By its endless ending that makes of death a suicide, new beginning is signified of an eternal recurrence of renewal; coming Spring the going...
Infinitely delayed, with no chance of a departure yet, just stuck here forever, without a reprieve, no leaving and no hoping of it; spiked s...
Sparks in the dark ignite; to go to make an offering of light between the possibility and the final performance of the action a hesitation r...
A rustling high above is come, heard faint is this hurricane of days, storm-dancing trees swaying their slender canopies, in a syncopated vi...
Close down eyelid of consciousness. Substitute; cruel remove the cobalt blue from out the crystal skies of hope; replace the Sun of Faith by...
A shame and a sorrow and a bereavement of days; Desperate stutter for some consciousness to come: Birth-Daze.
Semaphore of their coming dance of leaves, buds are spiking on twigs to announce an early Spring. In their green whispers of such birth, the...
Every one who reads this Blog has an interest in improving their physical and psychic abilities, or else why would they be reading this Blog...
Visibility denied, a fading away from line of sight gliding down a desert Highway in a blue electric light. There's a better travellin...
O to give me just one single candle-light of hope. I'm just a visitor here, am but a temporary transient; soon I will be leaving this pl...
WAY OF THE SEVEN STARS
Response To That Final Question:
Ignorance is the Bane of Man.
At a distance removed,
Dimly remembered, and
Still not seen distinct,
But yet somehow felt;
What we do sense
Is not reality; is not the Real Thing.
This World is hologram.
Then; for lucid sleep;
For it's just a dream
Within another dream
And we are not awake.
Seven Stars' Song of Revelation
Ignorance is a jail where no escape
Is possible but through knowledge.
Don't fear nor spurn. Dare to learn:
Assent to and accept this world as it is
Before attempting ascent to any world
Aspired to or wished for. Life's glorious!
That That Is can be known but by few.
Not space, not time, not gravity exists;
But as Extension from Field of Thought.
Be subject to neither church nor crown.
Dread naught. Disdain none: Not One!
Absent That That Is, there's Nothing.
That That Is, IS. That That's Not, IS, too.
That That's Not makes That That Is: IS.
Be subject to neither church nor crown.
Dread naught. Disdain none: Not One!
Absent That That Is, there's Nothing.
That That Is, IS. That That's Not, IS, too.
That That's Not makes That That Is: IS.
That That Is makes That That's Not BE.
By rowing to That That Is, I become "I."
Wind + Water = Wave. As THOUGHT is
Wind + Water = Wave. As THOUGHT is
The Heart and The Nave of The Wheel.
Worlds are created from Thought alone.
That which we will do is because of that
What we are. We'll become who we are.
Charity, courtesy, civility, compassion,
Are cardinal spokes making civilization;
Chivalry forms center, hub's circle core.
IS is! Be not the slave of some other's I.
This, Creed of our Seven Stars Society;
This, The Teaching of the Seven Stars:
No man can be happy if he should choose
To be exile from his own nature and soul.
ALL IS THOUGHT ILLUMINATING BEING
HEART-HEALING THE CHARIOT WAY
Precognitive Prescient Prophetic Poetry by WILLIAM O'CONNOR
Thursday, April 28, 2016
Tuesday, April 26, 2016
World we see is what we are not what is. Avarice for acquisition stems from paranoia of existence come from fear of knowing; from being deaf to listening and hearing music in the tempo of the flow of things.
Monday, April 25, 2016
Monkey chattering in the Mind in constant argument against the Self is slowed down, is silenced, is stilled to allow Voice of within of without to become louder, to become clearer; to call itself: Poetry.
Sunday, April 17, 2016
Their name is government, these free grazers of humanity. They batten fat on results sown by others' toils; become obese in indolence. Them self they do nothing and make sure no other can do anything.
A porcelain people, easily smashed, must be handled with utmost care. It's what every politician does. Caress them with prejudice. Handle them with patriotism. Never drop them onto a hard floor of Truth.
Poetry's purpose is to scribe the present so as to protect the future. What seems antique in the past is reflected in the present; is always mirrored in the future. Nothing can be forgiven in the genes of men.
Culls caused by religions will murder billions. All them not of the tribes' faiths shall be condemned to slaughter. There be many many faiths. Religions' true purpose is: To make way to birth the New Man.
Saturday, April 16, 2016
These lords of finance these bankers and these brokers who bring so much ruin on our world smile with a smirking smile concealing canine teeth are ready yet again to send more men to wage rapacious war.
Thursday, April 14, 2016
That mortar shell, which exploded to inflate our universe with its shrapnel of matter, made us too. It was fired from the hostile Nation of Nothingness that claims us prisoner when we die: We're at war!
Sunday, April 10, 2016
What seems least forced makes for a better art. Effort, when concealed, confers an attitude of ease; of freedom from restraint in rules of form; of liberty from laws of rectitude in statements and expression.
Saturday, April 9, 2016
The world has been undone by loss of memory of its past. Each generation repeats the same mistakes. Each generation suffers from the same amnesia. Again. Again. Again. Always. Same history repeated.
Friday, April 8, 2016
Reality desires always to be questioned. Existence strolls through avenues of inquiry and walks streets of doubt to find itself again. Each question makes its own answer. For reality to reveal itself, doubt it is.
To live as we do now in a state of ignorance is to abjure the One that is the Self. That which we are and that which we should be, ought not be separate; should be congruent, the same, not alien to each other.
Tuesday, April 5, 2016
Never to be at peace with Death; always to fight oblivion: That's our struggle! Once life ceases; comes a blackness, coma of nothingness, so do opportunity for creativity. Nothing follows. Just our work in Life!
Sunday, April 3, 2016
They had faces then and voices too in them days. Not the grimaces and screeches one sees nowadays. Something has been lost in translation, in the transition from past to present; some higher standard.
So that it could then be created: Each universe evolves its own unique deity. Ours is Energy. What we think we see and know is flux and foam and form of power; the power of both adhesion and repulsion.
Saturday, April 2, 2016
So now here we are again in same old place we thought we left so long ago. Funny how it turned out. Nothing changed but us. Thought we're going somewhere. Turned out we're merely running in place.
None of it is real. It's all a fantasy whatever it was we were brought up to believe, to honor, to respect, youthful truths that seemed so obvious then; now seeming fraudulent and frivolous, but we miss them.
A lot was lost in translation. It was always made up and created by men; but had some sustenance to it, some real solace in attempt to justify, to explain, to ameliorate, travesties of life and now: It's all gone.
Friday, April 1, 2016
Bleak lights begin to shine in parks of the City now dusk has begun. But the paths are empty. They glow pale gold in lamps lit by twilight. People are afraid to come. They are afraid. Of what, they do not know.
Perhaps you really do have something profound to say; something of portent, of revelation, a prediction of future event; but microphone goes dead, web site closed down; so, whatever it was, it is lost forever.
