11/4/17

Judging character by outward attributes: words for their letters, men for their skin, women for their pulchritude. Long, dark robe obscures; eyes fixed on mis-painted sky, false light of convenient ignorance. When he who decides is he who profits, packaging rules.

11/2/17

Summing, coming to conclusion, studying illusion. wisp ghosts grasp without touch, lick viscous tears, slip, drift, dissolve. Obscured signposts, numb of cold insists: There! hope for succor, for warm reception – just a silly scare a sullied scar, a bully war, a stab of sorrow. Better sums tomorrow, less confusion ... more resolution. jupiter, saturn and pluto in circular reception Barefoot in the snow icy roads winds so strong I could not make you hear. I thought you were my destiny. Crazy thoughts, far from clear; but I believed song lyrics from Saturnine deities would not lie, leave me dying, fading into winter's grey drifting clouds, endless sorrow endured for naught. Lost on this careless corner, dreaming of oblivion, intent on visions like rain tapping against eternity's vast windowpane. Scenic serenity. Nature's gradations of green soothe tired eyes, trembling nerves, throbbing veins. Slivers of moonlight reflect in withered refrains, unearth secrets embedded in song effervescing through cool pure air cleansing the uprising nestling set aflame resurrected tempered mettle, pure, wise, tested engorged with the will to rise" astral vision Mystery mists of history holy crescent lightening sky Calm anticipation early pinks crescend from eerie violets Thunderous Jupiter twinkles like a happy kitten, tummy extends for adoration Omens, prophecy, hope for endless happy returns quests into/out of space/mind (without gravity, how can we fall ... or love?) Aching for stars, planets, dreams, silent assent that means all is promised I touch a cosmic peak breathless at such altitude Winter born, Saturn ruled, not a saint nor a fool, Capricorn. Discreet ascent into deeper truth. Saturn, an old friend in the way that long relation is often contentious, I have been seeing her as something of an employer, demanding with dour countenance her tasks to be done yet in some wee hours letting her hair down for quiet intense talks about what really matters. taking on colours Plutonic, ambient dark encrypted in the depths of Father Saturn as in in death (and the meta) Old enemy a friend in waiting -- teaching if I will but listen instead of running, silent screaming, beating my breast from within, re-breaking, re-breaking a heart so shattered, not to reset but to bleed and then, a whisper: "yes, reset, remember with new respect for who you have always been but feared to see" This ally silently screaming within my deepest heart, my darkest dreams "Listen, love and revere this wild child who laughs at whirlwinds and dances to life's changing, challenging melodies. Be free to sing along without inhibition or internalized mockery. This is our time, yours and mine, to be wonderfilled."? It Is Written I stand, open and defenseless, Waiting for Pluto to overpower me, Take me where he will, Suit me to his purpose. Or, is that my sister Hecate Coming to meet me, Coming to embrace me, To set me free? Wondrous are the ways of the shifty, glamour-ridden mind. We peek out through rainbow slits Onto a sinuous landscape. Slippery bits of meaning slither along Hissing out of forked tongue Oracular riddles. "Oh, yes, my love awaits me. In the tall grasses we will twain. Great fortune is to befall us. It is written." And rewritten, and rewritten On and on through the fever. Burning molecules, organic fuel, Dancing, wildly, within a fiery pentagram, Within channeled schematics, Ignited by a living passion. I am beyond words. Tumbling through shiny bubbles And iron-wrought hieroglyphs. There is nothing to depend on But pure will And the ability To suspend belief. Pluto Transit like a hurricane like a natural disaster wind and rain lay waste to my life. tossed, torn, left astray and a stranger in the way, or at least not accepted norm. a sad wastrel adrift in tempest’s storm. sing my wanderers' song tonight. let callous wind carry fading melody off onto gale whipped ports of call. my breath's been carried out to sea nothing left to become of me once the hurricane has passed into the day the foggy, rainy day . . . I gaze upon the ragged sea.

forging a book of spells

Macabre danse, dark leaves in high wind. Swift time to ask that boon of wizardry, to recite or seize at magic’s will or mine. To speak, demand, one must first understand or stand under what’s to come from ignorance. Breathe leaf and wind, their essence; skillfully dream peace and blessings; dance lightly within the danse.

