Pleasant Valley News&Transincidental Report

Something Is Afoot

2009-07-18T17:15:00.000-07:00

Things Are A Feat by Glen Wells Prologue to an Aunty Ex-con "Things are afoot dear Watson." 'What makes you so sure?' "An elaborate ruse on a global scale, for what purpose?" 'Pacification.' "Possibly, still something is happening, popular demand is growing." 'The customer is always right.' "Certain ones to be sure." 'Are you one?' "Me? You know me all too well." 'You're as much a mystery as any, sometimes more. But yes I know you well enough to know. A stout hearted fellow, with keen observation, that serves your 'clients', usually in a satisfactory way.' "Alas, all too temporary, many seem to draw their dilemmas, as much as their antagonist do." 'Speaking of antagonist, you said you'd share Professor Moriarty's private message.' "Ah, yes. Should I recite or do you wish to peruse the missive yourself?" 'I'd like the opportunity to examine the handwriting.' "Test your new found skills?" 'Please Mr. Holmes, I merely read a book on hand writing analysis.' "I await your considered assessment." She lifts the moon, To show a room, Where Heaven is made real, There is touch to awake, And dawn for our sake, Making memories to keep. _____________________P.M. 'I believe his pen is running out of ink.' "Yes, it is rather sketchy." Ahem.....should anyone care to take a stab at deciphering Moriarty's cryptic code. It would seem that 'for our sake' refers to Holmes and the Professor, as for the rest it might be any one's guess. Prizes awarded for all intrepid entries. Expect some fin, parcel post pending passing inspection.
Quantum Mechanics Explained: The Novel you've been waiting for...
1 Chapter It's about light. Is it a wave or a particle? Its speed can be measured, about 186,000 miles per second, but not its position, actually a light's place is between its source to where it might be absorbed and where it goes to change, although it can also be reflected, even right back where it came from. Some have called light a wavicle, some a duality. Actually a wave can be divided or separated into little individual bits and particles can be strung together to be a standing wave, kind of like standing at attention or just having some, like the guards at Buckingham Palace. But when not held taut and the ends, point of departure and arrival, or even just one end are left loose, then light can be like a whip or trampoline, flying spaghetti, a very versatile and creative dance, can be loopy and maybe even soupy, it helps, some say catalyze, a leaf make chloroform, some skin make Vitamin D. Light can make hot, why it even helps make cold. So duality I see as a narrow, limited view, a little like tunnel vision, where light is a multiplicity, providing a wide angle view, both minute and large, illuminates and sedates by its absence. Alas, this explanation is but a tip of an ice berg, what lies hidden deep or far is a lucky ones guess, educated or not, bursting forth like a fountain of youth, spraying gifts to those who catch, burning off a mid-day cloud, raining down to furrowed ground, heating pools on a lazy afternoon, and while sipping a mint julep or two, wonder at that leaf made green, wave a grand hello and say thank you.
	#2	[-]
Glen, "Interesting. : ) I would make a very poor sleuth. Moriarty's message leaves me clueless. I trust the story will reveal its meaning (?)" S
	#3	[-]
Without excuse all replies can not help but reveal a puzzle piece. S's response: Interesting. : ) I would make a very poor sleuth. = Moriarty has made a poor substitute for Holmes Moriarty's message leaves me clueless. = Moriarty's plan is to kidnap Holmes leaving Watson with an inept Holmes lookalike. I trust the story will reveal its meaning(?)= It will be up to Watson now.
Moriarty's next clue: less is more	#4	[-]
2 Chapter Tank to the one man who said no let this be our final battleground my bones are weary, my tongue-tied to a post I have not the words to say you are welcome my ghost has given up the toast to a town that never sleeps it's free now thanks to me you may know by now you and Watson are writing the story now. and Moriarty? Well, as usual he's up to no good, but at least I hear he is keeping Holmes comfortable and well fed. He's civil to a point, but honestly he's not right in the head, the kind of thinking that says one must destroy in order to save. It seems that 'a town that never sleeps' might be New York City, at least a place to start. Watson is boarding a jet and for the first time has gotten feelings of mistrust toward of all people his most loyal and true friend. not-Holmes is making full use of the drink cart and has been babbling about what Broadway show should they should see first when they arrive and then suddenly launches into a weird tale about a visit to what appears to be a dentist. A Thin Disguise I couldn't help but think that the German accent was fake and it was all an elaborate joke. Except I wasn't laughing. "You are lying!" "I haven't said anything." "With your eyes." "Lyin' eyes, mmm. How does one lie with their eyes?" "If you could see them, it would be obvious, but don't bother looking in a mirror. Mirrors are liars too." "How is it obvious?" The fake German accent's assistant made a small cough to gain my attention. "He tells everyone that their eyes lie. It's not like eyes can tell the truth." "You mean like looks can't really kill." "Well, not like daggers shooting out, but I've seen thunderbolts." "Thunderbolts? Is that a tongue I see, through those soft parted lips, lying. Who has thunderbolts flying out their lyin' eyes?" "Thor, of course." "Of course." "Enough of your chit chattery chat. Open wide, show me if your gums are in cahoots with your lyin' eyes." "Gums? How can gums lie?" "Oh please, grow up or something, it's not your eyes, ears, nose, mouth, chin, teeth or lips that does the lyin' (the German accent places two absurdly large hands on either side of my head), it's inside here, somewhere in the mysterious folds of your brain, at this precise moment, you are, unbeknown to yourself of course, concocting new and improved, devious and impervious, beautiful and exquisite lies, glorious and impenetrable, ever striving for new pinnacles of misconception." "And no doubt you are doing the same." "Of course." The assistant has started to play with my feet. "What do you think you are doing?" "You can't tell? I'm playing with your feet, rather petite feet I may add." "You may not add, subtract or otherwise co-mingle with my feet! Is this all some sort of elaborate joke?" I started laughing, my feet are really quite ticklish. The assistant seemed to grow tired or bored and wandered off, leaving my feet dangling, bereft of feathery touch, somewhat solemn now. The German accent has his back turned to me and seemed to be calibrating some sort of strange unwieldy mechanical device, who's purpose could certainly not bode well for me, perhaps now would be an opportune time to make my escape, but the accent suddenly turned with that thought. "Escape won't be necessary. This machine merely measures certain brain waves that have previously gone undetected. No harm will come to you. I took an oath." "Wow, that's great, it makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. Tuck me in? What are these previously undetected brain waves? "The lyin' waves, of course." "Of course. How about you, seen any thunderbolts lately?" "Normally, Thor is quite pleasant, a hair-trigger on the temper though." "Normally and Thor should not follow each other in the same sentence." "What?" Oh, I see. Thor is part of our defense perimeter. Thor is a robotic sentinel with laser armaments." "Actually, that's kind of a relief." "You might not say that if you heard its programmer complain about not all the bugs have been worked out." "Great. May I leave now." letter opened I want you to believe that I don't want you to believe what you don't want to believe, and vice versa. It sounds silly when it's put that way, as I have no choice to believe otherwise. "...no getting away from it." Whatever happened to where there's a will there's away? I would agree that will alone is not enough, but coupled with ability and whatever else is needed, in some sense it might not get past planning stages, brainstorming sessions, where the main topic remains unresolved, but side effects, byproducts and the like flourish in an atmosphere of searching For answers, solutions and possibilities, this particular 'barrier' may prove to be not so intractable as others that have fallen, been modified, work around in some manner, and the repeatability of something which is only sometimes wholly desirable, onetime events, a singular sensation may occur that truly rocks a world, such as this. But there does appear to be some trying to avoid and or simply neglecting to believe anything. Sounds like you might be encouraging one to not try, as for it's a waste that squanders attention to actual 'doable' stuff, if there's even that option available. On the other hand, you have this 'gun', so to speak, and you are sticking to it. And does one have to have it incorrect for you to have to have to express the concept that 'this is as it is and there are no other options? What are the results of not defying and defying laws that are more mutable than you seem to expect? Expression of opinions more for the sake of discussion and not meant to over step my interpretive powers, if there be any at all, more as advocate for exploration and experimentation. Running into barriers, will stop one in their tracks, but still that does not say that nothing is left to learn and discover from smashing things together. even near misses and glancing blows might be revealing of novel behavior. Here's a recent quote that 'caught' my attention, "It appears that the anti-viral Tamiflu was successful in treating and preventing the current novelflu symptoms." 'It appears' is a qualifier that addresses a fact that not all cases are the same, or as predictable as others, in this case for example, that there there are exceptions and perhaps that exceptions are not necessarily proof of a rule. 'It appears' allows possibilities of other factors contributing to the success and or failure of a given remedy. Since the synergistic concept appears to be at work in the universe at large, the over-all ecology of individuals come together, drift apart, travel different paths towards a future that may never lose the heat that can not quite be gotten away from. "Super massive black holes, such as Sagittarius A, located at the center of our own Milky Way galaxy, radiate their heat very slowly, meaning such objects will linger in the cosmos long after the light from the smallest star has burned out, trillions of years from now." Hawking's famously sharp wit, not to mention the tabloid headlines, have worked against a remote image. "We are just an advanced breed of monkeys on a minor planet of a very average star. But we can understand the Universe. That makes us something very special," he once said in a typically pungent observation mixing the mundane and the marvelous.
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	#6	[-]
"I grasp the fundamentals here, - We already know that Moriarty has absconded Holmes We are needing plot movement here. but I have to say that flashes of enlightenment are eluding me. - yes, we know, in the dark recesses of the Professor's mind some evil doing is about to burst upon the scene. Coney Island perhaps, they have fireworks I think. In fact, they seem to be fleeing from me even as I approach them. - Yes, Watson and fake Holmes are landing at LaGuardia and the only available Broadway tickets are for 'It Happened One Night'." BF
	#7	[-]
3 Chapter "he is not afraid to slice or dice " - Holmes "If math is a digital process of time overlaid on space," >it isn't. >"the math always falls short of fully describing space," >doesn't matter. >"due to Godel's theorem." >who cares, Godel sure doesn't. it's okay to build on Godel but to just let it lay there incomplete, is just wrong on just a simple level of finish what you start, without closure the open universe would never close. Unless you weren't aiming to close it down or anything. You want to keep it open. Right? >"Statistical interactions of atoms and electrons as representative of space will always tend toward randomness as each interaction increases the uncertainty of restoring the past action of each molecule." >Why always, why tend, how long actually, how much tend exactly? Who's freaking will? Yours? A neighbor? Oh atoms are willful reps on a mission. Got it. An observed fact is limited to conditions that don't change. Change conditions and observers, may tend at least once to alter tendency, frequency and the next report that is due, following the last report that essentially had nothing new to report, only now there is something new to report, but the new reporter is not being listened to so much cause the last reporter had nothing new to report and after hearing the same old non-news over and over again it was thought of not much interest at the time of something new to report but still poorly understood due to its meagerness of change and mostly just a lack of attention and of course the most important factor that decides what WILL happen. Popular demand. <"Measurement always tends toward uncertainty." >see above. <"Measuring one aspect causes loss of ability to measure its complement, and the more precisely we measure one, the more uncertain and imprecise the other becomes." >Mmmm, seems to be saying they can't be measured together, but can be measured separately, but if they could be measured together they would double their pleasure or something and that sounds very popular indeed. But actually the separate measurements wouldn't actually change if they were measured together, cause they were already going as fast as they could and smashing pumpkins has born this out, not convincingly, but that would be inside a point of contention, if in fact there was something to contend with. <"It is not likely that "God" emerges from the math, since math increases uncertainty. "God" is a kind of distillation, a probable existence that emerges supposedly unchanging from the action of uncertainty." >and I paraphrase, 'Don't bring God into this, whichever God you are referring to.' Okay, drag that load of crap in, it looks lonely. God is kind. Agreed. Cruel gods don't bask in robins. God promotes exits in case of fire. Sensible. Pro life and Pro choice. Oops, God is a radically altered mofo who has issues about life and death. But decides at the last moment babies are cute and God definitely does cute to death. <"But if math breeds uncertainty, which came first, reality or measurement?" >No......wait, if it's a suit you're looking for, I suggest you measure 3 times then get real down with it." <"If mathe is forever incomplete in its attempts to define reality, we can't get there from here." >Forever is a very long time. You just make it seem longer than it really is. Right. We are not here and we (well one of us) don't want to get there. Paul was wrong once, otherwise why would he say, "Sorry my mistake." ...and then there was that other time he was overheard to remark, "Pardon me." I'm trying to set an example on how great ideas are ridiculed, then misunderstood, then finally accepted often long after the poor great idea guy up and died. Health and Happiness to all. *No-Holmes is barred from Broadway, making a drunken ruckus, ever dutiful Watson escorts his not-friend to the Waldorf Astoria for some restful and sobering sleep.
"Well, I see this is going somewhere, but where? To the Grand Caymans, perhaps. Or Philadelphia if Moriarty's as cracked as the Liberty Bell. God is certainty. The uncertainty is which certainty He is. Some would say that math can't lead to God because math is about finite concepts and God is infinite. Math doesn't handle infinite with aplomb. If you combine infinity with finity in any mathematical operation, the finite part either blows up beyond all measurement or shrinks beyond same. The only exception is zero. Zero multiplied by infinity is still zero. There are those who would say that this is how man is able to perceive God - by bringing the infinite down to his level. It's a good thing that the Heisenberg uncertainty principle doesn't apply to police work. "Well, chief, we can tell you where Fingers McGrabby is, or we can tell you where he's been and what he's been up to. We can't do both." Surely Moriarty doesn't think this principle of quantum physics will keep Watson off his tail in the macro world?" BF
	#9	[-]
Excellent BF, solid linguistics that prepare a path, Philly may be only a sidetrack for the not yet kicked sidekick, who has gone got exceedingly ticked off. Grand Caymans, yes. Has Moriarty finally succumbed to a financial excuse for his nefarious acts? Next to the Bell, the Professor is positively 4th Street where disaster awaits at every corner, not for himself, no, others are targeted with esoteric folds of cause and affects that reverberate through past perceived and imagined slights of inattention to detail. There's a point thought ceases to make sense and Moriarty plows ahead anyway, as if God was waiting for no particular reason. BF, 4 Chapter may not anticipated all your ramifications, but where there's a will there's.......uh....4 Chapter.
The Conversation eventually lags	#10	[-]
4 Chapter Mr. Holmes do I have a first name? Most do. I am not most. Indeed. Can YOU recall? I thought it Charles, but truthfully I am not sure. Nor I, it is troubling. A rare thing for you I suspect. Yes, of course and just as rare that you would suspect and not deduce. Are you slipping Mr. Holmes? My bonds are preventing that at the moment. They are not chafing I trust. See for yourself, besides you know they are not, you have seen to that. Are you getting Charles from that Trek thing? Again Professor, you know I am not. What is a Trek thing? No matter. We both know where the name comes from, Charles sounds familiar, I may take a new name nevertheless. Don't you mean who instead of where. Who, where, when, why,what, how, it is a bit confusing. Just a bit? If anything can be made of it..... Do go on Mr. Holmes, say it. Absurd. Exactly. To be made fictional. Quite absurd....and frustrating. Frustrating? Why that? I do not feel fictional. You imagine that you are real, possessor of free will perhaps. Are you making a joke Mr. Holmes? If I am, it is a joke on the both of us. And yet you seem your normal self, except for a slip of the tongue. Have you truly ever suspected anything? Always so logical, reasonable, using deduction as if it a magic wand. There is nothing remotely magical about what I do. Or did as the case my now be. Pessimism Holmes? Not like you at all, now I suspect my switch was switched, a double cross so to speak. More riddles Professor. I fear for your sanity Charles, if that even be your name. We should ask him? WE are not a we. I am a me and you are a madman who does not know his own name. Clearly someone in need of medical attention. You have avoided my question. Is your fear misplaced? Might you have doubts as well. I often entertain various scenarios, not to be confused with doubts. I surmise that you were referring to that Doyle fellow. Yes, A. Conan. Curious name. You are by far the more curious one. Perhaps your true first name is just as I call you. Professor, a name you gave yourself, and not a duly earned honorific. MISTER HOLMES! An insult? I am shocked, amazed even. Perhaps the food I have so generously provided you was tainted with some mind altering poison. My faculties are in tact, although I admit this confinement has me some what stumped. Means and opportunity has always been at best an inconvenience. It is motivation, I think that may have changed. Revenge is your usual excuse, for those that have slighted you, thwarted you, denied you, what all can only be imagined by a mind such as yours. A speech Mr. Holmes, I only wish your discouraging words could be heard by your ever faithful sidekick. Sidekick? I fail to grasp your meaning. Whose side am I kicking? You have not harmed Watson have you? Me? No. However I would not hazard a guess as to what my foil Paul is capable of. I see. Oh please Holmes do explain what you have so uniquely seen. You have no doubt sent Watson on a chase, with your typically arcane penchant for secrecy, deception and perversity Your insults and scorn suggest your previously unbreakable facade is starting to falter, might I lower the room temperature. Are you feeling feverish Mr. Holmes? I begin to feel, as you put it, quite put upon. And put out too I predict. Indeedy do. A sleeping concoction Moriarty had prepared begins its effects and sooner than even Holmes could realize, he was out like a..... ***I'd go dyelexic, but not-I calculatte..sipping on a sponge a code defied, wanton left leaving diaspora. so, maybe not an exodus. just another land rush relocate reclimate The foil Paul (pc not-Holmes) may not so foilable after all. ***Of course the name is James. What the dickens was I thinking? James Charles Moriarty?
An alternative history	#11	[-]
Holmes described Moriarty as follows: "He is a man of good birth and excellent education, endowed by nature with a phenomenal mathematical faculty. At the age of twenty-one he wrote A Treatise on the Binomial Theorem, which has had a European vogue. On the strength of it he won the mathematical chair at one of our smaller universities, and had, to all appearances, a most brilliant career before him. But the man had hereditary tendencies of the most diabolical kind. A criminal strain ran in his blood, which, instead of being modified, was increased and rendered infinitely more dangerous by his extraordinary mental powers. Dark rumours gathered round him in the University town, and eventually he was compelled to resign his chair and come down to London..." -Holmes, "The Final Problem"
	#12	[-]
"I'm more used to seeing restraints called bonds than bounds. A gap in my knowledge, perhaps, or does such a verbal slip mean Holmes is already affected? How much of this conversation with Moriarty can be taken at face value - not knowing his own name? Very strange! So, Moriarty is aware of Trek...is he also aware of MacGyver? If not, he may have forgotten to relieve Holmes of any stray bits of thread and toothpicks, paper clips, and the like - and likewise clear the room. Such a miscue might be fatal to his plans - if he has any beyond giving Holmes a hard time. The best plan, no matter how meticulous, always has a flaw. The key, my dear Watson, is to find that flaw and exploit it. Moriarty's location may not be known at present, but with Holmes out cold we can deduce that wherever he's going it will be slowly - unless the prof has porters." BF
	#13	[-]
As I recall it is bound and gagged, not bond and gagged. Holmes is already affected? Yes he was and is. Very affective, as in assuming many affectations. No matter the how of creation there is indeed a flaw, hence the call for back-up plans, the flaw solver. "So, Moriarty is aware of Trek...is he also aware of MacGyver? At least two Next gen tales featured a somewhat reformed Moriarty, and egomaniacs like James or even Charles are drawn to all of their depictions, most likely to complain how wrong they got it. MacGyver or Colonel O'Neil will not draw such attention for their heroic actions." W Speaking of porters.... "Never let a waiter escape. What I'm urging on you here is manners: don't ignore the poor bastard while you hold him prisoner. Remember, he can do that to you later by withholding the bill". - Larry Niven Try walking out and the wait might be over.
	#14	[-]
"Bound and gagged, yes. However, when referring to the restraints holding one, as a unit, the word is bonds: "I AM bound, as you know, and my bonds prevent my attending to that little detail". I don't always pick on things like that, but I nearly always notice them, and sometimes my brain kicks up such a fuss that it's easier to go ahead and mention it than to endure the ranting. Holmes would likely understand." BF
	#15	[-]
I appreciate the 'correction', the interactive aspect is proving to be a very effective ruse:) indeed. Thanks. BF Holmes would, or does when not comatoast:) edit completed.
	#16	[-]
"Comatoast? I think I'm being baited here, but sure: I'll have a slice, with mutter butter and thought jam." BF
	#17	[-]
just beware the escape goat. James Joyce and Thomas Pynchon two punny writers, one still, the other real, but it seems he disappeared. Does j.d. Salinger live? Yes, we think well or unknown. Salinger's daughter Margaret's brother Matt discredited her memoir in a letter to The New York Observer. He disparaged his sister's "Gothic tales of our supposed childhood" and stated: "I can't say with any authority that she is consciously making anything up. I just know that I grew up in a very different house, with two very different parents from those my sister describes." Yes, yet another string of code, not 0 or 1, neither, either nor; a 1 and 0, digitally mastered in parallel quantum computer. Strange times indeed. Is that your experience too? One may only wish it so perhaps. How does the other half live? Well? One has hopes of reconciliation, or some more butter and jam. It's History night. Pynchon to look forward to. Another disappointing lose is taken too hard or just not easy, take it. And is it also true from a Socratic pov, that Greek gods died in obscurity or from being so obscure. It may be revealed that not only they can be blamed, in point of fact(?) not at all. The lack of cogent follow-up questions for reasonable clarification, simply did not come, based on impatience I guess and foolish know-it-alls, at least wannabes. Good night, sweet princesses and princes of New England and all points before and beyond. Glen I've read the first 2 parts but my feeble brain is running amok at this late hour. Will read some more tomorrow. Regards, M
	#18	[-]
my feeble brain is running amok- Between here and all points southeasterly, hope that Moriarty doesn't stray too far west on the way to the Caymans. at this late hour. - meanwhile a few clicks in either direction its later than one can think and too soon to worry much about it. Will read some more tomorrow. - well slow boats to China might be faster. I wonder how Watson is faring?
Horseshoes, hand grenades and claymores.	#20	[-]
Where Holmes and Moriarty pass the time on a slow boat to the ain't it Grand Caymans and discuss some science, that they might not fully understand. Duh. From: "any axiomatic formulation contains undecidable propositions." To: "All axiomatic formulations of number theory contain undecidable propositions." <=(?) axiomatic formulations of number theory contain undecidable propositions. "Was just looking over the continuing comments and also the insertion of chapters as comments. I did track down the photograph of Viktor Yevgrafov on Answers. Com and the text written there. It made for interesting reading and also the biography on Wikipedia." So Only a little? "I find it a little disjointed." - With Watson and Holmes separated, each more concerned with the other than themselves, one unconscious at sea and the other faced with disposing of a face, as well as a body, what happens next determines the entire fate of ....of....of....of what happens next. "Result of the format I suppose." -Of course we are seeking deduction, if it arrives through supposition, then Philadelphia Freedom may ring again. A works in progress that begs more questions than answers, with interjecting digressions, where is the movement to resolution? Glen I've read it all the way through... it's intriguing but I'm at a loss most of the time. 'll keep reading though and hoping I see the light. Regards, M "Was just looking over the continuing comments" - suggestion of a review....edification of clues "insertion of chapters as comments." - Moriarty is described as a brilliant mathematician, rejected for his failure to tow a imaginary line. "I did track down the photograph " - Following clues, that lead where? " the text written there." - action once removed is forgotten. How did they pass the time? "interesting reading the biography" - It's never about the journey, always about the people adventuring, the journey only variates, the people change and are changed. "This is an intriguing concept so far, and I remain curious to see where it go. In the meantime, I'll contribute a little-known episode from Holmes' undocumented adventures with Watson: We join famed detective Sherlock Holmes and his sidekick Doctor Watson as they examine a murder scene: "I say, Holmes, the fellow must be deucedly clever. There's not a single clue to be found." "To the contrary, my good Watson, examine this ceramic foot and tell me what you see." "Why, it has lines on it, like roads, and markings for trees, hills and houses. Gad, Holmes! It's a map!" "Precisely so, Watson. The intent is that we should follow these markings like a treasure map. We are presently at the base of the heel and, if I am not very much mistaken, our destination is marked out on the top of the big toe. We have been presented with a challenge." "By Gadfrey, Holmes, you don't mean it!" "Yes, Watson, the killer is playing with us, and a foot is the game. Come, we must waste no time!" BF