Reason and Logic both fuse together to form a barrier to understanding Death. We die and we die for no purpose despite vain efforts of politicians of priests and philosophers to give some meaning to our lives.
Wednesday, March 30, 2016
For politicians for these priests of perfidy who seduce states their anthem and chief theme is complaint, a blaming of their predecessors in office; that same office they'll be condemned for by their successors.
Tuesday, March 29, 2016
The paper gods of scriptures are consumed by flame to be scattered by wind of new revelation; only ash still remains of deities of Torah, of Koran, of Testament now all consigned to fire from which they came.
Monday, March 21, 2016
Needed are fantasies written in many myths of man. They hold within themselves far higher truth than do mere dry fact science answers to. They donate to life journey and destination no reality can provide.
Saturday, March 19, 2016
Alibi your living with religion. Explain it all away with faith. Seek your origin and your destiny in Cult of Art; your logic for survival in Ritual of Science, in Rubric of Philosophy; in all the many mythologies, all made by men.
Monday, March 7, 2016
Sputtering lights of neon signs speak to walkers of the night: You! You aren't welcome here. Keep on moving on. Move on past the snarling streets, move on past violent avenues, move on past the city's intersections of rage. Move on! Stop. To finally pause at last on the muddy banks at the fast flowing dark river.
Sunday, February 21, 2016
Desperately for you I'm for you desperately, as there's exclusion, separation, a warehousing of anyone outsider; into a village of dissidents, of all they who disagree. We need each other more than ever now.
Saturday, February 20, 2016
As the music throbs, the drum beats, mirroring the heart in systolic response; here here here, now now now. Didn't you know me, didn't you see me, didn't you hear me? I'm among you always am not silent!
Passed on, same fallacy exists generation after generation; that simple statement there's some purpose to it all, some meaning; when after all, it's only in the living, in the doing, that holds an assertion of life.
A flanking light, giving a blue shadow from the side, gives to this speaker a sinister look as he speaks of torture, of deportation, of banning all they different from ourselves; for that, he is given great applause.
Vulgar Time, in folly of days, in chatter of conformity, in stammer of complacence, in conversations of cliches; beat us down through concussion of prejudice by they who can't see significance in the World.
Friday, February 19, 2016
Bright impinging light of inspiration shines once again upon my head, directing me: Doubt everything; doubt nation; doubt religion; doubt philosophy; doubt spouse and family; but never doubt your genius.
Wednesday, February 17, 2016
What I miss most is the intelligence, the sharp smartness of it, which always seems now to be lacking. Crudeness turns one away to avert one's eyes; to ignore what's happening as Death takes them away.
Monday, February 15, 2016
Doubt is that which creates its own existence; for what questions itself builds itself. If I doubt I am, in denying my existence, I acknowledge me. When I doubt I am changed; made real by doubting myself.
Sunday, February 14, 2016
Cleanness of cold cracks the mirror of perception. Whatever was thought as true before in summer's heat seems fallacious, seems false, in close huddle of winter chill snapping at bones of complacence.
Wednesday, February 10, 2016
Preaching to a future congregation on the temptation of the present has for them no relevance. They'll have sufficient tribulations to contemplate. What worries us won't worry them. They'll have their own.
Monday, February 8, 2016
Occupations and professions, all the ways of working, can serve to hide the ways of living. What we do to survive by seeking remuneration performing services may well help our societies but rarely helps us.
Sunday, February 7, 2016
It didn't start with you. And it sure doesn't end with you. It goes on and on and on, indifferent. Maybe you'll be there; maybe you won't, to see it, but it will go on anyway. That's all you can ever be sure of.
Harder to know and still harder more to be able to understand; why is the world the way it is, and how did it get that way? Don't make no sense at all. Really ought be different; but then, I guess so should I.
The times they were real mean then and they're even meaner now. They sure ain't getting any better now you're travelling all alone. Just got to keep on moving on and keep ahead of greater misfortune.
Whenever the State shall knock upon your door and will say with sly smile and disarming grin: "We are here to help and to assist you to make your life even more wonderful and free." Slam the door on them!
Bringing of the Self into Being, to give a birth to one's own soul, is constantly constrained and confined by government and by the state's schooling of society and of citizenry to force compliance for abortion.
Thursday, January 28, 2016
Love and kisses I'll miss you World. It's been a fun ride. Wish it had been longer. Should have taken few more detours sure but glad of them I took; many stoplights along the way, proud managed to run some.
As long as I can keep going I'll keep on going. I'm funny that way. Sure, no one cares and none shall remember; then, just occasionally someone recites something, a small thing, and I say: I wrote that.
Wednesday, January 27, 2016
They're all dying now, all the old rockers. Cocaine and cognac catches up with you in the end. But while they were alive, they burned with a pure blue light, and that's really all that matters with the sputtering of the flame.
That which I am and that which I would be can't be the same. If they were congruent or were identical, I could not be. I must be always divided from myself; for, in this division, in this difference, I survived.
The Now that seems to exist does so through multiple entangled timelines from the past. Whatever was makes whatever is. But what was isn't one single thread: Past is woven tapestry of many possibilities.
Sunday, January 24, 2016
That which is One's Self is the All. There is no separation, no division, no contention: I am because I am that and that who I am is me. Same whiteness covers us all like snow with the blanket of forgetfulness.
The barren Void, this place of pulsing power, seeks within itself expansion of Nothingness; seeks within itself a greater, a more profound Emptiness and by doing so balloons into being the birth of everything.
Wednesday, January 20, 2016
Belief in science is a faith like any other: That what had came before it makes in some way what comes after it is a religion. Why not future makes the present? Seems more fun this way with Time's reversal.
Saturday, January 16, 2016
Nothing in his life so honored him as was his manner of leaving it. Here was Art personified in a single body. Now to death is gone he had they say in everything a grace to lack the moderation of mediocrity.
Friday, January 15, 2016
That dark energy that drinks light stays the universe by its bands of forceful symmetry. The script of life is written in energy. Backwards and forwards Time seems the same sometimes pausing to make worlds.
Tuesday, January 12, 2016
True blue American; hope, that promised beautiful tomorrows and better futures was denied you once again. You've been betrayed. Mediocrity is now destiny for the nation; not the stars you once believed.
Desolation days bring a January mood in long month of Winter of sleet and snow; a hibernation of hope amid breaking branches from heavy wet weight in empty woods and no sound but Moon call of wolves.
Sunday, January 10, 2016
Cold stone walls slapping with a late night rain shouts a greater darkness descending in the dark, sliding a slither of black noise in drains of streets; making for a despondency; making for a denial.
Friday, January 8, 2016
As one believes so shall one behave and as one behaves so shall one believe. These are same, two sides of the coin of perception. What we buy in life is what we want in life and what we desire is what we are.
Wednesday, January 6, 2016
Subsuming oneself to anything at all, whether it's a state, a faith, a polity, a philosophy; is but slavery. One's real tribe is Man's future. One's faith lies in ensuring human future; though we die we live there.
