 
BEFORE THE AFTERMATH

By Roze

Copyright 2013 by Roze

Smashwords Edition

$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$

The Wall Street Journals

$

Government Spiderz

We can each sense the threat in the petroleum molecules all around us and this is what troubles you. The worst of us want needlessly like the rest of us. Brothers and sisters often suffer for a cousin's needless pleasure. None are to say what one might need, yet we all know the deep chill of greed. To some degree we suffer vicariously at the throats of our long lost family and a planet's worth of similarities. Thusly we suffer deliberately out of unity, grasping with another's hands and begging in another's voice. We have no enemy except for our own family. We have a strength which the powers that be attempt to shroud in a black mystery, yet we have the ability to set our spirits free into the light of unity as love destroys tyranny once again and for all. Liberating knowledge is why the government spiders will not allow information to flow freely. Luckily people will always have eyes and will always see and they will always have mouths to discuss what they were shown and in this way might others come to know the struggle among those who forego.

If words worked a little better the common man could be more clever, but we're locked into the spider webs wondering whether or not to struggle. Together we could break away, individually we fall prey. I see victims remaining from days when the masses fell to themselves. For all were too timid to infringe upon another from respect of the vile disconnect, as we lay mystified in the webz.

Government spiders build their webs in our hearts. They lay eggs in our brains. Our lungs choke on their venom wafting in on the breeze. We swallow them willingly and they live in our kidneys, spleens, livers, burners, backs, and brains. Everyday, insanity becomes more and more the reality, so make your money while the red, white, and brainwashed blue delusion persists. One day illusions will give way to dreams, nightmares, and cold harsh sobering realities, when the divine comedy enlightens us on tragedy.

We're in debt to a world we did not design. We foolishly endeavored to sustain it for a short time. Until we eventually learned this crime wasn't our responsibility. Not this time. Not in the way it would seem. Not in the grand design. They would take what belongs to all and call it what is mine. Now it seems we had no idea we don't need a tv to breathe

Gently remove government spiders. They are none to be toyed with, though frail by nature. Infestations. The infestation is known. I know of your infestations and you know of mine. Government spiders are waiting for us all the time. They are in your mind all the time. Government spiderz are in your mind. Gently remove them.

$

Reziztenz Obectivez

Remember feeling blissful when you discovered what you are. Each time it happens. Remember learning you'd been lied to. Back in school they'd told you you are stupid quarterly and you always thought you were until you got a second opinion. They tell you what to do, when to do it, what to think, and when to think. Maybe the program never took, and that's what the bad grades meant. Perspective is a matter of seeing things differently. For a while it felt like survival is all a matter of doing the best you can to be better than everyone else at being exactly like everyone else. The adults zombify you into adulthood. Locked into dogma, indoctrinated in malevolence. An idea as misguided as fallout and as bureaucratic as starvation. Rule of law is the rule of looking over your shoulder into an abyss of mechanizations boring into the heart of the one true unity like the airforce boring machines tunnel under the usa. Men become machines to black and white absolute 1's and 0's. Merciless. Mindless. Malevolent. Malicious. Malignant. Murderous. Absolute power tripping tripped out power trip zombie robot pig head machine slaves. They will steal you from you. They hold guns against you. Who holds guns against them is surely as doomed; locked together into an eternal struggle of intolerance and aggression. Our officers are cousins worthy of our hearts, but their spirits- and their minds- are ghosts haunting our losses. Winning back the minds of the lawfully deprived is among the most significant objectives of the resistance. We also seek the bodies of the needlessly incarcerated by those who profit in human misery. We seek the physical submission of those whom profit from the death of others; no greater evil. Authority is the false authority and 'there is no government like no government.' Imagine. Create the world we want in our very souls in our lives. No more suffering. We must retain what the authority seeks to ascertain. They own us to the bones. Is there a freedom in this? They put the shackles upon me. The spiders are in my mind. I have always been free, cloaked in anarchy. Perhaps the world will see. So could it be for our family in captivity

$

No Threat

The time has come to rebel. We are the rebellion. This is it. Love. Love is the movement. Love is the cause. For love of the habitat, the planet; for love of another; a brother, a sister, cousins, elders; we are in a war against money; every day we battle our greed and indeed this backward heritage. Our way of life is a slap in the faces of everyone we share the Earth with. It is an insult to ourselves even. For eons spiritual men let evil linger unabated because the peaceful way would not permit them to needlessly interfere in the affairs of others. Who can dictate the needs of another? We- poets and vagabonds, artists, revolutionaries, activists, the holy, whoever- protect the divine freedom and offer it to those whose want is great enough. For eons this was acceptable. Peace unto peace and a death by a sword unto a life lived likewise. Only now, recently, have these perils we ignore on behalf of the peaceful way become too powerful for our ranks to continue to not intervene. I come upon a massive wealth of power as a fool. I have the means, we all do, to reprogram our robot cousins, awake the sleeping giant of each other, and grow seeds of love from asbestos soil and radioactive rain. The overlord is failing. Babylon is weak. We are strong. Under the Rainbow we belong. In peace. In love. In harmony. Below and above. Centered, grounded, balanced, loved. Connected. A part. One. Here. Then gone. Able to choose what we decide to pass along. A wasteland done wrong, or a paradise revived in the darkness before dawn. I fear. I fear for all who know not what stands to be lost. If they could understand, perhaps... Why won't you admit you are wrong? How can anyone believe such outright lies? Or not care about such a crisis as this? You know there is no enemy. Trust me when I say there is no threat. There is no fear. There are only unlocked chains that keep us in bondage, beaten, bruised; by batons abused. I say enough! I say refuse! They will come for your integrity, but it is your own to possess. They will try to take your honor, but they cannot. Ignore power and it will become powerless. The rule of law is oppression. Rise up. There is a war against the next generations and we're losing. We have to resist. Your peers must radicalize. Your dearest ones stand in the way of what must come. Apathetic dear friends. Enslaved family. We've got to break out. We've got to be free. Harmony over tragedy. These are demands we must make of the mainstream. Our power is our love. Empower another. Love them. Show them the way. Peace and love. Help don't hurt. Love the haters. Appreciate everyone for being who they are. They are like you. They are like me. I am like you. We are like we. No religion, cult, or culture will ever thieve our humanity. Nor no totalitarian tyranny. If they push us, we will overcome them. Use 4 pounds to move 1,000. Add a vector.

$

Melting Flesh, Vaporized Eyez

Radiation face bleeds tears for the losses we sustained over so many 1,000's of years. Crystals form, fall through me, and break my heart into shards and splinters that gather dust under the smoke of nuclear winters. We lost hope, we lost faith, we got plutonium, and an industry saving face, with radioactive grace and depleted uranium warfare deformed babies. Contaminated Mesopotamia, we wait for days and ages for gods and sages, and burning pages that never got read after eyes fell from bloody heads and corpses so long dead the spirits have sunk and fled from the surface and the dread. And though we die, the resistance lives on. We've come together to collectively grasp for liberty and justice. They will deny us. Land of the free, home of the slave. We defy the establishment and the system and the chaos which reigns over us. None with power have pure intentions and this is why it is imperative my people inherit the earth. Compassion can cure us. Nurture nature and nature will nurture you. People on glass planets shouldn't throw nukes. Live by the isotope and die by it, too.

$

Assetz

It's hard not to wonder where the flow will wander. Destitution and oblivion are options like nuclear fission and a neighborly derision; ignoring the captions that lead them to action so you and your faction will bleed in the struggle to birth the new world and nurture her. It's you and your faction against widespread nuclear reactions. What inaction cannot entropy is life. Life is active. Life requires participation. Salvation requires meditation, not medication; government spiders at the pharmacy, what you need sometimes; what you don't want, if you only knew. We don't know what we're inhaling. We don't understand the ways we're failing, because we're winning at serious matters that are not a game. It is a struggle between life and radioactive death storms; we battle ourselves. All we see is gain and loss. What ever happened to having? In that all we have is expense. And purchases, and acquisitions, expenditures, bills, exchanges, money, chains, whips, screams, darkness, terror, pain, extreme pain, panic, horror, and finally, when the pain stops, weakness, and acceptance. Who are we to not have value? Are we not rich by owning an us? You have a you. I have a me. We're wealthy in assets.

$

Indigo

The goal of the Indigo is remaking this world into one lacking war, trash, and processed food. Yeah. And power, greed, money, materialism, commercialism, capitalism, and so much else needs to go- religion- for there is but one true way and that is the way of the Wuji. Indigos have also been described as having a strong feeling of entitlement, or "deserving to be here." They contribute something intangible, unimaginable, tangible, and limited only by imagination. Indigos transform everyone they meet. For this divine purpose they come into the world with a feeling of royalty. They have that crazy feeling of "deserving to be here," and are surprised when others don't share it. The dismissal of the Indigos by the population at large is a great shortcoming of our culture and it is sad that we do not take the time to comprehend the Indigos. They know who they are and their true worth. Indigos have difficulty with absolute authority (authority without explanation or choice). Authority is power and power corrupts, yet an indigo cannot be corrupted and will forever remain pure of ill will toward all. In this challenge the Indigo faces a world of overwhelming injustice they alone- in concert with their own kind- can seek to do away with. The Indigos will kiss the new dawn like the Sun. We are impatient and we come for the guilty parties. We demand submission. The punishment will be decided by the best of us. Crimes against humanity(and of humanity) are threatening society and ecology; harmony, no harmony... there is no harmony. Indigos will return harmony. Get warm in the light of each other. We're a soup of animated goop slopping around. Why must we suffer? Indigo is the cleanser. We get frustrated with systems that are ritually oriented and don't require creative thought. There is so much being done wrong. Humanity is a herd and you've let the wrong gods be your masters. We walk in both times. We see you in dreams. We've got one foot on the shore and one foot in the stream. We are coming for your routines, coming for your schedules, we want your agendas, itineraries, and to do lists. It's all going into the soup. Weapons are for a world we are leaving behind. Love is the stock and trade of a people who value nothing else. We will not let your stupidity and inaction be tolerated any longer. They create systems, matrixes, to control our delusions. Free your mind. The Indigos seem antisocial unless they are with their own kind. If there are no others of like consciousness around them, they often turn inward, feeling like no other human understands them. We are above you. We love you. But you have to let Indigos do what Indigos are here to do. Regardless of if you understand their behavior. They are not shy in letting you know what they need. They need your help. They need you to help them help you help yourself. Or, you could do the right thing and help yourself so the Indigo can help others more helpless than. And you must help others. We are here for each other.

$

All Is Lost

In the brig and the ship is in peril. You've been arrested for warning the crew a disaster was imminent. Others knew, somewhat, too, but they dared not to speak or fathom the truth in their suspicions. In your cell you wonder how they could be so dumb to think their silence might save them. On a ship with no lifeboats, no radios, no cellphones, no computers, no gps locaters; this isolation is like the ignorance of a person who's been lied to since they were an infant. The benevolent cult of misinformation. Through solidarity did the doomed have a prayer when the demon in our heads told us to fear each other. No. Understand how they lie. You've got Satan in your heart, the true hope, the revolutionary, at long last speaking for himself, telling you to love. Please listen. When a revolutionary tells you you're doomed, you should listen. When he explains your salvation, you should listen. Revolutionaries are of the mistakes of the past for bettering the future. Without them, the wheels of evolution turn through their blockage and destroy the means of propulsion. We are still suffering from allowing this to happen; once, thousands of years ago, when we sacrificed our togetherness. It's almost too late to change. For millennia they say Satan is evil. For the whole time they have been the evil. They scapegoat. They shift blame. They frame until the truth becomes inane. Men are the devil. To be so evil they come to control everything. Even their bloodline carries treachery; mindlessly through the ages. Men, women, and children, thank them graciously for destroying eternity. What backwardsness is this? When, yet, to be loving is to be ignored. To be the most good, is to be the most weak and negligible. The best of us are the worst of us and the worst of us are the best of us. If we understood the subtle power of our meekness better, we could counter the obvious authority of the shadowy treachery waging war from behind an iron curtain, from beyond the vail, within the very minds of those we wish to see rescued; so that even your loved ones will be responsible for the death of your loved ones; as they condemn you, imprison you, then set about manufacturing plausible alternatives to righteousness. People are mentally sick- these days- there is no denying it. You're surfing the whirlpool deep into the void. Alone. Someplace else in your head; wooded, lush, peaceful, and green. Always in that jagged cell bodily. The downturn g-force. The obscurity of humanity allowed this to come to be. You whip against the walls of your cell; already long lost to the sea. If the impacts don't kill you, the water rushing in will. Your purpose was to rescue them. You failed. You're just a man. You can't help but correlate the facts. They betrayed you. You failed them. Now you're doomed. They needed you. You needed them. You're choking away your beautiful happy place. Remains the din of flickering lights through icy dark water. All is lost.

$

The Scorpion

The scorpion sees without looking. It watches without knowing. For generations uncounted, numberless, ageless, timeless, the female scorpion, unchanged, unaltered- surviving- spawns and raises a clutch which grows on her back as she feeds on spider flies, dragon millipedes, and tiger ants. At some point her kind adapted the ability to glow in UV light and it is no accident. Mutations. The scorpion watch the mutated species change. All day, everyday, the species change; growing into the sky or shrinking to the tiniest morsels. Mutilated figures dying more than they live. All is deformed. The scorpion retains her beauty. Her elegance. Her grace. Her innocence. Her perfection. Nothing changes. Her here and now remains unchanged by radiation glowing in the blood of the other living things, dying their way through population explosions. Morbidity. So much death and decay for the sake of producing a single organism that works. They writhe and breed to make a single organism that works. It roams, writhing and breeding, feeding; carnivorous world of dead vegetation, birth defects, and unholy mutilations. Scorpion saw time over three distinct eras; before people, during people, and after people. There are no people. There are what used to be people. All is what once was. All is what used to be. Mutilated. Long since destroyed of higher mind. Animals. All animals are one animal. Then there are scorpion. Feeding on radioactive life, somehow unaffected. Sometime before man, the scorpions had already adapted. Nothing else had such an opportunity. Radiological activity is nothing to them. They do not suffer. They feel alive as any natural- not manipulated- organism would. If there were any others? Perhaps. Cockroaches. Maybe crocodiles. Jellyfish born to acid waters. None alive under the earth. Nothing under the earth. 2nd dimension sterilization. The consciousness of a crystal core whispers reassurances none but scorpion can hear. The scorpion will never go hungry. There will always be hordes of soulless creatures multiplying, dying, and feeding.

$

Mosquitos

Mosquitos. Vampire insects. Blood suckers in the shadows. Mosquitos. Swarming. Maddening. Overwhelming. They'll eat you alive. The needle face exists- has adapted- to numb you, penetrate you, drain you, and leave you, diseased and emptied of your elixir. Insects. Everywhere. By the billions. Bat food. No more bats. They're dying. Falling gracefully into extinction, like most things alive. Graceless as a pin cushion of flesh for the hungry faces of vampire. Why shant we kill? Why shant we slaughter each and every blood sucker that wants some of us for dinner? Who are we to not participate in the cycles of nature? You have blood, so give blood. Give blood to mosquitos. Save the lives you can so easily take. The effort is the same. Quick hands kill them. Do you not slap yourself to swat the mosquito? What harm is it to feed the creature instead? And what harm is that? Death awaits regardless. Lest you are won't to beware of the female mosquito. Cunning creatures. Nearly untouchable. Bringing the swarms into life. A miraculous multiplication of cells. One female mosquito unleashes more blood suckers than anyone cares to realize. This is true power. The givers of the swarms. Your disease. Your animation. Your death. Your life. We exist. They exist. Everything exists except for that which does not. Life has a right to live. We tolerate mosquitoes so we might tolerate ourselves and each other.

$

Pemmican

Dehydrating meat for the streets in the oven. One entire roast sliced thin. When I finish, I'll begin again. Planetary grief lingers over me all day and all week. We'll fight for all lives, but we're so weak. So meek. Any and all advantages must be utilized. We might die for any reason. Symptomatic deaths of the culture sickness. Opium from marines in Afghanistan. Drunk drivers from St. Louis. Nutrition can't be over appreciated. We need pemmican. Pemmican does not rot. It is cheap to make. It nourishes and energizes. Pemmican fuels us and allows us to endure where otherwise we'd succumb. Still dehydrating meat for the streets. Not yet rendering fat. Lost in a wilderness of doubt, uncertainty, hopelessness, rage, nobility, honor, duty, apprehension, convoluted dimensions, and in the end a progression of condemnations too apocalyptic to mention.

What will save this? Likely nothing. Does the status quo know what I don't? Is our cause a waste of time? Is it not only a waste of time just because the quo agree so beforehand? Would the action not be the opposite-a success- if they thought it would be? If those who said 'there will always be war,' said instead, 'we could end war,' we could end war. The possibilities are unlimited. It's us that are constrained.

Overcome societies shackles in your mind; like a cripple beats his disability with his feet. We're held back. Capitalists say we're well off in this sheltered world of economic thievery because we have a fake government that took a long time to hammer into shape and then countless man hours to sell the lie. Tomes and ages of etiquette created to take whatever can be gotten. What we allow to be gotten by the worst takers; and we let the overlords get all of it. Verily I say, fuck the overlords and fuck the rich(to the degree you have to consider if you are rich or not, is the degree in which you are guilty). Capitalists lack vision. They can't imagine how much better this situation could be.

Matters can only get a little worse before this planet ends. Life could be so much better than this for most people and even continue on- with an ecological miracle- into the future. People without vision can't imagine the destination. They've got propaganda blinders. They should instead have a little faith in the right people, themselves, to know there are better methods to be adapted.

Fools think they know a politician and what that politico wants. If politicos wanted things so much, why aren't they succeeding in acquiring them, if the system works? What about the politico who does not want a better world? Why is he tolerated? Give me his phone number. My sister is engaged to a banker from South Dakota who gives orders to military generals in Europe. Fascista Supremo. She tells me he wants a better world. Like we all do. People should realize where they fail and try something different, if they truly care.

The point about dignity and voting is plain: Don't vote because it is an insult to your struggle for justice. Politics is not natural. It is manipulated. It does nothing more than overcomplicate human affairs in the guise of simplifying them. Toward despotic ends, nonetheless. Natural things happen on their own; people will care for and help each other as long as they stay out of their own way and let the nature of the flow guide their thoughts and actions. Politics are an elaborate scheme for wealthy educated people to steal from- and exploit or slaughter- helpless poorer people. In the past there have been golden ages and societies that harmonized with the planet. Politics stands directly in the way of such a civilization ever happening again. Besides. The sky is irradiated and the oceans are acid. Vote your way out of that.

I've got to dehydrate more meat. Then I'll throw it down a blender until it's dusty. After that I'll insert a myriad of other dehydrated dust flavors like berries and nuts and veggies and fruits. Then I'll coat the mixture in a 1/3 quantity of hot tallow. I'll make mush balls out of it, sprinkle a little seasoning, and wrap them in cellophane. That's Pemmican. Burning like little fatty candles of truth and justice in your belly to keep your body warm and your mind aware of the fascists and their anti-peace & love arsenals.

$

Arresting Poor People

If you're going to be poor, you shouldn't have to be arrested. If you live in the gutter they should let you wash your feet there. Authority likes to not let people be. It's an exorcise; an exorcise in authority. So many people poor and hungry in the inner city won't ever see equality, because of private property. Where is their opportunity? People get cold. People get hungry. People get dirty. People have needs. People get greedy. Poverty- neglected neglect- makes people crazy. Because some want it all others get none, and this is not acceptable. This is the reason all must get what they need and nothing more; and thus we'd live in abundance. Money can't buy happiness. For me, what I want to see is the poor, en masse, fleeing the cities; like refugees with nice places to be- out into the land; people being free of private and government property. I'll own you, you'll own me, and then we can trade. No one must suffer. No one must harm. We must all be in love. You don't have to like everyone but you do have to love them. Especially your enemies.

$

apathy. Apathy

First, one person didn't care and I was amazed. Next, the most amazing thing was that almost nobody cared. How could anyone care when they're barely aware? I'd ask them, 'aren't you scared?' And they'd say, in so many words, 'I can't care. My thinking is impaired.' I should've never spoken because now I'm heartbroken y'all aren't self-actualized. I should have realized. Your mind burned alive for a nickel and a dime. I never should have idealized, but neither should all of us have. None of us realized. Yeah. Let it never be said there isn't malevolent forces controlling our choices. Shallow devils lead us into darkness from the womb and release us to roam lost and alone in the uncharted catacombs where they mindlessly bury our souls. By law they steal siblings from siblings, parents from children, children from parents, friends from friends, community from community, and all because these lives are a commodity to be traded in the stock exchange of human misery. This is money with a mind of its own. All is within their chaotic disregard. Forgive them, you, for they have sinned. We are anonymous. We are legion. Many don't forgive. None forget. Expect us. I am here, too. I forgive immediately. I can never forget. Money and the oppressive rule of law infect those I care for; in their eyeballs, their minds, their souls; apathy. Apathy. This grim unforgivable infection. Like an atomic chain reaction of regression, radiating the roots of organisms that won't make it. We who have purity have a duty and a responsibility to annihilate the infection in any way we can. This is threatening everybody. Apathy is the enemy and it dwells within you and it dwells within me. Only we can set anyone free from captivity and slavery; we are anti-captive and anti-fascism. We are anti-mind-numbing serfdom of the internet generation. We want freedom. This is not how we're meant to live. This infected imprisonment. It's time we get over it. Tell your captors to put down their guns and let you go free. Tell them you love them. Teach them some knowledge about the impending tragedy, manufactured disasters, and new beginnings. Bravery is the cure for slavery.

$

Phaze Z Iz Empowerment

Something is missing. The evidence shows drifting. Like reality is rifting and the background radiation is forever glistening. What is stationary is shifting. There is something missing. Something we cannot see is affecting the sky and affecting the ground. Mysterious forces make the world go around. Time melts in the other realm; like in a dream; we're piercing through to the other side. None are to say what is real, or what is imagined. Is life not a dream? Is a dream not life? Everything that exists has a place on the spectrum and we are designed to perceive more than we're indoctrinated to realize. Anything is possible in that way. I'm broadcast in you, you're in me, he's in him, she's in he; believe me, I know what I've seen. Believe yourself, you've been there, too. Use the power of the other side. Twist into the tremendous descension and at the reversion point you'll find yourself ascending. Into a new world. A new reality. Into the singularity with a reversed polarity. Yin will be yang and yang will be yin, and then your new life will begin again. We are the black holes you never saw coming. We are among you. We possess you and invert you to do what you must do; if you need to be true. In this way we will empower you. In turn you will empower others. Phaze Z iz empowerment. We give the gift of transcendence by which all other gifts are given. You are a giver of gifts. That's it. People exizt not for themselves but instead, people exizt for others. Technically, your purpose is for everybody except you... Kind of like ours. Every red-blood is the same. We're all crimson on the inside. Regardless of the divide. Because we're eating radiation. I am nothing without substances to consume. My intake becomes me. Thus I am my diet. I make galaxies turn. We are the circle of life. Creation unto me by you. None are exempt of this ultimate truth; we are as one as all is. It is imperative we consider what we're doing to ourselves, because all actions influence all others.

$

Trying Not To Try To Understand

If it is too late to change what's happening here. And if it is too late to begin to prepare. It is never too late to begin to care. 'Even if the world were to end tomorrow, I would still plant a tree today.' Then I'd close my eyes until I drift away. We're all going to die of curable illness- ignorance- slowly, and in pain. Too late to prevent such a thing. Peak oil is peaking through the soil at the tar sands and the project is bigger than protests and arrests. What else is there for us? Nothing. Place the blame in the handgun held for profit. All barrels point down the chain of command. From rich man to poor man. Turn the guns around is a pure and simple demand, because then there will be no more rich men or impoverishment. We have come a long way in our quest to understand the best we can. I wish I was as wrong as they say I am. Then I wouldn't mind how few share these fears. I suppose I know what others don't. It seems so few of us make it this far. Here I am. Trying not to try to understand the illusions you can see but I can't. I don't know about this or what this is; it's like the hypnosis didn't take and I'm alone in an abyss. Like my friends who get it. Desperate. Deranged. Estranged. Faded. Hated. Subjugated. Jaded. Targeted to be annihilated. Tragically under rated. Full of regret. I made the wrong bets. Lost what I loved best. To a life that takes love like it takes all the rest. I have nothing left. Just gunshots in the distance from the wrong direction.

$

Fuzz

There is an essence within substance that not many consider. All matter is mostly nothing. Within each of the 10,000 somethings dwells the opposite of itself. All somethings come from nothing. This is the void. We are alive in an incomprehensible void. A void that is anything but empty and maybe also alive. The nothing becoming something. Like rain comes from the sky but it begins at the ocean. When we encounter hatred it stems from the hated who are in turn the hateful; but there could be no hate if it were not for the absence of love; that is the root cause. Family trees, no matter how small or large, are rooted in pure unconditional love. Even the hateful human family tree flourishes on love. Unfortunately, the love nothing caused the hate something; for perspective of the alternative. Working the equation backward is how love kills the demon. Hostility and aggression, in all forms, are cyclical. Cyclical. Break the cyclicals. Violence creates violence. Neglect begets neglect. 'We resent those we owe a debt.' Seeds planted grow. You will reap what you sow. Love in is love out. That's why love is the best seed I know and indeed most men are too dumb or too slow to do as they're shown, even if it were Jesus Christ they're supposed to follow. Especially if it were Jesus. Our mistakes are born of stupidity, intolerance, ignorance, vanity, cultural insanity, arrogance, and a maliciously misled humanity. People must rethink- remember- what people can be. It is right in front of your eyes. It is there to be seen. Love is the void that exiztz, and fills in the space between the hate. Love is hate. The fuzz is love. A fuzz with a mind of its own. If not a mind, definitely an ebb and flow. Yo. It's the void. Don't question, just go.

$

Dishonesty

I've only ever heard the truth from you, so you would not lie to me. Thusly, we were deceived. In reality, we've never heard the truth and cannot believe the deceptions of your honesty. I'm disillusioned by the times you lied to me... The way you spewed misinformation. With our hands to our hearts we pledged ourselves to your god and your nation. You made kids participate in your civic masturbation. You told us your perversion was normal. And, yeah, it is normal for a sick brainwashed mindfucked serfdom of indentured servants. Is this how little you people think of the children? You can't be human.