10/28/17

Far sought, darkest, deepest dreams so far, long departed before consciousness rewakes ghosts, impure images, whispered wraiths may haunt beyond sensory acceptance vague nauseas, involuntary shakes, subtle odors suggesting graveyards in rain and mist and pain yet never really say where forward leads

10/27/17

darkening clarity, pixels come together posing form ghoulish, still sincerity, nightmares are potent dreams, after all night tells tales, whispers that scream raw from silence not easy to discern, discover truths of brutality or viscous lies here, in deep disparagement of violence, small stabbings take widening toll bloodlines reassemble, prophetic fingers tremble – see their glory, lightning bursts, cosmic debris

8/24-9/23/17

It’s not the Gays, the Jews, the Whites, the Women, the Muslims, the Aliens --
it’s the people in power to whom influence and means are everything who destroy us.
And I understand:  the world is scary, full of uncontrollable danger, so many ways to die.
You want to control in every way you can.  You might even believe your goal is good,
a better existence for all who survive because survival demands only our best --
so of course by running the game you prove your ultimate worth (we get what we deserve).



Stories that speak to us through us

“Peggy and Peter go to the Moon.”
Renata and Rory go to the School.
The whole crew brainstorms, makes art for play
on the fumes of unformed stories, like robots undone
by entropy over millennia while a planet regrows from
the ravages of short-sighted men now self-extinct.

Conversations to listen in on.

Process assimilation
a simulation
for stimulating
imagination

inner interplay under Pisces Progression


“And ye harm none” – and if you can freely do what you will,
why would you take the bother to harm when you could be
playing your heart out, doing you with pleasure and grace?
We need to harm when we feel cast out or closed in by rules
that deny our nature in favor of ordering law.
Show a depraved monster, raging, foaming with poison,
twisted beyond belief.
I see your reflection.
The answer decodes the question
a higher order includes us all





kind of like jazz
"I can't stand that screeching; where is the melody?
This crazy music doesn't speak for or to me."
But listen:  and find that voice you so clearly hear,
that tells you all you've ever yearned to be told.
Poetry is not one (or even several) cryptic tone and form.
It is playing with language to say what everyday q and a
or mumbled dialog cannot hold.



Dixie denied democracy -- and still does..


Most people, sometimes good
sometimes not so,
getting through life as best we can
amidst social and biological
obligations


Embrace radically "conservative" leadership based on guilt and fear.


Problems belong to those with power
to implement change.
No power -- no problem; just pain.


Going through the motions
Doing as the program requires
Nothing left alive to reprogram, change
wiring, make use of the doing,
the motions ever going,
machines never knowing or complaining.


Relax, play
go with the flow
so in the future go-go-go
you know how to fall, glide, swim
but mostly float -- to enjoy the view.


8/24-9/23/17

race of humanity

whenever one ascribes to race what is really just ignorance and projection, one is perpetuating racism

all lives matter (or not, depending on your philosophy)

yes, I understand the desire of people who are suffering for a false dichotomy to want to be heard, acknowledged as suffering, healed by retributive justice

but you are perpetuating racism every time you do not take the opportunity to make clear that people acting badly is not about the race or the gender or the identity or the ethnicity or any other attribute of those acted against, but is entirely about the bad actors

 

"white supremacy" only exists because we honor it

people say shit/do shit all the time

we would do better to treat them as what they are:  undifferentiated bullies unworthy of honor

 

Stop telling us we are racist

There is no such thing as racism or sexism

These are only socially acceptable excuses for putting people in boxes marked "not me" into which to pour our self-loathing

 

I think it is counterproductive to attempt to instill guilt and inculcate an assumption of privilege based on race.  The real privilege is based on the conveniences of wealth.  Better that we instill a presumption of respect for all of us, that we may speak freely of our own experiences and work together for a world we can all be privileged to inhabit

 

“Because there isn’t that culture of collective care..."

instead we have many mini cultures of mutual dis-care

we seem to think it is so important to divide ourselves into interest groups without the eyes to see that it is in all of our best interest to care for each other

if All lives matter, if even only Blacklivesmatter (because we gotta get our material back from those slavers -- and what about today's slavers who don't limit by race? --) the important part of mattering is to matter to each other as fellow travelers on this mortal plain instead of pre-creating Hell through meanness, cruelty, indifference, war

 

concentrating on whiteness/blackness is focusing on problems, not possibilities

we each have limited energy/resources with which to make a difference in the world that matters to us

the world is moving too rapidly, too many moving parts, today for giving over our resources to recriminations

yes, understand that there has been a long political tradition of divisiveness, that a great many of us have been wounded (many killed) for reasons that have nothing to do with reason

but don't stay stagnated in blame

find real work that needs doing, that progresses our collective world viewed