Tuesday, January 5, 2016
All desire life but not at our expense. Rodents of this world, be they man or be they animal, take our sustenance; rob us of our birthright to be free; impose on us alien law and rule, and so we will rebel.
A plague of fear, a disease of conscience, has descended on us, blanketing our dreams, our aspirations; preventing us from going on, from advancing upon our journey. A traffic stop of doubt impedes us here.
No quarter! Fight is always again yourself, an opposition of shadow boxing. Slip, doge, deceive, faint and fool yourself; to get past the face of you your society and your school made. That mask ain't you.
Be a heretic! Everything ever learned was learned in spite of school; NEVER because of school. Everyone knows something you don't know but what you know is what you know. Live life! It's your best teacher.
Thursday, December 31, 2015
What makes us men is refusal. We are not pack animals. We follow our own conscience and we trust in it. We know better; far better than they who would force us to obey; we've said "no" we're brand apart.
Our bodies, our brains were designed for survival: to live and to let us thrive. Senses show but pauper's poor representation of reality; a hologram simulacrum. What exists is energy, not what's seen or heard.
Thursday, December 24, 2015
Desire is death. Any deity created by any people is real reflection on that true conscience of that people. Mean gods were made by mean peoples to deceive their depravities. Make then, for you: The Good God.
Thursday, December 17, 2015
To wrought radical transmutation, to make a fierce transformation, to birth a new beginning, is zealotry for change; stemming from driven obsession with creation, and for destruction of whatever was before.
Wednesday, December 16, 2015
You can ignore it. You can delay it. You can fight it. It's always there striving to be born. When you're old. When you're broke. When you've lost your loves to death; you can look back and say: I done that.
Wednesday, December 9, 2015
It's always been about making more beautiful questions; those riddles which have no answer. Solutions are easy. It's questions that are hard. Imperious laws are subverted by showing conundrums of Nature.
Monday, December 7, 2015
In its broader cello statement, there's a wiser prediction; there's an older acknowledgement, with each drawing of its bow: last century has seen such horror and the new century has start in this same strain.
Tuesday, December 1, 2015
Like cogs in a stop watch, the islands of worlds relate; universes are entangled. They'll stop and they'll start together vomiting new worlds; spewing new universes. Time goes backwards-forwards, in tempo.
Saturday, November 28, 2015
The Felt that is needed before the Logic can be revealed, can be explained, can be known; is the Spark. Emotion precedes Reason. Touch is the better cognition. We are our feelings; our thoughts come later.
Wednesday, November 25, 2015
Warming fusion of a false Spring, buds prick on twigs of trees in desire to leaf while awaiting a call from destiny to flower but it's November still as many months await yet hope of Shape fore Number, awakes.
Monday, November 16, 2015
Long highways, a helmet for my pillow and a poncho for my bed and stars are over head; just my rifle to hug and my dreams the only help to keep me warm, I'll be humping out tomorrow way before the dawn.
Monday, November 2, 2015
An entropy of color follows upon our deaths, a silent and still cooling down into a nothingness radiating in memory, spreading out, spearing out, in puddles of energy; then, a slow turning acceptance of black.
Saturday, October 24, 2015
So essential to our sanity are myths, are impossible religions, fantasies that give to life its meaning and purpose; that absent them, the length of days would be as bland, as boring, as lectures of the scientists.
Wednesday, October 21, 2015
There for you forever; a shrug of the shoulders and a silent surrender and there it is. It's nothing at all what you thought it would be. There it is still. There is nothing you can do about it. It's funny that way.
Saturday, October 17, 2015
Fettered to fate, Being and Time and Matter and Energy, form one single entity; they all form one unity. Thin slender lines bind them by loops of relativity, one is becoming another to remain in one continuity.
Thursday, October 15, 2015
Autumn brings an eloquent disorder, speaking in tongues of cognac and cocaine, stating its verbiage in colors of crimson and cyan; arguing summer's conclusion in calculated combination of sharp confusion.
Savor the day for there might not come another. The contamination of prejudiced opinion of the many causes more harm, more disease of the mind, more damage to health, than has did any plague before.
Wednesday, October 14, 2015
Walk among the green mansions of the woods, when trees are still in their brightest foliage of Fall, and still voice will whisper: This is the right country for me. This is the world in which I belong. Here. Now!
Sunday, October 11, 2015
On a cold-some night like this, with wet wind of rain reeking its damp in the rafters and little patters of drops splattering on an window pane, keep you from slumber; stay you far from the cotton fall of sleep.
Sunday, October 4, 2015
A little mad goes to genius great long way. Encumbered upon everyone is the need to make one's own religion, one's own philosophy, one's own mythology; so, to live uncensored in country of one's mind.
Wednesday, September 23, 2015
The work outlives its age only when prejudiced against the consensus of its time. All great work shall cause an agitation; a hesitation in what was considered then to be the common sense of the majority.
Tuesday, September 8, 2015
Summer dusk is almost done, still bronze, still hot and in the sky reside thin strings of clouds and a pale moon and a dust of tiny distant stars on a warm September night; keep your shades up for such a sight.
Monday, September 7, 2015
A silence descends upon it, a drawn curtain has dropped down covering the stage. Now that the drama is ended, act finished, it's time to move on, to let others perform; and hope to find a better part to play.
The objective has always been the same: To lead a holy life, whatever that might mean to you; to listen to the divine which resides in your skull and to direct your every action towards making that Voice real.
It was a better time, it was a better country, it was a better people and even the gangsters were better dressed. The rubric of delight was written in more simple, in more common things; a smile was enough.
Saturday, September 5, 2015
Pornographers posing as patriots are these politicians demanding your sacrifice. They who would make you bend the knee to flags, cut the soul inside, devour and spit it out; cannibals of feelings of the heart.
Standing straight in separate narrow rows, the green formation of poplars athwart a road spill purple shaded silhouettes; shadows thrown from a tired sun in late afternoon, when heat has turned to hue.
Friday, September 4, 2015
For others we'll leave the greater questions. The clock of time has wound down for us. The pages of the calendar of life are flipped over, are folded, are smudged creased and marked; mourning for yesterdays.
Thursday, September 3, 2015
Give to each syllable tone and hue as statement for emotion. Give to each line equation for a symmetry. Give to each stanza a coherence for an argument. Give to it all a rhythm and a rhetoric. Result is Poetry.
Wednesday, September 2, 2015
The darkened blinds, pulled down in a paralysis, that hide the dead window behind, smooth and flat, look on nothing but another tenement window across an air shaft; equally as blind, equally as black.
Tuesday, September 1, 2015
Graveyards of veterans throughout the world stand silent, abandoned, by visitation, to serve as sermon in stone to waste of war. That cause and that duty that cursed to confine them here were coffin to folly.
Sunday, August 30, 2015
Reaching for the moon but capturing the stars is no small accomplishment. Often desire is detoured onto a higher way; to a more noble road. Absent initial aspiration, nothing can be done or achieved.