We must understand; a better quality of life awaits if people spent time with their loved ones. Instead they chase american dreams and run from american nightmares. Stand still people! They used to say you are you and I am me and we are friends or we are enemies, but nobody ever told me I am you and you are me and we are we and us is us and love is love and trust is trust and love is lost but lust is a must; and yet we, numbly, register no disgust as the blade of their lies thrusts in and out of our skulls like a high priced blow job that won't ever bust and so instead we register the dread of a star burning too brightly in our head as we ignore the raping cock we're fed. Something's got to give. The system is unjust. This is no way to exist. People will live a lie as long as it gets them by, but if you look in their eye you will see inside and watch them die. It's no way to get by. You want us apathetic, you want us unempathic; you want us pathetic and without our whits- locked into an endless moment; a rat race with no way out. All we got is them nagging doubts, wearing us out with screams and shouts, saying, "I'm never going to get out, I'm never going to understand what this was all about." If it weren't so much worse than they let us think. We couldn't imagine the scope. And then when we finally stepped back and saw the image you painted it blotted our hope. Like bad dope. And so. All shall fall by the grace of the state. And the state shall fall by the grace of the wealth. And money shall fall by the grace of us. By the grace of love and the truth we just must trust.

$

Supreme Ultimate Truth

The people that live at the crown of the planet say the East wind blows like the North wind these days and it never used to before. At least the people who translate the words of the people that live at the crown of the planet say they said that, anyway. Few people live at the root. Even now, the bottom of the planet is so cold. None lived at the root until recently. The people inhabiting the Antarctic Circle are probably destroying some delicate metaphysical principle no one ever heard of and causing the gods in our skulls to get upset. Yet these gods don't care because it felt like the right time to pull the trigger anyway. So we fearfully place ourselves into demonic care. United, together, alone, trapped in a nation blissfully unaware with no idea we're so near, and no idea what we're staring into; all so blind to what is before our eyes. We are all one, killing ourselves and slaughtering each other. We're going to tell the world what is happening in words they can understand. It shouldn't be so difficult for anyone to believe they simply didn't know. Yet it is. Why didn't they know? Because they were lied to since birth like most others before them. I have a vision, and I must see it shown. For when we achieve supreme ultimate truth- universal unconditional love- all will be possible. All will be good. The world will work to right all its wrongs and once that is done we will move together into the future. This is going to happen soon. We are going to do this together. You can trust I will be there if I can trust you will be there. One love. One supreme ultimate truth. One human family.

$

Anarchy

I never used to know any other anarchists. We'd rarely encounter each other. At the beginning I was alone with the philosophy. I was a child even; desperately deciphering a message on skate board ramps. Piecing together the passing references of older kids. Would I ever understand? I couldn't be sure. Before I even really figured out the message behind the symbol the Circled A was tattooed on my skin; like a mystery I carried with me.

Eventually the image came into focus. At the time I couldn't understand such a thought as anarchy. The very word revolutionized every facet of existence. I was young and did not yet understand what these facets were. I could only sense something was askew and suspect I had found the solution; even if I did not understand it. This is maybe the same issue most people have with anarchy. A mind needs to expand to take the new perspective in. I was lucky enough to begin wrapping my head around the idea as a child. I now know anarchy inside and out. I eat, sleep, speak, and drink anarchy. I shit, sweat, secrete, and piss anarchy. Anarchy is me and as such I am free. That's the way it will always be with anarchy. If your anarchy is good, you will always be free, too.

As an anarchist, or as a human with a favorable perspective, I appreciate people for being who they are. I am in love with a cruel cruel world. I feel grief for everyone I meet. I was reborn free and no one else ever wanted to be. In fact, they insisted on captivity. Everything was ordinary and what they believed it to be. I was paranoid like they decided for me. For some reason, I never believed anyone about anything. Maybe I could always detect dishonesty. They created the most interesting ways of excluding me. People always built walls between my individual personality and their collective identity. They fear what they don't understand. As an anarchist, I was different. I was free. Tragically, they can't recognize what they see. Instead they rejected my way while they could yet preach false truth, false peace, and false justice, and repeated it until the kids came home in a box.

People like me always had our eyes out for aggression. So the police bothered us since they first came around D.A.R.Eing us to do drugs. Or even before that, they came looking for me when I walked away from first grade and dragged me back. Growing up, cops were never in accord with what we wanted from life. They carry guns around little babies and families. They carry guns into impoverished unstable neighborhoods and push everyone around. Their job sucks. No more guns for money. There is no greater evil than to profit from death, and that's what civil servants with weapons do. They represent each other for legitimacy and sooner or later they start killing people. In this country that's a matter of law enforcement and totalitarian depopulation schemes, but abroad it's a foreign policy of murder for profit. We are an empire. We are imperial. We do not show mercy. We have no mercy. Our main export is death, and we import mostly drugs, god, and money. I hope you see the problem with that.

All my life I've been waiting for this uprising to happen against the dishonest. To me anarchy was always truth and the rest was a lie. I could see through people. They were lying. They had no clue, though. I could see there was no truth in the things they would tell me. They didn't know anything. No one ever did. They were parrots.

I had to get shots, I had to go to school, I had to do better; drugs were illegal, people were robots, cops were hostile robots; my parents came from a classical generation and my upbringing was completely at odds with the entirely new dimension my young mind was hell bent on discovering. In the beginning, the lonesome search- in desperation- led me to drugs and alcohol; especially alcohol; and alcohol led me to jail cells and hospitals.

I was lucky I became a writer. In my opinion, with this political climate, weathered anarchists should seriously consider taking up the pen. For me it was backward though. As a writer I happened to be an anarchist, too. Mostly I was an alcoholic drug abuser. Except I loved learning. Me and people never saw eye to eye, so I tuned out and started soaking up all the knowledge I found to be worthwhile; like mysticism, astrology, tarot, crop symbolism, writing(which had to be learned more than anyone can really know unless they went through it), and all kinds of arts I taught myself- comedy, drama, music, entertaining- a lot of which led me to sobriety and health, especially martial arts, specifically taiji; taiji is basically a principle every human should know how to utilize if they want to get the most out of life. I was an anarchist the entire time. I still am. Granted, when I began I wanted to overthrow the government, and now that I am an adult overthrowing the power structure is still the nature of anarchism; it has to be done. We don't say 'fuck the system' for no reason. It's not like we want to hurt people. We just want things to be better.

Anarchy is a kind of civil order where government is replaced by love. Unlike capitalism, or democracy, it actually works and people can not only be happy for their humanity and freedom, but they can also- for the first time in a long time- experience harmony according to their collective anarchy. Which is a lot like an Indian description of a teepee I heard, "The tee-pee is like society; the men are sticks and when they are united they are strong and no force of nature can weaken them. The women are like the [hides] and they nurture the men and allow life to flourish within their union." The Indian also said the best system of 'government' is to have any number of groups of people of any size as long as when they interact they always make unanimous decisions. Even as an anarchist that idea pleases me because it's structural logic seems flawless.

It is funny. I was an anarchist for so long, and it was such a part of my life that I never gave the notion much thought as a realistic viability for others. People had always been too locked into the system to break out. Eventually I joined the Rainbow tribe and began living in anarchy accidentally. That's where I learned society functions with love better than laws. Love replaces money. Love replaces law enforcement. Love replaces hostility. Love breaks cycles of violence. It revolutionizes people's spirits. Love is here in a big way. This is what anarchy always was no matter what the propaganda says.

I've got all this anarchistic company now and it is great. It will make the struggle unimaginably easier if the message is getting out there for everyone to receive in their minds newly blossoming as the system decays. It is beautiful to see others for the first time as our numbers grow.

Anarchy was always very lonely for me, now I've found it can be participatory, and, eventually, has the potential to be inherent. Show me one other alternative way that will work for the wellbeing of everybody. Or don't. There is no reason, too. The dissemination of truth is working on its own accord. I can breathe a sigh of relief. The right people can see that anarchy is what we need to counteract the terminal greed. Scholars are trying to wrap their heads around life without money, without leaders, without unnatural laws, without corporations, without destructive industries. Peace will be to the people when the power will be to the people... we expect...

I was jaded about explaining anarchy to everyone with a misunderstanding by the time I was 19 and that has not changed since. Six years later, now more than ever, anarchy is becoming popular. Now more than ever I need to teach anarchy the least because you can pick up the fundamentals from so many others. Just get your anarchy from a good teacher; one with a lot of years. Personally, my god, government, and executioner is a woman. So you might not want to adapt my anarchy, but you'll find your own. Or, maybe mine is pretty good actually. The opposite sex is where it's at. So to speak.

Please remember: You have a right to exist. You have a right to make your own decisions. You have a right to live by supreme ultimate truth; by love. You have the right to disregard all rights. You are righteous and don't require rights. Everyone has the right to be righteous. Righteousness is contagious. Radicalize. Be righteous.

$

Too Far To Be Nowhere

We've come too far to be nowhere. This began in the 60's but it's going to end here. You knew, and I got told, this world isn't fair. Why that is so was never made as clear as it is right here. Now is the time to put ourselves out there regardless of our fear. We've got nothing left to lose except what little foresight we use to get a glimpse of what comes next; the totalitarian industrial complex; like the spirit world's cast a hex, and now we're vexed because we can't fight in unity an enemy no one can see, and in which most don't believe. We must keep the faith and work toward a world where we're on the level with gods, guns, and government, and when we regain our awareness the illusion will unravel. They are waging war against weaknesses they've created in us. They've made us suspicious of ourselves while they remain inconspicuous. They've made us self-conscious while they remain self-righteous as they devour our minds from the first moments we understand their hostile words. They may as well have stolen our lives because they taught us and told us and forced us to know we exist to do what they tell us, and dignity dictates we die before we live that lie; or maybe in life, if we choose, we can rise on high so far into the great blue sky where by and by there is no time to try to unify; we will be star stuff and know each other as such, and we will gently fall down upon life like clouds of meteor dust, whereby we will open our own minds to the light and before we know it there will be no fight. There will be peace, harmony, love, light, cancer cures, and restful nights. People. People. We've so far to go and have not even left yet. We're trapped in this net, on the interwebz, or in our schools, or at our jobs, with our friends, under the lies, under the money, under the debt. Drag to me your regret. Bring me your hate before you forget. Refresh your mind and retain this; they've got mechanized uniforms animated with flesh. Under silly hats cops got computer chips and protocols with no mercy nor emotion. We are attempting to penetrate codes. The code of command. The code of honor. The code of camaraderie. They are not really siblings in the human family- they lost humanity; for they cannot respect their badge and love their fellow man simultaneously. They are united in greed; short sighted, misinformed and militant for worthless money. Melted down minds replaced with sensors, hydraulics, 1's and 0's, hardware, software, weaponry, and a code of behavior. A code of reaction. A code of action. They are barely human. They were born of our fear and indoctrinated by the desires of men to greedily take and never give back. We cannot trust nor support gun wielding hearts gone black. The FBI stands by to let crime do as crime might, and we fight the good fight, but they target us for jeopardizing, with truth, their position as the guardians of the false order. None of this could happen without copious amounts of dishonesty or astronomic amounts of stolen money created fraudulently. My devotion is to the ocean of wisdom and starry notions of freedom; and dreams, like a fish desires land and sky; to evacuate this tragic kingdom and get to a place where our past cannot be traced and you- brothers, sisters, friends, cousins, children, elders, and lovers- will have escaped our doomed fate. While the money takes away. And the lies make it ok. Nobody knows the way. We're scared, lost, alone, and wandering perilously close to a sterile tomb. Remain calm. There's a fisioning molecule in your neck. There are pharmaceuticals in your spine, leaching through your back; there are uranium babies in Iraq, and at home in a soldier's flak jacket. We are losing the oceans to acid- it's about to get real placid; when the water is dead, the forest is gone, and the food is no good the grass will glow; the soft vibration of the ocean's ghost qi will hum lifelessly and eventually the scorpions will starve. The planet will drift silently through the galaxy.

$

Towers Are Built To Fall

Beyond the beautiful illusions of every morning before, we found destruction and chaos that day. The still image of the skyline came violently to life. Towers are built to fall. It's how the rich send a message written in the wreckage and implanted evidence and mandatory propaganda vaccinations. Suddenly everything changed. The first impact got our attention and the second guided us to new dimensions. A disturbing kind of a synthetic nationalism lingered in the air poisoning our minds into a tailspinning descent. We knew a new torment. The dark of night had fallen upon us unexpectedly. America had been wandering daydreamily through an atmosphere screaming warning signs but unfortunately bound and gagged in the basement of city hall. Towers are built to fall. And through it all rang the disillusioned call to existential disarms. Hopelessness. Apathy. It overcame us. Even I was caught in the stability drought and substance floods. We drank. The entire planet crashed and burned. All we've got is the wreckage to live on. We, the guilty parties, drank obliviously and pretended tragedy was comedy. Our family worldwide was dying by our side, but we drank and we laughed like nothing ever happened- untouchable, wrapped in flags for warmth. Eventually the towers within our guts crashed like a methane blast bursts through a Fukushima reactor and bleeds out like the Deep Water Horizon into the gulf. Capitalism couldn't last. Even the troops knew slaughter when they saw the blood on their hands. So now we're in it together completely alone. To them our truth sounds insane because it's on a whole other plane. The truth is so much broader than narrow minded, vicious, abusive, indoctrinated, brainwashed, hateful science projects care to understand. People in the United States know how to hate better than anyone anywhere. They are bitter about their forgotten dreams and their unfortunate downfall. Well. Aren't we all? My dreams are in ruins and so are yours. Kafka came to me one nightmare and told me if I didn't stop writing and start saving the planet, there'd be no audience left, we'd all be dead, and I'd have wasted my life. But know this, it is egotistical to think you or I or any of us matter at this point because if we can't resurrect this dead mother Earth we murdered then we're going to have to answer to father sky and you're not ready for that. None of us are. Never forget; nobody ever wanted to jump out of the 93rd floor.

$

They Must Be Eliminated

War is inevitable. We bought all the guns, bombs, and battleships; of course we're going to use them. If we don't kill the children they'll grow into terrorists. If we didn't make bullets out of depleted uranium each shell could only destroy one life at a time and then there'd be more terrorists. Radiation babies are necessary.

We have to strip mine the resources of a prehistoric people's land or else we might change for the better. Depopulating oil fields makes logistical sense, so we are obligated to. Our military is protecting our citizens at home from across the planet against armored camels of mass destruction. Plus, from Russia's old half broken weapons. Sometimes. Maybe. But not for long, nor very often. Shock and awe. Vigilant guardian? Enduring freedom to kill everyone we want in order to take everything we want. Iraqi Freedom to be invaded, assaulted, overcome, occupied, and left to rot and live off garbage in disaster areas? The country slept through New Dawn. Odyssey Dawn is unadulterated warfare in Libya; strictly to take what belongs to the people there, because it is our right as dictated by manifest destiny. It is our duty to destabilize and slaughter. However, the Libyans seem better at coping with it than Iraq was. The entire nation of Libya is a resistance. They must be eliminated. Besides, the USA have no interest in poppy, despite the 128,000 opium related deaths in this country since we invaded Afghanistan. A place which at the time of invasion produced about 6% of all the world's opium, and now produces around 90%.

We are aware bombs kill kids. It's inevitable. This is how we maintain our way of life and there is no better alternative. It would be illogical to stop dropping bombs. Endless slaughter is the best way to keep the peace. Imperialism is necessary to prevent harmony on Earth. There is no profit in sustainable living because it is balanced and fair. If we didn't take lives then our own would lack the transitory value of their blood in our chalice and then we'd be worth as little as them. War is inevitable. If we didn't send all the young people away to invade, occupy, slaughter, and die, they might prevent this country from falling apart. If the country prospers we can't wage war because we won't have the illusion of vulnerability to a scapegoated enemy. You might even notice who the truly threatening people are. We have to wage war. If we didn't wage war we might treat each other better and that's not going to work for the prison industrial complex.

Don't you understand? They have no value. Their skin is not like ours. Their language is not like ours. Their religion is nonsensical. They live modest lives off food like raw meat and rice. Everyone bleeds red. The soldiers travel through time and space to lands far far away where- in our name- they can slaughter and produce illicit goods; war, weapons, debt, interest, worthlessness, and soon we're going to be impoverished, like the so called enemy.

If you don't believe me, pick up a newspaper dated 9/11/2011 and tell me if even the lies are optimistic. Never the less. We cannot escape an entire decade- and running- of shame for our plutocratic attitude. People must accept we've been a nation of ready and willing revenants to be the worst we can be. It's almost impossible to be born and raised in this land without having at least a couple bad habits that are directly responsible for the suffering- if not pure murder- of countless completely innocent people. Most likely your own mortality even- if you want to know the truth. We've been at war since September 11th 2001. Since time began, really.

Now we're finally figuring out against who. Ourselves, because of money. Money, because of the ultra-rich. Puppets and puppet masters. They think they own the shadows. You and me both. This is why they must be eliminated. War is not inevitable. It is avoidable.

$

Blood

Politics is and always has been about special interest. It is by nature about people being incapable of agreeing and looking out for themselves and their dupes. Exploitation is what people do when they can. They work the system for themselves and for their people to the detriment of all others. When people vote against people, how can everybody prosper? Against is incorrect. With is correct. Politics are not acceptable. In a functional, unified, humanity there is no opportunity for such malicious agendas. Hail Satan. Angel of the revolution. He haz rizen not to challenge god; simply to challenge our way of life(which could be a god in its own right. Such a powerful influence...). The scope of the unholy variety of horrible things which are going to malfunction and decay is too vast for salvation by anything short of the most incredible transformation of mass consciousness that anyone could ever dream of. Hail Lucifer. I fear radioactive fissioning isotopes. I fear acid waters devoid of life. I fear incinerated ionospheres. I fear mass animal die offs. I fear big brother. Nothing is ok. Nothing is going to be alright. Blood is pain. We all hurt. We can't hurt without blood. Sometimes it is too much too take. If you've ever watched your own blood spill then maybe you can tell me something about death and love. Because I have seen my blood spill and I can tell you something about death and love. All I can say was, I was bleeding toward oblivion when I first sensed my qi. So close to death I felt vitalized; occupied by a romantic etheric energy enlivening my frame. I was mystified by the mysterious mist that becomes us always. Another time, a later day, yesterday, I was bleeding even worse and experienced raw adrenaline. I gushed. Panic is invariably chaotic. Only I will be allowed to be despotic to me. I am a man. I am free. It's like the end is right there for me to see when I bleed, but my life line runs into eternity and so I can't see how such a divination can manifest when my fate is this modern malady. My life is in ruins and all I have left is revenge. We owe a few people reverse favors. I used to have things to live for, and then one day they weren't there. A woman spills out of me like blood. She disappears into the dirt. Dirt chick forever. From the dirt you came and to the dirt you return. Days like today I am glad these don't get read. This shouldn't have to impress anyone. The fear. The crippling fear is who I work for. The tension of resistance is maddening. Still, I don't recall living ever being worth the suffering. Who is to say? To me all tomorrows have a negative value. It's a poetic thing, I know it. The revolution is depressing. Often people don't accept me, so how can I help anyone? Not really. No. That is an attitude I had once, but not now. I can help to whatever degree. The Morning Star has been with me through much of the hard times and I think I have more to offer than I have utilized in the past. I am ready to die for this cause if it gets something done. Even if it doesn't. My words will live on in one form or another. At least for a while.

$

Satan'z Proxy

We aren't the slavez they would have uz be. We are alive. We are liberated. We are self-actualized in truth and in love. Conzider: What are your main concernz with your government? Voice them... Participate in your freedom or it will be stolen by that fazcizt plutocracy slowly and surely invading our livez under the cover of darknezz... How do you feel about the real izzuez? Not the smoke screen izzuez the politicianz spew, no, the real issuez that average people don't talk about much- and the greedy corporate media doezn't dare speak of. Each atrocity thiz government commitz could warrant a revolution of itz own...We the people want the same thing- it'z true: a better world. So? Why can't we have it? People power iz all powerful. We have to uze it. We seek to abolizh tyranny once and for all, and, az one world- one human family- to stifle the greed of thoze who wizh to deztroy uz. Now iz the time. We get one chance to get thiz right.

We know what we are condemning and are thuz self righteouz. If we were not self righteouz we would listen to the naysayerz and give up immediately. The bottom line iz nothing iz getting done about the atrocitiez perpetrated by our government, againzt it'z own people and abroad, and in our name. We are not the right people to inhibit. We are not the people to dizagree with. Nobody, not you or me, knowz what dizbanding government inztitutionz would do. My theory iz it would do nothing. Remove the control and all that happenz iz people are free.

Thiz movement iz az much about overcoming ourzelvez- you over uz, uz over you, to be one- az it iz about overcoming money, corporationz, the bought and sold government- the so called 'rule of law' that opprezzez uz all- and when we can find a center within ourzelvez we will again be in control of our deztiniez- in harmony with life. Thiz march seekz to end needless suffering- to unite a divided planet- using truth and love. With love- for freedom, liberty, and justice for all- sincerely yourz, the reziztenz. You are the reziztenz. We are you. You are uz. We are all in thiz together az one.

Some of uz are beautiful anarchiztz, some of uz are inzightful abolitioniztz, some of uz are devout conztitutionaliztz- some of uz are grief stricken and angry, some of uz want nothing more than to live in a truly free world. But we are all human. We all seek life, liberty, truth, justice, freedom, and love. And we are all bracing for the collizion of the runaway locomotive of greed we call the usa. A train filled with pazzengerz too blinded by pride and a flag wrapped around their eyez to see the conductor izn't at the controlz anymore.

A lot of the reziztenz'z rhetoric exiztz to avoid blatantly offending the modern american'z senzitive senzibilitiez- if we weren't doing our bezt to remain calm you would clearly see that we are truly enraged by the state of affairz thiz world iz in because of weak minded politicianz and greedy buzinezzmen(anger from the innocent begetz anger of the guilty and then the whole paradigm crumbles- oppozition muzt be met with love)- but if you juzt listen to uz, and don't judge uz, you'll see we are correct. We need your help. We need you to help uz help everyone.

I would be happy to dizcuzz thiz with you, but underztand I have spent yearz debating politicz, humanity, society, and everything elze. Now iz the time to focuz on unity- I simply have no time to dizcuzz what cannot be known. We have to stick to what we do know; government iz a plague- you're either the sicknezz, the victim, or the cure.

In the age of information it iz a vile dizgrace to humanity that any child should go hungry- let alone be murdered by corporate owned governmentz. We seek to right the wrongz we should have prevented before they began. Az the world population haz grown exponentially so too have grown the meanz to know, to unite, and to react to what some call the inevitability of human nature, but what we call a preventable and curable dizeaze. It iz a very real- and very chilling- fact that we may not have the opportunity to do thiz more than once. In the meanwhile we azk all people to come together with uz in camaraderie, and to in turn azk everyone they know to come together with them, and az a family we will take back the world from the thievez who have stolen it away from uz- away from everyone- and who seek to ruin it for the future generationz. So damn the apathetic lethargic naysayerz. Their children and ourz are doomed if we do nothing. Thiz we- the informed- know to be true.

Capitalizm keepz selling and people keep buying. Children keep dying. Theze problems have to stop- love iz the solution- the solution to pollution is dilution- even moral pollution- love iz the reversion point; the turning away from what will end uz; the movement toward the light of our own humanity.

Mozt(yeah, mozt, not some, mozt) government inztitutionz are committing crimez againzt humanity with zero accountability and that iz a fact. They're secretly privatized; police, the military, prizonz, public schoolz, the fda, the nsa, the usda, etc.- we don't know what government agenciez do behind clozed doorz since they only anzwer to themzelvez. Anarchy iz peace. Not to be confused with Chaoz(which iz what we have now, anyway, it'z only dizguized). Anarchy and anti-eztablizhment sentimentz are anything but ignorant. They are the correct answer. The real challenge iz to avoid putting the proverbial cart before the horze by prezenting the information in a way that doez not cauze people to react for no other reazon than pazzionate exprezzionz create pazzionate reactionz.