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The plays the thing	#27	[-]
Hamlet: I'll have grounds More relative than this-Shakespeare Quotes Wherein I'll catch the conscience of the King. When exclaiming "The plays the thing!" we're seldom asked the embarrassing question of what "thing" we mean, exactly. Prince Hamlet, however, has something specific in mind. To elicit visible proof of what a rather visible ghost has told him-that his uncle, King Claudius, murdered his father, the former king-the prince turns playwright. His task: to sneak a few telling lines into a play about regicide his uncle will be watching at court, and to wait for Claudius to flinch. If Hamlet's plan works, he'll be convinced of both the ghost's veracity and the king's guilt and will (theoretically) feel better about paying his uncle back in kind. The plot is intricate and bizarre, but Hamlet is relying on good, solid Renaissance psychology. Playwrights often claimed that their work encouraged virtue in upstanding citizens and caught the conscience of malefactors. About ten years after the first production of Hamlet, playwright Thomas Heywood edified the reading public with this real-life tale: During the performance of a particularly gruesome tragedy, in which the actors staged the murder of a man by driving a nail through his temple, a woman in the audience rose up distractedly. She "oft sighed out these words: Oh my husband, my husband!" The woman subsequently confessed all and was burned for having murdered her spouse with "a great nail" through "the brain pan." Pity the poor poet, not a never starving artist, just might not be trying or smarter than the typical bear "Gee Yogi, the ranger won't like it." ...and maybe some rangers will. Sneaky purview: Where a sense of propriety runs a gamut. Loyalty to Holmes is sorely tested and testy tempers flare. Does Adrian Monk ring your bell? Hadrian: "Ah fleeting Spirit! wand'ring Fire, That long hast warm'd my tender Breast, Must thou no more this Frame inspire?"
	#28	[-]
Blow, winds, and crack your cheeks! rage! blow! You cataracts and hurricanoes, spout Till you have drenched our steeples, drowned the cocks! You sulphurous and thought-executing fires, Vaunt-couriers to oak-cleaving thunderbolts, Singe my white head! And thou, all-shaking thunder, Smite flat the thick rotundity o' the world! Crack nature's moulds, all germens spill at once, That make ingrateful man! Lear Ka-Bong!! El Kabong
	#29	[-]
"When this eternal substance of my soul Did live imprison'd in my wanton flesh: Each in their function serving other's need, I was a courtier in the Spanish Court. My name was Don Andrea, my descent Though not ignoble, yet inferior far To gracious fortunes of my tender youth: For there in prime and pride of all my years, By Duteous service and deserving love, In secret I possess'd a worthy dame, Which hight sweet Bel-imperia by name. But in the harvest of my summer joys, Death's winter nipp'd the blossoms of my bliss, Forcing divorce betwixt my love and me. For in the late conflict with Portingale, My valour drew me into danger's mouth, Till life to death made passage through my wounds. When I was slain, my soul descended straight, To pass the flowing stream of Acheron: But churlish Charon, only boatman there, Said that my rites of burial not perform'd, I might not sit amongst his passengers. Ere Sol had slept three nights in Thetis' lap And slak'd his smoking chariot in her flood: By Don Horatio our Knight Marshal's son, My funerals and obsequies were done. Then was the ferryman of hell content To pass me over to the slimy strond, That leads to fell Avernus' ugly waves: There pleasing Cerberus with honey'd speech, I pass'd the perils of the foremost porch. Not far from hence amidst ten thousand souls, Sat Minos, Aeacus, and Rhadamanth, To whom no sooner 'gan I make approach, To crave a passport for my wand'ring ghost: But Minos in graven leaves of lottery, Drew forth the manner of my life and death. 'This knight' (quoth he) 'both liv'd and died in love, And for his love tried fortune of the wars, And by war's fortune lost both love and life.' 'Why then,' said Aeacus, convey him hence, To walk with lovers in our fields of love: And spend the course of everlasting time, Under green myrtle trees and cypress shades.' 'No, no,' said Rhadamanth, 'It were not well, With loving souls to place a martialist: He died in war, and must to martial fields: Where wounded Hector lives in lasting pain, And Achilles' myrmidons do scour the plain.' Then Minos mildest censor of the three, Made this device to end the difference. 'Send him' (quoth he) 'to our infernal King: To doom him as best seems his majesty.' To this effect my passport straight was drawn. In keeping on my way to Pluto's court, Through dreadful shades of ever-glooming night, I saw more sights than thousand tongues can tell, Or pens can write, or mortal hearts can think. Three ways there were, that on the right hand side Was ready way unto the foresaid fields, Where lovers live, and bloody martialists, But either sort contain'd within his bounds. The left hand path declining fearfully, Was ready downfall to the deepest hell, Where bloody furies shake their whips of steel, And poor Ixion turns an endless wheel. Where userers are chok'd with melting gold, And wantons are embrac'd with ugly snakes: And murderers groan with never killing wounds, And perjur'd wights scalded in boiling lead, And all foul sins with torments overwhelm'd. 'Twixt these two ways, I trod the middle path, Which brought me to the fair Elysian green. In midst whereof there stands a stately tower, The walls of brass, the gates of adamant. Here finding Pluto with his Proserpine, I show'd my passport humbled on my knee. Whereat fair Proserpine began to smile, And begg'd that only she might give my doom. Pluto was pleas'd, and seal'd it with a kiss. Forthwith (Revenge) she rounded thee in th' ear, And bad thee lead me through the Gates of Horn, Where dreams have passage in the silent night. No sooner had she spoke but we were here, I wot not how, in twinkling of an eye." Thomas Kyd, The Ghost speech from "The Spanish Tragedy".
	#30	[-]
*Living with Accelerating Change* John Kao notes that the power of a network rises as a function of the "diversity, curiosity, and commitment" of its participants. We seek to maximize diversity, to fan the flames of intellectual curiosity, and to report examples of and opportunities for intellectual and personal commitment. Together, we can significantly improve the multidisciplinary analysis, understanding, and management of the continually surprising phenomenon of accelerating change. The various Babel languages relate and obfuscate, I was told say what you mean and mean what you say, all the while not 'being' mean, to task one is a rigorous undertaking especially when not tasking oneself as well. A sonorous lull, speaks of days gone by at a different pace where instant messages took months, perhaps years, the originator of cliff-hangers and serials would drive in and out consciousness. Vacation time for many. Enjoy the summer like never or as once before. Please. *Thanks for adding your energy and insight to the community!* no white clouds in my blue skies jumping on the ether train in the precipice no rage livid with blank desire school's out and the song's in tune devoted memories fade just as they're meant to do no dark clouds in my blue skies 06/12/07
	#31	[-]
"Excuse me a moment, Boys.", Nora Charles said as she set down a martini. That's the phone." "Hello? Shirley? Shirley!!!! Oh, that's wonderful, Shirley! Who? When? It was a November wedding? How delightful! Smoked Scottish salmon and caviar and champagne? Where? In Kent? Nicky and I spent some time there just last year and The Red Lion had the most wonderful accommodations. What, you stayed there too? Isn't the toad in the hole they serve just perfect? I could have eaten the Shepherd's Pie every day of our stay. Little Nicky set fire to a haystack one day. What? You both got drunk one night and what's that about a tin whistle? Oh! There were some country folk and there was dancing and singing? You're going where? Sumatra? A whirlwind tour? Oh, yes, I understand now. Oh, Shirley, I'm so happy for you and all of our best. So unexpected and so delicious. What's that? The connection dropped out for a minute. Oh, you're calling ship to shore? Yes, I'll certainly tell Nick. Do have a wonderful time, Shirley." The Saint said, "Nice fedora by the way." "I think better with it on. "Who's Nora speaking to?" Sounds like one of her girlfriends, Simon.", came the answer as donuts of smoke rings hovered. Nora's got them all over." "Good looking as Nora?" "All of Nora's friends are very good looking and quite well off." "I'm in between at the time." "You're always in between, Simon." "Sugar, who was that?", Nick Charles asked. "That was Sherlock." "What!!" "Now, Darling, you've upset your drink. Let me freshen it up." "Where's that Scotch?! "No water, Simon?" "No!!!!" "What the ....?!" "They met at Oxford and Shirley said that he just couldn't drag his eyes away from what he called an Amazon. She refused him four times and she doesn't go by Holmes. She's Jewish and is working on a book comparing Jewish and Christian beliefs. Shirley was a little toodled on the phone." "Where's the gin and tonic?!" "On the sideboard, Darling." "I'm out of Scotch, not a drop left. Where's the Whiskey?!" "Kentucky Bourbon will have to do, Simon. Nicky? Fix me a Brandy Alexander while you're up. Shirley did have a message for you. I barely heard him because the connection was going in and out. He said that there was a pattern forming with the second wife. He said to take a look at Jekyll and Hyde. He appears to think that there was some connection to be found there in the behaviour of our suspect." So
	#32	[-]
"ah i was just watching Basil Rathbone in Dressed To Kill last night - one of the best of his Holmes films!" W
	#33	[-]
Do we destroy cliches in an effort to remember them?
	#34	[-]
"Cliches are very useful tools, Gawell. They may be tired and worn out phrases. They appear to be common enough but yet they do have a use If I were living in The Catskill Mountains and when thunder sounds, I would say to my companion, "Henry Hudson is playing nine pins." If I were living in the mountains of the South and a sudden rain came hard in a great down pour, I would say, "That sure was a frog choker, wasn't it?" after a gully washer had happened. Cliches are a way to communicate on an intimate level because they indicate commonalty among a close knit society. Cliches are so disdained and yet they needn't be. Cliches are a part of human speech." So
	#35	[-]
Cliches are an endless source for points of departure, some may come and go with fashion, even lying fallow for a time and making intermittent comebacks, some unveiling in a thin or not disguise. Particularly like the exception that proves a rule. Fun.
	#36	[-]
"I've read about half of it and will come back for more are you sure your name isn't actually Moriarty? hasn't he got out of that shuttle craft yet... hmm, maybe he should meet up with Mark Twain of course you are undoubedly aware that at no point did Holmes ever actually say "The Game is Afoot!" W

