-sails,
these dissolve or melt away
to prices "fixed" ...that we must pay.
These can't, per se, debate their *critics*,
their "grinding axes" lack *specifics*,
and they have bastardized what's *correct*—
while prosecuting disrespect.
.
These have a special axe to grind
to cushion senses they contrive
to justify unbrave contentions.
See? They won't *see*... They lack dimension!
.
Yes!
II -- They EXIST!
III -- There IS a mystery!
.
...But our contentious skeptibunkies,
braying, scorning—mocking flunkies...
These will hoot, pronounce soft *phacts*,
and from the truth, you bet, detract.
All, I think, to keep you working,
making babies, crying—hurting...
...Still, they're REAL and would upset
the "apple cart" ill *owned*, as yet.
.
Yes, we'd have the truth; condone it!
We've paid for it in blood. We own it!
Were not served, in fact ill-served,
to be denied the truths observed.
Had we some "truth," we'd, then, build true...
avoid those "pitfalls" as construed,
avoid perhaps, the forecast "planned..."
...we'd have FOUNDATION, understand?!
.
Sceptic! Don't pretend your faux concern;
you will come to live and learn—
at issue is the profiteering
you enjoy while proudly sneering!
.
Don't think that you provide a service!
Don't think that you provide for "calm"—be nervous!
Don't pretend that fear's deterred
in blandishments you purr—absurd!
.
Don't presume that you're correct—
you've been remiss you would detect—
or, kept your courage as a "guide,"
made progress, mattered... ...even tried!
.
Don't profess the "all-dodge rational"!
Don't contend that you're "professional."
Do not think your *earned* degrees
have brought you off your "callused knees"!
Don't presume to "know the truth"
and "sneer" or "gloat—pretend "aloof"!
.
Too, don't you dare to sully Occam!
Your artless pretense: courage "run from"!
You distort beyond the frame
a meaning found that Occam's named,
distorted to the nth degree:
the simplest answer's "best," you see?
.
"Don't complicate hypothesis
without some "need" is confidence,
but it remains that "When in need,"
you complicate that thing, you see?
"Occam" doesn't rule that out!
That's what "Occam's" all about!
.
So, one refutes your bland pronouncements;
one subsumes your trite announcements.
You've betrayed our education—
warmed yourself in its ablation.
You don't rate a second look.
Your fire is "out," and you can't "cook"!
.
Look around, you're plainly comic!
See beyond the pale—it's cosmic!
Consider all the games you play
to keep the "real deal" at bay!
Concrescence looms; you're not absolved.
This thing's the THING; we're ALL involved!
.
Admit that time and space are one,
and both are "endless" (matchless!) *fun*.
Admit it's we who happened here...
and "there" if near to what you fear.
Space enough for us to *happen*—
good or bad, past understandin'...
.
What can happen, happens plainly,
and cannot happen once, insanely.
What occurs, occurs again!
"Formality's achieved" my friend!
.
We are not alone, in truth!
To think we are? Be disabused!
If you believe that we're "alone"?
Then, you're a dunce, not Sherlock Holmes.
I would have it more "forthcoming"—
so we could "plan," get "well," or something...
.
...Dismiss this as a nonplussed screed?
Still and all it's what you need—
CSIcop's dull; sans circumspections.
They're stopped at lightless intersections!
.
In the years preceding Christ,
a couple past a thousand (thrice?),
mere *humans* wrote of "asteroid belts...
...'twixt Mars and Jupiter," Sitchin tells!
Still, and in this long-gone time,
they knew the colors, mass—made rhyme
of Neptune and his twin Uranus...
...how they knew? We can't explain it...
.
The Dogon knew a star they worshiped,
Sirius, though twins in worship—
two dogs to follow at the heel
of he who fought the "bull surreal".
...We couldn't notice "double stars,"
given they're away too far!
The Dogon knew that there were two.
Now... how in hell'd they know that's true?
.
...The Sumer knew of Earth's precession!
This fuels our justified obsession
with enigma they don't cop to,
investigate, or drop a nod to!
See? ...Some ten-thousand years ago!
How'd they know that that was so?
.
Embrace denial if it's there;
betray our ethics; gape and stare!
...But, don't pretend there's nothing to it!
Mere science, by itself, can't do it!
.
What we've seen defines new pages;
too, we've perceived forbidden ages!
So, we can see the moving finger!
Writing on the wall it lingers,
pointing out the enigmatic
for the not-so-autocratic.
It's bigger than you're giving credit.
...This bothers one... where one could let it...
.
Should it scare you—just a might—
...promote some sight with greater light;
make you see the bigger picture—
grasp that time and space are richer...
for the efforts you have made
in work you've DONE, for what you've PAID!
You deserve to know some truth,
al dente, and so to the tooth,
which elevates the spirit's progress
on a path providing noblesse!
.
Yeah... I know as light comes up...
...the more perceived the shadows got!
But that's the future as ordained.
We see the shadows! That's our gain!
Darkness threatened, grasped and scratched,
but from those shadows truth is snatched!
Of course more darkness is perceived:
the more the light comes up! Concede!
.
But we move forward and progress...
or die by inches, I protest!
.
You deserve a clearer vision.
Your potential's sapped and weakened...
by those who dare to mock or cheapen...
that which makes us what we are:
self-aware... and made from stars!
.
lehmberg2002@gmail.com
www.AlienView.net
...Sentient and Self-aware Star-Stuff... is the suspicion.
Humility demands that Centering ourselves in all of this seems, at best, just ludicrous—a pompous hubris unearned! Still, one wonders how we're still not getting it, you know? We've always had it so wrong. Smart money says we have it wrong, still.
Restore John Ford!
.
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