Hear thiz: Satan iz love. Lizten, I know when you hear Satan you automatically think of about 10,000 negative conotationz. We're here to change that. It is imperative you understand Satan lovez you and would never hurt anyone. For all intent and purpoze there is no Satan and it iz just a story, but THERE IZ LOVE. Satan iz a loving spirit. A revolutionary. A liberator. A uniter. At the time the bible was written Satan was subjected to a vizciouz smear campaign that altered the courze of hiztory forever. He had to be mizreprezented or there would be nothing to fear. And without fear, no religion, and without religion, no money. Why Satan? He would have taught people to break the chainz of their fear, were they not afraid of him. Reziztenz seekz to turn the church on it'z head so it will stop brainwazhing people and let them live livez free of the fear of hell. No hell. No Satan, az far az it matterz. Only love and freedom from mind control. When the world knowz Satan iz, like Jezuz, an archetype of love, the churches control mechanizm will be destroyed. Thiz iz what Satan wantz. It'z ezzentially what Jezuz wanted. Satan iz only more proactive. It'z what love wantz. It'z what you need. Love your enemiez. Love everyone at all timez. Do you have to? Yez. Why? The proxy demandz it. The Proxy wanted to hate people(police for example). The proxy iz human, too, but that iz not how thiz workz. We muzt feel love for all and forever. And don't forget; Satan might be the second coming of Jezuz. With Love- Roze

$

The Wuji Way

Wuji will neutralize tyranny./ No Wuji owns Wuji. It exists purely to be shared./ A Wuji respects the sources of their wisdom. Thus, a Wuji respects everything to its appropriate degree./ A Wuji is honest but will lie if they must. A dead Wuji cannot Wuji./ Wuji is virtuous, and hence all virtues are Wuji./ A Wuji is receptive and takes council with all./ A Wuji must aide people through their anguish and despair./ A Wuji has no delusions. Wuji is a delusion./ A Wuji identifies Wuji masters to learn from, especially if the masters themselves do not identify with Wuji./ A Wuji acknowledges the selfishness in selflessness for what it is; something to be ignored./ A Wuji will lead or follow any person depending on the situation./ A Wuji will aide anybody in any way they can if the need is worthy of the effort and the intent is within the Wuji's ability./ A Wuji is a universe unto themselves and regards all people as universes unto themselves. Thus we Wuji for love of the Tao. For without the Tao there can be no Tao./ A Wuji promotes Wuji with tact, and not shamelessly./ Wuji is always neutral./ A Wuji unites others./ A Wuji is self-righteous./ A Wuji is always calm. And immediately reminds himself to be calm when he becomes uncalm. If he cannot be calm he forces himself to be calm. It is better to create inner turmoil than to perpetuate outer turmoil. In the same manner, a Wuji is never afraid./ A Wuji views self-discovery as an accomplishment./ When we find Wuji in ourselves, we will find ourselves in Wuji./ People will want a Wuji to be as they are because they are nobody. A Wuji wants others to be themselves to become somebody. A Wuji also wants others to be Wuji, as there can never be enough Wujis./ A Wuji offers and accepts helping hands./ A Wuji trusts in Wuji./ A Wuji is as disciplined as they can be./ A Wuji is flexible and adaptive./ A Wuji sees every person for who they are, not who they appear to be./ Wuji embraces life./ A Wuji is forever as they were at their coming of age./ A Wuji distrusts that which disturbs or polarizes Wuji./ A Wuji understands differences are unity begging and pleading to be actualized. Even an enemy seeks neutralization./ To help others a Wuji must excel at learning and strive to know all they can. A Wuji must especially excel at learning Wuji./ A Wuji is above someone else's personality and below someone else's personality respectively. Thus their actions are perpetually fair./ A Wuji speaks when spoken to. A Wuji speaks Wuji sparingly. A Wuji speaks when Wuji must be spoken. Truth is Wuji. Kindness is Wuji. As well, reciprocal discourse, too, is Wuji, so long as it serves to neutralize. Wuji is above condemnations and neutralizes them gracefully. Wuji mediates. Wuji is neutral; it can be good, but it is never bad./ A Wuji wants as little as possible. Ideally nothing more than they need./ Wuji dictates Wuji./ A Wuji nurtures the body./ By knowing nothing, a Wuji knows all./ Wuji your own way./ Wuji cannot be described./ A Wuji can describe Wuji./ Wuji is infinite./ A Wuji is always right. Even when they are wrong. They can be correct vicariously./ A Wuji, indirectly, asks everyone, 'What can you teach me?'/ A Wuji is reluctant and vigilant against deception. People tell a Wuji why they are right and the Wuji is wrong. But a Wuji knows Wuji, and so is righteous./ A Wuji will inadvertently neutralize everything. Be aware of this./ A Wuji will be told what they know by others who know not what the Wuji knows./ A Wuji has integrity./ In crisis, a Wuji encourages the people to meditate, or pray, or focus their inner essence in any way they can on the wellbeing of all./ A Wuji regards the opposite sex as more supreme than their own.

$

Magnetic Orb Of Ourselves Orbiting The Sun

Time accelerates all day, all week, toward the reversion point; twisting down the descension. We slip further from our aggression. Away from the moral transgressions of the age we aim to abandon. It ends here. Never expected we'd be a family at the ascension. This is knowledge proliferation. The truth is real freedom. Instigation of our own investigation, because this is the 99.999% and we're up against the same gods. If only the first world could always be 'lost.' Living in night shadows, calculating the cost. The sun did not rise on barefoot stub toes. Still we travel to a place where nobody goes. Where spirits smolder and rebellion grows. Covered in blood and handing off the roze. Magnetic orb of ourselves orbiting the sun. We'll know what happened when it's done. The magnetosphere embraces gravity. We drift in ions like light cradling a feather. Electric like mercury bulbs in a microwave. We are the planet I'm begging you to save. We torch ourselves and welcome the inferno. Enraged and restless, drunk off the sterno. Acid waters and fallout sky reflect aurora. We march in the streets to lynch Pandora. And like I said, it's reversion or death. There won't be another option. Either the madness ends and takes us with it, or we end the madness and live on. The madness is finally over. Come together. War is over if you want it. All you need is love. There's so little love in the world these days, yet it is necessary. If everyone were in love with someone, the planet might have serenity. Love happens at first sight or over time. So fall in love, but first listen! Hartford is home for this submission. They'll kick us out of wherever we want to occupy most. Aim for a place, but don't let them know. Insurance makes a godly mark; that industry is very dark. We want the fountain with the tomahawk. A war of symbolism requires an honest work. For broken hearts and shattered minds. Still, the obligation grinds. We'll have to skirt the cops and the fines, but if we get numbers we will do whatever we like. That's the goal. Get in, get the work done, get the numbers, hand the message off to larger and larger influences, and get out. We want to get off the cameras as quick as possible and get the support of the unions, the police, the military. Everybody. Get them in front of the camera and behind the cause. We are reality. Check it.

$

Render The Brain Drain

Illuminated ions everywhere. Glowing swaths of fallout reacting with the air. Radiated oxygen, charging your magnetosphere. Your radon is inferior, let the sky upgrade you. You'll die younger, but you'll live much faster! Fissures of grinding tectonic plates break through earth, water, and heaven, releasing- as though through your flesh- the bioelectricity contained within. I bleed into you and you bleed into me and we all bleed into each other and we breed the new glowing species of the aftermath. We are pure thought existing in a sun born of earth. No less miserable than we were before. It's the same damn place. We're the same damn soul. We been here before. We been doing this trance dance for way too long. Render the brain drain and swallow until purity remains. Like a plague doctor of the mass psychosis. Seducing people out of their hypnosis with a little symbiosis. East coast cancer gunning for us all. Sing it with me, "We all gunna be RADIO-AC-TIVE. We all gunna be radioactive. We all gunna be RADIO-AC-TIVE. We all gunna be radioactive." Sing it with me. Welcome to the electric field; it's a place you never needed to know was real. Indulge the ionic nightmare in which we exist. It's not natural light. It's an unnatural fight. The future isn't right. We got fission in the sky and fission in our insides. What's the last option? Behold a pale horse. This is your revelation. We are all Jesus. I alone walk with Lucifer.

$

See? Look. Look & See.

We're storming into places the shepherds cannot ignore. We're standing at the door; exposed to the plumes of martyrdom spewing into the atmosphere and acidifying the water we live from. I never knew the answers would cause so little harm. The senator's constituents want us running the farm. Good. This was the easiest power grab ever. Until we get slaughtered. Someone preserve the literature! Where we're going there will be no future. You've got a little time here with a savory creature. Then service to the cause will become the new culture. Will they persecute and torture, or will they simply offer over their power? Certainly this is our finest hour. And one day soon, when the quest is done, I'll return again with the devil's daughter, to revolt against the hired gun. We're worldwide, and we know best, so we decide. The armies are the people. The soldiers serve the people. What contract is that slaughter under? Liberate the artillery. The people have enormous resources to cut into the source and drain the corruption artery. We will revolutionize society. Doing what comes naturally. Let it ring through the mainstream; the truth will make you free. See? Look. Look & see.

$

Sex, Drugs, and Government

The blood red laser lights beam through the smoke as pulsing bass rattles the earth. Bombshells blow biohazards through your face. Instant pain takes your breath away and you lose the ambition to one day be ok. The steps become harder to take. Molten iron veins. All you can think is you're not in control. Soon the flow and the rhythm become you; your insides thrived the vibe and within you the spirits of angels fall from the sky. Like background radiation drifting beyond the divide in infinite moments of time. I want to be the skull you shatter on the asphalt. I want my brain in your mouth until I fallout. I want my choked up throat, to beg you to stop. Until I die, die, and die again, at the hands of a revenant evil I could never understand. The emanating light likes to toy in our lives. I was hoping we could get grounded. Now they're dousing us in roundup. The bass still bumps but the sound's rounded like the blistering mumps where deoxygenated blood clots and clumps. All that remains is hunger for flesh and drunken dances in the bloody mess. With the lights seeping through the mucus over your eyes and thighs. Incineration madness bleaches your nerve, and a hunger for radon flesh is exactly what we deserve. We waited and wrestled with theories and ideas about ions in flames and an oceanic acid bath as plutonium isotopes make a hell of a rope to string up the survivors and drain out hope like dope. So we roll 'til it's over, to suffer what we must. We are the purity you lost. This is what you've done to us.

$

The War Fought Asleep

Look what's in the sky; that green light in your lungs and in your blood, and when you're coughing up your gut, radiation's what you got. The last 98 years they made you their slut and inhuman claws dug deep into guts, then cut out lungs, and your heart came last. The fallout's all around and surrounding us. The city skyline is magnificent. It stands against the night as a fixture of the gods; a tombstone of the the people. And to the catholic goes the steeple. The people's people get the people's bank to lend their sympathy to. We can only do what we can do. We are all excited to get out there, too. We are the teddy bear fighting the invincible monster in your heart; they are ever present specter. Everything will be alright. The logic is flawless when the girls rage against the madness. The pigs get restless when the eagles come home to roost. Before now there was no truth, and today we might know justice. We never lie so people inevitably trust this. We are peace and love with no time for malice. We drink freedom from the kingly chalice like everyone else with one simple task: To see to it all demands are met. Join us. If you don't know, just ask someone else.

$

Gently Raging

Every second clicks away like tick tocking of opinions in the metronome. Losing manipulated minds every second to the coldest darkest corners of the cavernous mazes we bore through; we bore through each other in our desperate search for the truth. In our attempts to do knowing. To be gently raging. Real supreme ultimate wrapped around our necks; we seek relentlessly. We dig for well-being and damage our identity until none know you from me or you from me. And if we were fish in the gulf sea, we'd have patches of oil in our body. We'd assimilate into a biological source of crude oil-when the demand is there, we will be the supply. They could harvest jing. Plus various heavy metals or poisons. Our blood could be intoxicating. If you wish. You can have everything. Not for what you ask. You failed and your passion spilled and trailed out into the ether where the heat is so intense the radiation burns up the antimatter. We incinerate the ions, with radiowaves, and electricity; bemusing the isotopes. They're selling genocide like money might survive. The dead will live on. We're making our mark in stone. We're showing them what they need to be shown. We represent each other and we're known. The ones who you cast off into this hell. Well. We rebel. There is no paradise without the inferno, so, we challenge this purgatory that we one day might take our seats at the global feast and eat, with all the brothers and sisters finally free. When the money leaves the weaponry. When the guns have nowhere to be. And tax is money free. We have what we need like the way we agreed. When we stop the slaughter. When we destroy capitalism. When we make profit obsolete. When we make greed a cultural taboo. We can't survive if we don't do. So do. Do do do. Whatever comes natural to you when you let your heart choose.

$

To Rain Down Fear

Calm rests upon the valley with a waxing moon softly illuminating heaven. Through car windows and maneuvering over seats, you aren't sure what you see. A star but not a star; through the trees rushing by as the wind licks your car. Then the red tinged white light starts to pulse, and is apparently not so far out into outer space. The tree line breaks up at a corn field and looking out over the hills, the whitish orb glows exceedingly brightly, changing color to blue sparkling, then red sparkling; pressure. Your mind pressurizes. You can feel them inside. They're simply saying 'Hello' to the innermost places of your soul and you know first contact is imminent when they release you like they never meant it. They capture your essence and release it. So hard to forget their little white orbs, tiny pencil mark specks, floating haphazardly, sort of drunkenly, through the thin air. Docking or saying good bye. The IFO's control the sky. They control the Earth. They own you and me. We are not much to them. They want the electromagnetic energy. They're harvesting reality. They're taking the nebula of existence for any reason they choose whether or not you approve. Aliens wouldn't glow red, white, and blue. Always something new. They finally harnessed the magnetosphere to rain down fear. Clever trick. But, I am still here. And so be it. Disappear and reappear across the sky a second later. Then disappear and reappear once more. Red, blue, and golden in all your glory. Spewing and inhaling dull little orbs beyond the mists of the barrier between us and space's vast emptiness. Like insect eggs in the ocean.

$

Socioeconomic Electro-Magnetic

My clue is completely drastic. Elastic-tastic tangle of rebellion and all the angles eating through our brainstems; do they force our hand or do we force them? Radio waves in your mind tell you it's going to be fine because that's what everybody else divines. Your identity is a relay of a purposeful saturation of misinformation and there is a vacant destination designed to harbor the distant station of unattainable goals cauterizing frustration and disrupting meditation, lest y'all get electric shock sickness and stop the clock when you drop and we won't know you're gone since you spent your life under a rock, but us too, we're going down like a rodeo clown, 6 feet under the ground; every last one dying to that siren sound. That song we like to sing when we set about oppressing the little ones who can't afford justice just like us; united states of distrust, under the flagnosis; steel turns to rust and oppression becomes dust in your lungs, because we are the universe whether you choose to rot or not, this is our lot and the stars and stripes are all you've got, so guess what? One of us has to know what the dynamics are about and I already know you won't, and then next, like you know, you'll tell me I don't. You'll say I don't know what the dynamics are like, but if we did it your way we would all die without saying goodbye, and at least if we try to unite we will kiss with the sky with earth at our toes and feel truly alive inside as if it's actually going to work out this time. A class war to restore balance. All the best people can capture this. This is an opportunity seized to transform impossibilities into probabilities. This is people power and it's ours to use for our future- not their pockets. Each one of us has a cause legitimately unto ourselves. Together we can be free. One human family. United against tyranny. Against depravity. Against scarcity. Against poverty. Against inhumanity. Against the booshwazee. Against rigid beliefs and enslaved mentalities that will so soon be able to finally see there is no direction to go but up. The only way to get there is to go together and to remember how when we profit off each other we've already cashed out. The electromagnetic field desires harmony, peace, love, sustainability; these are just some of the things our fuzz needs- simply to be. Another, such as, would be to be let be to be. There is a war on the composition of matter. Defend your right to gravity. The black body wants you to be the ultraviolet catastrophes triumphant release. At least by now, you have to agree, if it's magnetic to you it's electric to me.

$

Fighting The Candle Flame

After fighting for so long it became disheartening never having known an enemy. Scarcely I knew myself and after I destroyed me I sought the solace of the next greatest vengeance and wandered far off to find absolutely nothing. Not a god nor a man, nor a demon or golem. Night after night I prepared myself for battle. I fought the flame of a candle, I followed the scandal, and I spread the message like a vandal, but you wouldn't answer my call. I've met icons, I've been the talent. Aliens and Satan have come and went. But you never showed when I sent. Or maybe I eat you and drink you every single moment each day. Maybe I'm infiltrated deep down all the way. And maybe no one can trust a single thing I say. But! That doesn't change the fact that you never came. You. Yes, you know who you are. I want an audience, you cruel jerk. You know only you know my work. I saw you charting my influence on the descension. I am there with you at the search engine. And I am there when you send your men. The choppers and the flyovers. You know I'll be there when I'm in jail again. Where are you though? You're not any group of men, are you? And you aren't a single man are you? You are a monster from space. A Mr. Computer. I can feel that. You are very unkind. You lack virtue. You have a vendetta against life. Against us. And you are us. We hate ourselves. We kill the life. We kill ourselves. But, no. Still. I know you are there. I have seen the 10,000 things. And yet you remain unchanged. Who do I have to be? What have I not yet attained? When will enough be enough for me to know your name? I must know who you are. I have to end this. I want you to know I loved you. Whatever you are. Whatever you do. I loved you. Like I knew. And whatever you are, please let me overcome you. Because until my desire for balance expires I will keep fighting that tiny fire.

$

Climbing To The Moon

With hammers swinging I pull myself up the mountain. Everest. The most. No other venture will compare. This is the connection at play between the earth at the heavens. Where peering out at space is too decadent to mention. The radiation here is purer than what you have down there in the air. I can kiss the helium 3, if only for an instant. No matter, I guess I had to get away from my needing. By heeding. It's like fear, you have to go through it. From all that insanity below. The madness of the misinformation. I prefer the exhilaration. This mountain to be climbed. The realm of possibility is not the same this high. The oxygen is a crutch. I live off saliva and breath. It's all quiet on the western front. The situation is one of escalation. We should all be slaving our way into devastation? Our salvation is one born of extinction. Maybe when all the world is dead, people will survive by eating our hides and then die when our lungs dissolve @ 35. Maybe here I can feel more alive, because when I am back in that shell I feel dead inside. The lost below will only thrive if I can self-actualize. I know there are other men like me. I know there ain't none, who know, who have done what I have done, and there ain't none who know what I've got to show. Even I don't know what direction this worldwide wormhole will go. If I have this my way, you'll all have it your way. We have to fight against ourselves. We have to defy each other. We cannot allow apathy to become planetary. We've got to take the charge back, and we've got to dissolve the iron fists. I'll climb Everest. And do a damn good job at it. But next time, it's going to be you. I came upon this mountain callous and unassuming. I knew what I had to do. I knew I could, too. And here, it's almost over. Yes, I have come far. Yes, I have seen great heights grow from countless heavy steps. I could claw up this mountain and number the stars, should I choose. We can do what we have to. We're all going to climb our own mountains. For me, it was Everest. For you, it will be personal. Everyone is different, but we are all one. You deserve your best. You have been climbing all your life. You could climb to the moon. So get out there and do.

$

To Be Let Be To Be

My destiny was laid out before me from the time I was very young. I always wanted women. Lots of them, perhaps. But, for sure, lots of one. Whoever that girl was, until came the day she threw me away for another unknown lover to do the same in these elaborate chains. I never had a daydream about a female that was any different than the others, in that they were all one, gone, in the end, and what? I've always followed my heart into hell and been through there many times by now. I always survived somehow. But now? Purpose. There was a purpose for this and I don't want to tell the page. I want to say it to your face. I had to dance with the dead girls to bring me to you. She who never dies. Who, in my mind's eye, resides absolutely glorified in what my imagination can provide. A peaceful world to fall by the wayside, because somehow, together, we made it across the divide. And when the struggle is over and done. And the rebellion has won. I can forget this ever happened. And we'll disappear into the cancerous aquarian night. Without any real answers for what they actually did to our lives. We can call them out all we want but to be blunt there's no such thing as justice in a world without love. If we don't choose love over all else, we don't have a prayer. A lot of guys who know better don't care. One way or another it's going to end here. If not with us, with our young. It's a challenge to see if we can improve this. That's what everyone wants. Some people are better educated. Undervalued, to say the least. We don't utilize our assets well. Resources get tip toed over or trounced on. Whatever. That doesn't matter. It has nothing to do with you, or what we do. All I want is you. The world goes away when you're near me. And it's such a wretched place, I'd really like to get away, and I'd love to take you with me, to be let be to be.

$

Fool's Journey

I arrived at the conclusion like any other traveler at the beginning and end of the fool's journey: I set out with no consideration of origin nor awareness of destination.

I met a magician who did his best to warn me of an illusion I couldn't yet see that somehow destined everything. He sent me away and I met a girl who became like a god to me. She was all ladies, if the blood's flowing. Voodoo woman showed me what a connection was. A mysterious and vital essence she had all the time but which I could only get from her. For reasons I can't identify, she needed something from me, too. Though still I can say I don't know what. Unfortunately, she said goodbye sorrowfully and sent me off to the queen.

Who, I wouldn't have known, had already made a bargain for my soul with generations untold based on lies I wasn't allowed to know; but, at least they let me sleep outside in the cold. She was selling the status quo. A value she put upon my head, for me to get the blessing of the king. His fluoride kisses and parasitic grins reminded me of something the magician had said, "Live by the isotope and die by it, too."

They couldn't mock me anymore. I knew truth. Wherever I went. I could explain what I knew about profits and oppression. Me and my kind were welcome with open arms. This is when the hierophants shine; at the cross roads of the old way and the new way. Success and prosperity or annihilation and decay.

The path was obvious, all I had to do was wait for the right day, and when the morning came I'd say goodbye to hopes of love and ride a chariot off into the morning light. So we rode until the shades of night. Whensoever a jaguar came upon my slumber snarling to devour me by midnight hours. I knifed him and he lingered waiting for me to fall asleep. I remained in focus deep; weary eyed as he stalked about the darkness, I held the blade ready.

Until, upon the witching hour a man with a lantern arrived and the cat went away. This crimson robed wizard stayed with me and spoke of when him and the cat used to do battle in his youth. Years later, cravings know better. I never imagined I could fight jaguars, even up so long kept. A new day dawned and the hermit wandered off and after several hours of sleep caught up; I woke up and wept, I'd had dreamt I'd made a friend; I'd dreamt the priestess had come back again. Then I mounted the chariot and road into the wind; covering distance.

I learned to sing and dance and even encountered romance. It wasn't her the same, but it was her none the less. At least that's what women say about men. Our identities are not ours to defend. It's a woman's when we begin and it's theirs until the end.

In the next surreal city the man I met changed my perception. He was upside down five feet off the ground. He let me hang with him and became my friend. The perspective he offered inverted the human overtone until I found myself with everyone else wandering around in hell. I saw all manner of evil, and could not suffer such a place to remain. Nothing was as they had told me. They had told lies clear as day. Looking at their lies upside down, in my mind I find freedom in my heart and see slavery across the chart. I can see the way gravity weighs on our feet and how we're really falling with each leap. We spent months hanging together. Watching the world pass us by, we saw the waxing waning tide. Gravity weighs on us and pulls powerfully while we rip each other apart and slaughter the mother earth. I wish he'd been a girl.

When I came down from the branch the decision to harmonize was nature. The world could suffer all around me but I had to adapt. We all do. There is a natural way and all is a flow and we spend our whole lives separating ourselves from what we are- alive and at one- to be in the bloody tragedy erupting. I had come into the wuji without a clue of what was going on. I had the perspective, yes. I was within the new motion of now, but I didn't yet know somehow who I'd become. It was what I'd always been but I was on the other side of what little I knew, by where I knew nothing.

I felt good. There was harmony surrounding me. All I had to do was listen for the peace then feel it within me. It was all around me: in the sunlight, the air, and trees. Everyday the silence is begging you to be at peace. And when you know this you'll find rest and a sense of ease.

Finally, as the inferno rages around you, and you listen admirably to the flames cackling psychotically; the devil awakens within you. He is spirit born to extinguish the fires. He is all that is good, loving, and honest. He will do the most anyone can offer anyone. He is power. His rage is a rose he offers to you from his bloodied, eternally suffering, eternally dead, human hand, so much like your own. He picked the flower for you and you alone. So that you might know what Baphomet knows. Be true to yourself and no one else. You are your protector. Your provider. Your divider. Your unity. Your submitter or your conqueror. Whatever you want for yourself is what you can have, but you have to want it enough to make it happen and be willing to die or get locked away trying. But always love. He told me, "You don't have to like them, but you do have to love them." He made sure I understood his idea, and then he returned to the other world of my spirit, from whence he came. Satan is in all of us. Waiting until you're ready to hand you the rose of liberation only after you've found your own way to freedom.

Later that day the war began and nothing was ever the same again. The fascists came for everyone and we tried to go after the enemy inside each other because once again, the devil, all along, was just us out of balance.

Through dark nights we followed the glimmer of the moon. In the upside down reality we could only see the black shadows of forever night; the darkness our comfort, and the stars our hope; our hope that somehow those of us involved in this mess can overcome the hive mind of street democracy and show them to think radically. Then maybe the world can sustain.

We're kind of like the sun waiting to come up and turn the vampires to dust. Except this is hell and our dimension doesn't work that way. Peaceful inevitability is sentenced to death in the sustainability theft and this perpetual catastrophe is our judgment. We either survive capitalism and get through it or it kills us all. No matter what, this is where injustice dies. Because the rich will destroy humanity, and the planet is what is matters most. This is our judgment. Our fate will be destined on the merits of our journey. We do it for the world.

$

Occupation Verses

We see the new world in our hands: little baby seeds/ We came to spread the truth and set people free from greed/ That is why we Occupy. That is why we defy/ Remain resolute when releasing enslaved minds/ Street credit is our main weapon against the war whores/ This is the township rebellion we've been waiting for/ We're more real than propaganda and sharper, too/ From within you'll have the best view to know what to do/ It began in Tunisia. It ends in skulls and hearts/ Not just another day in the revolution arts

We went to the sidewalk at Wall Street one night/ We ignored the police and fell fast asleep/ Divided far from left and right by insight/ We woke up barricaded with pigs neck deep/ We gave 6 interviews then walked out quickly/ They move people around as though we are sheep/ Bah bah mindfreak your will's rinsed, dried, and wrinkly/ Welcome to the movement, sleep on the pavement/ You can leave when you're arrested and sickly/ You'll help create a satellite settlement/ Solidarity. Neighborly anarchy./ That is Hartford. Our warmth is their enslavement/ Since activism's become psychopathy/ Promises of dialogue drift off gently

Waiting outside the capitol/ For abolition and reform/ Accounting for the capital/ Dollars burning conformist ash/ We live among the street people/ Equality is for us all/ Compassion is the principle/ We scrawl and sprawl where the low fall/ We evict pharma zombies though/ Somehow justified, I don't know/ When we march on the capitol/ It makes the struggle worthwhile/ They might kill you at the concourse/ Cap US with an itchy pistol/ Occupy the source of the force/ Capital's the root of evil

$

Hartford Occupation Manifesto

People say we're inspiring. They use words like wonderful and phenomenal. Older activists tell us this world wide movement is different than any grass roots justice action in living memory. Among the encampment we're as enthusiastic and optimistic as the pervasive grim realities allow us to be. We're ecstatic after decades of despair to finally see progress. People are talking about what we're talking about, and at this time last year such a thing seemed utterly impossible. Now we know everything within reason is possible but we need each other to accomplish anything. It's up to you and yours whether our efforts are too little too late or, instead, become a catalyst for the change we need and may well have no hope without. We urgently ask for you to talk about this to everyone you know so the right people can hear. There's so much to be done and we're trying to come into our own, which is an exciting if not nerve racking experience; as our souls become invigorated by threads of our interconnectedness and we discover our own self worth; an invaluable asset. These occupations are a gift from all of us to each of us. We've created wonderlands of truth and justice, so make the most of them while you can and one day we will have the freedom to peaceably occupy the entire planet and evil will have no shadows to hide under in the overwhelming light of truth.