Wrong-way driver up a one way street, spin your wheel and turn around. Step on the gas. Get out of here. Life is a canvass of signs and sounds, none of which give meaning or direction; just a warning.
Saturday, August 29, 2015
The pen is fire in the hand and makes a cursive blaze, kindled by desire, flared into emotion. Statement and protest against the darkness of ignorance; lighted in night, shouting: Here I am. Here I shall stand!
Tuesday, August 25, 2015
Flesh of the blade, we all soldiers are, in our realization, in our acceptance, that there is no away from this, no escape; we are here and now and to danger we are exposed just by our presence in this world.
Monday, August 24, 2015
No politician ever lost any election by under estimating the intelligence of the people. The horror that was can come again. A benevolent despot is still a despot. No compassion can reside within a slavery.
Sunday, August 23, 2015
A dour faith that has no smile in it is no religion at all. It is a simulacrum of belief, a painted statuette of truth and not the real thing at all. These somber men all dressed in black know nothing of the joy of life.
Taken in exception, in the unexpected, from the shadow of thought to the light of conviction; revelation occurs: This now is it. It's what it's all about. Everything that went before was but prequel to this story.
Sunday, August 16, 2015
For reason to persuade, it must be clothed in a multi-colored mood habit of emotion. Nude logic moves none. The poignancy expressed in a penetrating accuracy of argumentation ought to both wound and to heal in a final agreement; in a resolution of a salve of harmony.
Saturday, August 15, 2015
To be religious, avoid churches and temples. To be learned, avoid schools and universities. To be courageous, avoid armies and navies. Churches, temples, schools, universities, armies, navies; none has the fires of creation. Each serves the state and no state is ever You.
Sunday, August 9, 2015
A radiance bleeding into air, a blending of light there, suffused in crimson and azure, bent into a relativity, moves on, slows to an acceptance of gravity pushed by hidden dimensions; then, an acceptance of heaviness, of mass; then: miracle, a universe is born.
Monday, August 3, 2015
Provocations and palpitations that stop the heart in presence of beauty arrest daily blindness in writing the diary of temporality. We are enclosed within the book of boring schedule of need, of work. Awe is a stepping aside, a pause; followed by a shrug then a turning back.
Saturday, August 1, 2015
Being is that which frees the becoming of things from the stasis of the prison of nothingness into existence. Being is not what is; but instead, Being is that which is causing what is; the chosen habit of creation. Nothingness is natural. Nothingness gives birth to Being.
Thursday, July 23, 2015
Patriotism is mad parasite of propaganda making for farness from the family of Man. To make farness vanish, the body must become text for the brain, not a separation from society, not slave to a State; absorbed, eaten and subsumed into it: but subject to no nation.
Saturday, July 18, 2015
Written as signature upon the world is compassion and to stand bereft of any empathy is to distance oneself from the literature of love. When broken, the teacup of time can't be repaired or replaced; its remnant remains as is, unable to hold the cup of life to go on, forever.
Necessity constitutes the essence and the core of existence. All that is certain is chance and change. The beats of Time are not slurred; are separate and distinct but are so close so short, they seem continuous of a single flow: Existence comes to Being from Nothingness.
Thursday, July 16, 2015
Religion, art and science are simply different instruments performing in the same symphony and, at certain intervals in performance, one or another is given more prominence, is given a solo; but then the whole orchestra responds, so that the composition moves on.
Gray fogs slumber in the mists, echoes of damp clouds, snoring, sleeping, in the dawn of science; that swamp of ignorance. The greater is the recognition of the absurdity of things, greater is the knowledge of real true natures of things. There is no logic here; just What Is.
Fear is the most necessary of emotions; the fear of the paradox of separation, brought to nought by fear I have become separated from myself. I am divided by the realization I could no longer recognize myself in the mirror of my soul: I am not that I thought myself to be.
Wednesday, July 15, 2015
Politicians are like dogs on leashes; they shall always look back to see where it is their owners, that is their donors and their sponsors, are directing them and telling them to go, as themselves have no will of their own: They are automatons; robots to the wants of others.
Monday, July 6, 2015
They would make us care, make us admire clowns of politicians that have no agenda but their own desire for fame, for wealth, for prominence in status; but none possess the most necessary attribute of statesmanship, recognizing fate as the destiny of nations.
Saturday, July 4, 2015
How countless are the states and the nations gone, all those ancient empires; that once, did encompass and circle the globe. Mean religion of patriotism gave purpose and design; faded flags, ripped rags, disintegrating, dissolving; not remembered nor respected.
Saturday, June 20, 2015
The true priests of our age are its poet-philosophers and I'm blest to be among them. Revelation and reason form one single unity, not an opposition nor dichotomy. We're who we are because we are; need no justification, need no proof for us, as it's sufficient just To Be.
Only Being exists and Being is Number. Poetry is revelation and philosophy is reason and they both need to be mastered to know Being: Naming of a Thing is recognition of the Thing and the better is that naming, and the best is by poetry, the better can it be brought To Be.
Friday, June 19, 2015
Blue shadow shades of twilight falling into the rose-red of sun-down, dropping behind lavender hills across the turquoise river, lighting sky in brief serenade's honeyed tarrying; final slow splash of golden light before sleep to be born again in sudden tomorrow new dawn.
Monday, June 15, 2015
Mean and clean, rapture makes for a chain surround, makes for a slavery of love; forges a circle of obsession, composed of the captured links of attachment and of surrender, of a willed complicity in a loss of liberty. Hard times makes for a hard people and gives us a clarity.
Tuesday, June 2, 2015
That which is ineffable in words is knowable in the symbols and signs of the secret language of numbers, via detour taken into duration of change; then to ride back again in a round-about of translation to convert the numbers to words, for they are the very same in sense.
Like gods upon your head, equations are incantations, calling forth inspiration to follow the right paths of understanding, the ways of reason and of logic; which arms us to fight the darkness of ignorance, of superstition, of fear of exploration: for to know is to be free.
Friday, May 22, 2015
Opening flower of reality springs forth petals of dimensions. Men may train dogs, but women train men. It is not important to be good nor to be true, as that is merely manners. What is important is to be you.
Monday, May 18, 2015
The leaning gesture of the stem of the electric rose, encased in the vase of clear water, a green stick bent and stripped clean of sharper thorn; signals out its presence in red defiance of its death when plucked from slanted prism of slim glass: remember me as I once was.
Monday, May 11, 2015
Buds hidden in the hedgerow burst to bloom in May; stark flowering bright seen even in gray morning. Glorious is gaiety of Spring as far dispersion of pollen is an affirmation is yes to the dominance of life.
Tuesday, May 5, 2015
Whether or not you can think, if they believe you can think or even have capacity to think, they'll hate you, shall strive to destroy you, will seek you out to ridicule you; if failing in that will try to harm you.
Control a language and they who think in it are controlled too; what academies of education do; what accepted pundits of publishing do, when broadcasting propaganda. They who own the media own us.