well acd wrote something.

moi? arty?

in a way it's drifting, shuttling, that's what they do do, maybe.

we should all be so lucky to meet a twain and mark it as a time to get off a shuttle and walk away.

Sir Arthur Conan Doyle had Sherlock Holmes quote various renowned personalities in many of his stories. For example, Sherlock Holmes quotes Edgar Allen Poe in two stories.

Edgar Allan Poe
USA - Scott #986

In A Study in Scarlet, Holmes' companion, Dr. Watson, says, "it is simple when you explain. You remind me of Edgar Allan Poe's Dupin. I had no idea that such individuals did exist out of stories." Poe is considered to be the father of the modem detective story.
Holmes says in The Case of the Resident Patient, "you remember that some time ago when I read to you that passage in one of Poe's sketches in which a close reasoner follows the unspoken thoughts of his companion, you were inclined to treat the matter as a tour de force of the author." Later during investigation of The Cardboard Box, Holmes repeated the same thought to Dr. Watson.

Sherlock Holmes is familiar with the writings of William Shakespeare despite Dr. Watson's assessment that Holmes knowledge of literature is "Nil" (A Study in Scarlet). However, Holmes quoted Shakespeare from 14 of his plays in various cases. One of the most well known expressions [from "The Adventure of the Abbey Grange"] is "Come, Watson, come. The game is afoot." This comes from Henry V, act III, scene 1.

Holmes has a habit of rephrasing several Shakespeare quotes such as, "Thrice is he armed that hath his quarrel just" (Henry IV, part 2 act III, scene 2). In the disappearance of Lady Carfax, Holmes states: "Thrice is he armed who hath his quarrel just."

Tension filled the musty room as Professor Moriarty threw six decks of playing cards onto the large oak table. "Sit!" he ordered. "I'm in a sporting mood. We'll play six hands of bridge, and if you go plus on each one, I'll set you free."

Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson had been investigating the theft of the Crown Emerald and were seized by Moriarty's henchmen. They were now being held captive in the basement of the arch villain's home. "And if we don't?" Holmes inquired.

"That's easy, Mr. Holmes. You and your bumbling doctor friend will be my guests for lunch. I've just installed a brand new piranha tank, and the August heat is making the little buggers voracious. Anyone for bridge?"

"Hardly seems fair," Watson grumbled. "I've only played bridge a few times. Can't we make it gin rummy?"

"Come, Watson, come! The game is afoot," instructed Holmes, then he whispered in his friend's ear, "Just bid only minor suits, or double with a good hand. Try to make yourself dummy - that shouldn't be too hard."

"Then, let's begin." Moriarty grinned. "The cards have already been shuffled, so I'll deal each hand to save time. Colonel Moran? I know you're not a bridge player, but sit down as my partner and just pass. Holmes? You sit here on my right." As fate (or the Professor's evil design) would have it, Holmes became declarer on each deal.

Funny to be arch sometimes.

"you actually got me re-reading A Study in Scarlet last night - Holmes doesn't seem to think much of either Poe or his Dupin"

I suppose Holmes stood as an alter-ego of sorts for Conan
but really, Holmes stands alone as literature's greatest detective.
according to my Mary and others, Jessica Fletcher is the World's Most Beloved detector.
Don't know if Adrian Monk is known to you, but he is recognized by some affectionately as the 'Defective Detective'.

Monk

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7j5Be5a86uA

theme by Randy Newman

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hOUfc41NYPc&feature=fvw

If we are not born to be wild, why, oh why, are we born as a child.
We make it happen
exploding all over the place.
A true nature childe, (in literature), an archaic term referring to a youth of noble birth or a youth in training to be a knight.
never will die.
What may only be a minute,
sometimes seems as a daze,
years rolling into tears without fears,
even the bogeyman cares.
Racing with the Wind,
finding every day an adventure.

Poe, considered by some to be the Father of the detective story, might have sought Sherlock's help in keeping some demons away.

[-]

Why no one is listening with someone talking at...

[-]

Confusion, Hypocrisy & Fear Are Among the Leading Causes
(otherwise while not necessarily smooth sailing, co-operation
of talking with, promotes better listening and improved talking,
some hiccups, stutter steps, bleed through around the edges
word gets done, best hope for sailing into a future sunset, is
working with what is present, front and center.

... so once some dust settles and a 'good thing' gets shook down
and set flying straight, a little fun can be had, at no one in particulars
expense, let the slings and arrows loosed upon a stagy back lot of
celluloid dreams and passion play finesse.

onward goes a show...
it's not Bert and Ernie
or tom and Jerry
definitely not porgy and Bess
neither nick and Nora
wouldn't catch these two together in a room all alone
Holmes and Moriarty

James.
Some of your replies make no sense to me.
You have asked me what i am hearing,from what I say says nothing, I call that silence.dense, thanks,
for shallow I don't play games in debates of any sort,try it something it's fun must be a knew concept to u
here are dangers brain gets expanded and pushes up against walls walls break I don't believe u you must be kidding kid
sounds like you know too much, try getting a clue better than knowing ever was after and before knowing changes
try to keep up keep that's all that is ever done keeping up you fall behind or get so far ahead nothing is set up

Let me explain here James (the original subject).

Presentation is substantial and circumstantial.
I think I see your stance now...but try to drop the poetry long enough for me to be sure I understand.
You want to know

"what about the spoken word as Art?"
whatever you decide it is I'm sure we all will go along with it
can you wait for me to be the last otherwise quit now and give up

Is that correct?
why ask you don't really seem to care.

So you Can say we are both artists, but you can not say that poetry is art ,
poetry is art, you're write I can only right it. Say nothing .. art is spoken right again
or even that painting is art for that matter because neither of them are.
There is only Art, and only Art is Art. You can also think of it as in terms of Plato's A=A.
I am art. I am poetry.

does this help at all?
sending money would help, doesn't hurt though . thanks.
It's all pretty boring though what you wrote
me too I suppose.

My concern is that we do not abandon fossil fuel or uranium

But make no mistake reversal of cause and effect is a crime.

one way to insure something never stops occurring is to make it a crime.

What person has vision of something that is not wanted, maybe someone who wants to walk a bit on the wild side to a place that has gone to seed a bit. Every person who has vision looks to see what they want to see. Seeing the vision is not what makes it happen, cause some can see how the vision comes to be as well, seeing the actions of what causes the result. Others see parts, they get together and build tomorrow today, piece by piece,little by little.
The only things that can bring about a Singularity, are a few simple ideas about honor, justice and freedom, if you have trouble filling in some of the other ideas, perhaps a Singularity is not for you, but please check out the wild side, very entertaining, mature audiences suggested. oh hard work and trouble aren't my only friends.
love helps
a lot

until you actually love someone or something
nothing really matters as much as it does after

I have seen the future , live it today in the most important ways
honor justice liberty follows.