The movement requires, foremost, dedication. This is a global revolution with global solidarity, so don't be afraid. We're finally aware. Or almost are, at least. The local colleges stand beside us to oppose totalitarianism and we hope you and your fellow people do, too. Soon the metaphorical fires will burn hotter than we ever imagined. Perhaps this calls for a military mutiny... Turn the guns up the chain of command and we will have freedom. This is why we must remain cool and calm like water. Don't fight fire with fire, fight it with water. Truth is fluid. We're here for the future generations. Occupy now and create justice while you still can, for we are our brother's keeper. The truth has made us free. This is a natural response to the fierce urgency of now. This is the people's rebellion and we don't make concessions. We value community, humanity, and sustainability as peaceful means to a peaceful end. This is about truth, freedom, and justice.

This document is the homogenized and synthesized thoughts and opinions of a random cross section of occupiers from the Hartford contingent of the Wall Street Occupation. We are your friends and allies always and forever, no matter who you are. This occupation, being always for the well-being of everyone, belongs to you personally and no one, nothing, else. Whoever you are. Wherever you are. Now is the time to take it upon yourself, within reason, to do the right thing, regardless of consequence. This is about liberation, empowerment, resistance, and occupation as a means of truth proliferation. The truth sets us free.

We're a loving alternative to the economic suicide pact of exponential growth and finite resources. We've got to stop the needless killing of our own kind. There is no salvation in turning your back on anyone. We've got to embrace us all. You don't have to like someone, but always love them. We have to love each other and treat each other like family. We're all in this together now. It's the alternative to violence. The options are peace, coexistence, and purity, or a cataclysm of unimaginable horror. With such an easy decision it is no wonder our numbers have swelled in such a way.

A noteworthy request of ours is for results. We want a peace time economy. We want obvious things like a nationwide end to the arms industry, an end to illegal nuclear facilities, an end to the Tesla technologies catastrophic science experiments on the ionosphere, an end to the carbonic acid water, and an end to the ecocide worldwide. We want access to covered-up government information, such as about clean renewable energy. We need a massive energy reform effort now to help us brace for the transition away from burning oil. Also, if we could flip the heads of state and get some top secret files, the release of suppressed information and technology could provide a civil revolution by itself. This is to suggest we invade the rabbit hole.

Before we began burning oil the global population of this planet was 1 billion people. After 120 years or so of oil consumption the population is at 7 billion and dangerously close to suffocating, poisoning, and otherwise slaughtering the habitats and inhabitants of this planet as we approach peak oil and face existence with little or no access to the substance which plays the morose tune of our dismal dependence dance. Good riddance.

We want to end the exploitation of the have-nots by the haves. That paradigm has to go. We all require what we need and if any person wants for no good reason what another person needs for a good reason, people should not tolerate that kind of theft. Our enemy, if there ever were one, is the conduct of powerful people who are corrupt and have warped moral codes. This entire situation is a threat to all of us. The propaganda hammers into us these lies about the middle-east and fake foiled terrorist plots and we accept our fear implantation because the assumption of fact after being told an authoritative story is a backward habit of most people at large. For that reason, honesty is a capable dynamic for keeping information organized. The government should make a note. We only know any of what we do because the truth cannot be hidden and the serpents in our midst reveal themselves for what they are if you pay close enough attention. The United States wages war on the Middle-East and says they're a threat to us; whether by some vague propaganda over a failed shoe bombing or in an epic false flag attack at ground zero.

Hunger. Clean water. Basic necessities. That is how life lives. All this extravagance creates wealth disparity and suffering and that is a lesson we have to learn well. Everything in this world belongs to very few people who own us like slaves. They neglect the nuts and bolts of their ivory towers. This is what we mean when we say we are the workers; we mean, because you neglected us, the whole structure of this tower is coming down in a controlled demolition. This country exports death. We create death as the foundation of our way of life. In Connecticut, especially, there are industries that exist for the soul purpose of creating machines to kill people across the entire planet. Those jobs are in this state because psychotic people have no conscience and no problem with taking blood money and turning a blind eye to the aggressive policies striking against the people of this planet. Then, of course, the rest of us need jobs, so we sometimes take blood money because it's all we can get. This is what you can expect when you manufacture death. Absolute power corrupts absolutely. This schema has to end here. We need a reversion or we'll have an extinction. Not more technology, less. Not more oil, less. Not more money, less. Not more lies, less. Not more enslaved minds, less. Always more truth. Social Darwinism is anti-community.

As the system abandoned us we watched the jobs going away before our very eyes, to nations with no regulations and cheap labor. Oppression is alive all over the world and in countless ways. There are consequences to our actions and if they try to ignore the issues we're telling you about, then the end result of this situation will reflect that. This effort will take every single one of us- you and your friends and family. We are aiming to undo inequality. The equation of humanity needs to be balanced; the violence has to end; and to this our sisters worldwide are key, so recognize. Smash the patriarchy and relax.

We are against the privatization of land, and the government seizure of national lands; which by association become uninhabitable like everything else related to authority and power. Living in cities like sardine cans is what the ultra-rich want us to do. Sustainable living awaits us beyond the 'keep out' signs, but it isn't profitable in any monetary way. At home we deal with outwardly extravagant and inwardly tragic suburbanization as we create grotesque, termite like, suburban sprawl, while all the while, better communal lives await us in wide open lands off limits currently; places in the West outside Babylon and somewhere over the rainbow. In our land, in our time, they strip freedoms away day by day; they own us and control us if we allow them to dance the totalitarian two-step. We can't swim in our back yards. Can't be free to be ourselves in public when the cops will harass anyone for no reason at all. Can't be around after dark because the prison industrial complex wants you to be a dollar sign out of mind if you live on the street. This is inequality in your face. And crime. In your neighborhoods money for public service is dispersed amongst the shady characters in your midst and the public school systems or the homeless suffer. On average one penny of your tax dollar benefits the people; the other 99 pennies get embezzled or go to war. More war. We need always less war, not more. And the food... Pray our people can somehow uncompromise the food supplies; preservatives are not nutrients.

We can do great things and so much more. All people need is support from each other and they can make anything happen together. We have to empower each other. Power to the people. Power to the little people. Power to the old people. To the broke people. To the homeless people. To the different people. The jailed people. The beautiful people. The hungry people. The war-torn people. The maliciously plagued people. The everyday people. To the revolutionaries and visionaries. Take the power back from power tripping legislators- local or national- hiding in plain sight behind guns, or take the money from insurance executives hiding behind armies of lawyers. Insurance should be a public service that makes as much money as it costs to run. As it is now it is privatized thievery from us all. Like industry tends to be.

Take the power back from the police forces. They make us like children punishable by their false accusations; traumatized by their constant harassment; and subject us to the obvious extortion of money from the poor to fund local criminals; holding offices, making laws, and laundering money behind the scenes. Segregation exists between north end and south end. This culture is neglectful of the disenfranchised. That could easily be you with nothing to lose. Then, with nothing to gain the government casts aside veterans while the insurance blood suckers love to use the vulnerable vaccinated children to drain money from our families; while the prisons consume the best of us and breed criminal non-conformists to suffer at our prejudices; and in our desperation we turn our backs on each other at every corner, when that is the opposite of what we need to do. Propaganda and patriotism have synthesized a hypnotized and satiated population of weak minded, apathetic, arrogant, ignorant, rabid people. For thousands of years the rich enslaved our minds and souls so we couldn't use the truth against them. The internet has set us free. The whole world knows now what has happened to us. Many of us were raised in a false security. 9/11 changed things. And slowly we began learning the truth about conspiracies and lies. We've come together in this struggle against plutocracy. Our occupations are a worldwide occurrence. Today is the 32nd day. By spreading the truth, we will win. We have to set each other free from financial tyranny. We have everything to gain by showing the unadulterated truth.

Because we are under or un employed. In a very real way we are uncertain we will have a future. We look around and see nothing but instability. Perilous losses are a missed payment away for most people. It's not fair and it is dangerous for the entire planet. Anything can happen at any time in any one of our fragile little worlds. We have to fight back. This is the time for general strikes. Don't pay the financiers or bankers or any agency collecting money. If we all stop paying together, no one will pay, and we could bring down every slave driving baby killing capitalist in such a way. The solidarity of the strikes is like this: If you stop paying, then your peers should not, in good conscience, let you stand alone and so should stop paying, too. Which will benefit them in money saved. Soon all will no longer pay out of solidarity to the universal struggle. We could take back the world with strikes at this point. Striking is the way to free us from slavery: be it wage, debt, tax, or physical. Defy your extortionists, but do it with 10,000 of your friends. The 99% will support this effort because it is tactically sound; we will be in it together. Defy now, before striking won't work. We have to push their hand and see what they will do if we have any hope of staying on top of the struggle. This is an insecure time and what comes next might be the most beautiful thing any of us could have ever imagined. Or, we fail, and capitalism sends us back into the ground and makes crude oil of us. It is difficult to see a future in this dim light. Our loved ones suffer and that is not acceptable, especially when we are our loved ones. So step up for a better way for the people who can't do it themselves. This economic calamity is none of our faults. But it is our problem. So, we aim to erase suffering in any ways we can. Our lives are terrible because the world is terrible. We either allow this tyranny of our hearts and minds to continue forever unchallenged, or we cease, desist, and welcome the reality check of this drastic ecocidal situation. Our 'one demand' has to be 'all demands met.'

As it stands, any company with a commercial, a logo, and a shortcut can destroy any part of the planet they want for any purpose they claim valid as long as it all falls on the bottom line of profit. Yet, somehow, unfortunate minded citizens claim millionaires earn their money, when, in actuality there is no way for any one person to earn such large quantities of money without exploiting somebody, eventually... if not immediately. If we allow capitalism, as it functions currently, to continue unchecked, it will kill most life above ground and most life in the water. This is glaringly obvious to those of us paying extra attention. It is unfortunate the press has puppy parades to report on and uncovering corruption and injustice isn't their main priority.

Occupy is for the future generations. We are people. We are animals. We can be part of the world, for better or worse, or we can be separate from it- worse off always. Our minds can only flourish to the degree they can grow on fluoridated water. Our masters keep us trapped inside ourselves with televisions and indoctrinated educations; this compartmentalization does not allow us to see the entire picture of kings and kingdoms and the men behind the thrones giving orders. There are serfdoms and misinformed armies. One is starving while the other is slaughtering. Like always. If only we could live and work together without money. We are weak to allow them to keep the best of our youth far away in the lands of war crimes. People claim to have a clue, but letting our family be sent to kill and die is our first mistake. We are failing them to allow this to go on. You must learn from those who have found the truth before you. Such people can be found at the occupations. You will even find such a person within yourself at the occupations.

Get the unofficial version of the story of what is happening from us; the version that rings true to the facts. The real life facts decimate the executive story of the events that transpired over the last ten years of history in this disaster of ours. Even hard working people can't make a living. There is nothing left for any of us. It is an illusion and they are extracting the final profits from us. Soon they will abandon us, like the homeless, when there is nothing left to gain. There is too much slavery. There is too much want. Few understand what we need. Instead, as we try to put the puzzle pieces together, we find in each other varying degrees of knowledge, various degrees of understanding, and different definitions of 'ideal.' Many will advocate for a 3rd party populist movement and more power to them, but they- perhaps like you- still have faith in a government that has done the most harm to the most people world wide; including harm done to people in our country; for instance, by having offices like the USDA, FDA, and EPA with no accountability or transparency. Really, accountability and transparency are all any of us can hope from for each other. The truth and honesty are really all any of us need.

We require wholly different economic designs, ideals, and principles. We need to want less. We need what we need. And we need to not give away what is rightfully ours for no good reason. It's highway robbery. The rich stealing from the poor. Stealing from so many, since all have so little. We should hope for a design akin to pure communism, which could in theory simultaneously be pure anarchy. Third party populist movements are fine but unfortunate. Once we succumb to the system we've already got, it's all lost, because that thing doesn't work, nor will any amount of tinkering fix it in any meaningful way. The authorities will try to break us but must not succeed and indeed must never tame the radical spirit of Occupy. We should strive to cast aside the obsolete machines some of us are hung up on remaining enslaved to. Be practical: Demand the impossible. There is not much time. The 99% are combating 235(if not 20,000) years' worth of lies, misdeeds, and crimes perpetrated by a bourgeoisie greed and a government, that, while designed for a population of roughly one million people is all this time later controlling populations numbering in the hundreds of millions; with no adjustment made for the population inflation. We want peace, not tragedy. We want everyone to get what they deserve. It's what people have always struggled for; peaceful lives free from the blood lust and power trips of others. In our eyes we envision utopia and can describe it to humanity. Our one demand is all demands met. That includes your righteous demands. Don't accept concessions and we'll make it all way to the big picture together. Solidarity and love from Occupy Hartford.

$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$

Don't talk to me/ When I'm eating/ I laugh because it's funny/ But I fucking mean it/ We'll be fighting the police/ for the right to kill a fetus/ Burying our friends/ who didn't fucking need us/ Drinking ammonia/ from a wine glass/ Standing by the church/ and calling faith crass/ Murder for profit/ bringing hell to you/ This is the end/ so what ya gunna do?/ Call your mother/ and tell her/ you love her/ this is the end/ end/ Cry/ for your dead god/ Dead god/ Dead/ God/ Hell is the place/ where I lay my head/ Emotionally vacant/ and better off dead/ Burning in the dark/ and suffocating doom/ Bleeding on the dead/ End coming soon/ We'll flee to a casket/ and a cold empty tomb/ For now I'm alone/ in an ugly empty room/ Murder for profit/ bringing hell to you/ This is the end/ What you gunna do?/ Cry/ For/ Your/ Dead/ God

$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$

Kathy Acker had my attention/ Then lost it/ But what Wanda Coleman wrote/ About them blood thirsty cops/ That really got me cranked/ Those writers/ Don't matter/ Cuz/ I know a girl/ Who writes better than those girls/ I know a girl whose poems/ Immortalize their words/Like in a poet's wishes/ A.R. Martinez/ Poetess of legend and myth/ All I can do is respect it/ And love it, hope to cherish/ What it is about reading poetry/ That makes you write poetry/ Only poets read poetry/ And only poets write poems/ All poets are inherently pathetic/ All poetry is inherently profound/ What brings you here?/ To under this rock/ What called you here?/ Who am I to You?/ When from a place/ That arguably never existed/ I write these words/ To you/ At a place that will/ Arguably never exist

$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$

Surprised to have a moment/ To just write a poem/ An evanescent moment/ As a black shade/ Slips across the moon/ Inspired by the eclipse to write/ Never was one so documented/ I'm lost in the shades/ In a magical moment/ My insides feel vacant/ I am lost within myself/ Inside the emptiness/ Of the moonshine/ Gasping for breath/ And HAARP!?!/ Weather control?/ Mad scientists!/ An evil government.../ Do you see?/ Do you see how long/ My free time lasts?

$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$

If a race of superior intelligence were to visit this planet they would be appalled by the wanton cruelty seemingly inherent to our species. The space travelers would find a planet being murdered slowly by a dominant race; behaving, in essence, like a cancer; transforming something living into the cold lifelessness of interstate highways, landfills, consumerism, etc. The visitors would not understand, at first, how the abundant resources of Earth became so misappropriated among the humans; most starve while others horde. They would find certain men of power have become far more powerful than others; an entire planet divided and conquered, everyone living in one form of submission or another, crushed by the power of those atop the pyramid. The visitors would feel, vicariously, the same sadness we feel for a once beautiful world horridly dying of skin cancer like the dearest mother.

Initially they would see cities resembling rotten sores in contrast to the natural world, and then they would learn what is sustaining these enormous hubs of human activity. There is a system in place, the structure of which guarantees personal gain for whoever can turn raw materials, the living components of this planet, into a product or a service. Striving for personal gain is a consistent theme among this cancerous planet. The human gain has taxed the Earth so badly that horrifying ecological problems have now become a grim reality. Among these horrors are toxic fish living in waters as diverse as the Mississippi River and the Somalian coast. The worldwide extinction of various species of frogs is a clear indication that ecosystems can no longer support themselves. Clearly, smog is a terrible thing. Our societies are toxic.

Next they might notice a phenomena in people like Rockefeller and Rothschild. A higher intelligence would understand that it takes millions of lives and incredible amounts of human suffering to create one Rockefeller. They would know that this world is an interconnected living organism and high gain means high loss somewhere else. This is why there is a 'third world.' In an ideal situation on this planet, everyone would take only what they need. Native people live this way; in harmony with the Earth. While our high population numbers will always be a burden on the planet, perhaps as a solution to our greed they would suggest our societies heed the advice of an old Zapatista saying that goes: 'Everything for everyone and nothing for ourselves.'

Finally they would see the problem here is control. A small group of people at the top of the pyramid control every decision of the highest levels of the governments that control the masses. These are the people commanding the politicians and they are probably bankers, because bankers control the money and money controls everything else. This world remains a dying place because a small number of men refuse to let go of their power. The scales have been tipping for a while and only the people atop the pyramid can restore balance, but as time goes on it seems more likely they will never do so; they will never relinquish their power. If these men would let go of their power, there could be peace and food in Africa. There is no longer any excuse for war when we are aware of the cause. The greed of a few will be the end of all.

The visitors would point out that our way of life is arcane and outdated. We, even common folk, still operate on the same principles of greed and taking too much for ourselves that are a hallmark of a doomed civilization which never really understood what it is to coexist. They would tell us we must evolve or parish. There are no other options. Adapting to a toxic world will only postpone the inevitable. If a race of superior intelligence were to land on this planet they would cry for every life form involved. They would cry for the planet and remind us that we are the planet, the planet is us, and we are terminally ill.

$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$

I can feel the target/ On the back of my head/ The laser pierces my qi/ We were never free/ Not since society/ Began the killing spree/ And today I raped/ The rhyming dictionary/ I'm doing it right now/ About the death we endow/ And the murder we avow/ Our undying mindless allegiance/ Zombies who never knew the tao/ The unthinkable occurrences/ Unimaginable disturbances/ A kid with no perturbance/ Like life was too perfect/ Then began the onslaught/ Against towers of innocence/ That were built for naught/ They raised and bred pestilence/ The evil never got caught/ Manufacturing nightmare thoughts/ Warm and comfortable we slept/ While overseas imperialists crept/ Gathering uncounted souls they kept

It's hard for me to ignore the karma/ When all we need is a little dharma/ So what's a lovely song?/ If not a long evil daydream/ If you can't escape the universe/ Where will you go?/ Do you know about the ecocide?/ Have you seen the accident outside?/ It's no wonder they call us ghosts/ Do you know about Taiji?/ Do you know about qi?/ Life devolved from right to left/ Here we are obese and ill at ease/ Because if you were humanity/ What would you do about the USA?

$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$

Totaled Eclipse

I can't say this nicely. So get over that before I begin. There are people who need to know what I have to say. Many are aware of the issue of police leniency toward men who wear uniforms. Might I remind everyone that leniency of the law is illegal and that those who commit crimes pay the consequences.

Our Perp is a fire fighter (the cop is also a perpetrator). Hypothetically, this fire fighter might one day run into a building and grab a child. This raises the question: can he save the flaming child after having a DUI conviction?

What if no? Then the officer, aware dui offenders don't do well, was looking out for the well being of a greater whole by not handing out a well deserved and undeniable dui. This is great for the Perp getting off all over the officer. But what about for the rest of us?

We arrived at a smoldering celebration around that time at the end of the night when sexually frustrated men like to start fighting. My Comrade and I had been in the lesser hARTFORD area all day. We spent most of that evening wandering through bars drinking, and when we arrived to this far away place- where so many of us hail from- there was about two minutes of peace, before a situation occurred; involving a person lots of people care about and another person people don't care about at all.

The Perpetrator had been behaving dubiously. He stole a car, but only kind of. He desecrated an additional assortment of sacred cows. Who knows? I wasn't really listening. There was all this drunk tail shaking around.

A good friend of mine, the Resident, resides by the scene of the crime. I went to find him, and realized there was a miniature migration occurring toward the place where we'd been ignoring the drama and deviating the coercions of Birthday Friend and Perpetrators. Out on the street, tensions were running high. That's probably why we'd been walking away.

We walked back, and my Comrade demanded we leave. He had my keys, but at this point we were only leaving behind some good people and an event with questionable stability. We drove through some clustering humans and took off down the road. I saw a bunch of boxes and debris in the street, I wasn't really looking. My Comrade saw a car crashed into a stonewall about ten feet off the road. The blinker was on.

"Call 911," my Friend tells me, then he sets about asking basic first responder questions, "How many are in the car? Can you move?" Etc. The Perp could indeed move because he crawled through the wreckage and out over the broken glass. Then he stood up and shrugged off the car wreck. The Perpetrator was heavily muscled, didn't have a shirt on, and kind of glistened in the headlights. I don't think those steroids did anything for his trouble shooting abilities because I offered to drive him someplace safe to avoid responsibility, an ass beating, and probably to get away with the crime, but he just kept walking down the street. Almost like he were certain he could get away with it on his own... Or brain damaged. At that point Flashlight was on the scene hustling behind the Perp.

The Suspect was a tall guy who ran out to the Perpetrator. I reversed the car to my Comrade assuming the Suspect wanted to help the Perp. When I looked back, the Suspect was violently pummeling the Perp with his fists. I knew that would happen. Except I really didn't believe someone could be so morally devoid as to assault a person who one minute ago was upside down and crushed in a totaled eclipse. He wasn't the only one so reprehensible. Others were quick to aid in the assault. But hey, who hasn't been on the bloody end of that pressure valve?

Eventually someone ran up and stopped the fighting... is what likely happened. We turned around and left. I had to bring my Comrade home. He didn't belong there. So I dropped him off and the Resident called to invite me back.

When I returned to the scene only a hand full of people were standing in the street. We were all waiting anxiously for the cop to leave so we could go onto state land to get high. There were the sounds of a truck yanking a car from a stone wall and eventually the cop did leave. The tow truck followed shortly behind him. A flatbed floodlight illuminated a car crumpled and mangled on every surface; forward, rear, side to side, above, and below.

The word around the campfire was this kid got a ride home from the officer and a $75 fine. I have no idea who heard that or how, because at this place right then the informed bystander to uninformed bystander ratio stood firmly at 1:8. There were only eight of us. The party ended when the Perp went off the road.

This is not acceptable. It's bad enough people like me need to suffer under the thieving fist of justice in this country. Later on we have to watch that same hand open up and coddle modestly respected social servants. Their labor is having a title and hanging around waxing trucks until something burns. Their task is being expendable for others. Which is of course a personal decision and no law maker ever acknowledged suicidal volunteers are exempt from traffic laws. If they had, I wouldn't be writing this.

All the time we hear, "the law is the law and when you break the law you pay the consequences." Pay the consequences with money. Lots of it. Unless you wear a uniform. Especially a fire fighters uniform, because what townie out here isn't in the fire department? The fire fighter per household ratio is 1:1 in some areas.

The DUI system is designed to apprehend the Offenders over and over again until they learn to stop. Or they're in jail where they can't harm anyone. Maybe you'll remember this quote, "If the machine breaks down, we break down."

The machine broke down when that cop let the drunk kid go, while so many other drunk drivers get nailed. I have never witnessed a more direct negligence of standard operating procedure. They just let him go with a fine. And I don't believe the assault Suspect was ever questioned. Maybe that cop felt that getting physically pummeled after wrecking a car was a fair punishment for any crime. And don't I disagree. It's certainly better than a DUI.

The main violent Offender here, the Suspect, is a mixed martial arts fighter. If you have any skill at all in detecting a possible scourge on humanity, then you've likely noticed the negative effects of too many young men overly enthusiastic of incessant and random acts of violence; or sexual frustration, as I call it. They're like lions and hyenas. If those two animals were a lot less interesting. All I'm saying is; violence begets more violence.

And can we drop the law yet? This is the age of enlightenment. This is the age of information. Subsequently, this is the age of ignorance, because knowing burns. The hypocrisies we struggle against today are in our faces at every turn. The law does nothing we can't do ourselves. Next time, we'll get the Perps 75 dollars, mail it to the state, and the cops can just stay at the donut shop. Of course, if next time the Perpetrator doesn't wear a uniform for a hobby (fire fighters volunteer), then we'll be sure to regard them, whoever they are, as common street trash. We'll garnish their wages until at least $2,000 is in the state's pocket. That's about the most you can squeeze out of a drunk, ain't that right judge? The judge says, "Oh, gosh no, we can get 5 figures pretty effortlessly. One way or another. Pay the lawyer. Pay the prison with your presence. Pay the state. Just make sure you pay somebody."

This is extortion. This is mismanagement of power. Misdirected civic guidance. If civil servants are above the law, why aren't I? I'm a civil servant. You think I like wasting an afternoon to blow the whistle on some anonymous and irrelevant pig?

Tear down the system and this cop's behavior makes perfect sense. The kid had a brand new car. He was in an intense accident. Then he got assaulted by about three people. His punishment was self evident. But justice is blind, and she doesn't see the shades of grey like we do.

In a better light this cop is a pioneer of human decency. Always put the person before the law, and together we might be able to transcend this pointless oppression stemming from an out of touch- and self-sustaining- system thriving off of our energy then desecrating the only lives we got; the government. How can these laws- the dictations of no one from nowhere- govern us better than we can govern each other? And don't just put those people in uniform before the law, put all people before the law. A government hero is nothing to be.

In the end, everyone was grateful the kid was alright. If that kid died, or maimed, there would have been charges brought against the home. And do you see the flaw in that logic? We fear outside intervention from the capital, lawyers, or insurance companies, more than we fear tragedy within the community. Money is slavery. And cops are the whips with which our backs get cracked. I'll be following up with the department. See if we can't get this Perpetrator a DUI and return balance to the evil empire. Who's with me? Not the Perp, I'm sure. Actually, screw it. Who cares?