Monday, May 4, 2015
Duty eats at the heart. None ought be respected who themselves had not undergone a tribulation with honor; few can do so. Most live lives of safety and know nothing of courage. Duty then is to one's Self.
Words are jewels, the precious gems for speaking, fractal mirrors of reality; each one is a hologram, a world within a word. Imminent in its pronunciation is universe coming into being, as word made flesh.
Sunday, May 3, 2015
Script of blood is in sky above. Talk the speech of gods to write poetry. Descent for inspiration comes from myriad sources, comes from thousands of deities; signs of revelation formed in particular brains.
The tithing taxes of pundits' harassment, of those scholars who an ignorant public respects and quotes, of those who criticized and demeaned opinions not in accord to narrow views; are burdens on humanity.
Saturday, May 2, 2015
They've no knowledge of long slow shallow tide exposing the hidden pilings of the psyche, of emotions flowing in and out about revealed, of ancient hatred old prejudice; the driving currents of every action.
Friday, May 1, 2015
The language of the universe is fixed for throws for a sentience, for cheating for the combo by whom it can be known; the dice of chance is loaded for consciousness, shaved for a preference for compassion.
The rust of social ritual of this world swallows everything and prevents the action necessary to survive. Slavery resulting by having to respect the opinions of others keeps us chained to their static moralities.
Thursday, April 30, 2015
The black lightning that courses through our brain like a cancer metathesizing forcing us to question and confront what everyone else says and professes keeps us healthy; learn, but doubt the learning.
Tuesday, April 28, 2015
Taunt of neon splash of color in puddled night's rain, golds and reds and blues smeared and stretched and rippled by wind into ribbons of quivering hues of satins made of water; of silks in moving silence.
Thunder of the heart, expression of emotion, is what makes us men, not machines. What can't show its soul upon its face is not alive and is faking an ersatz existence, one not worth the trouble of even being.
Ghosts at our own seances we hear others' voices floating in the air speaking of us and now we realized finally, but too late, they knew nothing of us; what they thought we were, we weren't nor wished to be.
Monday, April 27, 2015
To survive never to thrive, requires rejection of identity, hiding one's true name; as the naming of Self is seen as threat. Solution is assert oneself; be consumed or to make separate state in which to reside.
Sunday, April 26, 2015
The small deaths from struggles of every day and the dim confusions encountered in each waking life, are settled down in the night, in sleep, in slumber, in dream of better days and of better lives to come.
Saturday, April 25, 2015
Chrome sun shining, burnished in white yellow plating, seems to be smudged in the April sky, seems to be not real, seems to be a standin for how it might look in May, when a broad smile appears in heaven.
Friday, April 24, 2015
A frown of clouds creases the brow of sky and warns with its worried look a foreboding wind, as a slap slam of thunder resounds fatigue in the air caused by the long gone past now ghost of a summer's day.
Becoming smooth, the tide recedes exposing a tree still living though submerged for most its trunk, just bare bark living beneath wave and brine; how it does so is mystery, as without leaf it gives us no name.
Wednesday, April 22, 2015
Daffodils precede daisies in their spring season flowering, brighter fair coming before the common dark. Unequal in beauty and in flame of blooming, the weed predominates; the worse have the most children.
Tuesday, April 21, 2015
Fire made us and fire may destroy us. Our extinct cousins never freed fire's full uses. They didn't think to port it and now they are no more. But we have learned to carry it to rain it down upon our own kind.
Monday, April 20, 2015
To that false Spring that had us by its fair green deception while it lasted, so fooled; say a fond goodbye a sad farewell. Short is our summer season; long our winter. It is not over yet and still it keeps its frost.
Sunday, April 19, 2015
A confusion among magnolia trees to bring forth buds to begin to flower follows on long Winters; it's to trust a Spring that appears like Summer, or it's better to wait to hope it's really true cold is finally over.
Saturday, April 18, 2015
Dark clouds coming in close, a spike of lightning spiralling down as the drum of thunder slaps in time to rain summer thunderstorm; blue-back gray whale rolls in the sky, birds shelter and scatter. So ought I.
Thursday, April 16, 2015
Ghostly computers track the world; they trace you, they trace me, they inform on you, they inform on me and there is left for us no privacy. Our lives monitored by a cold indifferent god has come to pass.
Tuesday, April 14, 2015
This embrace of seasons, Spring and Summer, as the snow crocus and cherry tree blossom together; janitors, collects, the pinkness of the new into unity of experience of hope when Winter is forgotten.
Monday, April 13, 2015
In Spring, feel the strange in the cherry tree's blossoming, in the pushing green of bud to a white and pink feathering of limbs; sign and significance of transformation: butterfly change of crysalis to flight.
Sunk past its rose-gold gleam in the purple hills across the blue river, the sun disappears into a violet twilight, to glare behind the eyes; something still seen subsequent to fall, memory of brightness past.
Sunday, April 12, 2015
Maybe I shouldn't care but I do anyway. There's rules to the game. Fate holds all the cards but we're one-eyed jacks. Destiny doesn't know other side. Don't know what it is myself; yet, it's always there.
Latent in existence is this lateness: what denotes a present is a past cause, something which has gone before; because preceded it's making the present. This is false. What Is exists regardless of What Was.
Language contains boundary of thought. The high privilege of poets and philosophers, best of them are both, is being in forward observation position for exploring talk so to contact, to convey, new realities.
Evil in all men exists and some few men are all evil while none are all good, nor could they be and still be human. This makes drama. It's conflict that makes for good life. Angels are dull and have no story.
Friday, April 10, 2015
Though the World knows not you and state and society don't want to know your name; Nature loves, needs you, is happy you're here in place in position recognized by What Is: essence causes existence.
Wednesday, April 8, 2015
The island of knowledge is surrounded by a limitless ocean of imagination, of dreaming, of a deep myth; without them there would be no knowing, no learning, no education as no thing can from nothing come.
Tuesday, April 7, 2015
Those tides on which we float, both high and low, morning and evening plus that afternoon dalliance between these two in a stable equilibrium, neither rising nor falling, are the three states of our lives.
Necessity drives the daily slavery of repetition. The mortgage of days is always the same, makes a long boring drama, a farce from a habit of debt; obsession with meeting obligation to pay each rent on time.
Monday, April 6, 2015
Spring bladed grass shoots up in the early April to cut the soil in earth swoon carpets of color, spotted by the polka dots of daisies; their yellow ovals spilled out on the green blaze in bright hazard of hues.
Love is a pistol shot at the heart that possesses right placement and deep penetration enough sufficient to satisfy the kill of loneliness and end the selfishness of pointless existence, absent hope or of change.
Saturday, April 4, 2015
Crocus and lilacs, Spring is falling into Summer fast after a late Winter, making for a lavender season, an amalgam of softest violet, not quite one nor yet the other; with promise and laziness: Wait for Fall.