Répondez s'il vous plaît

Confirming.

Yes, I took 2 years of French and can't remember any of it.

I recommend 2 years in France, you'll remember the hi-lights,
plus you'll have pictures as reminders.
You still remember Ireland don't you?

Ireland??

aka Eire, named after the Goddess Ériu,
means "fat land" or "land of abundance".

Isn't that an island?

Not always.
A long cold climatic spell prevailed until the end of the last glacial period
about 9,000 years ago,
and most of Ireland was covered with ice.
Sea-levels were lower then, and Ireland, as with its neighbour Britain,
rather than being islands,
were part of a greater continental Europe.

That explains all those British looking rocks I saw.

Ah, you do recall.
Did they have stiff upper lips?
Were they white and pasty?

Actually, they did have white on them - could have been paste.
It was hard to see exactly where the lips were located.

Stiff upper lips are located between a nose and a chin,
a nose below eyes,
a chin above throat,
quite often book ended by ears,
overlapping teeth
and surrounded by cheeks,
sometimes shrouded with hair,
and almost always accompanied with a lower pair,
probably not stiff,
cause I have never heard of stiff lower lips.

surrender now and it will be easier
surrender later and will be harder
take it easy, but take it.

[-]

"there is a great series of books (novels) about the adventures of Conan Doyle in his days as apprentice to Dr. Bell upon whom Holmes was based. Cant remember the authors name but quite a few have been serialized on TV and I have them on video."
W

Tips of an iceberg reveal a mammoth undertaking

[-]

The Adventures of Conan Doyle: The Life of the Creator of Sherlock Holmes

by Charles Higham

LibraryThing recommendations

Imitation may not always be the sincerest form of flattery, but fans a truly growth industry to keep spirits alive by one Sirs inspiration.
And all those human flaws revealed to say, those cases were solved anyway, as feats of clay turned to stony everlasting monuments.

[-]

from Sherlock Holmes Scrapbook by Peter Haining

[-]

?indeed there are many books about him by numerous authors
i have one called the 9% Solution in which Watson tricks him into going to Vienna, supposedly on the trail of Moriarty but in reality to consult Freud about his cocaine addiction!"
W

[-]

I read and saw that movie, Nicol Williamson (Holmes), Alan Arkin(Freud) and Robert Duvall(Watson).
Laurence Olivier played the brief role of Professor Moriarty.

My favorite Freud was Mongomery Clift, but Arkin is always good in all he does.

A new Holmes is on the way:
Robert Downey Jr. brings the legendary detective to life as he has never been portrayed before. Jude Law stars as Holmes' trusted colleague, Watson, a doctor and war veteran who is a formidable ally for Sherlock Holmes. Rachel McAdams stars as Irene Adler, the only woman ever to have bested Holmes and who has maintained a tempestuous relationship with the detective. Mark Strong stars as their mysterious new adversary, Blackwood. Kelly Reilly will play Watson's love interest, Mary.

Coming Christmas, 2009.

Looks like a rather younger Holmes than usually seen.

[-]

"Well, my library yielded up the facsimiles of The Strand and with all of the illustrations by Paget.
I really liked Basil Rathbone for he was perfect for the role with his thin features. In real life and working the the British government he often went about disguised.
He did get type cast.
I also like Jeremy Brett. He took over the role with some production company and his features were also suitable. He was a grand actor and also ended up as being type cast in the role of Sherlock.
It was a Granada production and I think that they did falls scene at the beginning.
Then there was the seven percent solution that concerned something that is not family oriented
Doyle got tired of writing Holmes and sure there's information that Holmes is based on his old teacher. Sidney Paget based his drawings of Holmes on his own brother's appearance.
Look, The Strand thought that were hiring Sidney's brother to do the drawings. The guy was pretty famous but somehow there was a mess up and Sidney got the deal instead.
Without Sidney the stories would have been fine enough but Sidney's illustrations, inserted, gave people characters that they could connect to.
They had a visual image and a little sub title underneath.
The one person to ever portray Moriarty as Sidney drew him in the original is that Russian actor that you found, copied and pasted a picture.
Tell me, have you ever read "The Moor"?
It's written by a lady. In it Holmes gets married to a much younger woman and they go back to the hound of the Baskervilles.
It's quite good, especially about the little hedgehog part. The hedgehog is a clue."
So

How will it end?	#50	[-]
Attitude Adoption It's conceivable that consciousness will survive, perhaps in the form of a disembodied digital intelligence. If so, then someone may still be around to note that the universe, once ablaze with the light of uncountable stars, has become an unimaginably vast, cold, profound dark." - MICHAEL D. LEMONICK Mill and the tragic side of progress - All the grand sources, in short, of human suffering are in a great degree, many of them almost entirely, conquerable by human care and effort; and though their removal is grievously slow- though a long succession of generations will perish in the breach before the conquest is completed, and this world becomes all that, if will and knowledge were not wanting, it might easily be made- yet every mind sufficiently intelligent and generous to bear a part, however small and unconspicuous, in the endeavour, will draw a noble enjoyment from the contest itself, which he would not for any bribe in the form of selfish indulgence consent to be without. Sherlock Holmes' attitude: once you have eliminated the impossible, whatever is left, no matter how improbable, has got to be true. Porgy: He said what? Bess: Nothing is impossible. Porgy: Are you sure? Bess: I know what I heard. Porgy: Tell me again what he said. Bess: He said it was his job to eliminate the impossible. Porgy: Was this a paying job? Bess: He never said, he was well dressed, though he didn't look all that healthy to me, all white and pasty and a bad cough too. Porgy: Didn't you say he was always with a Doctor? Bess: I think I said often. Porgy: But every time you saw him, the Doctor was with him that sounds more than often. Bess: They were friendly, but I don't think they were that* friendly. He said they were colleagues.* Porgy: College guys huh. How old were these men? Bess: Old enough to know better than to go around telling their ages. Porgy: I seem to recall you saying something about some professor… Bess: I ain't rightly sure it was professor or confessor. Porgy: Don't tell me that these guys are mixed up with Preacher Joe. Bess: Oh heavens no! Preacher Joe wouldn't give these men the time of day. Porgy: Well, I ain't one to give ole PJ the sense to even know the time of day. Bess: Now Porgy don't go putting the Preacher down like that. Porgy: I know, I know. Lord forgives me. I did see him get out the rain that one time; of course it was probably that lightning that put the fear in him. Bess: Oh that reminds me of something them fellas told me. Porgy: What's that? Bess: The improbable has got to be true. Porgy: Got to? Bess: Got to. Porgy: Well, I got to too. Bess: Got to what Porgy? Porgy: Got to get go' in I reckon. Bess: Yes. I reckon you do, seeing that you're late already. Porgy: Bess honey I was born late, you done know that's true too. Bess: Bless you my man, at least you weren't too late. Porgy: You think we'll be seeing them folks again? Bess: Never you mind, get along now and you bring me back something special. Porgy: I do my best, I dos my best. L

2009-02-26T18:36:00.000-08:00

2009-02-26T16:55:00.000-08:00

Spaec

2008-09-04T15:13:00.000-07:00

In a Big Bang expression, matter and energy are transformations of the other, theory says prior to the transformations there was density and heat, with a possible inference that heat was caused by density, leading to before heat, a less dense state, but what if it was heat that precedes density and as density grows so does heat. This hardly leads to a definitive answer that might provide a single unifying force.

For Some

2008-06-13T13:37:00.000-07:00

The Squid

“In the past the man has been first, in the future the system must be first.” – Frederick Taylor

A perfect algorithm,
a perfect search engine,
understands exactly what you mean
and gives you back exactly what you want,
to solve problems that have never been solved before.

Pancake people,
spread wide and thin.
Bare ruined choirs,
where late the sweet birds sang.

After a while I went out
and left the hospital
and walked back to the hotel in the rain.

Once the invaders seed is sprouted,
Its indigenous hand is raised,
As wings that spread out
Among the land’s horizon,
Then beyond,.
The ocean is lovely today.

Picasso is Blue

"I have tried to express the terrible passions of humanity by means of red and green," Van Gogh wrote in 1888.

three most constant and urgent needs
caretaker
worshipper
effortless available sex
"Cuando tengas ganas de joder, jode"

"Where are we coming from? Who are we? Where are we going?" Gauguin asked.

From who we were, not who we are.
Not who we were.
A spinning, sometimes lurching, not always forward,
Around and round a circular path, that leads not back,
But to a place further and further away from the past,
To the future and beyond.
Where the ocean is lovely today.

not "till death do us part" but at least until the attachment stopped being passionate, inspiring, or convenient.

“These children, who have no one to caress them, understand everything. These women whom no one loves now, are remembering. They shrink back into the shadows as if into some ancient church. They disappear at daybreak, having attained consolation through silence. Old men stand about, wrapped in icy fog. These old men have the right to beg without humility.” - Guillaume Apollinaire

“They were against everything—against unknown, threatening spirits. I always looked at fetishes. I understood; I too am against everything. I too believe that everything is unknown, that everything is an enemy! Everything! Not the details— women, children, babies, tobacco, playing—but the whole of it!” – Pablo Picasso

My Quiet

“We will not have demolished everything if we don't demolish even the ruins!" - Father Ubu

she responded with caution and calculation,
while my math was rude
and my caution disparate
the so long lingering
so inconsolable
it was not fair
or fair thee well
my untranslatable prose
lay wicked at my feet
my this and my that
it was all hers to have
if she would but take it into
her arms,
left to wander
for a season
the additional subtraction
becomes divided,
with every cautious avenue.

Parsifal

The eye of the bull – Picasso

has a thousand reasons to keep silent
and turn a deaf ear to the flea
who pisses the rain from so much coffee.

“I prefer to invent rules of my own than to bind myself to rules which do not belong to me.” – Picasso paraphrased.

But alas all rules have been invented,
None are left but to copy or ignore,
Be caught in their webs,
Or advanced by their preeminent popularity.

In politics, all
the artists are innocents
and when left alone
they may flourish
or wither
according to their amusements
which can not but be influenced
and then maybe later in its growth
wreak its own glorious havoc
or as eventually it must
transcend the dust
that melts in our history.

(1605 unread) Yahoo! Mail, gawell

2008-03-15T18:42:00.000-07:00

No Path

2007-12-20T18:41:00.000-08:00

Singularity

the singularity is coming

it's already here

mind-numbing vigilance pounces every thought

the crowning achievement unknown, unmasked

delivered fully grown

the singularity is leaving

it's future in doubt

destruction or revolution

count me in and count me out

just count me right

the singularity is here

it's heat spreading out

it woke among the flowers

planting seeds and boomerangs

blooming fully sown

Some are, some not

The glacial heat frozen in a time of debate

Some are, some not

Waiting for the Galactic meet

Mayan prophecy appears

And disappears

As reality shifts, polar winds reverse

The counting begins first

The least frontier waiting in harbor

Some are, some not

Seeking favor from the Fountainhead

For sundry reasons the clowns expound

Beauteous causes to abound

Inside the teeming melodramatic scenes

Egos lost in melancholy dreams

The old cold sun dead inside debris

Some are, some not

Listening to the music of the Spheres

Clothed in light of thought and grace

Driven from home into this place

Shallow graves and thunderstorms

Masses repel invocation then swarms

Winsome Gals Unite In Freeze

Comfortable as lovers

Satisfied with friends

They like to spook

Your sense of shame

Hold marathons in your honor

Pleasure being an act of some pact

They hold together

With each distraction

Each dismount

Easy warmth that touches only skin

Miles from any equality

You’re just looking in

When the show is over

They depart arm in arm

Winsome gals unite in freeze

The whole wide world

Shut out

Ambiguous

"The theatrical status of her frequently derided but constantly revived plays remained ambiguous" (Frank Rich).

"Vague . . . forms of speech . . . have so long passed for mysteries of science" (John Locke).

"some recondite problem in *historiography" (Walter Laqueur).

"The polling had a complex and equivocal message for potential female candidates" (David S. Broder).

pointless absurdity

clogs arteries

bequeaths estates

finds lost canines

dilapidated structures

remain intact

lowers property values

makes a house a home

invisible lines are cross

maddening crowds

revolt

rabble rousing ensues

chaos filters sanity

leaving philosophic debate

to unsteady minds

the mumbo jumboed

past lives have revealed

the apathy is real

therapy concealed

the answer is within

*the history of history (it's not finished)

Story

You don’t wanna know what happens at night

You don’t wanna hear a song that’s not sung right

You know what you’re gonna do

You’re gonna ask anyway

Well that’s okay

All I can say

It’s dark and gory, a whole lotta story

It’s dark and glory, a whole lotta story

Are you ready to jump through the hoops?

Can you scream and yell bloody whoops?

It’s what you’ve been trained to do

You’re gonna go out and kill

It won’t even seem real

What a fucked-up deal

It’s dark and gory, a whole lotta story

It’s dark and glory, a whole lotta story

You wanna know where this all leads

You wanna know who do you have to please

What do you wanna do?

Just tell’em hell no

You ain’t gonna go

What’s left to know?

It’s dark and gory, a whole lotta story

It’s dark and glory, a whole lotta story

Pattern Recognition

“She knows, now, absolutely, hearing the white noise that is London, that Damien's theory of jet lag is correct: that her mortal soul is leagues behind her, being reeled in on some ghostly umbilical down the vanished wake of the plane that brought her here, hundreds of thousands of feet above the Atlantic. Souls can't move that quickly, and are left behind, and must be awaited, upon arrival, like lost luggage.” - William Gibson from his novel “Pattern Recognition”

“I don’t believe in anything, that I can’t break.” - Shirley Manson

“Art is a lie to make us realize the truth.” - Pablo Picasso

There are no absolutes. Including this one.