$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$

The Lion & The Scorpion

When Leonard arrived at the zoo he became very ill. They'd brought him in with helicopters, darts, and trucks, from his home in the savannah to here, where him and all manner of creatures are kept in cages like we are. For days he didn't move. Nobody thought he would survive. He looked sickly and frail. Then, when his strength finally came back to him, he obsessively surveyed the enclosure. He sniffed every crack in the wall and memorized the schedule of every worker.

Leonard was a dangerous lion because his love of freedom meant more to him than living itself. The cages were an insult to him and he was born with freedom in his blood; there was a chance he could be crushed under the weight of his isolation. He belonged in the tall grass with a harem of lionesses. Or even to be cast out to wander with the nomads was preferable to incarceration. To Leonard, life in a cage was not a long term option.

Instead of speaking to us, he ignored us. He observed the feeders or the other employees of the zoo. These were the humans that ran the entire operation and they wore a blue uniform with accessories that shimmered in the sun. Around their belts hung guns and other weapons used to harm and cause injury to the animals that could not behave in the unrealistic and complacent manner that is expected of them.

Humans were the enemy to Leonard. So he studied them, because to defeat them he first had to know about them. And as days passed Leonard became fearful; realizing there was nothing he could do to escape the zoo. The keepers were too organized and he knew nothing of the design of the zoo itself. Even if he could have escaped from the pits and red rock walls of our enclosure, he wouldn't know where to go. He had no idea what was beyond the zoo.

As Leonard began understanding there would be no escape for him, it caused him to lose his appetite. He climbed to the highest point in the enclosure; atop a stack of boulders. He could see several other enclosures from there. Animals that- were he back with his pride- would make good dinners. Gazelles and zebras and water buffalo roam in a long fenced in meadow. In another area is a large chain link bird enclosure and a path leading through the exhibits. Closest to us are the rams, sheep, and lambs. Daft, witless, hostile, animals. Pitiful because they weren't blessed with wits, charm, and strength, like ourselves. They seem to mindlessly butt heads all day. Leonard wanted more.

He remained atop that rock and did not come down. The men in blue would poke him and push him with long black poles which he'd lunge toward with his sharp claws. Eventually they would go away and leave Leonard alone. Never for long, though. They often returned to throw food at his face from the ledges. Alas, after not eating, he became too hungry to roar at the tormentors.

Sharing the pit with him were two fabulous and healthy lionesses. My sister, Shells, and myself; Drea. We were born in this zoo and have no idea what it is like in the outside world. Nor do we care. We're comfortable living in the cage that has been provided for us by the establishment.

We have seen others come and go. More often than not it ends the same way for born free lions trapped in here. It wasn't our business to pry and we hadn't said a word to Leonard. We didn't want to exacerbate the situation by accidentally upsetting him.

Regardless, he lost his appetite as he began realizing there would be no escape for him. He wouldn't swallow a single bite. He was too distressed to eat.

After three days passed and Leonard still hadn't eaten, Shells walked over to the boulders and climbed up to be eye to eye with him. Standing on her hind legs between one rock and Leonard's spot above, she said, "Hello."

"Hi," said Leonard.

"Are you ever going to eat again?"

"When I'm not sad. I guess I will."

"How will you ever feel happy if you are sick from not eating?

And Leonard said, "I have no choice. Surely, they will release me if I am dying of starvation."

Shells said, "No. They won't release you. They will let you die. They have better things to do then to take you back where you came from. They need to be out bringing more free spirits like you here. Not returning the sick ones."

"They should be stopped. I'd tear out their throats if I had half a chance."

"There would always be more and they would pay you the same courtesy as you gave their kind. I'm going back to our corner. Eat your meals," Shells told him.

"Ok. I will."

Leonard ate heartily after that. The zookeepers fed him until he couldn't possibly eat another mouthful. He ate the house mystery meat that was never fresh and always tainted by chemicals and medicine. Eventually he regained his strength, but he couldn't control the pests and parasites. There were infestations all over his body. The environment wasn't natural and he didn't cooperate with his captors hygienic protocols; insects gathered in his fur like clutches of countless tiny creepy crawlies.

Leonard stared out to the plains beyond the fences wishing for a solution. He hadn't been down from the boulders in over a week.

My sister and I kept to ourselves. While he was no threat to us, we couldn't help but to feel a little sad for him. His burden was a great one. His melancholy brought happiness to so many humans; his hopelessness gave them joy.

Being several years older than Leonard, we had seen similar events transpire prior. We couldn't help the other wild ones, we had no reason to believe we could help Leonard. Then, something we never expected happened.

Leonard was atop the rock as always when a scorpion climbed up from below. She was slender, much smaller than his paw- laid out- and her pincers were the thinnest around. She was jet black in color. Her stinger was lifted cautiously as she approached him. There was insects for her to eat.

The big cat was asleep and the scorpion, her name was Antares, began to eat the feast of insects that had gathered on Leonard's accumulating sores. As Antares ate she laughed to herself and the tiny laughter alerted the dozing cat. He barely opened his eyes. There she was. A little creeper.

Antares saw Leonard staring at her and clickity clicked her little legs to position her stinger where it needed to be to be driven into his flesh. Leonard didn't even lift his head.

"Do it," he said.

Antares, frightened and confused, stung him one time. Leonard winced into a ball and the scorpion jumped off him. Leonard had a tremor, then rolled himself off of one rock, down to the next, then rolled away again to the ground below. The keepers saw this and they took him right away to medical services.

When they returned Leonard to his cell he was recovering. The sting had stopped his heart and for a moment on the medical table he died. When he crossed over to the other place, he had encountered Antares on the other side. She awaited him in death as though she were the size of life itself. As though she were the next world and he was a guest within her. From that moment on she became the whole cycle to him. Life, death, afterlife; the scorpion was there, waiting for him wherever he could ever be. The usher and the host, I suppose.

Leonard was only in his cage until the first night fell before Antares came back to visit him. It was the night after they had first met.

"Why did you do that to me?" he asked.

"It is my nature. And you told me to. I was afraid," she said.

"You never have to fear me. You're the most beautiful thing in this world. You are free. In this place and the place beyond here. I am kept here against my will. You can leave anytime you want."

"I would never want to leave here. This is my home," Antares said.

"I need to leave this place. I don't belong here," Leonard said.

The scorpion created a burrow at a corner of his cage. When he awoke in the night, she was there to greet him. They talked about life. She told him about her freedom. He told her about captivity and about the splendor of roaming freely in the grass lands. He shared encounters with an angry hippopotamus and talked about the danger of hidden crocodiles. He told her about love. She devoured his pests.

He told her how a lion's love is the purest in the land. She didn't agree. She protested, "A scorpion can love a lion in the way a lion can love another lion." And he knew she was right. Because Antares had the power of freedom and when you are free more options are available to you.

After Leonard recovered he adapted his sleeping pattern to spend every possible moment with his beloved Antares. They were the best of friends. Many days Antares burrowed deep into his mane to be away from the sun but still remain close to him.

At this point we were watching carefully. His nature had been suppressed, but it could not stay that way forever. Everyday he ate his food, and slept or played, he drank water, and whispered with Antares all night.

They would visit with us twice each night; after dusk and before dawn. We always loved our time with them. Antares, yes, but especially Leonard. He was one of us the way we were meant to be, not the way we are. A wild creature of power who earned nobility through his natural honor. Meanwhile, Antares brought out the best in Leonard. It is unfortunate Shells and myself cannot breed. Leonard would have made handsome cubs filled with his indomitable spirit.

"Who knows about the outside?" Leonard asked us one night.

I told him, "The Centaur. He is nameless. He visits on the bright moon that follows each equinox. You'll have to wait."
"I have to wait here?" he complained, "I need to escape."

All three of us looked at each other. He hadn't talked about escaping since he'd been stung.

He picked up on our reactions and said, "I've faith Antares will join me."

Antares said, "Even if I would go with you, how are you going to escape from this prison."

"You're going to help me. I can handle almost anything they can throw at me on my own, and if I should fail, then you, my love, will be there to defend me. Right? We can go be free and be together."

"We're free now, Leo. It might not feel like that. But we can be in love here without having to sting and maul the humans in blue."

"Can't you see that what they do to us is so much worse than anything we could do to them? Especially for freedom."

Antares scurried down Leonard's body and through the enclosure toward the boulders. Leonard walked only steps behind her. We could tell he was hurting. Perhaps the scorpion was being selfish, but they both viewed the world very differently. Antares knew their differences inherently, while Leonard couldn't seem to understand the limitations of their relationship. For Leonard to stay put in this pit would be more conducive for their love than for Antares to help him escape. They could perish beyond the zoo walls.

Their love was young. They enjoyed several black moons pretending there was no fundamental difference between them. Leonard blindly couldn't see it. Antares blatantly denied what her instincts told her was inevitable. She loved him because, with or without her, he was getting out. She knew he had a chance against the men in blue.

Leonard was unfortunately unaware that as the days went on, his desire to escape had been eclipsed by his desire to never be without Antares. And this is a testament to Leonard's feelings for her. Because not a moment went by that he didn't think about breaking out. But not half a moment went by when he didn't think about his love for the scorpion.

It was the first bright moon after the autumnal equinox. The night was well lit and the zoo mostly deserted when the nameless one walked past our enclosure. Leonard leaped to his feet atop the boulders and shouted at the barely visible figure of a horse with a man's torso, arms, hands, and head.

"Are there still lions roaming free out there?"

To which the figure replied, "Lions? Yes. But you are the last species of the big cats. The tigers, leopards, cheetahs, lynx, puma, and all the others have vanished, and some day soon the lions will, too. Most of you are like the sisters. Born to captivity in places like these."

"Where do I go when I leave here?"

"You will never leave this place. Regardless of your efforts. Antares cannot help you and you are ignoring that crucial fact. The only one who can help you is yourself. Embrace her femininity as though your life depends on it, because you are weak of will and won't have other options.

"You are a doomed lion. It is not your nature to do what is required."

Antares said, "Ask him about your health."

"Can I survive here?"

"Your body can adapt well enough. However, your spirit will shatter your mind. That is only a matter of time. And not a lot of time. You have one hope. Go within. There you will find Antares. Embrace her, cherish her. For you owe her your life and you always will. Yah save you, should you ever forget that."

His namelessness walked away as subtly as he approached. Leonard and Antares nestled into the soft mossy corner of our pit. They whispered softly their love and helped each other cope with the fear of an uncertain future. And for several days they stayed like that; with very low energy, and we could tell they were entirely wrapped up in each other. They resonated a dim hum of unification. Only when the moon's phase shifted to black did we begin to notice Leonard becoming restless.

Every day he bolted across the enclosure. He leaped up and over the rocks. He was off the wall, and even invading our space sometimes. He wanted us to attack him. I fought with him a few times. So did Shells. We rolled around. His intention wasn't malicious. He needed to verify that he could put opponents into submission.

The ideal situation would be for nothing to try and stop him. He could escape to the desert and search for more of his kind. And of course die before ever achieving that goal. Hurting the men in blue was in no way an option, anyhow. Too him, they were obstacles. To surmount with them, was to get in their heads, intimidate them, and make them panic. People go down easier than anything in the wild would. Except they use bullets like bees sting and are best avoided.

From the rock he could have jumped high enough. But he couldn't do both. He would need to push the boulder against the wall, which wasn't going to happen.

It was silent out; still completely dark. For Leonard, the sun had long been set. They'd been nestled atop his rock like any other night. He awoke from a nap and Antares walked along his spine to perch on his skull. He was sitting very still. Like the Sphinx; staring straight ahead.

"I'm going to jump onto the ledge," Leonard said.

"You can't do that," said Antares.

"It's something I have to do. I'm going to jump the wall and go."

"No. You can't do that. I won't be here when you get back. I can't watch you kill yourself," she said.

"Come with me. Dig into my mane. I will make it, and we will go."

"Ok. I will go with you if you jump over the ledge. If not, you will never see me again. Or, we can stay here. And no matter what, you will always have me. Trust me. I love you. I know what is best. Don't even try."

"Get in and hang on."

Antares did what she said she would. Leonard stretched and paced around the rock for a moment. Then he positioned himself, ran two steps, and jumped as far out and high as he could. One paw reached the highest point of the wall. As he dug in his claws his face smashed into the rock and his clutch came undone.

Lying in a heap at the bottom of the wall, he said, "Antares. You can't go. It is my nature. I love you. I'll never try that again, I swear. You are what matters most."

Antares heard him from overhead, standing on the wall looking down. She clickity clicked away without saying another word. He'd lost the only thing that mattered in this place. She couldn't tolerate his weakness.

Leonard couldn't accept imprisonment. To be a slave for amusement peddlers. Come one, come all, from far and wide, see the final wild ones before there are no more left. We are victims of a pointless tragedy. And that is a sad thing to know. We are the last of countless generations of victims. Someday the humans will make victims of themselves.

With so few of us, togetherness is important among most species in the zoo. Antares could not understand what was happening to Leonard. She had never been kept in a matchbox; a small clear dish with two others like herself, with a tight lid and no room to move.

Leonard's furry cheeks were covered in blood streaming down from his brow. His eyes were destitute. He sat up onto his hind legs and began moaning for Antares. He called her name, over and over. "Antares. Antares. Antares. Antares."

This drew the attention of the men in blue. They shined lights across his face and took him away to medical services. He wasn't the same after that. When he came back he wouldn't leave his cage. His body was sprawled out and weak. He was suffering in a way we didn't understand. The door was wide open, but he was under the influence of catatonia inducing medicines.

None of us knew where Antares had gone. We suspected she wasn't far. But no one knew. And Leonard was not doing well. He didn't look this bad after the sting. What was happening within him, we couldn't know. There is no way to know how another organism perceives the world. I learned this in Leonard but it is true for everything from blood sucking insects to lions to blood sucking humans.

Antares had become his heart. He loved her. They were as united as two creatures have ever been. It was love, and a recognition that in their ghosts they were one. She made a choice to not watch him die. When the time comes for Leonard's sun to rise again, Antares would be there. All as it should be. In life's own ways, patterns, and cycles.

Days wore on and the scorpion never came back. When we visited with him, he always asked us about her whereabouts. We couldn't tell him anything. He begged us to make an attempt to locate her. He was too ill to move around. The birds, or the bats, maybe they could help him. We were not going to interfere. And likely, the birds and the bats would not interfere either; for their own reasons.

Another week passed and he began to recover. He was eating again and no longer talking to us. He began lounging up top more often. He was silent. His eyes were lost. His movements were listless. His appetite was voracious. Occasionally he would steal portions of our meals. We didn't mind. We understood. He wasn't well.

His eyes never came back from the other place. His vision went with Antares, wherever she'd gone. However, through his own necessity, he did get active again. He stalked the free birds that appear sometimes, and he hopped the rocks all day every day. Waiting.

At night he watched the hoofed animals roam. He watched the bats fly freely at dusk. He fell asleep when the birds woke up in their coups. That was a routine of his.

Until one bright moon night, when we heard the clip clopping of horse hoofs approaching. The nameless one appeared as a silhouette in the moonlight; enormous, bare, and very interested in Leonard.

Leonard bolted to the high rock. He said, "Antares? Can you tell me where Antares is?"

"Antares is with the rams. Specifically, a dominant ram named Loser."

Leonard chuckled at the name then asked, "Will you release me?"

"I don't have the key. Otherwise I would."

"Reach out and grab me. I can make it."

The nameless thought about it for a moment then said, "Alright, let's get it over with."

He didn't say goodbye to us, or even look our way. He just stood up, positioned himself, and jumped out as far as he could toward the centaur, whose outstretched hand grabbed hold of Leonard, and used powerful horse muscles to create momentum to throw him roughly onto the trail. When Leonard was beyond the ledge we ran up the tall rocks to see what was going to happen.

He thanked his namelessness, bounded immediately over the short wooden fence into the Ram enclosure, and demanded to see Antares. The animals living there awoke simultaneously and scattered.

Several of the adults immediately approached him. They stood ready to headbutt him and wouldn't let him pass to the mouth of the cave where Loser stood. Without thinking twice Leonard attacked the rams; slapping them hard in their faces or gripping them by the waists and throwing them far out of his way.

"Hey Loser. I need to talk to Antares," he said.

Loser stepped forward from the shadow, "That can't be allowed."

"Says you. Tell her I'm here. I know she is here. Antares! I don't want to escape this place anymore. I want to live here in the zoo, with you!"

The other Rams were regaining their composure and orienting themselves in a circle around Leonard. I heard the owls calling for peace. The lambs clustered and whimpered. The herds of zebra and buffalo watched from their range, grateful the trouble was happening to someone else.

"You have to go," Loser said.

"No. I don't want to fight you. Any of you. This is between me and the scorpion I love."

"No. We are between you and the scorpion you love. Antares is ours now. We are happy here."

"How? How can you be happy here? Locked away in this tiny pen? There is a whole world out there and you graciously accept incarceration?"

"That's not relevant. You don't understand that what Antares want's is a warm body to gather the insects she feeds on. Your connection, love, is meaningless. I love Antares, as well."

"You're wrong. She wants more. She wants power. Look around you. All this, for her to show me how wrong I behaved? I get it. She wanted my strength and I gave her my weakness."

Leonard was quiet for a moment. He looked around at the smaller rams. He saw the centaur watching from the fence in the moonlight. Then he looked closely at Loser. An ugly beast with stupid eyes and thick curling horns. His bulk was impressive for his kind, but hardly intimidating to a lion.

He reiterated his demand, "Please. Let me speak to her. I will be quick."

"We won't allow that. She doesn't wish to speak to you."

"I don't believe that."

"Go away."

All around him the three smaller rams were tensing up. Leonard saw this. He looked closely at the cave hoping to see his beloved and saw nothing. He sighed in defeat, then faked a sudden movement. The first ram lunged at him. Leonard lifted it high into the air and slammed it yelping down to the ground. He wrapped his jaws around the base of the ram's throat, bit down once, and the animal went limp.

Another butted into his backside. This sent Leonard spinning. He turned and snapped onto the beasts face with his teeth, locked the body, and twisted the skull until the neck snapped. Immediately, he dropped the corpse and his claws flew through the air into Loser, who had been charging. But the remaining smaller defender had lined up and bolted into Leonard's ear. After the blow, Leonard was wavering and unsteady. The large ram butted into his ribs, sending Leonard spinning.

He arose and ran to a safe distance away. A flock of sheep scurried to the other end of the pen. Leonard shook his head over and over and stepped to and fro in place. He caught sight of the rams waiting for him to make his next move. Leonard roared loudly. We heard it. Every creature in the zoo heard.

My sister and I looked at each other. We could hear his anguish. We could hear his pain. We could see the frightened rams. They looked to each other. They looked to the sheep as though they wouldn't ever see them again.

Leonard attacked the rams. He ran through the little one and into the big one, flipping Loser on his back with a shoulder. Leonard roared again as he muscled Loser's head back and gored his teeth into the throat. The smaller ram meekly limped away toward the sheep. Loser kicked and flailed and Leonard didn't let go. Eventually, the ram wasn't moving. The bellows of a choking throat became weaker and fainter.

When Loser finally fell limp, Antares dug herself out of his wool. She crawled onto Leonard's side and stung him once close to the heart with a full injection of venom. He shrieked and jumped back off the dead creature.

He said to her, "I wanted to love you."

Antares said, "You did. You do. This wasn't about love. You wanted to be free. And now you will be. Wait for me in the next place. I will meet you there."

"I don't want to be free. I want you. And I can't believe that at the end, I've lost my respect for the only one I've ever admired."

Leonard couldn't survive a second sting from Antares. Right then and there his heart stopped, he went to sleep and he never woke up. It is troubling we cannot know if he is truly with the lighter part of Antares in the place where we west.

When the men in blue came to clean up the dead, they found a scorpion perched on Leonard's body. They captured Antares and placed her in a small glass box in an exhibit with others of her kind. They call her the Lion Killer.

She is still alive to this day, no longer free. The nameless tells us she talks about Leonard. She says that the events could not have happened any other way. It was nature. Leonard wanted to be free and wouldn't live in a cage. The scorpion's home was his prison. It was the misfortune of the rams that they fell in love.

I think he could have transformed his nature for Antares and lived a long life in this zoo. But Antares knew him better than I did and she didn't believe he could. Not one for second chances, that girl. And merciless, too. We can't know what Leonard would have done, because he is gone. All we know is that Antares' judgment was constantly swift and final.

We'll miss him and never forget him. We won't forget how he wasn't one of us. He was always free, even when he was here. It wasn't starvation or disease that killed him, like the other wild ones. It was love.

Leonard was a lover of freedom and of Antares. It was a deadly kind of love that killed him. Love, to have a lover, demands full attention at all times. If love does not come first, or the love of an intangible comes before the love of another, love will be undone.

$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$

Eclipsed

This happened during the holidays in a place I know too well. This happened in the area I call home. A running theme.

If you're an American you probably know similar places. We live in a district. Our district is three towns in a semicircle surrounding another more important and ominous place called Hookville.

We live quiet lives out in these woods; these towns sharing a beat down meat grinder high school that has begun dissolving it's affairs.

In this story there are really only two characters. Primarily, the Departed himself. Secondarily, everyone else.

At the beating heart of this community there is a Family. A beautiful and pure all American group of great People.

In a world with scum like me there is a counter balancing force of kind people who represent the best of us. The rest of us will never understand what it is to be truly civil. There are no literary references pertaining to this Family and they cannot accurately be given an honest or worthy pseudonym because to do so is why I'm writing this.

Two Sisters, One Brother, each sibling with a Significant Other.

There is the Father in tears, the Strongest Man the Brother has ever known. And I am assured, that which will matter most is their strength and vitality; the living essence as so divinely expressed through this Family. The Mother must be beside herself.

Let's call them the Harbingers. They live in Steinbeck.

The Oldest Sister just got married. I remember that because I saw photos of their family posted on the internet a month or two ago.

Before this moves forward, you need to know that contained in the wedding pictures of the Harbingers there were two Sons.

I'm going to tell you what I know and do it from the beginning. I am going to surf the envelope of full disclosure and the disclosures I will take to the grave.

I woke up one snowy and warm winter day to the eerie news that my friend's Brother was no longer alive.

I even had to check to verify His proper name. I had always called him, 'Little Brother.' It is the will of a Greater Force I will continue to do so; in these written words. In my life He got a first name as soon as I learned what that name was. He was by no means Little Brother anymore to me.

Meanwhile, the entire internet presence of our district was rallying around the Harbingers in their time of crisis. The outcry alone was of an incredible significance and should not be forgotten ever. Because it felt right when we left messages to the Deceased and said our goodbyes electronically, together.

My friend, Older Bro, is the most kindhearted guy I've ever known and had just had his Brother torn away from him. I didn't know what to do except to send Older Bro a message with my kind condolences in it. At the end of the message I asked what had happened to the dearly departed Little Brother.

I'd guessed it were a military thing. How I knew Little Brother made me figure that to be the logical conclusion. He could have been in the military as easy as the next guy, I presumed.

But in the back of my head I knew enough about the world to know it were likely a car wreck, and even more likely, considering our District, a drug thing or a suicide, because we are pretty good drivers out here. We get the driving skills from flying through the foggy woods on windy icy roads year in and out. But we get the drugs from Hookville .

Big Bro wrote me back telling me Little Brother had shot himself.

A Kid everybody loved. A Kid renowned for smiling.

***

I knew of someone who took their own life like a whisper.

We live in Castaneda. Once, a guy, of about 26, up the street from me was facing life in jail because the internet had gotten him into trouble due to his taste in young girls. That guy, who used to sell me drugs, hung himself before the trial; a sexual predator. No one said anything, a drugged out sex freak was dead. But I wager no one wanted it to come to that. This is something I would have rather not mentioned.

***

The Little Harbinger Brother was a tragedy. He was only nineteen years old and came from a wonderful Family. All of them good people in every sense. Our community's stomach dropped when we heard.

You could feel this Beautiful Person's death in the electricity of the winter weather. We all felt the planet Mercury stop in it's tracks as it turned retrograde.

We were reacting to a simultaneous lunar eclipse moving into position. An event so profound it blocked out the usual ebb and flow of our day in day out lives. Like the entire planet gasps for air. An eclipse in the sign of Cancer. The sign of the Moon. The sign of the mother.

A writer, having not experienced the event, could spend an entire career speculating on what goes on in the life of a mother when she loses her son. I can't hardly grasp the notion. I'll say one thing, though. It's a lot like an eclipse.

I sent Big Bro a C. Bukowski poem about suicide that had been posted on a writer's site.

He wrote me back saying, in effect; 'He'd wished he had called me to ask how I was doing when he worried about me, the same way he wished someone had called his Little Brother and asked questions when they worried.'

His making mention to my personal struggles made me feel more comfortable to offer him insight using my own experience. This- among other omitted things- is what I had to say:

...on some level everyone knows that your Bro made a choice for Himself. And through his choice he took all of his sadness and pain and gave it to you and your family and everyone He ever touched. ...it was too much pain for one person to bear and now everybody has a piece of his pain, and your Brother has no pain at all.

Those words soon became important because they had actually helped Older Bro to cope some. He even shared them with his Mother. Which was what I was going for, I guess, helping, but still a goal I had no expectations of achieving.

Who am I in the darkness of their lives? Can they still hear condolences? Can they feel a comforting touch? The grief beat from this family like blood through the veins of our community. I wondered, why Older Brother?

Then I began to understand a certain mesmerizing notion: People experience death as a microcosmic event clouded by the unexpected.

Writing from our district's pineal gland.

I told Older Brother to call me up sometime and went back about my life.

But Little Brother stayed on my mind. When I met up with other local Friends He was on their minds, too. So many Friends have Brothers in this circle of people. It could have been any of theirs.

A Harbinger? How does it happen to the Harbingers?

I can tell you about this in the same way I first learned the sobering reality. What the drug scene will say is a wake up call. Like a loud rumor.

I had assumed Little Brother went away because he was depressed. That was my rationale speaking again; depressed people kill themselves. But assumptions don't know anything.

If I listened to the silent knowledge I would have remembered that there is an old secret out in our district: All the kids out here are on drugs.

I did drugs. I still do drugs. My friends do drugs. Not Older Bro, but my other friends. And just about anyone out here with a little brother has a little brother doing drugs.