Friday, April 3, 2015
When, beneath a blood moon, you take your allotted place in ranks of the dead, in what formation shall you stand; with whom faithfully followed others' order or the courageous few who were insubordinate?
Thursday, April 2, 2015
Best education comes from experience, not from the schools, and the long-lived are the better learners. College teaches what society desires the young to be but the old know that is not what one ought to be.
Wednesday, April 1, 2015
First, to build a bridge across the sea of stars, a new caisson must be built, a strong foundation, which rejects ancient beliefs and false faiths; to make a far firmer myth poured to advance the future of Man.
A kiss before dying, an embrace before night must fall; the old cliches yet suffice to summons nostalgia of times past when such speech was new when it was considered summation of an attitude of defiance.
Entailed to death, mortgaged to mortality, in certain knowledge of our extinction, soon to be forgotten; the sole option left is to kiss life, to embrace it, regardless of the sure immanence of an inevitable end.
They who would have us play to their order the game of life by their rules or by their laws know nothing of us, of honor, or of life. No statute or commandment could be proposed that can contain our destinies.
Tuesday, March 31, 2015
Conscience is the constant gardener of the soul, as the weeds of complaisance needed to be rooted out; pulled from the psyche to be replaced with finer flowers of confluence of compassionate consciousness.
Sunday, March 29, 2015
More than this, more than we'll ever know, in the soft time before nightfall, the violet hour of twilight, spell of a quiet acceptance sinks in, fills the mind with calm and there's no need more to fear the dark.
Friday, March 27, 2015
The long cold pause that makes winter a retreat and makes a hibernation from reality a helpful sleep, is over, is now done; and we must wake to a world neither wished for nor ever thought would come to be.
Thursday, March 26, 2015
Emergence begins with extinction, an ending of what has been before. In every beginning resides its end. Sweet sorrow precedes every joy; to end is to start again, a death is needed for there to be a life.
Sunday, March 22, 2015
Monday, March 16, 2015
There's democracy in death, an egalitarianism, that can't exist in life. None are equal, all are different when alive; in death all share common end in dissolution, in extinction: high and low share the grave.
Fog steam of a sinuous lustrous gray lays upon the streets of the city in the early morning; squats down in sedate soggy on wet pavements, waiting to be lifted up, to be raised up by the warm arms of the sun.
Sunday, March 15, 2015
Our lives are a spit in the eye of Fate and that's what we are all about. We never intended to play the game or to abide by rules. We know it's a miracle we're still here and we plan to take full advantage!
Destitute of ambition, bereft of hope, the world acts upon us, batters us; more often it ignores us, and we must carry on regardless of any reward or praise for what we do every day. Which is what exactly?
Friday, March 13, 2015
Biology determines their belief but men could determine their biology. That which we would so wish to be we can become if our Will is strong. Will is made by yielding to overcome and by bowing to conquer.
Thursday, March 12, 2015
Any State that cannibalizes its citizens to use them up as fodder in foreign wars to impose its political will, is as bad, is as evil, as any faith, which, by force, proselytizes, to convert, to submit, to its belief.
Tuesday, March 10, 2015
Confronted with the coercion and the compulsion of conscription a fled desertion is the moral option. There're plenty of them who would hurt others. Those who heal and preserve remain in short supply.
The several factions split on every issue, form a symmetry of stupidity. None is right. All are wrong. The statement each provides is frivolous and fractious; not solution to the real problem what's a nation for?
Confusion and conflict drown spirits in this nation; serving to submerge the state beneath dementia of depression: no harmony, no rapport, no attempt at a comity. One half speaks, other half shouts down.
Sunday, March 8, 2015
The fecal stench of religion pervades our times. Old men preaching to young men of perverse hatreds; of resentments for dull stilted lives; of insipid beliefs and faiths, results in a fictitious aberrant reality.
Friday, March 6, 2015
In this world of all that changes in meaningless necessity and in a constant cacophony of noise, choose to study what is still; what stays silent. Follow the serene not-moving One. Love and worship Her alone.
Monday, March 2, 2015
A republic no more, nor ever was a democracy, we live at the whim of a few oligarchs and do so barely; a people dependent on next paycheck for our survival. Worse of all, they'll expect us be thankful for it.
Saturday, February 21, 2015
Made tender by the inner solace of a night's fantasies, we manufacture our own myths of who we were and how we came to be who we are; as it's in story we'll survive not in the actual transcript of our past.
Monday, February 16, 2015
Every thing they think they know proves false. Lame mediocrity exalts, forces and praises itself. All may have talent, but few have real genius. Absent this nothing great could come. In silence lies our solution.
Saturday, February 14, 2015
Love is a sweet misery. It pursues you and it follows you and comes upon you always least unexpected, always a surprise; but there it is, real and true, and there is nothing you can do about it ever. It just is.
In this republic no longer, the rich are honest in their graft, for the dumb break laws and the smart make laws; how it was and is and will be in future. Money speaks to law; they who make law listen.
Thursday, February 12, 2015
Seeing things as they are not how others wish us to see is key to liberty. Society exorcises to prune perception; confines, jails and prisons it, in censure of senses that blinds the reality existing inside.
Tuesday, February 10, 2015
Tuesday, February 3, 2015
The heart knows what the head will never understand. Intelligence discriminates and makes divisions neatly classified; separates into a dissolution, severs in a disunity of heart and head: the Plight of Man.
Friday, January 30, 2015
Conscience makes howls in our heads that bound on our hearing as hounds that pounce on frightened hares; calling and crying: "Belief is behavior and behavior is belief. Change. Change. Change. Or die."
Monday, January 26, 2015
Daubed by dun dirty grey yellow clouds, by sunlight splintered by snow fall, skies loom close in capes of cold covering ground squishing to snag feet; ready to trip, ready to bring down to a glass surface of ice.
Friday, January 23, 2015
Those who possess powers, seething in them to create, had best avoid hearings of stupidity of they lacking in such gifts. Fools' goals and aspirations tend dumb, insipid; so aren't worthy of the listen.
Thursday, January 22, 2015
Skies, salmon and crimson, gold and red hued; heavens make their own statements in late afternoon in refutation to cold theology of purpose and cause. They are. They're what they are and they're beautiful.
Sedition and blasphemy both stem from same expressions; against orthodoxies of faiths and of states; against submission to a philosophy of obeisance to a political clerisy; against tyranny of governments.
Tuesday, January 20, 2015
Neither body nor brain ought be sedentary in stasis. Both are born for movement, for contemplation of action; never for stillness, nor ever for inaction. What works is what changes: Nature abhors the same.
Monday, January 19, 2015
Dark isn't the absence of light; it's its twin, as one without the other wouldn't be for each do serve the function to fill other with existence: light sits as a cup in saucer of the dark and both are needed to Be.
Saturday, January 17, 2015
To know you dream when you dream and to know what you dream is the dream of the world is to know what is divine in you. But to know every time you awake; yet another new world is born, is to be divine.