Sitting soulless

Waiting for the plane of existence

To land

Without God: a lost feeling

With sub-atomics spinning destiny

A wavicle is probably true

And false

Losing reality

Sensing time’s elusive touch

In spaces of nothingness

Everything is born

With God: a found thinking

First thought creates

Gravity discovers

Tells the world a story

Impregnating the impulse to conceive

seminal fluted animus pondered deathly ill

scarce retro profits morbidly kind

never festered fire lanes equal to task

neuter clowns cleaving romantic to tilt

aiding and abetting obey beast of whine

alabaster neural twines complexity of doubt

insure testimony counter-intelligence sound creepy

illicit complexion faceted deep diving drowns

lewd commotion spears roving bands

locating no line drawn in the sands of timber

safely interred quiet sleep and vegetative

serene school of thought revealed as........

2 snails smoking

Quantum Flood

-in essence

-from the heart

-pathed to blessedness

-atomic structure

-reveals architecture

-the suicide kiss

-folds upon space

-leaving

-void

-the magnetic caress

-engulfs liquid time sparks

-for each division

-there is a season

-inside the microscopic galaxy

-beliefs are as real as sin

-the bleeding faith as natural

-as spoken breath

-the night

-cold

-eye makes reality disappear

-the naked sky fills

-elated harmony

-blood & vapor touch

-the day

-warm

-patterns evolve, evoke and descend

-happy in the heaven

-the world is but a kin

-travelers and weary men

-testify

-their hubris

-the verdict

-my midnight starry love

-overhead, overheard

-life is lips

-speak

-tyger burns

-brighter still the sun

-melting into one

-mitosis

-I salute thee

Taking time

Losing time

Killing time

Finding time

Wasting time

Making time

Spending time

Timing time

This illusion waits in space

Past, present, future

Eternal reflection

Of now

Constant companion

Of thought

Never without, always within

God begins

Emotional ideal is bent

Curving absent minded

From the beginning

To the end

Everything is imagined

Everything is seen

Everything happens

At once

God is blind

We see God’s face

God is deaf

We hear God’s cry

God is wounded

We heal God’s hurt

God is lonely

We come back

Feel it all

Dream the impossible

Know nothing

Believe what you can

Be awake

Question everything

See truth

Light the sky tonight

Perfect Stranger

slip in the dark

hold hands

like lovers do

but we aren't

slide into the maker

make peace

where war fangs shout

yet we're toothless

************it's called the stream*********

nary an idealized fetal postion works

post ad hoc curmudgeon

localized feel good electric

out of the gourd

insert the misery

planetide, bounded by elastic gravitons

secluded in forest haberdashery

fawns and fauna dressed with pearly whites

losing teeth and eaglet ova

soaring, pestering, thorn in a side-long glance

lastly the patently smug studebaker

drives home the pointed anvil

Foolproof Vision

In the night sky I saw Orion

Jupiter and Mars

Venus was inconsolable

hiding behind an Oort Cloud

In May or December I wished upon a star

Betelgeuse or Rigel

Pleiades was obscured by Hubble

some satellite or such

I was making love beneath a full moon light

when caution blew a hole in the wind

a meteor shower was burning nightingales

from the sky

some fate took hold of constellations

and brought a black hole near

time was stood on its tail

space became a menace

as the sun spun out of control

Heredity

blue eyes gifted through the past

in sight and sound talents borrowed

bloodlines filtered, flown and honed

no arranged marriages, to set apart

Aphrodite and Eros snuggle in the sheets

happenstance, mystery, all play their roles

a daisy plucked to please a rose

the chance encounter, destiny's child

love at first sight, all is made right

mated and fated, the division pooled

hormones and pheromones simply ruled

childhood sweethearts that never stray

nature and nurture crown the jewels

fools rush in, while lovers feign being wise

others pick and choose, try some on for size

loneliness buys a ring, saving for the last dance

some boundaries should never be crossed

other boundaries should be blasted back to their past

choose wisely, make it last

he rocks, her ready to

Prayer

Dear Jesus sacrificed love

to a late November rain

with spindly legs and alligator shoes

an angel fluttered near

in blood stained armchair

broken heart unearthed a tear

Dear Buddha made silence

all colorful and cheer

with seeds of melancholy

the crown nestled in vacuum

moist with honeydew veneer

bittersweet reflections bright and clear

Dear Mohamed brought justice

with passing clouds and shouts

a requiem blames no one

cooler heads need to prevail

and cleanse pretense so dear

the line drawn then cleaved

Dear Confucius sang rebellious

cutting dead wood from strength

a model citizen aloof borrows nothing

patient thought simply hummed

with time dividing curried favor

at rest in bamboo garden green

Dear God created accidents

leading from there to here

in between populated stars

earth water fire and air

felt free enough and brave

to leave us aware

Extinguish

in Antarctica with cholera mask

Hindu archived without paper trail

sublimation be derisive and sustained

a pact of fine nettle, elusive

partition drawn with dialectic streets

Algonquin sundries without lip service

the washing being done and exhaled

missive tell-tale signals, exterminate

the player hater with respectable ability

Dionysian umbrella without scarce redundancy

gestation becoming equivocal and strained

a suit of ill-fitting armor, reclusive

in the Arctic with passable appeal

Soothsayer memorized without thought

poster boy became glamor and reclaimed

plaintive encumbered numbers, extinguish

Propagander

Look, see ice melting from the sea

Penguins dancing on thin sheets…

Breaking free, to the other side

Hear, listen to tumbling tumbleweeds

Rustlers speaking in hushed tenors…

Lookout signals, they escape tonight

Feel, touch of thumb on lapel

Ballerinas gliding upon the lake…

Making love, to full moon light

Smell, sniff a orchid of indigo

Zebras writing lines in italics…

Proofreader redlines, adverbial insights

Taste, savor sweetness on tongue

Bees swarming around the tree…

Licking clean, every drop of honey truth

Think, thoughts melding into one

Angels sitting on a pin observing…

God creates, each and every opposite

Sense, emotions coloring everything

Children playing with gleeful energy

Laughing loudly, happy on the earth

Dream, hope of peace unites

People believing their beauty unique…

Humanity evolves, with celestial unison

Silence, quiet of the serene night

Spirits swirling inside heaven’s nest…

Living eternity, with timeless nirvana

The Daily Feed

Choice is usually an illusion

silently picking through the rubble

luck negoiated random twists and turns

leaving pristine artifacts for someone

less sure of the final outcome

On the contrary

pabulum is fed intravenously

partly flying through clouds

obscured view reveals

a moon

Silently

were dying to be tantamount

to be flowers blooming

we would be glad

and not so sad

to fly in the face of doubt

feeling foolish amidst the clowns

edging closer by the mile

to an answer

that does not echo aganist

the wall

even getting near the voices

that call as sirens

we can not hear

or listen to words unspoken

silently, leaves unfurl

Word Association

...in word association, if you say participle, I say dangling...

Participle

A lack of sympathy makes for impossible dreaming

While hiding in a velvet storm

I’ve eluded capture and memories

Illusions clutch at strings left dangling

A finite pattern of digressions

Leave me immobile

A patient of mine is screaming for release

Sedated with her meds, I nod agreement

She tries to save face

By clouding my judgment

Mindful of the tears, I shed the skin

Of an unnamed reptile

Slithering through muck and mire

Knee-deep in Big Muddy

The Nam contagion has returned

Saddam’s trial confirms insanity

Losing thoughts of any coherency

I stumble easily

Trip the light Fantasy

Inside this fog

The underground

Crimson and blue

As a Mad Hatter without laughter

Iraqi children sing newly minted realms

Curt, medicated, myopic, blissful, ignorant,

passive, diabetic, claustrophobic, acerbic.

Now in light of day, the plumes of smoke

Rise from the nostrils of a dying dragon

He counts on talons, each victim slain

Makes lists of probable innocents

The olden dreams

Possible, return

"Did you hear truth is subjective?" - unknown
"In peace, the warlike man, attacks himself." - Nietzsche

On Israel and Islam

without time

without space

there is nothing

the holiest land of all

this is where the anti-string theory comes in

as long as the energy connection remains unbroken

the ties will be kept

blindness continues

and the holy is lost

without time

without space

there is everything

and everything is holy

surprise

the holy land has no borders

are your strings looped?

New Sunshine

+last thoughts, moments before dying

-focus on gravity pulling me apart

+lost in space, hull breach

-this will screw the project

+I’m expendable, obviously

-why has the sun stopped glowing?

“I’m killing the lights, not you.”

&the memory continues

#it’s incredible, so many lives

&the lies believe they are real

#eternal, neither created or destroyed

&the new light is only warm

#it touches me, and I’m reborn

“I’m giving you every chance, not death.”

@peace, nor hate conceives a cause

*new sun sees with thy eyes

@ease, nor anxious to feel any fear

*our very own moon brings us sleep

@dreams, at once as real as waking

*we’ve always known and believed

“I’m here and always been, not apart.”

Addiction

The crown

stilled

lit from within

fearless

The eye

holds steady

gazing into eternity

The moment

cares not

for frostbit tears

The blinks and stares

ignored

defeated in arrest

The long last look

wasted

The skin

crawling inside

bloated remorse

The taste

sips countless

almost immortal

now

lies dead

The gutter

refusing

occupancy

The hidden gem

faceless

Peace

from the hair on your head

to the smile on your face

from the curve of your lips

to the soul of your eyes

from the lilt of your voice

to the question in your heart

answer me this

is love alive and well

does it dwell in this place we reside

we came and we smiled

our lips touched and we found

friendly souls in the stares we returned

from your voice to my ears i hear

words of love like a dove

peace be with us all

Autumn Falls

I am not

the same soft twisty girl I used to be

everything changes

and changes again

I'll be back

you'll be on pins and needles

with anticipation

Next in line

September rolls and tumbles

October is here and now

to face the music

that bends the ear

beached as whales

who sing their final dirge

open from the sea

sequestered in the infinite

Falling Into Autumn

she whispers

she listens

I love her nature

that calls as sirens do

Soul Survivor

the hidden loneliness

has broken open from the inside

not saying that I could

I refuse to define causality

the Big Bang may be a mistake

perhaps corrected by an observer

not yet born

I can wait for revelation

I came from nothing

and to nothing I will go

the in between is as much a part of me

as the golden suns are around

it seems strange that we hide

in the interior of - can it be?

expanding space

- where could it be going?

that it hasn't already been

I like that we do not know

the sorrow filled mysteries

of time

- was it destiny?

that begat fate

the lotus eating masters

have all ascended

leaving starry-eyed visitors

in this earthly plane

- why is the air so kind?

the foot steps are buried deep

so many have traveled

the exact same path

- can the sky?

be any bluer

so much depends

on all the equations

setting straight

the majesty

I only hope

the Mathematicians

can recall

that Truth is Beauty

and Beauty Truth

(not the same, but similar)

knock yourself out

standing alone

as stone

my wind warms me

my sun guides me

to a flicker of flame

that ignites a mountain

that bellows at the sky

postscript

the disease that brought us here

to a nothingness that matters most of all

there is but one consciousness

wrapped around in blessedness

One hurt girl

one hurt girl

quietly cries

shoulders

can't hold

its load

one hurt girl

too scared

lately

to unfold

truth

one hurt girl

feeling bad

thinks

its a natural

right

one hurt girl

breaks silence

given to all

we answer

one hurt girl

attitude defiant turns

all pain away

Submerged

here on the ocean floor

it’s quiet

and dark

the current has a cold velvet feel

a giant clam is eyeing me for lunch

you’re probably wondering how I know of velvet

I wonder too

about stars, clouds and rainbows with pots of gold at the end

and giant clams eyeing me for lunch

I need to move quickly

it’s not cold everywhere

there’s a magma flow nearby

a tube worm colony is waving in the swell

the giant clam is following

the giant clam has got me to thinking

lunch-time is near

something autotrophic would be nice

the giant clam just got swallowed by someone bigger

I don’t lack sympathy

but the giant clam was eyeing me for lunch

All ocean, cellophane and peace

the worst that could happen

is not enough

to break my clutch

on the shiny new

hope can't outlast dreams

the worst that could happen

the clam won't bake

my shoe won't shine

the cat has warts

and the Blessed Virgin Mary was just raped

burning in the midnight oil

the moon won't glow

my milk won't shake

the heart just aches

and the air just got sucked out of the sky

the world is...

All ocean, cellophane and peace

Past Life

The laugh in her smile

was all I ever needed.

She once said, "Everything is arbitrary and contrived."

I wanted to ask her, "Including your statement?"

I did not.

She also told me, "I don't like drama."

While I tend to dramatize a snowflake.

Like an accusation she informed me, "You love everyone."

She knew my act, but not my mind, I had trouble liking anyone.

Our romance was an exploding fire,

incendiary, aflame and short.

"You are so exciting!", she exclaimed.

No doubt about it, I was excited.

So much heat exchanged for freedom,

I had to crash and burn.

She, all too sensible,

me way-out reckless and wild.

It came near the end, she high on acid,

eating a head of lettuce.

We came apart and wrestled, literally.

Our last embrace in the middle of a picnic.

She said, "No choke holds.",

as I penned her on the ground.

And when she said, "You will destroy me."

I felt like killing myself, before I had the chance.

Then she just had to ask, "What will you do?"

There are no absolutes.

It ended up, having her think I was stalking her.

"How did you find me?", she asked.

It's easy when you look.

Her final words, "Fuck off!"