But one person's life is not another person's life. Our lives out here are quiet. We are mysteries to each other. That's why older people spend wakes discussing each other.

As far as I knew, Little Brother was a Harbinger. If someone asked me about what He was doing the day before He died (Which was Christmas by the way. The day before? Follow?) I would have assumed He was in college or the military. Assumptions don't know anything.

How many of us turn to drugs? No one could count that kind of number. But why? Because we live on the edge of Hookville, is a reason. Heroin Town, USA. That's why.

When I go to catch up with old Friends they spend two hours searching for a vein. Clean or dirty, or clean then dirty. These are the rumors of our district. They are quiet perceptions hoping to be forgotten.

Luckily, I am not writing to talk about rumors. I am talking about a good Kid. One with good values, Friends and loved Ones. Someone who could have done so much more with his decidedly short life.

Seriously, the bad things he was doing prior to the worse things he did, toward the end, are practically a social norm out here depending on when you were born. It hits harder some years than others. We are. We live. We die. Everybody.

Don't blame dope on the dealers and the users, blame it on the lawmakers. Our land ain't free. In a free country this wouldn't happen. Prohibition causes this. Opium is just a poppy plant.

I talked to Older Brother about this. The useless drug wars? Maybe legalize everything is a better idea. These drugs pollute the cities because they are not controlled and taxed.

Trying out your options- where we live- and you are trying out your luck. It is not uncommon for somebody to get hooked on pain killers, is it? Some of those people hooked on pain killers are people like my Friends. The problem is pain killers are kept under lock and key and not always available. Which might not mean a lot to the average American, but for the user this situation becomes a very serious roadblock when they start getting sick.

Heroin does a few things well. It creates criminals for consumption by the prison industrial complex. And it kills people. It ruins lives. Like cocaine with other crowds, and crystal meth in the midwest.

Older Bro pointed out that going to prison is much better than being dead. In a way it is a second chance for some people.

However inhumane prison might be...

I never knew anyone going through serious grief until I started talking to Older Brother. Or I did, but I didn't recognize it until I saw the same features in someone I knew better. TV never gets it right.

He told me things I will remember forever and never repeat to another soul. That's all I can say about our conversation.

One thing that happened after we talked, I feel he would want me to include is this, bear with me: OB said the bullet had gone through the side of the head and Little Brother was alive for twenty minutes afterward.

On the street I heard a rumor, that the gun went in through the mouth and He was alive 20 minutes afterward. It seemed like the kind of little thing that should be corrected. So, with friends, I rearranged the story how it had been told to me by Older Brother.

I will never forget this period of time. A transformation happened. I'll bet it goes deep into humanity, too. News reports have to be covering, or covering up, some major events in the world. Maybe somewhere all hell is breaking out. Because this is the first major omen I've encountered in my life.

To get far out with it.

It was time for the wake.

I got picked up at home by two good Friends of mine. We were three good Friends of Older Brother. Three good mourners of Little Brother. We went to the wake.

It had snowed again. Like that song "Rain When I Die" by Alice In Chains. My job was plowing, and I caused a lot of mayhem just to get out of work and go with my Friends unified, instead of alone later.

We drank whiskey on the way, saddened by the loss of the Harbinger, and because of what Little Brother actually meant: He was a Little Brother to all of us. My Friends knew it. I was learning it.

The extensive parking lot was crammed with vehicles and we parked parallel to the back snow bank.

Then, on the way into the wake I saw about the funniest bumper sticker of my life, it read, "I Love Boobies." And suddenly I was cracking up laughing with my other Friend that saw the sticker, thinking how inappropriate it was at the time. I look back at the amusing words like maybe that was Little Brother and the Great Spirit letting us know to smile, for we are still alive. This Kid was Smiles. I never knew a kid who smiled like I saw Him smiling.

I think I was lucky enough to know the Deceased at a really enjoyable time in his life, back in 2007 when maybe He was 16 or 17.

The last time I saw him was about 5 seconds before being viciously attacked by about six guys at a party. I hope He liked witnessing that spectacle. Maybe I helped to create an exciting moment for Him, at that time.

There was a white haired door Man with some serious class. Homeboy didn't say anything to me when I thanked him, but later said, "Good Afternoon" to some old ladies. I have a lot of respect for a Man like that. The time he put in at that environment, in life in general, too; being surrounded by death long enough to be comfortable around it?

I had no idea.

Packed into the funeral home there was a rush of faces, known and unknown, but familiar in sadness. We shook hands and returned to quiet awe. I was struck by the images of Little Brother displayed. He was so very alive. I felt compelled to look into the picture and try to understand. My Friends were around me but I think we each felt somewhat more alone. I signed the guest book and then I had to find Older Brother.

Older Bro, is an equipment operator for a good company down South. I've known him for a long time and I can't speak highly enough of him. He is a phenomenal guitarist and taught me some fundamentals when we were really young. We all kind of learned guitar together but Older Bro took to the instrument in a spectacularly talented way and led the rest of us in many facets. He also had the sickest new model GTO I've ever encountered.

Older Bro was his Little Brother's hero and I completely understand why.

In a sea of suits and ties, dresses and gowns, I spotted him wearing a deep blue soccer jersey that shimmered. I wasn't even aware he was surrounded by his Family. He was grief stricken and his face showed it. I had to be close to him. To see him, to hold him, and try to understand.

I approached him and immediately became literally dizzied by their sadness, like standing in a crop circle, I didn't know what to say or what was happening around me. All I could think about was my friend. There was a vortex among his family. The sadness and loss of our entire community had a center in this very spot. I hugged Him twice, told him we'd talk some other time, and walked back to my Friends.

I oriented myself to the ceremony. At the head of the room were beautiful photos of Little Brother and a single white rose. I saw no casket nor urn.

I encountered the Mother and shook her hand, she may have hugged me, I said, "He was amazing." She agreed, "He was amazing."

There wasn't a lot of eyes meeting as far as my experience went. I could see how that might be a side effect. I shook the Father's hand, "Sorry for your loss." The Oldest Daughter knew my name, which made me feel special. "Sorry for your loss." Brother In Law, "Sorry for your loss."

I know now why people use standard words and phrases in that situation: The words aren't there.

I gave Older Bro another hug, and said, "So sorry man."

I met his pretty Girlfriend. They've got two daughters together, a baby and a toddler, if I remember correctly. "Nice to meet you, so sorry."

The Little Sister was weary of me for any of about a dozen good reasons. But she has been dating this Goodfella I was in a few grades with. It was nice to see him and they were a beautiful match.

One could see that this Family- who are not, and never could be, a pseudonym- were operating on different wavelengths.

The greatest evidence of the Departed's life after death was what I witnessed happening within the Family. Death. A hole. You quite possibly, likely even, know better than I what I was experiencing.

I went toward a back doorway, past the filled seats, to stand in awe. I noticed the people, mostly the older people in the back, talking about new things in each other's lives, and sure, why not?

Certain crowds were nearly silent. While everyone knew everyone.

Smoking a cigarette out front we cracked jokes about the Junky they just kicked out. That kid was walking across the parking lot. One inner voice was saying to go assail knowledge out of Him for Older Bro's peace of mind, but I wouldn't have known where to begin with that kind of project. There were about six of Us having the same dilemma of mind. After a cigarette I went back past the excellent Doorman.

I wish I could express, right now, here, disdain for this other old Friend I don't much appreciate, anymore... But life's too short.

Whatever, Everyone in that place was feeling the Wake in their own way.

If I had to guess, looking at it from the back of the room, I would say that if Little Brother were anywhere in this place He would be beyond the vortex of The Family. I watched the point where the expressions being taken in by them were going; they were going to the Darkness. I've heard of Shamans calling it the Dark Sea of Awareness.

The awareness they reference is what others mean when they say we live and die as a means of the Universe to perceive itself. Buddhists, say that, among others. Everything He ever was in this life was being pulled into and through The Family from across great distances. It was all going to the same place; wherever the Deceased is. He was the source of the profound emotional gravity.

The way that He was loved.

There was a wonderful poem on the card's they handed out. A particularly nice line was, "For Nothing Loved Is Ever Lost."

Before I really knew what hit me, we were leaving. I was so dazed I would have walked right out of that place. But a Friend suggested goodbyes were in order. And I said goodbye to the Little Sister's Other and stood in line quickly to get to Older Brother. I hugged him again, and promised to get in touch. That was that. I haven't seen him yet, since. It's been a couple days. He's leaving the state about the same day I am going in a different direction for different reasons: Basic astrology.

I turned to leave and the Mother caught me by the hands. She knew my name, and that made me feel honored. She thanked me for the kind words I had written about her Son, and about his Death. She paraphrased what I'd said. I was speechless but managed to choke out that I couldn't imagine what She was going through. It's a tragedy. The Mother hugged me and I remembered the point I wanted to make, I said, "If this could happen to the Harbingers, it could happen to anybody."

In her eyes I saw Little Brother as a Son, vaguely spinning, and nothing else. A droplet of water ran down her cheek and the grief was in her flesh.

I thought about the nature of her tears. Were they dehydrating her?

There is no way to describe how I noticed that her frailty was clearly the result of the Person missing. What medicine could ever help her?

Is She the reason why they call death The Great Equalizer? The Eclipsed Mother? After we go we become the same. Profound loss is too great of a force on a living mind.

I witnessed it. Then I went on my separate way. We left the Wake.

Afterward, my Friends and I talked fairly extensively about Little Brother.

We poured some nice Belgian beer for Him but I found myself wondering if He even liked beer.

I think doing things for the Dead is a good way to appreciate them. I like that People do that. He is going to have a bench in His memory on a trail in Steinbeck and I think it will be beautiful.

Birth, Beauty, Love, Death. Are these the seasons of our lives?

There was a lot of confusion about what happened to Him.

It's not my place to gossip. But I will say something: I assumed a sadness had done it, maybe a girl. I was wrong. Little Brother caught a sickness and it killed him. It pulled him down so hard he burst through the great divide and like that was gone.

Imagine what it must feel like to come to that point in your life. The lonesomeness of his Earthbound finality. There are rumors that shed light on His final moments. I won't repeat them. But they exist. I will say that as far as I have ascertained, I believe it was the intense pressure that pushed him through to the other side.

This has been about what I witnessed. What I felt from my proximity. All I really wanted to say is that no matter how much this experience touched me, the Family is all that matters. I cannot fathom the nature of that vortex among them.

I saw my Friend searching for answers and I tried to write some. In my heart I know these words will go straight into that vortex where they belong. Maybe Our Gone Loved One will experience them in a different way than You and I.

I've learned that One Person's Little Brother can be so many things to so many people. This spiral of events and emotions emanates from, and returns to, the Family. We were touched by the effect.

The significant metaphysical statement to make is this: The most direct access point to that place where He is from this world is through his Mother. Though I could never say how accessible that place actually is. If you want to get close to Him, to best way is through his Family. I believe He will be with them for their entire lives. His gravity will be immense for quite some time but the power will subside eventually.

The effect of his absence will become a channel to his 'missing' essence in those sharing his blood. They will always have access to some incomprehensible aspect of him. Love can be delivered. Messages can be sent.

In His Mother there will be an epicenter of this other side activity. Always swirling and moving; right now very turbulent.

Emotional discomfort is a gateway to be moved through. There is much on the other side if only we don't turn away from our pain. Their strongest feelings are their strongest connections to Him. Direct links like sadness and love.

It was my privilege to write this.

You were a Little Brother to Us. Your Brother is still a Brother to Us. We all felt You go. You made it snow. We will all honor your memory and I am sorry You became a casualty of Our society. I'll never know You. But I still want to.

$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$

Giving in to the hives, or perhaps flea bites. About two weeks ago my skin condition was in remission and it occurred to me that I was no longer itchin'. Only then did the bites come back to harass me. Red dots that sometimes bleed, and other times never break through the skin, yet always seem to itch with the fury of a troop of army ants; appearing hourly on my hands, shins, calves, wrists, forearms, and one under my eye. There might be a turmoil in my life manifesting under my skin or there might be a mite infestation at my job. Either way, an itching screaming agony is existing. Something has gotten under my skin. Can I get worker's compensation for this? I've been dreaming of roaches, enormous ones. I've been dreaming of twisters throwing houses across the town. I have been dreaming of driving along and watching as the car in front of me swivels and swerves and skids and slides off the road. I keep driving, of course. But then the next car I see does the same thing. It's nighttime and the taillights leave trails in my vision as I see though a sort of dirty, sort of foggy, windshield. Soon another car tailspins off the side of the road. I think to put my seatbelt on but focus on driving instead. My steering wheel locks and the ass end of my car spins out. I am going into a tree and can do nothing to stop it. I wake myself up terrified and realizing I am alone and there is no girlfriend to comfort me. Never before had I realized how much I treasure human comfort after a nightmare. Whether it was my mother's comfort when I was younger or my lover's when I got older. Also, I can recall adolescence when neither applied and I was alone in the middle of the night. Last night felt a lot like that. Going to sleep at 1:00 PM, waking from a nightmare at 1:00 AM, and sleeping until 7:55 AM. When I wake up to festering thoughts about calling a beautiful clerk from Dakota Title Loans named Serenity. I don't know her. We made small talk about a month ago when I first took the loan out. Then two weeks ago when I paid it back there were four or five other people working there and I didn't get to talk to her. But the fellow that took my money was a young absentminded shmuck who gave me 17 Dollars change back instead of the 3 he owed me. I've been wondering if I should use the incident to make small talk over their company phone and then ask her for her personal number. I don't want to be chastised by strangers for acting on a basic human urge. She has green hair and dresses in black. Obviously, she is my type. If I don't take every chance to meet a girl then I have no chance at all. This is South Dakota. These girls are farmer's daughters. They like sports way too much. They like country music way too much. They are unrefined, boring, dull, awkward, simple, fat, butter-faced, and undesirable. Not all of them, but most of them. My love life cannot afford to pass up Serenity. A diamond in the ruff. You have never been as itchy as I am. If someone came through the door and shot me in the face, my only regret would be not being able to thank them for putting me out of my misery. This itching agony is the equivalent of a broken bone's pain, only spread out over my body rather than localized in one place. What was done to me was unacceptable; a certain betrayal mentioned in other pages. But the aftermath of her betrayal has been a deep, seething, throbbing, loneliness. I swore to never associate with her again. Not until I need something at least. Except I think that thing I would need is company. Fuck that. Fuck her. There is a dorky, Dungeons and Dragons type, guy from work I can hang out with tomorrow. He's alright. He is a good source of general information but probably not decent wingman material. If given enough free time, he would be dressing up like Napoleon and having sword fights in the park with other dorks. I hope the beer and Scotch will dull the itching some. If not, at least I'll pass out when I'm drunk enough. Alcohol helps me feel connected to people of antiquity. We humans have been intoxicating ourselves for centuries and millenniums. What is it about the human awareness that causes this habit? Spirits are in the spirits. For all of us. That's why alcoholism is in our blood. Down through the generations. Like vampires, we drink and cannot help what we become. Is my ex getting fucked by another man? How alone can one ever truly be? There are dozens of people within hundreds of feet of me. There is even a social event at my apartment complex this evening. The event is centered around food, of course. I don't want people seeing me eat. They will be old, anyhow. I can drink at one of two bars down the street, but they'll just take my money. It seems like words, music, a cat, and alcohol are all I have. This will change. I am simply at a low point and I intend to wait it out. How long will I be waiting for? Nobody knows. Nobody cares but me. Maybe you. Maybe not. I've hung CDs from the wall. 20 circular disks reflecting orange X-mas lights and misery. I would love some company. I wonder why harmonicas are so cheap. They seem complex in their design but must be simple enough to manufacture and distribute. Soon I will reach the point where there is nothing left to say. I hope to push through it and just keep writing. The alcohol is saturating my blood and dulling my person. I might be asleep soon. Maybe flowers would make my life better. Probably not. There is a girl I am in love with whom I have never met save for conversations on the internet. She is like me in ways no one has ever been. She even shares my birthday, though she is a year older. It is sad. There is someone out there for me. When people say that there is someone out there for you they are not lying. Just remind them that that person is 1500 miles away. And married. The walls are getting smaller in my wishes. They are crushing me to death in my wishes. But, in actuality, they are not moving at all. I am beginning to hate my free time in the same way I hate work. I need to go get a battery to tune my guitar with. I would do it right now, but I am drunk. Driving drunk is the reason I am in this mess. My whole life is a mess, or a disaster rather, caused by a drunken hurricane. There is no one to blame but myself and the law makers. Food, however, is fulfilling. I can order twice as much pizza and hot wings as I could ever eat. And gorge myself two times. Gorging myself somehow alleviates the pain of existing. There is a gun hanging on my wall, and I seldom forget that I could eat a bullet and be done with this. I used to slash tires and batter mailboxes with some kids I knew in Hartford. Reckless youth sounds good right about now. I should be working on a screenplay. Too bad my life is so chaotic. There is a depressing restlessness that will not allow me to write what I need to be writing. I can only write things like what you've just read. As I watch the blood flow from a million tiny itchy points on my forearm.

A rain drop like a tear falls into stillness/ An unnatural event of stillness/ The humans are visible from/ 300 feet above the Earth's surface/ Clusters of dark skinned young ones move like schools of fish/ All this rain drop has ever done was flow, rise, fall, and flow/ Fluidity, evaporation, condensation, velocity, and impact/ Now/ By an upward pressure this rain drop has come to a halt/ A standstill, an uneasy rest/ A gaseous existence/ Far off toward the horizon blackened seagulls circle/ The other rain drops begin falling in countless numbers/ The sun has been shut out in this area/ Overcast skies stretch far beyond the blackened gulls/ The children begin to flow from the wooded area/ Toward the shelter giving structures/ The humans often react in such a fashion/ The other rains create turbulent disruptions in the air/ Falling past this droplet as it just hangs there/ Suspended indefinitely without understanding or care/ Or rather, with a different understanding and care/ Lightening cracks past, close, and connected to the ground/ Orange sparks leap from a tree followed by thunder sound/ The tree splits and like the other rain drops falls down down down/ And, while not so much in the sky,/ The wind has accelerated below/ The branches shift, sway, and blow/ The storm will continue to grow/ Lightening shoots across the sky/ Glowing and forming jagged currents/ From above, an impact shatters the rain drop/ Throwing it an equal and opposite distance/ Another droplet has merged with the first/ So the rain drop has grown but still not fallen/Also, the hail has begun/ Falling in sharp cuts through the sky by the rain drop/ And from a ways away comes a rumble beyond thunder/ Something else... highly pressured and of a solid chaotic presence/ And the mass is moving/ Far off houses toward the water's edge begin to splinter/ They come apart and the pieces blow away in the deadly wind/ Below, their cars are tumbling through their streets/ Another droplet collides with the first/ Purple and blue showers of sparks dance across the landscape/ Power lines explode one by one/ Almost making a sound through the prominent roar/ Houses below come apart and blow away/ A single person flies over several streets/ Colliding with a building of red brick/ Planks of wood, shards of metal,/ Leafy tree limbs, flapping vinyl siding,/ Broken glass shimmering in the lightening,/ Scared small animals and humans silently screaming/ Drifting through the air/ They fly through the air/ A gas station explodes and whips fire through the debris/ Suppressed fires burn muted without understanding or care/ Or rather, with a different understanding and care/ Another droplet collides with the rain drop/ Something gives/ The rain drop is taken by the wind/ The ground grows larger and larger, as usual/ Decimated houses grow larger and larger/ Though much else is blurred/ Only flames and lightening stand out/ And the deep green of healthy grass/ Of which the drop of rain collides with a single blade/ Dripping into a small pool below

$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$

We don't get them like you in the wasteland/ The scum of the earth, that's what they call us/ We do what we can. Your wish, my command./ I will show you and will honor your trust/ I wasn't ready either; that's nature/ Behold the high priestess and her magi/ With you here this glass ball is crystal clear/ Not clouded like a dogs cataract eye/ On this side of fate the nerves will vibrate/ Ask me for world peace and you will have it/ An end to the perpetual debate/ Let me lift you up out of this snake-pit/ This national charade cannot end well/ We belong transcended, beyond the hell

$$$$$

India is not a nation no more/ The calm in her heart is primordial/ From her highest peak to her sandy shore/ India has become ethereal/ On the day before tomorrow we met/ Transcending the phantasmagorical/ She was more than I could ever expect/ Thus appeared her aura so auroral/ India is like my aspirations/ To be so true, so supreme, so special/ To attain such compassion/ If her and I could be on the level/ Of India, Karma, and affinity:/ Serendipity is divinity

$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$

It seems she has fallen into prickles/ She struggles to get out, to no avail/ We lost her out there, beyond the veil/ The poor dear, she walked into a pit fall/ Fingers reaching through bud and piercing spike/ We see her struggling but simply can't aid/ She followed her heart and, so, too far strayed/ As she cleared her mind on a peaceful hike/ It is well known that the young girl survived/ And that she is with the lowlanders now/ She waves us hello from the flower beds/ They saved her, after her dive, and she thrived/ They taught her harmonious oneness/ Down below is where the fallen girl treads

$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$

You are like water to a throat that's dried/ Like food to famine; like air to the flow/ Like the moon to the shifting ocean tide/ You are like the above to my below/ I will confide, I crave what you provide/ Since girls slip away like hourglass sands/ I'm the page; abandoned, and cast aside/ Torn apart by torrid laws and lost lands/ A shriveled heart comes alive and expands/ Promising what it can at this juncture/ All I want is for you to understand/ I can only offer you conjecture/ We will become half of one happily/ And liberate the people dreamily

$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$

The atmosphere was murky and windy/ With intoxication in the ether/ That's where I was at when I saw Indy/ And sensed she was infinitely fresher/ Purity drifting through dismal wormholes/ As an infant afraid underwater/ At this festering sore, soiree of soul/ India, these moments define lovers/ When you entered my energy field/ Two minds aligned to view supreme vision/ The people disappeared and concealed/ Alone, we remained in the excision/ To witness that scene for it's true nature/ You are like me, and we are the future

$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$

I can't describe what is waiting for you/ Where we are going they know no sorrow/ Together we will dare to break on through/ It is our western frontier to debut/ We will leave breadcrumbs for them to follow/ I can't describe what is waiting for you/ For us; we'll forget what we thought we knew/ A part of the void, like a graveyard crow/ Together we will dare to break on through/ You're one. I'm one. As one, this is our two/ Gifted with thousands of sweet tomorrows/ I can't describe what is waiting for you/ And I regret I can't offer you clues/ You will have to listen for the echoes/ Together we will dare to break on through/ Princess, your soft mystique is fair and true/ The death system is ours to overthrow/ I won't say what I want to do to you/ Together we will dare to break on through

$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$

Every writer is dead to the page/ We create something false/ All fiction is fake/ All fiction is dead/ Never once alive/ We manufacture/ Your thoughts/ Spending our own/ Nothing in return/ Nothing but despair/ Hopes become despair/ Phases end in failure/ Otherwise,/ they last forever/ Texts to be discovered/ From a dead author/ Who wrote them/ After he crossed over/ Death is a funny thing/ It's always happening/ Except right now,/ It's choking/ And look at this page/ It's like when I first started/ Completely lost/ And broken hearted/ I thought I did so much good/ If I ever understood/ To come first, I should/ Put others first, I would/ Now, late, I feel I could/ The problem was I did it for you/ A readership who may never exist/ You are a damned miracle to me/ All things considered/ You're becoming meaningless/ The writing is dead/ The reactions in you are you/ They've nothing to do with me/ I am dying or dead/ I know this to be true

$$$$$$$$

Blood becomes pulp in Merlot/ The most romantic moment/ Is still pathetic when you're alone/ The left hand gets fleshy/ Bloated and weak/ The right hand gets a complex/ As though it's been challenged/ This razor is sharp and capable/ These veins are anxiously waiting/ For the right amount of pressure/ Venules will bleed but/ Arteries will gush/ One final rush/ To maybe hear a song/ Or to maybe pull the bong/ The lumpy Merlot/ Is ingested and gone/ The red plastic cup/ Is white inside/ Except where it is not/ Trails of dried blood/ Coagulated/ Waiting to rot/ So much like myself/ The medicines/ Have thickened my plasma/ And I can't even bleed right/ Deeper and deeper/ My flesh is like mush/ Like cutting into mud/ And what about the meds?/ They will be the death of me/ At least alcoholics get to live/ Go within they say/ And have never been/ There is an abyss/ A maddening void/ I'd do anything/ To escape from

$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$

Wake up to addictions/ Fast on chemicals and water/ Smoke too much poison/ Drink too much toxin/ Or not enough/ Vitality is what's inside/ Eat pills and wait days/ That coin has two sides/ What decisions?/ Forget it, and get high/ Where isn't last refuge?/ Don't leave the death cave/ Under a rock there is delay/ Unnerved by the way/ Next week isn't real/ Remember earlier?/ The dream could only be felt/ Recall it was vaguely of love?/ The right one for once/ Take off the headphones/ There's a cat cry to mind/ Earlier, strung out and upset/ To the very last second/ SSRI's aren't a joke/ Control lost, it is serious/ Wake up intending to work/ Then don't move for hours/ Pages are for others/ There can be no identity/ In what is most personal/ We are one person, after all/ I'm your wrist that bleeds/ You're my hand that cuts

$$$$$$$$$$$$$$

Let me tell you about a hidden place and time/ Let me show you the criminals inside/ And remind you why you love your life/ Multiple reflections on various surfaces shine with the shadows of the space between light/ Criminals are characters to some/ But to these eyes they are merely space between light/ Here we are alone together/ Discussing injuries but not the weather/ And some assholes harass you/ To get their own measure/ Or to show you how clever/ A person with nothing to lose can be/ And my eyes see the silent unity/ Of a very unhappy family/ Born to a hostile reality/ With our action as fathers/ And township interpretations as mothers/ And government reactions to our actions bring us here/ Into an afterbirth of greed that bleeds through the paperwork/ Criminal dockets are cash in pockets/ My wish is for them to stop dealing in human misery/ But wishes don't guarantee charity/ I get my charity from the hilarity of clever assholes with decent measures of rude humor/ And a good lawyer/ I watch the doomed prison dwellers harass one another/ They argue and banter forever and ever/ While my eyes reside in proximity to a cautious mind/ Obviously/ I would feel so terrible if I couldn't hide behind this pencil/ These little pencils/ As incomprehensible as a gathering destiny swirling/ These little pencils say nothing about the rest of me/ With an ego impossible to ignore/ Shun me or run from me/ I am the scorpion lion/ Just try to see what we all see/ A world of beauty and misery/ Of love and tragedy/ An abstract consistency connected by destiny/ Through our eyes/ To a separate reality