Friday, January 16, 2015
The greatest crime against civilization is ignorance: It's refusal to learn from history; deaf to the past. It's rejection of recognition of mistake; blind to error. In sum; it's a failure to change future behavior.
Wednesday, January 14, 2015
War is origin for religion; in attempt to make comity among fighting tribes, faiths are invented, beliefs promulgated, codes of conduct imposed to be forced upon peoples in the vain desire to secure a peace.
Monday, January 12, 2015
Thoughts of the small beer men; that who we are shall predict who we shall be and who we are is what we will always be, confounds Nature. They refuse to learn from Her. Nature needs to change. So do we.
Saturday, January 10, 2015
Stupidity gets you dead. There's nothing honorable in dying for stupidity. It's a waste of life. How one thinks shows how one lives. Change assumptions to survive. Learn from errors of others and yourself.
Tuesday, January 6, 2015
There is no such thing as a peaceful religion or a just war. Drunk with love, to depths of heart and soul; while wearing smile which hides the tears of the world concealed, is what is worthy and what endures.
Wednesday, December 31, 2014
Tinsel tossed tenderly on the tree of reality, life soon tangles in confusion of direction; for all talks of charity, compassion and comity of religion, the test is this: who'll give you a buck when you're broke!
Tuesday, December 30, 2014
Skeleton tree bared of leaf, slow movement in shadow, onyx sharp on a ivory key pressed; suppressed by soft pedals of ancient regret; plays in storms, plays, still plays on white piano: The Death of Winter.
Monday, December 29, 2014
Your way is in your vision. Follow it. Schools are scams. All of life is a long hard process of unlearning, of rejecting, of refuting what's been taught in state instruction. Who you are is greater than any state.
Sunday, December 28, 2014
Auditors are not creators. That which can be easily verified can't be easily solved. Effort to confirm a problem of proof is higher, is greater, is of different order than method confirming mere computation.
Saturday, December 27, 2014
A teal religion, a dark cyan, blue-green in its primary meditation, is what's needed to replace those that have made us calendar to seasonal servility. Obeisance is made to rule of law; this is profoundly wrong.
Saturday, December 20, 2014
The heavens have become color. Turnstiles of light, emerald and crimson, swim and shimmer, fenced in formal rows, in the north night skies of winter; admit slender slices of blues and yellows to sneak on in.
Thursday, December 18, 2014
Delusion and illusion, the two true trains of society provide underground transportation; supply subway inspiration to travel upon, to stay upon rails of popularity of prejudice, between the station stops of life.
Sunday, December 7, 2014
Flat taunts of rain, turned by the wind to sleet, whip athwart the streets. Heads down, collars up, the harried hurry, trying to walk to homes and heat; but by white gales are held back on this fierce night.
Beauty is better than Truth, because Beauty is more truer than Truth; for any truth lacking an essential elegance; for any truth absent lacking single pure simplicity, is no truth at all. It's impostor and a fraud.
Saturday, December 6, 2014
To seek for something new, to explore, to simply go, and not to find, is what it is all about. Movement alone is the mission. There's no joy in museums nor in musty books. The sublime is out there, waiting.
Thursday, December 4, 2014
Winter is season of anarchy. Covered silent shrouded slumbering skies conspire to reflect the long snow avenues, filling the empty halls of streets; making there, the bare bleak mirror of nothingness, in White.
In-folded chrysalis, That Which Is, is, only for a time and is inside Time; as when, in Becoming To Be, That Which Is took on coat and cloak of Time, as its mantle, to cause; to enable, That Which Is to BE.
Wednesday, December 3, 2014
Heathen flower, wild in garden, you don't belong here; no word for you, no appellation describes you. Just be strange from the flora around you. It's this difference, this distinction, that gives you beauty.
Tuesday, December 2, 2014
Sea birds hum and hover over what's exposed. Despite cruel damp stink of death of out-going tide on a river strand, it shows, on wet sands on a bank, what's left. There's glamour in it: crabs that stare at us.
The cut and slash of sarcasm is warrant for revenge. Who will, and in what sweet voice, reply to such a scarcity of wit? Who would speak of what we wished to say? Yet, still, we remain in silence at the hurt.
Monday, December 1, 2014
Sunday, November 30, 2014
The cancer of a benign transmission from the past prisons the present. No cause is ever lost. Tumors of tradition spread wide to strangle innovation. The new is excised, is censored; is cut out from the future.
Saturday, November 29, 2014
Common cause of fools is War, of hated enmity against they not like themselves; they who are different in beliefs, in religions, in creeds. War is the end of they who can't see, of those blinded who refused life.
Wednesday, November 26, 2014
Bush and brambles of deceit conceal and camouflage the hidden evil at the heart of capitalism. To seek it out to discover it, capture that cold kept secreted, deeply close, in the very marrow of its bones: War.
Sunday, November 23, 2014
Splitting rock fracturing thin crack widened by dirty water's black ice breaks stone; frozen fingers of fissure prying apart gray masonry of granite, shaking boulders loose to tumble down to canyon floor.
Thursday, November 20, 2014
Frozen rainbow of yellow and blue, hue of breathed hurt, of colored cold sucked down in lungs exposed; turns to green of bile inside; turns to algae cough; turns to catch of breath; turns into an inhaled icicle.
Tuesday, November 18, 2014
The vast space between lust for power and the love for the potency of use of reason ever shall expand, when ignorant religion engenders murder by promoting bullets and bombs to decide difference of faith.
Monday, November 17, 2014
Saturday, November 15, 2014
Time then to chamber the cartridge of desire. The taste of morning excites in the mouth, clean and hot and sugar sweet in the dawn; first coffee of the day stimulates, provokes, pushes the body to carry on.
Friday, November 14, 2014
Absent presence, absent being there; for all your piety, for all your stated belief, nothing can come of it without action, without the commitment of risk, without the gamble of being all in to accepting destiny.
Thursday, November 13, 2014
Wednesday, November 12, 2014
Curse on your head, you teachers, you mentors of mediocrity, you professors, you syllabic instructors of propaganda for a State; you who do know better, for your salaries, for your tenures; have led us astray.
Tuesday, November 11, 2014
It's an unfair world and should be so. We took out a payday loan; its balance is now past due. They who carried fire forward shall be celebrated. Who played safe, who only tried to make deadline, condemned.
Numbers are present without things and are before things. The need for a thing to be a thing distinct is number; for without, it floats in the Void, unknown, unnamed; given number, is recognized and named.
Monday, November 10, 2014
The frolic architecture of a flower was not designed for we but for some fertilizing bee. Time and chance have brought them both to harmony; to a dependent singularity. The one without the other wouldn't be.
Quash the past. It has no meaning for us. We are of a different generation; a people without tradition. We'll make new rules and better laws. What was has no longer relevance for us. We will not revere it.
Sunday, November 9, 2014
Come join me in rhyme and in sweet refrain. Reason is against us here, a barrier to the strange land of intuition. Sooth troubled mind. Musics from movements of the senses make detours to enter revelation.