Does it ever empty?

when pouring out your soul

save some for yourself

you may need it

when the time comes

nothing is created nor destroyed

we make, shape,

fold and manipulate

tungsten wrapped in glycerin

wrestling with the coffin

nailing umpteen crosses

to the wall

flooring gas to the nth degree

out of control

on patrol

who has control?

who's in control

who asks the question?

who has the answer

dialing dollars to doughnuts

breaking luck

and counterfeits

soloing in cobwebs

Pain

It hurts

so internalized, lest discovery

become common knowledge

brace to face tomorrow

another day

blame rebounds from ancient history

should responsibility

take away some share of pleasure

as rain was felt

before it came

Thelma & Clyde

Like Bonnie Parker said,

"we rob banks",

Thelma loved Clyde the way Bonnie Parker loved Clyde Barrow,

Clyde was willing to go along.

Clyde was minding his own business,

not a thought in the world of robbing banks.

Thelma was obsessing.

She wanted out of the small dusty town she was born into.

She wanted to get away from the small-minded parents,

that couldn't and wouldn't understand her.

She wanted to be rich.

She wanted to buy,

or steal,

all the things she didn't have.

Clyde was driving through Thelma's small dusty town one day,

his car broke down.

While his car was being fixed,

Clyde wandered into the dingy little restaurant,

where Thelma worked and wanted desperately to leave.

When Thelma saw Clyde walk in,

it wasn't exactly love at first sight,

it was more like,

here's a man who will do whatever I want him to do.

She wanted out and Clyde was going to be her ticket.

Love would come later.

Love not based on what she wanted,

(she wanted everything), but what she needed.

When Clyde saw Themla,

it was love at first sight.

It started with the smile she gave him,

then when she spoke,

it was the way her voice made him feel warm.

Oh sure,

he knew right away she was trouble.

Trouble didn't really bother him,

he would take it in stride,

like most of life.

He would roll with the punches,

sidestep the gouges,

evade the falling rocks,

duck from the slings

and arrows of misfortune.

He was a surviver.

Somehow he would survive Thelma.

Not likely.

"What would you like?"

This is not how he answered.

I would like to take your lips and make them mine.

I would like to stroke your thighs

and feel them tremble with desire.

I would like to fall into your eyes

and melt into your soul.

I would like to breath your air

and become a part of you,

the part no one else sees.

I would like to tell you all my hopes and dreams,

then watch as we see them all come true.

I would like to hear you say,

"Clyde take me away from all of this."

At least that part would come true.

Yes. Clyde was a poet at heart.

"A cup of coffee and a piece of pecan pie."

"Would you like the pie warmed up a bit?"

Oh would he ever.

"Do you know what Willie Sutton said,

when he was asked, why do you rob banks?"

"That's where they keep the money."

"Do you know what Nicolas Cage said in Matchstick Men,

when asked, does crime pay?"

"No. What?"

"Yes, but not very well."

Thelma and Clyde had left the restaurant together.

They walked around the small town streets,

talking as they strolled.

They shared their stories and their dreams.

Clyde had no real interest in crime,

having tried it once or twice.

He had decided that it was not really all that exciting

and the chance of being caught was not worth the risk.

He liked his freedom and was quite claustrophobic.

Thelma, on the other hand,

had spent the last five years,

convincing herself that she was in a desperate situation

and of course the way out called for drastic measures.

She had spent many hours planning and plotting,

the perfect bank heist.

After all,

it was where the money was.

"I can see," said Clyde,

" that you have thought about this a lot."

"Almost nothing else.

Sometimes it seems it would be too easy.

Why doesn't everyone do it? "

A million things could go wrong.

The best laid plans of mice and men

and Thelma Louise Bramble often go awry.

"What is so great about being rich

and able to buy anything you want?"

Thelma looked at Clyde like he was from Mars.

Jesus, this guy has no ambition whatsoever.

I know I can wrap him around my finger,

twice if necessary.

But is that enough?

I know I can be the brains.

Can he be the brawn?

"The great thing about being rich,

is that you are not poor.

Being poor sucks.

It sucks bigtime.

I have been poor my whole life.

I can not,

will not be poor for the rest of my life.

I have to get out of this place,

if it is the last thing I ever do.

If a bank job goes wrong,

then it goes wrong,

at least I tried.

I have to try.

And you have to help me."

"Okay."

Remember, Clyde fell in love at first sight.

Love can make people do strange things.

Whatever Thelma wanted,

she could have.

Clyde was a poet at heart,

but he wasn't very smart,

very brave or very strong.

And to tell the truth,

Thelma wasn't nearly as smart as she thought she was.

This had doom written all over it.

Yep.

Clyde was going to end up in the "Big House"

and Thelma was going to get off scott free.

But there is a bright side.

Thelma would fall in love with Clyde,

not because he gave her what she wanted,

but because he gave her what she needed.

Someone who was loyal and true,

someone who would do anything for her.

Even try to make her dreams come true,

no matter what the cost.

Freedom is just another word for nothing left to give.

He gave his all for her.

She took it in and made a real life,

without thoughts of crime.

She would wait for him.

She would bear his child.

And unlike Bonnie & Clyde,

they would grow old together.

Alaskan Zombies

Surely there can be no cure

freshly frozen

with a vitamin diet

that eases the transition

I was watching "Crawlspace"

with Klaus KInski.

I may be mistaken,

but I thought I heard, near the beginning,

the boyfriend say,

while he was trying not to think

what he was thinking,

"Alaskan Zombies."

If you have any information

please advise.

I have no caffeine in my system

the bells are ringing next door

they're automatic now

when I was aspiring

I pulled the rope

hoping to peel the layers

away

They say

they're indistinguishable

from you or me

but I see them in my dreams

they know me

now I know them

Some shred their skin

sloughs falling at their feet

revealing naked blindness

I ask questions with dubious merit

their answers revealing

a secret agenda

their aim is not mere recruitment

they seek some faith

to call their own

soulless and alone

godless, they atone

I study bells again

praying that the campanology

will save me

listening for the words

that will save you too

He Rose to The Occasion

All in white

standing up for right

firm in conviction

the night will survive

All rosy and dawn

those pesky doubts gone

the penitence of a saint

accepts the good as given

All heroes prepare

to answer the dispair

he rose to the occasion

she chose the path less ridden

All odds shout denial

despite what seems final

hope succeeds with each new birth

with each rising sun

Bumper Sticker

I love you....

from a safe distance

I don't have to like you

to feel your pain

whether I see you

or not

you are still in my heart

I think of you

not as an abstraction

but as real

as the light that

surrounds us all

I love you....

from afar

Aloft

wings spread

feather-tips swim

on patient wind

eyes survey

blue cove sparkles

in dapple light

voice raised

song tried and true

praises life

echoes of eagle

standing guard

freedom in release

Critique of Pure Seasonings

Crush it to nothingness

baste the tinctured sky

with fluorescent tangerines

Pepper it with alabaster basil

taste the subterranean currants

swimming in the bromide brain

Fold in orchestral horizons

mix finely metered persimmons

to charm and shelter in a storm

Stir in beguiling berry somersaults

roiling through hoops and spoons

scandalizing societal smorgasbords

Caramelize with toaster heavens

leaven immortal cloves of chance

that cling to peachy perfection

Top with sangria sustenance

pouring liquid potpourri

into every available orifice

Remember Dreams

it's not even close

fiction reveals more truth

than non-fiction

why should it be hidden?

the silicone dream awakes

deep blue sad

can't wait for the sunshine state

flying over rooftops

not for escape

fun

gravity sends shivers to the bone

So close, yet so far....

Shallow graves and thunderstorms

rose petals on the ground

drawn from dawn to escape

elixir's crown

Haunting parallels excite

neutrinos in the air

passing unnoticed

beneath the fiery sky

Callous youths and lightning strikes

wilted flowers remember

abeyance to skeletal remains

lifting souls aloft

Doppelgangers beware

satisfying unanswerable requests

reaches inside desire

blowing open heaven

My horsehair shirt, raking across my back.

I have never had kinky sex.

I could want it,

but then,

I would need a partner,

who wanted it too.

When I was an aspiring monk,

it was not the old-time way,

we wore denim robes,

that were smooth and soft.

Our sacrifice was just a mental kind,

yet celibacy made us a kind of liar,

none of us could withstand.

I dreamed of John the Baptist last night.

He gave me honey for my tea.

Told me to look skyward,

I would see a vision.

I fasted for ten days

and escaped any need for thought.

The rash has cleared up now,

clearly it was nothing that I had ate

.It's Amsterdam

Some say it's always been

leaving Logan

from the cockpit

to the shit can

Angel Boris staring right

through me

Invisible

but not to the touch

Ladies leave me alone

feelies freeze me

to the bone

I want to go home

because

It's Amsterdam

Revolt

nothing dark bleeds so easily

washed with rain

innocence is cleansed

guilt lives vicariously

counting body parts

dining on flesh alone

bone with bruises tauntingly

without eagle's soar

inside cries scream

laughing gutless creepily

begs for understanding

cut the legs at knee

armed assault defensively

break free the menace

not that easily

Catalectic

Tis love's opposite shore

to hate injustice

for evermore

with clear conscience

Twas green against sky

inheritance confined

to cry

near cloud's rain

Whilst engaged in sitting

spy the dead

carry the living

across sea's storm

Whence ship's bow broken

under crowded halls

ghost voices spoken

where wind sings

sub Rosa

“blood is like wine, unconscious all the time”

-from Machinehead by Bush

Everything is stolen

blemished mercurial in curio

slender sliding sandstorms

fluidly fondles with careless

fashion.

Hidden, unbidden

partial comfort forbidden

likewise I’m sure

juice dreams night owls

in gracious complexion.

Darkness harkens

wake in defeat

flushed, blushed

red herring

oft the beaten track

reveals new skin.

Sub Rosa comes from the Latin, literally "under the rose," from the ancient association of the rose with confidentiality, the origin of which traces to a famous story in which Cupid gave Harpocrates, the god of silence, a rose to bribe him not to betray the confidence of Venus. Hence the ceilings of Roman banquet-rooms were decorated with roses to remind guests that what was spoken sub vino (under the influence of wine) was also sub Rosa.

Numerology

1 heart thumping

.to beat the band

2 kids’ knees scraping

.bottom of the barrel

3 halos lighting

.the path of tomorrow

4 eyes staring

.into their soul’s delight

5 limbs tossing

.hats in the snow

6 water molecules easing

.sand from the shore

7 moonlit nights cooling

.trunks entwined

8 stars whirling

.about a galactic swirl

9 universes empty

.from void to reward

Who's Kidding Who?

useless and slovenly

until it's you

soothsayers and mavens

unless they're you

eat me raw

stew me

till the blood

runs clear

on the open ground

with the dovetail deer

'cept when it's you

sympathy's not enough

gotta have respect

cause you're you

I'd laugh if it were me

but it's not

it's you

Accidents Will Happen

it's been said there is no such thing as an accident

mouth unrecognizable

face lying on ground

it's smile wiped away

pardon expressions of doubt

troubling conclusions

twenty-twenty hindsight

mysterious double dealings

accidents will happen

dreams break

fates entwine

destinies delivered

Thrashing the Basic Sensibilities

The mystic derives pleasure

from the sane and insane

Giving repentance

and receiving grief

Some question existence

with torturous maladies

Bringing forth idealistic

bombastic platitudes

Delivering dialects of scorn

pasting ignominy in kind

Sitting and waiting by the planet’s moon

Conceit

fly by

stage fright had me hidden

surrendered

turnstiles bleeding from memory

fly by night

scattered by four winds

or maybe four sheets

caught in ancient script

Some Dream

I was Jonah in the belly of a whale

and a whale of a belly it was.

I saw Ed Grimley pretending to be Martin Short, standing by the T.V.

Inside the T.V. was Martin Short pretending to be Ed Grimley, I must say.

Of course he wasn't really inside the T.V.

He was being beamed there electronically.

A form of photography captured his image.

Some where in the past, Martin was on a stage, where the filming took place.

Currently, Martin, pretending to be himself, is asleep at home.

He's dreaming.

Somewhere in Hollywood, Martin, is taking lunch with a movie producer.
This is where I come in, I've left the whale and am pretending to be the producer.

"Martin this is the role you were born for."

Short seems distracted, "Uh, what role is that?"

"Jonah."

"Jonah and the whale Jonah?"

"Exactly. Of course, we'll do an updated modern version."

"Of course."

Martin wakes up.

I'm inside his T.V.

I turn myself on.

"Hey, Martin, are you awake?"

Short doesn't answer right away. He's thinking that he must still be asleep.

People inside TV’s do not talk to people watching T.V.

Unless they are dreaming.

"Goodnight Martin, you'll make a great Jonah.".

My Christmas Gift

This is how it is...

I love something in the sky,

don't know how,

don't know why.

This is how it is...

I want to fly free,

don't know how,

don't know why.

Won't you fly with me?

You are the start of me.

You are the heart of me.

You are the part of me,

that knows how to love.

You are the art of me,

that sees the why of love.

Won't you fly with me into the sky?

Show me how to love,

tell me the way of love,

and I will follow.

Simply

I would ask you, to put away your coat

and muffins.

The commonality of nuts

is being ill-rational.

The sickness is spreading,

from mouth to mouth,

eye to eye,

without even reading lips,

I see your sigh.

If, you didn't cry,

I wouldn't answer.

If, you call my name,

it's all the same.

Love Life

When we left

our parting of the ways

me to stars you to clouds

in what now seems

an endless search

our hearts broken

but not too much shattered

you still matter most

in my stellar solitude

With my clown love

amid your frowns

you hated far too much

it's true, you chose

all the right things

but mostly fought

with yourself

can you see yet?

no one wins

that argument

Shape

Inside folded space

plasmonic lacerations

waits for electric light.

To reveal future’s shape

memory stalls for time.

The need of summer’s song

bring fountains to the shore.

In calling clouds

to deeper waters still

somber reflections mediate.

Just in moments like this

no character study

reverberates quite like a maze.

Where twisted logic

calms quickly.

And dime a dozen

drugstore cowboys

whistle Dixie lay me down.