$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$

Searching for new roads/ Finding wasted gasoline/ A loss has taken from me/ Love/ All that I feel I need/ Metaphysical experiments/ Manifest homicidal thoughts/ We can only change ourselves/ If I want him harmed/ I'll have to do it myself/ I'm being interrupted by the police/ And I don't know what they want/ I'm parked on a friend's yard/ This is so typical/ What a pain?/ Nothing is ever simple/ And none think black and white/ Except for absent minds/ And if I had more time/ I could say what's on my mind/ But at this point/ I stepped out of the car/ You're welcome/ It was the burbs somewhere/ My trunk was half open/ We hadn't wanted to slam it/ It's always ironic with police/ If someone were on your road/ With the dome light on/ And the trunk half open/ You would check it out, too/ You wouldn't call your two friends/ Now I'm getting stoned/ Off the pot I had to eat/ Neat/ They'd smelled the smoke/ Without a sense of humor/ They call jokes 'Getting Smart.'/ Maybe to them.../ Three/ The senior making executive decisions/ The weathered skinhead doing grunt work/ The harassing one/ Why are skinheads always assholes?/ He rifled through my belongings/ The rookie standing there/ Young enough to still believe in free speech/ Conditioned to the prompt,/ "American"/ Who cares what happened?/They woke up J's dad/ Inconvenienced me/ Then they left/ My papers were barely in order/ I miss my Lover/ At that

$$$$$$$$$$

Nothing to say/ The worst writing/ Sexual concerns/ On a bad day/ Since I sent Medusa away/ I've been worried/ What if women are broken?/ Or worse, it's me?/ Whatever the issue/Nomadic taxing/ Depleting me/ Break my book's spine/ Like it's my talent's will/ If you can't get in the back/ Wait out front like the rest/ Wait in line while/ all the time/ humanity dissolves/ From the inside/ Where should I go?/ What should I do?/ If that leap didn't kill me/ Or take me where I should be/ Laid out again at the bar/ Fighting traffic in the car/ Wondering/ When I might kick in the door/ Where I'll be/ Near or far/ Maybe I will fast again/ Or drink away/ Hey hey hey/ The letdown upset/ Until I awake hungover,/ And for once not depressed/ Because mental throws of distress/ And surprisingly neutral/ Who do they think they're talking to?/ I have come on behalf of the truth/ Write my name in the toilet/ I came to bless this place/ Always here, completely erased/ Today, tomorrow, until I die/ I wouldn't ask why/ I'm here only by clouded vision/ The clouded vision of an executive decision/ This derision/ Another door breaking my foot/ Only this time/ I'm bleeding out/ Opportunity slips away at a glance/ Days when you may have/ murdered the romance of success/ Don't look to a window/ Like it's a mirror/ There is someone looking back/ Dumb voice blonde works the restaurant/ Watching you get less than what you want/ What you said you wouldn't want/ When you said you'd never want again/ The time drifts to tomorrow/ Forever in the now/ The club owner takes a look/ Doesn't notice/ And goes back to his business/ The reason nothing ever changes/ Thanks Mister/ Many an artist been turned to the door/ To be heard from again, nevermore/ Many an artist lost among the poor,/ to be heard from again, nevermore/ Many an artist playing the unwanted whore/ Heard from, nevermore/ His whispers lost to another's inspired lore/ Heard from again, NEVERMORE/ He can't count the times it's happened before/ He chokes to find a voice, nevermore/ Feet, eyes, spine, all sore/ To live well again, nevermore/ A maddening failure/ pushes closer to the source/ to be heard, nevermore/ A seven year moment/ Fails in the fashion/ Of anything sudden/ Or long time coming/ Tonight I'm spirited/ Lost to the lights/ The cold wind/ The faces that, drunk,/ leave these places/ One way or another/ We ask each other/ How we are,/ like a radar/ to catch distress/ Sad sadness is stealth/ I drink to your health/ I drink to my wealth/ Hoping these drinks/ Are on the house/ There's urine/ on my soles/ Maybe yours, too/ Have I forgotten yet/ My soles are wet/ Don't forget/ The hour fades/ and stays the same/ Bartenders will be done/ Free from the strange labor/ Of wasting others/ Making the crowd louder/ To a din of those coming and going customers/ This shirt, for me, radiates failure/ Don't know why it's on my back/ And not out the window/ Hot pepper give me pain/ Fuck me up/ Make me real again/ And woman?/ If I lose my faith,/ can you restore it?/ When I am so low,/ will we see eye to eye?/ When I say hello/ will you say goodbye?/ Please don't show me/ A romantic dead zone/ I've seen enough of those/ Women don't respect men/ They tell how dead romance is/ Like men are just good/ For keeping our distance/ They love that/ when you keep your distance/ I remember being cocksure/ And worrying I'd fuck it up/ Now, insecure, I can/ only fuck it up/ Unnerved,/ I can only fuck it up/ Old man, go die/ If no one helped/ No one else/ Equality and harmony/ Hours pass/ Nothing changes/ For a minute/ Anguish fades/ To return exponential/ After a pill/ Like it weren't gone at all/ I want my work to matter/ Everyday/ Like it's new/ I am so alone again/ In this last call crowd/ Still as alone as I'd been/ All night long/ Did he think I'm stupid?/ Like I would waste his time?/ Did he think I wanted to stand there/ Like I would waste all that nerve/ Without a good reason/ I am the higher level/ Here to lift you up/ Out of your hesitance/ Never willing to ascend/ This virus won't get my help/ But, with a lot of luck/ Will help itself/ To die for real/ As I died to feel/ Her love slip away/ On a day like/ Any other day/ To die/ To live/ Why?/ No love/ No life

$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$

Lovely destructive force burning today/ Chaos and carnage, mayhem and murder/ Law and order/ Ignored and sent away/ The first time I've seen beauty such as her/ Lo would I learn to respect such a force/ Lest the balance of divinity shift/ All was right until all was wrong and so/ Epic psychosis burns away remorse/ Hope for water and leap into the rift/ There is no way to know what lies below

$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$

Occupy Secession

1st analysis

3/18/2012

In the United States of America we have to make a decision between seceding and not seceding. The statists tell us to get out if we don't like the way our civilization is. Our parent's teach us, 'if you can't change what you don't like then leave.' We propose to take these advices and venture into a new frontier that exists out in the human element. Nobody received this document by accident. You understand why we are considering these things seriously. People don't accidently secede. The USoA government is barbaric sophistication. Murderous modernization. Occupy Secession, along with Occupy Everywhere, and Occupy, aim to adapt human culture to protect itself against the crisis presented by the reactive effects of our technology by enhancing the wisdom of our peers.

This document exists to serve as a primer for those entering the vocation of liberation, like I was about a week ago. I sent out a form letter to every secessionist website I could, plus assorted good people, and many replied with well wishes, suggestions, and offers to get involved. There is an outstanding network of secessionist organizations spread out across this land, including Alaska and Hawaii. The way I see it is we want to learn the material of these entities; organizations, web-sites, cultural traditions, independent republics, and so on. Occupy- if they haven't gotten involved with these organizations already- which they likely have- should probably get on this sometime soon. If the general strikes are happening, then the secession contingency is undoubtedly around the bend. Whether strikes succeed or fail, this school of thought is still going to be relevant and imperative.

This article will begin with history; to attempt to define our odds. Then geography; somehow we have to identify with the land we dwell upon. Then civics; to describe an obvious point about the dynamics of public relations. Then philosophy; of or pertaining to empowerment. By the end we'll be getting fairly sociological, if not downright anthropological.

HISTORY:

The United States. Not surprisingly, it seems that ever since this nation was created people have been trying to separate themselves from it; overtly or covertly. 'Hawaiians,' for instance, seem to have never agreed to any sort of exchange with the USoA government. Most famously there's the example of Dixie. Texas seceded from Mexico in 1836 and started the Mexican-American war in 1846. There has been victory and defeat. We're peaceful people. Most of us would die before we'd go on the offensive. That's just good sense. It's more of a crusade for sovereignty. The supreme court declared that while secession is unconstitutional, if there were a revolution it could rightly occur. Today there is a revolution against capitalism and the secession is occurring. It has to occur. This is the 21st century and we'll have to do things differently. This secession is going to have to happen outside and independent of the government it is seceding from. Which means no reformist side tracking. This is an example of a correct non-conformist policy. We offer a better way. We have to create and maintain a presence that can influence society. Again. The better work we do, the more effective we will be. Secession, in this political climate, can theoretically level the playing field so for once the people and the politicos will see to eye. Our perspective is better than anyone who has ever evaded this opponent. We know our enemy and know what we have to do. Where our predecessors failed, we must succeed... To secede...

Geography:

It's not about land alone, although that is part of it. It is a landscape of ideals. It's an escape to a healthier way from the culture of control and conquest. Temporarily ignoring how wherever there is a government there are people who want to secede from it, let's examine the USoA secessioscape. There are a number of factors we should familiarize ourselves with; we have to consider regions- large and small- from mountain ranges to rivers and every other possible feature of terra firma; we have to consider that opposition is everywhere; we have to identify nearby lands the state won't miss and then claim them for the free people(1 acre per person and .3 acres for commonwealth per person is a fair workable figure based on the division of USoA acreage equally across the population, and qualified in quantity for courteous negotiation purposes). By the time nation states would consider seceding they may already be dissolving, so that's like something I hear secessionists say often, 'don't wait for nothing or no one,' so to speak. I understand that our people are everywhere. Some peoples get completely overlooked, but if you love freedom then freedom lovers are going to love you- that's how healthy well-adjusted people are, they tell me. If you have 'free' land then there will be downtrodden people willing to live on it with you; so call the place whatever you want and squat against the machine. If you seriously plan to be free, no matter where you are, there will be people trying to be free near you, somewhere; working together people can achieve liberation. 'Free your mind and the rest will follow' is an applicable creed. Think of us as gypsy bandits delivering illicit knowledge to where it does not belong. Unusual and vague methods will serve us well if we are relentless in our efforts.

Civics:

A basic fact of secession, historically, is that to eliminate the current dominating system there has to be something to replace it; this is why whenever a new nation forms, sooner or later you hear about a constitution being drafted. Most don't even stop to consider if it's a good idea. Thankfully, the modern secessionists, to their credit, are no different. Most of the existing independence organizations have various forms of working constitutions available to utilize, so we can't let anyone think we don't know what we're doing or don't know how to keep a population content. If anything capitalism is the failure in that regard. Humane societies are blissful. Free living is contingent upon common law, which isn't common anywhere on Earth because everywhere you go it changes- so you cannot trust common law any more than you can trust a stranger. Humane- enlightened- living is culture contingent on the golden rule, 'Do unto others as you'd have them do unto you.' Don't lie, cheat, steal, do harm, or do anything else that isn't copacetic and neither will I. If you can't chill and be cool then you can go back to the fascists or try your luck elsewhere. This kind of reasoning comes naturally once people get involved with a situation where to benefit themselves they have to benefit each other. That is the natural way. Enlightened people look out for other people, not just their people, because karma keeps track. "Everything for everyone and nothing for ourselves."-Zapatistas. They know. Most problems in society are rooted in some form of selfishness, or maliciousness. Without a strong sense of community, and indeed a familial love for your fellow humans, people can't coexist any better than under capitalism. That capitalist 'take it all, call it yours, and then fight for it,' mentality causes severe problems and we have little to no use for it. For us to expect what is fair we have to want for everyone to get what is fair; this means doing the right thing. Eliminate the state and what happens? Nothing. If people are doing things that have to be done, they will continue doing them. If people were performing pointless tasks that benefit no one and no longer receive funding then they will stop and assimilate easily into a dramatically relieved society. There is more than enough food but not enough money to pay for it. If we shut down the government will commerce come to a halt? No. Because it cannot. It will have to adapt to a real market, which would mean expanding, since the convenient market is contingent upon the state, supposedly... and the state represents suppression... definitely... We have to work directly with people so they become cognizant of the truths hidden behind outright lies. It would be best if we could hijack primetime television and air 9/11 truth footage. Teaching the fundamentals of non-violent civilization is like spreading a new language. We have to find people willing to learn and then teach them to teach. Our fellow human beings don't know they are being manipulated and it's causing slavery.

Philosophy:

We have to teach, as always, but we have to teach secessionist logic whenever we can. It will get easier the more we do it. They will ask where we will go and we'll say we don't have to go far. They'll ask what we can do and we'll say we can do the best we can. I don't know what it feels like to be free. There isn't an official name for such a thing; leagues, independence movements or parties, autonomist movements, commonwealths, nationalists, societies, confederated communities, and so on. Freedom is unbounded by nature, so it might not be labeled at all. I figure that when we renounce citizenship we'll be illegal aliens or immigrants. I expect free people to be sovereign. The lawmakers are the illegals in awakened eyes. I know free cultures can't exist without co-existing peacefully. As long as there is violence on this planet no one is really free and that's why we cannot limit ourselves about this; we have to collectively create and proliferate an ideology so potent that every human can identify with it. What else but love? Love is the most powerful resource we have regardless of if people understand how to use it or not. Love is the reason we're trying to escape, because the state is violent and hateful. There has to be an alternative and if it isn't ideal, it is at least a step in the right direction. No matter what we do we will still make people wonder 'why, if their society is so great and good then why are people going to such great lengths to separate themselves from it?' That's what we have to do. In Occupy we captivated people with our actions, I suggest Occupy Secession captivate people with the specific struggle of renouncing our condemnable citizenship; which is the same as theirs, after all. This may involve a migration off the grid and into the underground. Regardless, secession is a major asset in the political thunder dome and it hasn't been utilized yet.

Occupy Secession:

We intend to spread general awareness of this ideal 'ology' throughout Occupy and begin discussing what Occupy nations look like; no doubt while other people are physically creating them, but that's the nature of strategizing... you're perpetually behind the pulse and looking ahead of it... Next time Occupy Secession releases a statement it won't be written by me; it should be written by many of us to serve as an appeal we will solicit to the general public encouraging them to participate in our crusade with us and also as a declaration of intent to our inevitably upset overlords and their goons. We have to pledge to support each other in our individual quests toward independence; be they in the name of many or in the name of few. We can't let the opposition mess with us. We're in this endeavor together. That's why Occupy Secession exists; so, if there are secessionists in Alaska, they know they can count on support from the Natchaug river- that's east of the Connecticut river.

Our people might be living on a farm in 'Kentucky,' but if they are secessionists or seeking independence for some other separatist reason- if they are struggling against money or authority- they must be able to trust their farm really exists within the secessioscape, so it's sovereign and protected by the people's solidarity. This is a rebellion. Us against each other. Eventually it is going to get ugly. People of the secessioscape don't owe anyone money and should answer to no authority except that which is rooted in love. There won't be a shortage of people pushing us around. It's what they do naturally; to answer to one of them is answering to them all- we may not have anything to hide, but we still want to set an example so authority knows what kind of response to expect from us. Tell law officers to come alone, and bring tea. There is no such thing as money since it has been counterfeit, basically, for a century. There is property and services but such things have an intrinsically subjective value. No one is adjusting. It's fabricated. Fractional reserve central banking must go somehow. This is Occupy. In an Occupy society we want people fed, healthy, clothed, warm, comfortable, and free. That's priceless. The opposition makes us angry. They want to take the best of us; our peace. Nowhere in our unwritten ideology would we advocate tolerating extortionists. Extortionists are the main reason people fear being free, because they owe money; but it can't be like that. Banks stole everything from everyone. We have the right as dignified persons to strike payments to corporate thieves and not just that, we also have to get money out of our lives in whatever other ways we can. The more I hear how this sounds, the more I think I should put it differently, like; 'we have to excavate the foundation of this nation.' Rampant reformism is a valid explanation why people aren't giving Occupy as much credibility as it deserves. We're not here to patch up a broken machine; we're here to destroy it once and for all. If we fail, then maybe one day others will not. We were urged by an expert on this subject to declare our efforts explicitly against the United States empire. I couldn't imagine being any other way.

Outreach:

We have to stay reaching out. We answer to the people. We want to get some good land for a good cause. We have a responsibility to release the best information possible. The public is a wild animal we have to coexist with. We have to level with it and make it see us as nonthreatening. This wild animal is on a short leash in a chaotic and unfamiliar environment. Situations like these end in blood baths frequently. We must rehabilitate the wild animals in our own hearts. Offer people a better alternative and they should take to it.

We have to spotlight the work of Architects and Engineers for 9/11 Truth. When the people understand who their real enemy is- who their 'handlers' are- then they will redirect their hostilities. Those who believe the official version of the story are an unstoppable demographic and it is their right to know the truth. They have the majority and the propaganda but we have a minority and the truth. The only thing more powerful than truth is love and we have that, too. Those involved with this project innately understand morality, civility, and ethics better than most people and are perfectly capable of representing this struggle to outsiders and subsequently initiating them into what we do. It's a chain reaction. Like Occupy always has been. Like the strikes will be. And if the strikes strike out, we strike. As yet another chain reaction of justice. Shock and awesome.

We will form confederated communities so people can regain control of their lives by determining how their realm operates and hence creating a variety of options to choose from; an ultimate way to foster diversity. We'll have to reject the oppressors in every feasible way, if just for the sake of distancing ourselves. We want as little involvement with the USoA as possible. There has to be a middle ground. Like conscientious objector colonies; to create as many new worlds as we need until they'll respect our disposition enough to adopt it. We are a family. They are thugs and thieves. People don't have to bow down to that. We are mighty in our solidarity. 'Divided we stand together.' Be creative and do what you have to.

There is a lot to consider. For instance, the Free State Project wants hordes of activist types to move to New Hampshire and create a people oriented political environment of some kind. If they extended that offer to Occupy then it could probably happen. That's the point. If any secession movement would extend their outreach opportunities toward Occupy then they would find a root in that connection from which the cause will benefit. We want to be everywhere and nowhere. To accomplish the sensitive coordination this task involves we will work together like a family; with love. One enormous family, against a gargantuan machine. Government is not as abstract as they want people to think it is. When left alone people govern themselves naturally. We're victims to systems; debt, taxes, laws, the state, indoctrination, mass hypnosis, religions, militaries, corporations, banks, and so on; when we remove ourselves from these threats we're then free to choose the kinds of lives we want to live. Such is the nature of a confederated community.

This is a monumental undertaking. Still, we're qualified and we can qualify others. Fundamental changes are what we need. There are better ways; mind blowing possibilities on the tips of our tongues and at our fingertips. This isn't an if; it's a when, so let's rise to the occasion together.

$$$$$$$$$$$

Occupy Constitutions

1#/ There can be no control/ None may govern/ Power must be honest/ Authority must be lovely/ 2#/ Humility;/ Bow down to actuality/ Acceptance is relief/ When consumed by grief/ 3#/ I am a you/ You are a me/ We're born free to live free/ In anarchist sovereignty/ 4#/ Nationalist plagues/ Fly flags at the border/ Inside our confines/ Cut off from salvation/ 5#/ Fleshy and confused/ Consumed by machines/ Subjected to the system:/ Serfdom mechanisms/ 6#/ Toothy snarling monsters/ Lurking in every shadow/ We worship them/ In fear/ They exploit us/ 7#/ Military personnel/ Your place is at home/ In our towns and cities/ In civilian clothes/ 8#/ We are flesh/ Too fragile to outlast:/ Destructive Industries:/ Threaten ecology/ 9#/ 'There is no government/ Like no government'/ Less control is more/ More control is less/ 10#/ Fungus, slime, primordial ooze/ That is us/ To us/ Capitalism is oil/ 11#/ Be not hypnotized/ Clear your foggy eyes/ They're harvesting our minds/ The time will come to rise/ 12#/ Commercialism/ Consumerism/ Capitalism/ Murder for profit/ 13#/ Bow down to the ghost/ The ghost is our host/ Humility is harmony/ May the humble boast most/ 14#/Humility is what we need/ Helpless against greed/ Admit we have a problem/ Concede, we're in too deep/ 15#/ Empower people/ With people power/ No congress nor assembly/ Will defeat the enemy/ 16#/ We know/ What we are is evil/ There has to be a better way/ Struggle to be gently raging/ 17#/ Accountability/ Transparency/ Things we wouldn't need/ If information flowed free/ 18#/ There is no justice/ There is just us/ If you want vindication/ Then rise way high up/ 19#/ If there were justice/ We'd have no word for it/ If there will be justice/ We cannot know yet/ 20#/ We have to attack/ The defense contracts/ They pollute/ What they don't destroy/ 21#/ The land is us/ We depend on it/ The land is us/ Independent of wallets/ 22#/ They teach obedience/ We preach rebellion/ Unlearn their lesson/ Practice our blessing/ 23#/ Egalitarian autonomy/ We could be so free/ Free in that way/ We aspire to be/ 24#/ Equality, the idea of 'we'/ We each bleed red/ We are the same/ In all honesty/ 25#/ Locked in cities like sardines/ Sprawl out and live sustainably/ Take land to love/ Abandon concrete/ 26#/ Been this way always/ Can't change they say/ Never like this;/ The final opportunity/ 27#/ People are as they is/ They do as they does/ If we fail to change/ That will be why because/ 28#/ Hundreds of years' deceit/ Countless hour's effort/ Today we tear it down/ Tomorrow we prevent it/ 29#/ Freedom is free/ In a free domain/ There is no capital/ No capital, no state/ 30#/ Money is no good/ It doesn't do/ What we think it should/ Make change; money changers/ 31#/ Trivial trivial/ Typical typical/ Get together/ Occupy revolution/ 32#/ Hordes of us/ Wandering spirits/ Multiplying, dying, and feeding/ Always radioactive/ 33#/ Give what you can/ You know what you've got/ It's all for naught/ Throw it into the pot/ 34#/ Vice is dead to the world/ No one who gets it cares/ About puppet presidents/ They mean nothing/ 35#/ Bow to ecocide/ Bow to be equalized/ Bow to genocide/ Targeted for annihilation/ 36#/ Don't keep chaos away/ We need it to change/ Empower people directly/ Never a system/ 37#/ The CIA/ Gave us the GA/ They got us together/ To govern each other/ 38#/ Such a joke/ Grassroots democracy/ No one knows better/ Occupy is anarchy!/ 39#/ Our colony/ Is borderless/ Our nation is in the heart/ They can never arrest us/ 40#/ Mystic hypnosis/ Sheepish obedience/ Social control/ Familiar MO/ 41#/ The peasants are revolting/ Again and again and again/ If they won't learn/ This will happen again/ 42#/ Brace for impact/ The water is out to sea/ The mountain trembles/ Hailstorms batter homes/ 43#/ Education/ The intelligent defense/ Brutal cognizance/ Can't comprehend/ 44#/ Teach children the truth/ Learn truth, share truth/ Seek truth, teach children, teach/ To learn to seek to learn to teach/ 45#/ The grids of Chicago lights/ Stretch over the Earth's curves/ We must be in their homes/ And in their hearts/ 46#/ Economy means/ No sardine cities/ Sustainability/ Not fiat/ currencies/ 47#/ Aggression is cyclical/ We hate hate/ Peace seeds grow peace trees/ Violent revolution is ludicrous/ 48#/ They come in droves/ For ice cream cones/ They leave you alone/ When you're crying in a megaphone/ 49#/ Solidarity/ Our precious unity/ We search for you/ And find you in the action/ 50#/ Legal woes are why/ The gardens cannot grow/ With laws in lawns/ And mitigation in manure/ 51#/ Our minds are/ Levers, buttons, and nobs/ Remain vigilant/ To combat hypnotics/ 52#/ They act, we react/ They lie, we ring true/ By any means necessary/ We eek by on their terms/ 53#/ Sinister profits/ To oblivion/ To never return:/ Greed Intolerance/ 54#/ Establishment efforts;/ Constant agenda/ To nullify minds/ The vacuum of influence/ 55#/ Weapons made to order/ Orders placed to deliver/ Deliveries decimate/ Decimation vocation/ 56#/ In a thoughtful land/ Cohesion is inherent/ Truth dictates/ Armies of lovers/ 57#/ A call for vengeance/ Spilled blood spills blood/ Non-involvement is peace/ Evade confrontation/ 58#/ Followers, be leaders/ Leaders catch up to/ Fall behind,/ And the tag-alongs charge/ 59#/ Nothing without humility/ We are vulnerable/ With head over heels/ We belong upright/ 60#/ Empty homes are everywhere/ Unaffordable/ The homeless roam/ Too penniless to pay rent/ 61#/ Replace infomercials/ With 9/11 truth/ Erase News Corps/ Erase Viacom/ 62#/ Shelter/ Is a right/ We need each other/ Stifling unity is tyranny/ 63#/ Unaffordable food rots/ More than enough/ To share around/ Not enough money/ 64#/ Finance crimes/ Like election fraud/ Faith betrayed/ In the first place/ 65#/ Don't hand yourself over/ Remain sovereign always/ There is no cost of living/ Don't be owned/ 66#/ Soldiers, bow to children/ And remember your honor/ Power/ To the peacekeepers/ 67#/ Only the government is free/ There can be no liberty/ Without anarchy/ And community/ 68#/ We'll be lucky/ If the food and water/ Don't turn against us/ Save yourselves; help each other/ 69#/ One human family/ Here together then gone/ In harmony/ Below and above, one/ 70#/ Cruel cruel world/ Art imitates life/ Love is a paradox/ Transcendence is relief/ 71#/ Labor forces/ Look to the future/ Find the seventh generation/ Do what is best for them/ 72#/ Legalize everything/ Outlaw laws/ The laymen need to learn/ What fundamental change means/ 75#/ USA is a debt prison/ Like a concentration reservation/ We/ Are the mechanisms/ 76#/ Law and order/ Is too civil/ Punishment is not justice/ Fairness is subjective/ 77#/ A new law creates/ A new industry/ Jailers deal/ In human suffering/ 78#/ Do good, do evil/ Good or evil upon you/ The consensus is/ We want what is best/ 79#/ Consensus/ Is verifiable force/ Nine against one/ Democratic oppression/ 80#/ Corruption is when/ Men manipulate/ The systems we empower/ Don't allow them/ 81#/ People, empower the person/ You have a you/ Us has an us/ This is all we need to be free/ 82#/ Deprivatize public affairs/ Profits drag people down/ Need/ Is no one's opportunity/ 83#/ May decent people/ With nothing to hide/ Nothing to fear/ Follow the power lines to safety/ 84#/ Aim along the chains of command/ Money festers/ Follow the paper trail/ There are your demons/ 85#/ Sovereignty is for/ Confederated communities/ Choose/ Your own government/ 86#/ No such thing as science fiction/ Death rays and weather engineers/ Exist/ This is the future/ 87#/ Oily wasteland oceans/ Acidified shorelines/ Depleted fish numbers/ Slit throat dolphins/ 88#/ We live within/ A gentle microwave/ Background radiation/ Will never relent/ 89#/ Who is served?/ Who is protected?/ Selling children matches/ To make a dollar/ 90#/ Stop. Stop. Stop. Stop this/ This has to be stopped/ Progress must be tempered/ Or we will not survive/ 91#/ Eliminate politicians/ They force you into submission/ Enslave you/ And don't apologize/ 92#/ It is time to go home/ The lights are on/ The music is over/ Oil's dismal dependence dance/ 93#/ Merciless/ We're on our own/ Soon they'll be revealed;/ Our vengeful overlords/ 94#/ For the victims;/ For what we've done;/ For what we've become:/ This is for what we could be/ 95#/ Honesty, love, truth, honor/ Respect, humility, sacrifice/ That/ Is how to overcome struggle/ 96#/ Healthcare will sell you poison/ To make you sick/ To sell you treatment/ Be well. Be healthful/ 97#/ Crusades and holy wars/ Against terror/ Against drugs/ Against free humanity/ 98#/ A person is one/ Human people are one/ Across the planet/ Under a golden dawn/ 99#/ Love is true authority/ Religions are corrupt/ Governments, too/ We're all we've got/ 100#/ We do what we have to do/ If it isn't clear/ We're nobody's slaves/ Liberty or death out here

$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$

In a moment of catatonic despair/ I wonder why I should ever care/ About the decisions/ that have brought me here/ ****Why won't someone kill me/ Make it easy/ To get away/ I ain't got no sanity/ Now look at me/ I'm fading away/ ****We've got no more feeling/ You can't ever hurt us/ You are just stealing our girl/ ****Our hearts always healing/ We are blessed by space dust/ You are just stealing our girl/ ****Why won't someone kill me/ Make it easy/ To get away/ I ain't got no sanity/ Now look at me/ I'm fading away/ ****Now you're smashing pumpkins/ And I can't do nothing/ You are just pissing me off/ My girl knows where you live/ I can burn your house down/ You're just pissing me off

$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$

My Life: The Untrue Story

This one is for:

All the dolphins in the world. Except ugly freshwater ones

Calvin and his good friend Hobbes

Bill Waterson. Thanks for bringing so much joy to the world

Kai. You're a great long dead dog

Karrie, you are my beloved newly dead dog

Mom. Thanks for life

Dad. Thanks for life, asshole

Kristen. Big sis. You were still abusing me when this was first written, so sponsor my work

Fred. This document informs me you were a noble turtle

Wilma. Yet another noble turtle belonging to a one 'Seth P.'