Friday, November 7, 2014
Wednesday, October 29, 2014
Voyager sail on. Canvass of space is pushed by light; is propelled by fire of consciousness; is piloted by compass of compassion. Significance is shown in signature of every star to give passport to the future.
Peeled paint, scratched, splintered, stretches a wooden window-sill; the panes in the old frame, four in all, beveled, bent, give individual view; each reflects its own disfigurement, and none of them are true.
Monday, October 27, 2014
Friday, October 24, 2014
In the rising ground of age, when the sea of youth and plenty slams against the cape of maturity, onto cliffs of destitution, the surge of necessity strains nuance from life; leaves lees of hunger, desperation.
Thursday, October 23, 2014
Wednesday, October 22, 2014
The last light of day fires upon a lone larch tree; kindles it in an orange crimson hue to make it bleed in bright against the stark dark green stand of spruce, only to gradually subside down to twilights of blue.
Tuesday, October 21, 2014
Monday, October 20, 2014
Thursday, October 16, 2014
Fascination amplified by proximity to fear, by a close nearness to anxiety of oblivion, to nothingness, to that blank space that occurs at death, to razor's edge of life; stimulates and forces balance of maturity.
Much of life consists of staying out of the rain. Learn all you can about all you can from whom you can; but beware the foolish ideologies of states, faiths and creeds for they'll fall as acid upon your very soul.
Monday, October 13, 2014
Slogans dipped in blood, many times mistaken and many times misused, the long shadow of a flag or of a banner serves as a guide-on, serves as justification for invasion, for occupation; excuse for holocaust.
The rusty cage of democracy has been broken into; it's old lock of diplomacy shattered, and the tiger of ideology is let loose. In the silence of apathy, hear its snarl and its slurp: The teeth of anarchy devours.
Sunday, October 12, 2014
A plaintive pattern fashioned by a universal prayer; an aspiration greatly to be desired, that the fangs and horns of prejudice and betrayal can't prevent nor the smirk of slow acceptance hesitate, is peace.
Saturday, October 11, 2014
Friday, October 10, 2014
Wednesday, October 8, 2014
Getting tired of being me. Blood-red moon rising in the East. There's a monsoon coming, a dark deluge and if I'm still as I am now, I won't make it. Neither will you. It's been coming on for a long time now.
Monday, October 6, 2014
Sunday, October 5, 2014
Reverberations of folly, blindly followed time and time again, the sharp-short bugle calls to march in step, to serve, to sacrifice, sound out in endless repetition; sounds in loud echo taps for endless war.
Saturday, October 4, 2014
Though still defiant, though still opposed, though still opposite in opinion and belief, beauty is forgiven everything. Comes at last too fast the ending for this life; but though the singer dies, the song lives on.
Friday, October 3, 2014
Thursday, October 2, 2014
Tuesday, September 30, 2014
Owls, in vast assemblages on gnarled limbs, of oaks, of elms, sit still on branches, shackled by the dark, chained to longest night beginnings; hoot, protesting the Moon and in its shine ghostly sounds rebound.
Thursday, September 25, 2014
Strand of twisted oak, solemn survivor of the slicing stroke from lightning strike; defiant, stands alone amid fog and dark in silent celebration of still being here, of still being able, even now, to put forth life.
Tuesday, September 23, 2014
Saturday, September 20, 2014
Friday, September 19, 2014
Never not for nothing, I am for you; though a phalanx of bayonets is deep arrayed in skirmish against me, I am for you. I will never forsake or desert or forget you. Though I die, faithful still shall I remain.
Thursday, September 18, 2014
Wednesday, September 17, 2014
Rime upon their budding branches, a frost is coming on the cherry trees, closing and cocooning exposed black extended tips; the fire of their blossoms both white and pink, will have to wait yet another Spring.
Tuesday, September 16, 2014
Monday, September 15, 2014
Tuesday, September 9, 2014
Go for the gun. The rule of law is what you're carrying on your hip. Come quiet in the dark, with silencer ready. Shoot the fair enemy that was your Art. Begin new life over corpse of old, and then; create again.
Monday, September 8, 2014
Thursday, September 4, 2014
Saffron soft in mellow yellow hues, tinted by a late September afternoon, lazy clouds smother the early blues of morning in deeper tones of a slow motion gray that gives to distance the close horizon of hope.
Friday, August 29, 2014
We are but toys for Destiny; sailors on Fortune's ships. Our blood beats the finished story of our lives. In expectation of delight, beg early parole; for a reprieve. In turbulence and struggle, Fate sails us on.
Discrete and digital, blink by blink, breath by breath, reality hovers in and escapes out from existence; for that which is not is canvass for all that which is, for all that which was and for all that which will be.
Thursday, August 28, 2014
Tuesday, August 26, 2014
Stay angry! Break the chains of conformity. It's a diesel rain we smell coming in the air, stench of our gasoline future, kindled by fires of faith; ignited by mullahs knowing nothing of what is, what will be.
Friday, August 22, 2014
In the silence of the twilight, in that brief violet hour that comes right before the still calm of the night, lean in to hear quiet dark. Listen to that purple blush that follows sunset: astonishment at loss of sight.
Wednesday, August 20, 2014
Suss-ration of leaves speaking in whispers, quaking aspens inconsolable, protest in green tears, shake in irresolute winds, surprised in anguish, unable to express themselves in any other way; quietly sway.
Tuesday, August 19, 2014
Friday, August 15, 2014
Friday, August 8, 2014
Wednesday, July 30, 2014
River, cascading over ruffled rock, slick sharp and gray, spumes forth silvery wavy spouts; darkens in black pools of falls; sudden sparkles, emerging into sunlight; then, lies it still, submerging to a silence.
Tuesday, July 29, 2014
Friday, July 25, 2014
Distant in the mist, hidden in shroud of fog, sits the place of shadows; sits the dead and derelict world of the tenements; for they who choose to pay rent to any master shall never own a home of their own.
Tuesday, July 22, 2014
Monday, July 14, 2014
Foreboding clouds, thick with rain, hover on the horizon. New thoughts in new ways are expressed in thunder so; rumblings of revolution, sparks in spikes of fire; in snare drum rolls of lightning revelation.
Friday, July 11, 2014
Deport the poor to give to the rich their place. Pay them the minimum wage to those that still remain. Starve them out so they shall leave. In their poverty of wit, such then is the privileged men's refrain.
Wednesday, June 18, 2014
Moon pale, an in-folded light, amber sulphur hued, streams through tight pulled-down blinds at night, bringing dreams of delight. Long longings, soaking in desire, stretch, levitate; are readied for release.
Tuesday, May 13, 2014
Wednesday, April 16, 2014
The silence of devastation prevails; since, once more, War's mad catastrophe has cleansed the Earth of Man: the cancers of faiths and states, ideologies of priests and politicians. have laid to waste our World.