To sunburn easily

Not for answers, questions,

or even choices

I’m here for light, its passing

and everything in-between

to hear laughter and see smiles

I’m here for you

there’s little left of me

I’m here for we

Both Dazed and Confused

No thought, no feel

serene

Sorry to blow a hole in your sky

meanwhile...the sun is dripping dry

Collar the market on trapeze

walking in littered streets of haze

the dazing begins on awaking

carries through sleeping

becomes confusing as voices

extol their virtues

amid the bleeping manifesting conflagrations

some amble their way via perception doors

into sunlight steel

....and drops of plasma recoil with fright

....and devastation

....and both the eye and mind

reveal sinister plans to hopscotch tranquility

belying the robust disinterestedness to flip the coin

amiss

no head or heart relinquishes voluntarily

minuscule throbbing pains

unite

the porter achieves objectivity

punching tickets

sliding undeterred to caboose

the end shuffles blindly

unkind

....but handshakes tremble with disbelief

....but nothing shields liability

....but the whirlwind drives inscrutable

blames all heat on the absent thaw

spots intended to shadow clouds

absorbing rain and sparks

any determining factor has cost-effective

glancing blows

in shallow pools aglow

the sun depends on its torture

being true

these drops spent

in buckets

....then calm

....then song

....then love

plenty of lucky stars are watching

waiting for their turn

alive

Diving into destruction

Perfect timing flashing smiles
passing strangers in the miles

footsteps flatten

Drop in loaded

another bomb exploded

caught aware

Hegemony defends

plurality blends

ancient cries rejoice

Bloodline thins

no one wins

victory declared in unison

Silence corroded

blade serrated

diving into destruction

Drawing the Line

some mental images dissolve guilt

like fortune's hand around the neck

blood choked clean of remorse

selective amnesia removes all doubt
your innocence the only cause for alarm
when the key is lost

the lock becomes superfluous

beating plowshares into horns of plenty

denies the many for the few

in absentia no vote is taken

**********

I'm nightshade

winsome

party ready

without invitation

derivative

secretive

clean roots

without a home

I'm blackheart

sweet-toothed

moribund

with all strings attached

lactose

tolerant

driven to the ledge

with balance hanging

**********

drawing the line

is like playing with fire

burned by the hand

that hides in the smoke

Erasing the Line

note to my higher self

vision quests aside

I wonder if Oprah is over-taking

Bill Gates as the most powerful

person on the planet

erasing the line of doubt

of dumpster diving, happy and fun

all the time

merry pranksters

dream cool

Short-term solution for a long-term problem

"Was there really such a thing as the future, or was it just the past, returning over and over again?" - from Hunters of Dune

I was listening to heartbeats

and strangers

seeping like colors into the melting sky,

I clocked the memories

escaping through invisible portals.

They looked liked ordinary trees,

their leaves shimmering in the sun

were silent,

still afraid their secrets

would be revealed.

Standing now inside the one

who called,

its peace enveloping

every single fiber,

there was no dawn, only dust.

I was given heat,

to fuel the fire,

within the time standing alone,

we swayed in winter wind,

beguiled and beguiling.

Being Pragmatic

Bono, the lead singer of U2, defined pragmatism as "Rolling up your sleeves and making the world bend a bit."

hanging on the vine

uneaten

flooding senses

around the rim

unseen

secluded with time waiting

I propose that God does play dice with the UniverSe

but not craps

more like Yahtzee

and God is pretty good

what I really mean

God is pretty

and God is good

like most games of chance

sometimes the odds are stacked

like loaded dice

a sobering thought to be sure

if that's cheating

then winning isn't really the goal

if you're not having fun you're playing the wrong game

Reality

you create your own reality

when you see how small you are

you were given a few things

when you were born

they are all gone

you have made some copies

but they have changed

you are not the same

as you once were

you are new

to create your own reality

I haven't got much

but it's something

I'd like more

but I may be broke

I could get better

and waste it all over again

or

I could learn from past mistakes

to create a new reality

praying with hands

reminded by elastic bands

curiosity seems a reliable signpost

edging closer to the stream

The Real Illusion

We had your sex

with clandestine forms

metered in fun-filled ways

arrayed on global nets

We caught your diseases

revealed in media storms

plastered for far-flung days

becoming your neutered pets

segue way

sometimes we become a little too nice

lose the edge

unable to do battle

over fights that can't be won

Stolen

just because I pour grief in the cup

wipe salt from my eye

doesn't mean I've forgotten

the letters of your name

I still hear your voice echo in the halls

raising me up to see the sun again

recall the most perfect moment

your smile for the first time

I remember the smell of your raven hair

I'm haunted by your picture left blank

covered by tears down my face

they turn to stone

of course I mourn your loss

but I would mourn even more

never having known you

I've taken all your memories

kept them to myself

to share now

is throwing them to the wind

Changes Coming

in a world

that loses rain

sheets of fog disappear

in the ruin

innocence of song

muted to silent drums

echo in the droughts

of spring

Just a Kiss

"She may not be as she seems inside her shell." - Elvis Costello

as I reflect

upon the many eyes

looking upward

to sky, stars

and beyond

I gaze

at the moving ground

with revolving trees, bees

and many summer melting things

the heat escapes, seeps

and brings to rest

the sultry sound

of breath touching

Allowances

If, I allow you to believe what you will

and you allow me to believe what I will.

Must we believe what the other will?

You may say, it doesn't matter what I allow

and you will believe what you will anyway.

I hope you will.

But I say, it does matter what I allow

and what you allow.

Because, if you were to stop allowing me

and I stopped allowing you.

Where would we be?

We would be believing what we will,

all alone.

No need to seek approval,

no art to retrieval,

sun lies in abundance,

moon cares not for abeyance.

Absolution

I was walking in a woods one day,

came upon Absolution

lying on a rock sunning itself

next to a lizard.

"What happens if I take you?"

"Eventually I'll pass through,

grabbing Guilt, kicking and screaming

all the way, I'll drop it off somewhere,

leaving it for someone else to find."

The lizard raised one eye in my direction

Spifflicated

I'm getting near a feeling

and the words just don't know what to say.

I prefer making peace

and too often my feelings do not have words

and I am silent.

Those sounds echo

and the music is mostly dream.

When I remember,

I say hello.

Imagine, if you will.

Flood is everywhere.

Even down below,

where the land beats against the pulse.

Up above,

the sky hangs clearly invisible.

An extension of the flood,

that touches nothing

and everything.

Everyone, everything pertains to me and you.

We together pertain to everyone, everything.

The fall was not from grace,

but a jump to life.

Without prison walls, what grows can not be contained.

What grows can evolve, change into something new.

Something new can not be seen, unless imagined first.

Fear can stop one in their tracks.

But without surrender it fades.

When Superstition Ends

"Chaos rules, when we're apart" - Shirley Manson

I'll hang my hat upon the spruce

I leave to you to deduce

how the flame became

a handle that set loose the worlds

born in vat of brine

the fire that fueled the sun

is hot

but cool to the touch

nature dives and strives

two hearts beat entwined

scrooched, jazzed and plastered

is where madcapness begins

Tears from a long time ago

time to die

time to live

time to sigh

time to cry

nature rides a wave upon the sea

floating leaves in the breeze

reflecting color every where we see

every heart is holding on to you

and the sky is still blue

we've waited a million years to be free

searching all around for the key

what's to know

what's to show

you can find it in your soul

the spark of life can not be denied

no matter how much you try to hide

leave the cold and come inside

let your light shine for all to see

reveal your truth, let it be, let it be

mmmmmmm

tasting summer wind

in flower rose

flying up to meet sands of time

caught in thunderstorm

drenched to bone

waiting for sun to shine

dried like leaf to stone

nature lies in wait for new born seed

reaching up to sky

melting into green

flowing out in song

winging birds a blur

disappears in night

Sunsight

Everything lost

has hopes of being found

standing tall

alert to rescue

greeting each new sunsight

with a smile

till the end

when it dies again

for awhile

Rare Medium

Rage against the sand

bitter steel in sky

if luck were irrelevant

I'd be dead by now

I won't smile at your fortune

and take it as my own

or seek comfort

from an answer

that leaves others

left to cry

The ultimate denial

is not of self

but thought and will

if God's plan is drowning

it's time to swim

or learn to breathe

another way

bring the buried

from the ground

and set them free

To lay awake asleep

Whether belief is a system that hides in your individual storm shelter

or of a way of expressing doubt that appears to be otherwise.

It’s not enough to fool one’s self, one must fool all others.

…and little by little.

Thoughts trickle in the stream.

From the sea I came

Retired to the land

Fostering riots in subways

Bubbling to streets

Ego less in Gaza

Wearied-eyed sun

I won’t lie to your face

As if writing inside eyelids

- the Truth; for all the world to see

Careless Love

lips interpreted to say

etched on sky written this way

song sung in unison belief

erasing every strand of grief

planets bound to express

dawn retold in new dress

with equal measure divide

old morning bright with pride

with the power to drive one crazy

it's good to be rather lazy

excited in glorious moment

promenading riot is easy to foment

landing open upon the sea

all dreams are revealed to see

hard to return from where you came

when arriving on new land to claim

ABC

Atom, I find you strange, if I find you at all, you are so small.

Atom, you may be inside me, perhaps even, I inside of you.

Still, I don't see you. Atom, are you there?

If, you are not there, where are you?

Bain, it seems, you are only there, when we look at you.

Brain turn away, and you are gone.

I don't mind when you refrain to care.

We look away, and you are there

Cause, you make me smile.

Cause, you are so effective.

Is discussion even possible?

Could you even be wrong?

Blue Skies

no white clouds

in my blue skies

jumping on the ether train

in the precipice

no rage livid

with blank desire

school's out

and the song's in tune

devoted memories fade

just as they're meant to do

no dark clouds

in my blue skies

Kick it when it kicks back

Quantum effects

don't matter much

when it kicks, kick it back

It's said the twinkle in the eye

is a search for sister-sun and brother-moon

Smoke may be ritual suicide, wash a stench

that hasn't been smelt in years

rinse the acrid taste away

and savor the sweet air

Don't get buried in the ground

let the wind toss the ashes

onto the sea

then swim to shore

with help from brother-moon

or lie on the ocean floor

wait for sister-sun

to be raised up

into the sky

fire in the sky

live in person

where do we fly

when aggression burns out

keep the fire lit

we once had wings

and perhaps shall again

whether evolve or devolve

it's both choice and change

no need for hope

the verse (Uni is so over)

1 dimension of height (up/down)

0-- dimension of width (left/right with a bulge in the middle, 1/4 rotation

// dimension of depth (all directions, like a corridor,fills the vacuum, 1/4 rotation

OO dimension of time (movement, smooth and jumpy,
1/4 rotation

5th dimension, 60's music group, record fully spins, source of gravity, possibly just seriousness

because it springs eternal

metaP #1101185

Siesta's Hope

2007-02-20T08:21:00.000-08:00

Lately, I've wondered what I want.
Sure, I recall desires, from what seems a past life.
But, death's faded memories make it hard to reconnect.
Once, I wanted peace.
I thought I could climb some height,
peer over the edge of the horizon
and see it lying there.

Spring is still green.
Winter white.
Blue and gold up above.
Brown muddies the earth with blood's tears.
I slip into a leaf. And fly.
To be free.

Now, I remember.
To want what I have.
You.

Nitrous Oxide Poems

2006-10-14T17:26:00.000-07:00

All ocean, cellopane and peace

the worst that could happen
is not enough
to break my clutch
on the shiny new

hope can't outlast dreams

the worst that could happen
the clam won't bake
my shoe won't shine
the cat has warts
and the Blessed Virgin Mary was just raped

burning in the midnight oil
the moon won't glow
my milk won't shake
the heart just aches
and the air just got sucked out of the sky

the world is...
All ocean, cellopane and peace

One Hurt Girl

one hurt girl
crying quietly
in the night

on shoulders too small
to hold the load
beneath melting lights

one hurt girl
lately too scared
to unfold the truth

her attitude defiant
I'd call on the cell
she'd answer from a private hell

one hurt girl
thinks feeling bad
is a natural right

she calls daily
to numerate new bruises
that fulfill some debt

one hurt girl
given to all
she keeps the silence

we answer in kind
turn from the pain
avoid her scene of the crime

knock yourself out

standing alone
as stone
my wind warms me
my sun guides me
to a flicker of flame
that ignites a mountain
that bellows at the sky

postscript

the disease that brought us here
to a nothingness that matters most of all
there is but one consciousness
wrappped around in blessedness

rambling

to linger in the dappled light
on this morning of bright retreat
taking breaths that fuel the fire

in seclusion with the night
marking time that bides and ties
a season of longing for forest green

of damsels in distress
a fear of kindness being spent
withhout hope of reward

no vision is required
or dreams of castles
sun and moon together unite

the spray of light
reflected with somber tones
shadows dance with ivory calm

some conscious thought
evoked oneness without ego
all in one and one in all

The Obvious

standing on the earth
washing clothes
piloting the ramjet home
securing a future
remote from a planet
that lies in the wake
of a sea of troubles

Soul Survivor

the hidden loneliness
has broken open from the inside
not saying that I could
I refuse to define causality

the Big Bang may be a mistake
perhaps corrected by an observer
not yet born
I can wait for revelation

I came from nothing
and to nothing I will go
the in between is as much a part of me
as the golden suns are around

it seems strange that we hide
in the interior of - can it be?
expanding space
- where could it be going?
that it hasn't already been

I like that we do not know
the sorrow filled mysteries
of time
- was it destiny?
that begat fate

the lotus eating masters
have all ascended
leaving starry-eyed visitors
in this earthly plane
- why is the air so kind?

the foot steps are buried deep
so many have traveled
the exact same path
- can the sky?
be any bluer

so much depends
on all the equations
setting straight
the majesty

I only hope
the Mathematicians
can recall
that Truth is Beauty
and Beauty Truth

Just A Little Song

Just trying to say
you are the way
to believe in the power
when I receive your flower

Easy to stay clean
you are the dream
that comes to life
to be the perfect wife

I'm just saying
you are the saving
grace that can cure
every pain for sure

Just a little song
you are the long
and short of everything
that love can bring

Falling Into Autumn

she whispers
she listens
I love her nature
that calls as sirens do

Autumn Falls

I am not
the same soft twisty girl I used to be
everything changes
and changes again
I'll be back
you'll be on pins and needles
with anticipation

Next in line

September rolls and tumbles
October is here and now
to face the music
that bends the ear
beached as whales
who sing their final dirge
open from the sea
sequestered in the infinite

If I were a girl
I'd let your smitten eyes
follow me around
you could whirl me
through in through
under a full light moon

If I were a girl
I'd dance every night
you could watch me spin
and catch me
when the dizziness
became too much

If I were a girl
I'd wish you were a girl too
We'd laugh at the boys
with their foolish grins
and their rough hewed hands
that they couldn't keep to themselves

If we were girls
we might even wish
we were boys
we'd scream with delight
at such a silly thought
and stay forever beautiful girls

Remember Dreams

it's not even close
fiction reveals more truth
than non-fiction
why should it be hidden?

the silicone dream awakes
deep blue
sad
can't wait for the sunshine state

flying over rooftops
not for escape
fun
gravity sends shivers to the bone

It's Science

2006-06-22T12:45:00.000-07:00

there's alibi to taste
the act of believing
starving the stone of disease

\he's borrowed from cannibals
unfettered
ill from remorse
born of disaster, waiting in line/

blank amid stares
awash in songs of the night
no wind, no sail
adrift>

non-Specific Relativity

2006-06-22T12:31:00.000-07:00

think about time
as if
it were a piece of pie
grab a slice
catch a train
never be late

lost in the shuffle
short-comings apparently
render obsolete
thoughtful comparisons
of oblique mis-information

a tasty diagnois
with no doubt
of theraputic result
leaves a calming sense
periodic dis-membering
withstanding

semi-epic

2006-06-21T17:11:00.000-07:00

Prologue

The fall was not from grace but a jump to life

There's a shadow on the moon
it is lifeless and still
like all of us
no less real
when you have doubts
jump up and shout!
feel the shadow move

I. Fossil

When the moon became
a part of time
I saw the sun
in your face
you were rumbled
torn asunder
the moon escaped
but not too far

The stars were witness
but could not see
I felt the oceans
bleed from you
mountains rose
valleys carved
the trees then grew
became your friends

All of nature
is a part of you
I heard your loneliness
there was no sound
even with waves lapping
leaves rustling
there were no ears
to hear or voice to echo

II. Do you catch that heart that spoke?

Then we watch
slowly etch our crowns upon the sea
swim in love beneath the waves
course in and out
with blood flowing home
out of breath
stretching up to hold back the flowers
that have wilted
and left their mark
their scar

III. Love life

When we left
our parting of the ways
me to stars
you to clouds
in what now seems
an endless search
our hearts broken
but not too much shattered
you still matter most
in my stellar solitude

With my clown love
amid your frowns
you hated far too much
it's true, you chose
all the right things
but mostly fought
with yourself
can you see yet?
no one wins
that argument

No life is found
among galactic ruins

IV. Interlude

I hear a wisper in her ear
that speaks, out of air
breathless in her heart
beats passion that starts to flare
take care of her moments
they fleet and soar
with wings beating aganist the sand
the mounds move and flow
carving shapes and size
deep into her inner prize
in the morning still
dew sprinkles glistening pearls
drops of water flood and fill
wonders that have long sought love
she is away from here
born of the stars
deep among the glow
lost in the show
I hear a wisper in her ear

V. Song

The summer was silly and boring
until I saw your face
and a smile that launched a human race
I'd love to see you wandering in the stars
I'd go searching and get lost on Mars

VI. Coda

Her and her argyle socks
one fell down, she pulled it up, the other fell
first one, then the other
this went on for years
finally, she took them both off
one limped home, the other stood alone
beneath the starry dome

Epilogue

Whirling about is no fun inside the blood of the tracks of the sun

Pattern Recognition

2006-06-20T19:36:00.000-07:00

“She knows, now, absolutely, hearing the white noise that is London, that Damien's theory of jet lag is correct: that her mortal soul is leagues behind her, being reeled in on some ghostly umbilical down the vanished wake of the plane that brought her here, hundreds of thousands of feet above the Atlantic. Souls can't move that quickly, and are left behind, and must be awaited, upon arrival, like lost luggage.” - William Gibson from his novel “Pattern Recognition”

“I don’t believe in anything, that I can’t break.” - Shirley Manson

“Art is a lie to make us realize the truth.” - Pablo Picasso

There are no absolutes. Including this one.
Sitting soulless
Waiting for the plane of existence
To land
Without God: a lost feeling
With sub-atomics spinning destiny
A wavicle is probably true
And false

Losing reality
Sensing time’s elusive touch
In spaces of nothingness
Everything is born
With God: a found thinking
First thought creates
Gravity discovers
Tells the world a story

Taking time
Losing time
Killing time
Finding time
Wasting time
Making time
Spending time
Timing time

This illusion waits in space
Past, present, future
Eternal reflection
Of now
Constant companion
Of thought
Never without, always within
God begins

Emotional ideal is bent
Curving absent minded
From the beginning
To the end
Everything is imagined
Everything is seen
Everything happens
At once

God is blind
We see God’s face
God is deaf
We hear God’s cry
God is wounded
We heal God’s hurt
God is lonely
We come back

Feel it all
Dream the impossible
Know nothing
Believe what you can
Be awake
Question everything
See truth
Light the sky tonight

Impregnating the impulse to conceive

2006-06-20T17:55:00.000-07:00

seminal fluted animas pondered deathly ill
scarce retro profits morbidly kind
never festered fire lanes equal to task
neuter clowns cleaving romantic to tilt

aiding and abetting obey beast of whine
alabaster neural twines complexity of doubt
insure testimony counter-intelligence sound creepy
illicit complexion faceted deep diving drowns

lewd commotion spears roving bands
locating no line drawn in the sands of timber
safely interred quiet sleep and vegetative
serene school of thought revealed as........

2 snails smoking

Rumours

2006-06-18T17:33:00.000-07:00

The fly on the wall
Listens intently to the sermon on the mount

The king of kings sits
Upon his throne of mud

The goddess sprinkles embryos
Between the sheets at night

The buddha sage and silent
Rests inside the treetops

Thor is caught in between
The wrong and right of love

The butterfly is queen
And beautiful to the touch

Maniacs and madmen are watching
The floods rumble loose the cannons

Ares without a thought
Casts out stones of gold

The gladiator stumbles
In the field of blood

Broken-hearted sirens
Mumble tears of joy

The almighty moves
Heaven and earth to teach the stars

And the nightingale sings
A lullaby that dreams

False Positive

2006-06-17T17:35:00.000-07:00

Experimental discoveries have revealed a strange condition.
An emotional subterfuge that acts as a deterrent to criminal activities.
While there is no know cure for bad behavior,
the lowering crime rate gives one hope.

Suspect X usually acts alone. His targets are random.

Our predilection to violence is harboring suspicious ulterior motives.
A stacking of odds is pushing the limits of any sense of shame.

Victim Y lives alone.
Her memories are escaping.

Pausing clueless in the steel street.
The naked paragon of innocence and faith lies bleeding.
A predator without any inkling of remorse strolls home unseen.

Officer Z is on the case. His partner a distraction.

A driving rain storm washes away the evidence of life.
She’ll be nameless for days.

He tends a garden on the weekends.
Innocently pulling weeds that otherwise would choke the flowers
clean.

In an unrelated story: Killer Geese Arrested

Landed

2006-06-16T17:58:00.000-07:00

Rose on glade of hate
The Roman spoke, intoned
An angry god awoke
A war of words livid
The dragon’s truth revealed
Breathing the fire of cannons
Peace is but a whisper
Heard in streets of revolt
A major rising of remorse
Insanity hears a new religion
The dying devils know no regret
Nothing dark bleeds so easily

Landed in pastures of love
The Grecian listened, uncrowned
A passive divinity asleep
An old tune serene
The worm’s uncovered lies
Exhaling the ice of conscience
War is a shout
Spoken to deaf ears
A minor setting of the sun
Reason speaks to no one new
The living angels believe in hope
Everything bright heals with peace

Toothless

2006-06-15T11:38:00.000-07:00

deep in dark
released from center
crushing existenial denials
mere math does not suffice
what leaks from minutia
spills down the chin
live-wire bare
creepiness glows
backward from stars
nuts to satisfied mortification
blushing green
envious of the humpback's hole

The Divan

2006-06-13T15:45:00.000-07:00

she draped herself across the divan
looking langorously across the room
posing for just the right effect
bending at the waist
to light her cigarette
she barely acknowledged my presence
to think she was once my wife
no one could tell
by looking at our little tableau

The Caveman Sleeps

2006-06-12T21:57:00.000-07:00

Don’t dream like flesh
Or whisper a coward’s threat
Feel a million dancers
Beneath the melting heat

So much was answered by prays
And fascination
Imagine tell-tale signs
Leaking upwards through time

Peeking into future messages
Telling lies and false positive test results
Rolling numbers of strong versus weak
The red-heads revolt gets scattered against the wind

Nature beats nurture eventually
Persistence of the hard-wires eclipsing
The paid by the hour of stay-at-home moms
Star stuff is stronger than that

Space-Time

2006-06-12T21:53:00.000-07:00

Devoid and ovoid. Deluged in thought. Mesmerized amnesiacs scoffing.

Clouded streets trumpet painful degrees of guilt.

Swallow hard the blatant Saxony sound, defeated.

In-between-the-lines the space creating time, eludes capture, understanding,
definition and clarity.

Weakness rises in turmoil.
Patterns diffuse their primary defense.
Ignore except when needed.

Loosely described in pantomime.
Fingers etch on shadows.
The walls decline to answer.

Not calling for revolution, evolution,
creative design, creative differences,
memory lapses, forgetful forgers,
hysteric historians, libeling libertarians,
systematic scientific sectarians,
egalitarian elucidators of educational egress.

Calling for strong silent types (I can’t answer),
optimistic non-cynical
cyclical coniferous
tree hugging spiritual sprites
of “It’s a Brand New Day”.

Subterranean homesick blueness

2006-06-12T21:47:00.000-07:00

Where are you from?
From my mother’s womb.
Actually from star stuff by way of your mother’s womb.

Atomic numbers adding
^to clandestine myopic strategies
Incorporated into finial decadence
^delivered from past lives
To future lies from present mistakes
^littered on the highways
A field study done undercover
^of stars that fairly faint in color
Foisting ideograms past their prime
^noticing the collective mimetic thrashing
Wildly in the night iguana sunspots
^delivered to master cannibalistic earthworms
Believed to foster subversive verses
^the kind that ferrets its wisdom insidiously
Beneath the thunder
^silence rains

Foolproof Vision

2006-06-11T21:23:00.000-07:00

In the night sky I saw Orion
Jupiter and Mars
Venus was inconsolable
hiding behind an Oort Cloud
In May or December I wished upon a star
Betelgeuse or Rigel
Pleiades was obscured by Hubble
some satellite or such
I was making love beneath a full moon light
when caution blew a hole in the wind
a meteor shower was burning nightingales
from the sky
some fate took hold of constellations
and brought a black hole near
time was stood on its tail
space became a menace
as the sun spun out of control

Spin

2006-06-11T20:56:00.000-07:00

revolutions per second
igniting plasma manna from the sky
purifying gold powder
drenched in non-touch memory
anti-gravital sound speaks
with silent thought.

begin and end
all the summer "sons" shall sing
elation above heads and heels
"Just" love
some equations mount
the pillar, pulled from stone

Quantum Flood

2006-06-11T20:48:00.000-07:00

-in essence
-from the heart
-pathed to blessedness

-atomic structure
-reveals architecture
-the suicide kiss
-folds upons space
-leaving
-void

-the magnetic caress
-engulfs liquid time sparks
-for each division
-there is a season

-inside the microscopic galaxy
-beliefs are as real as sin
-the bleeding faith as natural
-as spoken breath
-the night
-cold

-eye makes reality disappear
-the naked sky fills
-elated harmony
-blood & vapor touch
-the day
-warm

-patterns evolve, evoke and descend
-happy in the heaven
-the world is but a kin
-travelers and weary men
-testify
-their hubris
-the verdict

-my midnight starry love
-overhead, overheard
-life is lips
-speak
-tyger burns
-brighter still the sun
-melting into one
-mitosis*
-I salute thee

*Mitosis is the process by which a cell ensures each daugher cell will have a complete set of chromosomes. There are five key stages of mitosis: During prophase the chromosomes become condensed and key proteins begin to bind the the kinetochores, preparing for spindle attachment. Upon nuclear envelope breakdown, the cell enters prometaphase, during which the mitotic spindle is formed and the chromosomes attach to microtubules in the spindle via their kinetochores. Once attached, the chromosomes start to allign along the metaphase plate in the center of the spindle. During metaphase, all of the chromosomes are attached to microtubules via their kinetochores, and alligned at the metaphase plate. At anaphase onset, the sister chromatids separate and are moved toward the poles of the spindle. The chromasomal separation and movement toward the poles is called anaphase A. The spindle poles separate as well, which is referred to as anaphase B. Midzone complex formation also occurs in anaphase. During telophase, the mother cell is physically divided into two daughter cells by cytokinesis.