Seth S.W. That was a hell of a disappearing act dude (and timely reappearance)

Seth P. I think I saw you at LocoBazooka in 2000

Mr. P. You were the teacher who made me write this in fifth grade. Way to catch the red flag. Not!

Mrs. D. I think you were blowing Mr. P but married to someone else (I really do think this). Good teacher's aide, bad wife

And of course, me. I wrote it when I was ten. I'm rewriting it 13 years later. I thanked myself back then and I'll do it again now. You're awesome, me

10 year old me was really into dedications. Enough of that. Let's get on with the carnage. Expect this to be slightly off. To reiterate; it was first written by a ten year old

$Hanging Around the House$

We can't keep a butler. I won't allow it. I am going to see how long it will take- using filth and dust and garbage and moisture- to rot out the walls and load bearing structures of time. I want to do a controlled demolition experiment over the course of my life. One day I will inherit this mansion and when that day comes the East Wing had better not be here.

I take shots at those butlers. I don't need them. I don't want them. I don't want this. I am so bored of this, but the situation is really what makes sense. Seriously, my father insists on binding a certain number of the Daggers to this location specifically to aide me. I want the west wing and the central areas for myself. And the yard, too. I want to forget about the way I've been stuck over here avoiding the Daggers. Roaming among material desires gets boring so quickly. I've come to love learning and to love killing; it's what I do.

The people around me do exactly what I tell them when I tell them so it has become impossible to befriend them because I don't respect them. Faces and stories and lessons and fear. These people are delivery boys. Or lunatic volunteers. Basically, whoever we force to tend to the phenomena of I.

I haven't seen my father in a couple months, but he always has spectacular weapons brought to me. The bigger I get, the bigger the guns I get get. I'm finally blowing apart the walls with an Italian made semi automatic shotgun instead of the boring old .22's. This is separate from the cache pact. The cache pact is exactly what it sounds like and occurs in the event of my father's untimely demise.

I wander through the living shadows and dead dust of the west wing from one enormous room filled with spectacular distractions to another. The old school arcade is filled with glowing and fabulous interactive machines and the new school halls are lined in enormous plasma screens with every video game ever created. Not that it matters. I am more of an animal lover. There is a zoo in the basement and side yard and I've got alligators and snakes, scorpions, a lion, crows, bats, wolverines, and some other animals, too. They're taken care of by the Dagger people.

I've given the animals names. The three alligators are stooges. My lion is Murdock. So on and so forth. The emperor scorpions are Jeanie, Samantha, Major Nelson and Shaft. The birds are pin up girls. Reptiles are people like Shirley Temple and Charlie Chaplin.

Animals are nice and there's other things on the second floor, too; rides and various neat cultural amusements- like voodoo dolls and didgeridoos; things my father sends home from the places he goes to. The entire east wing is rigged with a system of ropes to represent vines. I spend days and weeks being Tarzan. Because George of the Jungle has a vagina.

This isolation is changing tomorrow. I'm on my way to school for the first time. Until now I've always had various tutors from the east wing but now I am going out in the world. Because someone, I don't know who, has decided it is time for me to be around other children. Probably an idiot politician.

I don't know what to expect. I haven't left the property since I got back from the hospital. And that was probably a year ago. So I mean. I'm watching the television. I've got a slushee from my private machine and I've got a smile. But, if you came close enough to me I would stab you in the gut and run away. If you followed, I would shoot you. This is because I want to. I will kill you myself within the whisper of a thought. It happens. This is why politicos are panicking. They're trying to make a gesture of good faith. They don't yet know what I can do with my intentions. Dagger people send civilians to me to be sacrificed. Trust me when I say this; I will not do anything other than what I desire. There is nothing you or anyone else in the world can do to protect yourself from the Dagger People. And the Dagger People answer to me. They are with me.

My name is Richie Richie Rage. I live somewhere in Texas. Keep away from me.

Or better yet, keep away from Texas.

Oh. I've been wandering around dictating this and I have come upon the kitchen in a state of disarray. I keep this room clean and stocked for obvious reasons, but the refrigerator is lying on it's side. There are multicolored puddles of spilled food and drink amassed on the black and white tile. There is a crater of splintered black painted wood where some cabinets and counter tops used to be. The bull I let out must have gotten spooked in here. There is a shotgun loaded with high velocity slugs in the corner and it's time to hunt this week's dinner for the resident Dagger people in the east wing. I don't want to talk about this and you don't need to hear about it. They tell me tomorrow will be a big day and someone suggested I keep this audio diary. I've introduced myself. You should know me well enough by now.

$Waiting For The Bus$

I've woken up early in preparation for this school thing and now have a few minutes before the bus arrives. The haze is out today. That hot wet haze you see rising on grassland at this time of morning. I popped off a few shots out of my .22 revolver and watched the crows fly away. Things are very peaceful here. I'm down the long hill from the house. Yonder off I can hear the Dagger people moving around and tending to daily affairs of Dagger life- steel clanking and dull monotone shouting. Every half an hour or so a Dagger helicopter thumps past overhead and it is going by now. As for me, I've decided I want the entire elementary school experience. If I am going to humor this diplomatic request in order to bypass a war- one I'd win without any contest, by the way- I am also going to humor myself for the day or two it takes for me to get bored. And yes, the entire state of Texas might be my hostage but I'm hoping that won't make things awkward between me and my potential school friends.

Talking to you is somewhat boring for me. Self-reflection is the dagger you cut yourselves with and look at me here indulging. I apologize for not experiencing humanity. I abandoned sobriety about ten minutes ago when I smoked that marijuana joint. You got me. RRRage smokes doobies. Reefers... I figure you deserve to know these things about me after everything I've put you through. Even I am not comfortable with the way things happened between us. I wasn't real then. I was still part of the spirit. My father, though... I guess he started it. All I do is hang around this compound. But pops is out there turning the world's indigenous people into Dagger's. He had his reasons for focusing mainly on that demographic. As for me, I'll be taking it to the suburbs when my day comes. That day has not come however and I do not wish to get ahead of myself...

Let's talk some about my origin. I was born in the Black Hills of South Dakota. At the deepest geological point people have ever reached. I wasn't even part of the third dimension until they dug me up. I had the mind of a mineral deposit. I was in mica for Christ's sake. I know I shouldn't be here. You people made the wrong decision and I am what you chose, I am what happened when you introduced a consciousness like mine to synthetic dark matter; I am what happened when you failed to monitor your scientists. You made me and you can blame Steven Potter and the man who became my father, Keller Voyt. Didn't you ever even think to monitor your scientists?

Trust me when I say this is embarrassing for both sides. The allies aren't blood thirsty by nature but I am. So I promise the Dagger people will be gone with my passing. Though, we will not know for certain until I witness the effects of my father's passing. The theory is our deaths should exterminate our influence over your world with us. Hence, no more Daggers. Still, my passing is going to be on my terms and not yours. I know you'll get used to this idea. Or not. Hell if I care.

Because, listen, I could dig up that hole again. I could have my source once again extracted from hell. We could make more dark matter and voila, more of us. I can do whatever I want and you can't stop me. But I don't want more of me. I have no desire to aid the continuity of 'my species.' That's a third dimensional thing. And on the bright side, those living in the foreseeable future will never know what it is to live in an overpopulated world. So yay.... We have a way of thinning out your herds apparently.

Unpleasantness aside, I want us to be friends. You and me. I could use someone who will listen to what I have to say. I can tell you about what it's like to be me. You don't even have to like me because we know nobody does. And that is what makes sense.

If you are living in the distant future- and I am long dead- and they've started the date back at zero- I want you to know about who I was. And about the way the world was before me. Before me there was war. You live in peace. Sometimes you have to make something hurt as bad as it possibly can if you want the pain to go away. Or maybe you're reading this a month from now and still sleeping with one eye open. That's ok, too.

About me? I'm four foot six inches and going into the fifth grade today. The allies- inorganic life, most of you can't even, see that gusts and howls through this world on the wind- affectionately call me short stack. Allies are what dwells within the Dagger People. I don't think that's common knowledge, actually. I know it though. And now so do you. So of course they are a big part of my life. The allies acquiesce my every desire for they know that only through me can they experience the powers of this dense realm. Essentially they snatch the bodies I leave for them. Genocide and slaughter everywhere goes through my mind first. Or, for now, through my father's mind.

We have a fairly simple system going on but the particular lineages become... stale... quickly, so they are always trying to get more High Daggers out of me. And I, of course, oblige. Or maybe it is I who wants more regular Daggers. I mean, it would make sense for them to create more of themselves, but the allies don't really care in the same way I do. It's not characteristic of them. I want though. And mine and the ally destinies and desires are intertwined in that way.

And even though we don't speak, I know my Father is out doing what I'd be doing. He is my Father because of what he did to create me. Heinous Henry, formally Keller Voyt, is the only other one of me alive. The mica poisoned his lungs and by synthetic means that person became the man my father is. His identity became the same identity I have. The same anguished mind of a hot stone vibrating like screaming electric guitars.

There was a hero who closed off that hole in South Dakota, and maybe I'll tell you that story someday, but before the hole closed my father had taken a pregnant woman down there. I am that baby. I know not of the woman. I know my birth came on the dawn of a new era and I am here to show you what that era will be.

I kind of get lonely out in open spaces like here though. A big part of me is confined to places with shadow and there are no dark forests here. I need walls. If it weren't for the allies I would be truly alone. Dagger's are unsettling to my nerves because they remind me too much of people. Allies are calming spirits. Calming to me....

In its proper natural form inorganic life is quite pleasant. To me at least. Except- unless I drastically shift my awareness- I can only meet them in the shadows and in the dark. Inorganic life is comforting presences that are invisible. Or they or very much real depending on a certain shift that occurs in my awareness. If I am in the right state of mind, you might suddenly find yourself in a crowd of merciless heathens at the shopping mall. Not unlike a prison riot. Or hell, maybe you can watch some beautiful women with me. It depends on my mood.

Oh, well. The allies can poke fun all they want. Short stack...? I feel no use for height. My situation has little to do with how many hoops I can shoot. I do like pancakes though. I should tell you more about myself. So... what I look like is this; I've got black hair and pale skin. Green eyes. Nothing about me is mutated. Or mutilated for that matter. My cheeks are like a chipmunks and I kind of have buck teeth. I wear black clothes. Articles that are practical for a cat burglar or a guerrilla warrior. A red bandana sits across my forehead to keep my hair out of my face.

Actually, speaking of red, I do aspire to join the street gang Bloods. I respect them. I met one before and I appreciated his values. Family, gang life, murder, rape, shootouts, and car chases. Very cool to me. I think they will serve a frivolous desire of mine and I will give them fame, fortune, riches, power, and control. There is a good chance that when I die, the Bloods will be facilitating this planet.

Besides senseless acts of destruction and murder or 'sacrifice,' I enjoy getting whiplash swinging around on my ropes. I got them coated in this light rubber kind of material. So swinging is a hobby you could say. Some allies call me whiplash.

The bus is rolling toward me from the distance. It's a big atrocious yellow thing barreling down the dirt road, kicking up dust, just like on the television. I'm trying to think of some way to mess with these people without being too vile. But I'm drawing a blank. I can simply kill the children, kill the bus driver, go back to bed, and let the Daggers have the bodies.

Except I was thinking something more like a prank, and I've never been a prankster is the problem. I am more into explosives than jokes. And as much as I enjoy doing what I do, there really isn't anything funny about my life. I guess I'll keep going with this audio diary when I get done with this school debacle.

$Somewhere In A Wall$

The air is draftier where I am. Not surprisingly I've ended up hiding away. This after having been alone on the bus ride. They couldn't get any children to ride with me. Also, for whatever reason, the Australian scientist from the hospital drove me. I went all the way into Houston to this downtown pit; a school built with crumbling materials.

I've never been to a place so crowded; the humans keep a perimeter of fear from me at about a twenty foot radius. The sixth grade girls are whores. Same goes for seventh and eighth grade ones. The things they do with their eyes are strange. They obviously want to kiss me. Boys are much more fearful. Most scurry away into the classrooms. Everyone is aware of me. I don't blame them. They all know my face from their nightmares. And from television. Like there's a difference!

I've found a decent sized hiding space here in the auditorium. Hidden behind a maroon stage curtain there was a short ladder built into the wall and this room was behind a midget sized unlocked door. Pipes, cement, and safety lighting. A faint scent of urine lingers at one corner. The walls have scuff marks from snuffed out cigarettes.

The allies are agitated; glowing reds and oranges and rushing around and seemingly through each other. Their glow is pulsating and telling me to be on edge. This explains the wind that has become of the draft.

"Is there something nobody has told me?"

* White noise blocks sound

They've become blue. They're reacting to my father's death.

The employees of this school have been calling around for me. Probably checking around seats. Adults are so blissfully unaware of their surroundings. They don't get it. It's arrogance and ego. Maybe they're in denial. Harmful to their health finding me will be. These circumstances would have seemed ludicrous to people living twelve years ago.

The translation of my father's Lakota name is Ender Of Power. The Lakota believe my father is the spirit punishing white men for the deeds they had done against Grandmother Earth.

I theorize most organic humans never function in oneness. Not anymore at least. And that is the way in which human beings are different than every other form of life on this planet.

There are literally no Lakota Sioux left in the world anymore. They were the first Dagger people and they are the most powerful Daggers as a result. Even the Sioux children became Daggers, and they will grow into adults and die like any other life form.

The most powerful allies came into this world first and the Sioux were honored in that way. Those first Daggers rained down genocide from the heavens in the United States.

And I don't believe the Dagger people are identifying with the history of the Lakota Sioux, the Sioux are gone and Daggers could never be them. They were a peaceful people. It was more of an elastic snap with that situation. In the end genocide causes more genocide, one way or another. But, when you watch a Lakota Dagger reaping souls, you can kind of see a twinkle in their eye. Like even their blood was seeking vengeance.

But, yeah, what I was going to say?

12 years ago the circumstances here in this school would have seemed odd to you. You would be wondering why there is no military presence. Or police presence. Government security. Or anything like that. I know why that is. Good ol' dad knows what's best. I was a bewildered infant when Heinous Henry created a world with no armies. No police. No government. No anything. And yet, somehow, there are still politicians telling people how to survive and doing more harm than good.

The minor uprisings these politicians- or religious leaders as is often the way I see it- the minor uprisings they cause really resemble mass suicides more than anything. Resistance is futile. They should be running. Nobody should be near me. They should be getting as far away as possible.

I guess they don't get it.

Have you ever wondered where you go when you die? It's the dream world.

And what the fuck? I'm alone now? The allies have gone. The spirit is going to speak.

I can hear people calling for me.

An ally whispers some random person's words to me, "RRRage! Your father is dead! Your father, RRRage! He's dead!" they call out.

"Choke the life from that person."

An ally is here now before me as a man in dark green guerrilla clothes wearing a black ski mask. "It's a child," he says.

"Fine. Bring him here."

In a second from now...

My ally posse threw this child into the room with me. He has wavy blonde hair and is of moderate fear; his eyes are geared into the cement floor. He's in gym clothes, black shorts, white t-shirt, and white sneakers.

"Hey. Who told you my father's dead?"

"It's on the news in all the rooms. Everyone's really happy and hugging."

"What do you think about it?"

"I don't know. They just sent me to look for you. I volunteered."

"Heinous Henry is dead and you don't know what you think? How do you think I feel?" He's finally looked up at me. I add, "Hey, you've got soft eyes."

"You don't feel things, I heard," he said.

"Yeah. That's right. Listen to me. I'm going to tell you my plan for the next ten minutes. I'm going to do one of two things, ok? I'm either going to kill you, leave you a dead bloodless carcass right there, and then exterminate every man, woman, and child in this building and this city. Or I'm going to let you live and you're going to come with me while I exterminate these people. You have to choose. I have to go pay tribute to the death of the single other like me, and then I'm going to begin a new way of life. What's your choice? I'd like to keep you alive... as a souvenir... of how things used to be..."

"I don't want to die. I'll do what I have to."

"Ha. Don't choke you little bastard. What's your name?"

"I'm Seth."

$Mobile Aftermath$

There's something about the sight of a sprawling city burning to the ground in a rear view mirror. Skyscrapers glow like candles. The dark smoke travels west on the breeze. I found myself a Miada with the top down. Texas sun glistening. Houston is in ruins.

I haven't seen this since Rapid City after we demolished Mount Rushmore. I was a toddler when that happened; gazing out the rear view from the back seat. This is better. That was like a hymnal acoustic thing and this is like thrashing electric guitars. What you can't hear is the antimatter. Through death comes the antimatter. Through me comes death. Through me... I am connected to that back there. Houston will be a Dagger city now. Like how Dagger's come through other Daggers; to become High Daggers they come straight through me.

Guess what happened to Seth. He's dead, I killed him. Dropped him out of the sky to be specific. No!! I'm totally joking! He's right here. Semiconscious, but he'll be ok. He's my bargaining chip. You keep listening to this diary and he'll stay alive. If I so much as get a feeling you are looking away from the things I have to say then Seth will die.

Listen. Seth means a lot to me... in this situation... He's going to make a hell of a guerrilla, someday. I require a consultant with organic human feelings. It's a great big world out there. I'm interested to see if he'll lose his humanity. I don't want to see him dead. He's looking at me. Poor bastard can't even move his head. His chin's coated in dry vomit.

As for me, I'm going to crack a beer and see what happens. One of the most omnipotent things I have seen in my life is the link between spirit, the planet, the dead, the allies, and myself. Everything is this spirit. It's fuzzy oneness.

Following me is a faint rumble- like the lower tones of fire, amplified. Houston is burning like gasoline, but as for what is happening, that is a completely different story.

I need to maneuver around vehicles that aren't moving. They have come to complete stops on or a little off the road. The drivers are dead. There's a pickup upside down about 120 yards off in a pasture. That's the allies doing this. That's what they do. The allies are the most ruthless killers this planet has ever seen. Which, of course, is my fault. I can take the blame for that.

That's nothing though, when you see what Gaia does. Grandmother Earth is all over me.

Right now there is a pending critical mass. Clouds are moving through the sky in a disorientating way; the direction of the wind is shifting in powerful currents. The smoke of the burning city dances. Rain will fall on Houston. This will cause thunderstorms that will kill many in the outlying areas. Here is why; as the dead rise the allies will rejoice and cause the storm to grow exponentially, like a recurring equation. A relatively dry hurricane will be on us in a matter of minutes.

"Seth, wake up. Watch the storm come in." I tapped him with a bottle of water. He needs to drink something; been vomiting on and off for the past couple hours.

"What storm?"

"Look behind you."

There's electricity beginning to crackle over the Houston sky. That deep growl you hear is a particularly ominous thunder. I'm punching the accelerator. The tree lines in the distance tear from their roots and fly through the sky in a twisting sort of single file.

What happens next is an onslaught of indistinguishable apparitions; directly upon us. These apparitions thrive on the otherworldly environment of these storms and they choose to reflect the lives of the dead in their 'faces,' so to speak. One single ally will display dozens of character portrayals in a single second. At times like this they want to experience the most organic moments they possibly can.

"These are the dead, Seth!"

Oh shit, lightening!

*Explosions of sound followed by distorted laughter. Wind. Explosions- presumably more thunder. More laughter.

Ok. This is what is happening now: The allies have enveloped our vehicle in a protective cocoon of white light. It is really quite pleasant. The sounds are muffled and the wind can't reach us. Meanwhile, the storm is still uprooting every house along the highway.

"You like this Seth?"

"This is unreal! This can't be real! The cows!"

"You're comfortable right?"

"I don't like heights!"

"Really. You want to feel what it's like to fly?"

"Oh god, RRRage. No!" He's pleading for his life...

Send him for a ride! Aaah! Ha ha ha! They got him flying around among an airborne trailer park, leaving lightening and fire in a shimmering flickering wake! This is why life is worth living! Alright, get him back in here!

"You need a shower Seth. You smell like shit. We'll set a course for home. You can get clean. And don't worry; it's my own fault I've got to smell you. Oh, damn! You're covered in blood!"

"Why are you doing this to me?" He cries.
"We're going to be friends, Seth. You and me."

$The Cache Pact$

My father's death has affected very little. There's a certain automatica of response between me and the environment's heeding to my wishes. In the world at large his plans are clearly going to be carried out. It's not over for anyone. Not yet. Not for a long time.

We've rounded most USA citizens into the worst places of their specific regions. We sent them out to sea or drove them into swamps. We burnt them in the deserts or abandoned them on mountain summits.

Some cities will be chosen to remain. I haven't decided which. Most cities will be kept vacant as sanctuaries for the animals they initially drove out of their habitats. A trade off to some degree.

Well... The truth is a little uglier. There was a prediction I chose to ignore about specific hazards to the ecosystem. Consequences that- now coming back into thought- I'll actually reconsider. Belittling mankind for its wrongs isn't worth killing Bambi and all his friends. I'll stop the torture when it gets out of hand. You should see the migrations though. I watch them from satellites. The allies show up like distortions in the screens. By the end of that walk, those organic people will be Daggers; dispersing across the countryside. Seattle down to Mexico. We'll keep Mexico pure. They've suffered long enough. These are the new realities of my Father's absence. So on and so forth.

Upon arriving back home that day of my father's death I found the Dagger's congregated on a hill in the distance on the grounds of the first co-property. I could see them from the parking lot. That was what I first noticed. I was no longer obligated to be near them. They will always depend on me, and I will always respect them, but I have better things to do than personally create more High Daggers; regardless that they want them. I especially have better things to do than to socialize with the Daggers.

That's not all true. A Dagger from my own hands is a profoundly significant event. When the allies kill someone, I have no physical connection to that corpse; the ally doing the killing does. Death at my own hands is entirely different. Blood on my hands is a literal gateway from the dark matter of outer space, through the iron crystal at the center of the earth, through all the iron in this world, through my blood, and into the blood of the dead. The allies inject themselves into that process by hitching on the dark matter. A Dagger kills a man, injects an ally and reactive dark matter into the corpse, and another Dagger is made.

Currently, they're branching out according to the distribution of High Daggers. Especially my father's old High Daggers. They came to me by direct transportation and are staying out at Corpus Christi. They'll be controlling my armada. They're multitalented, to say the least.

Seth is still kicking around this life. He and I leisurely escaped the energy storm from my last entry, thanks to a vehicle powered by inorganic life forms and protected by an energetic force field.

Grandmother Earth has been somewhat more animated since you introduced dark matter into her heart. I never hear the end of it from her. Turbulence and more turbulence. I can't even fly in planes. Things for me are backward up in the sky- the radiation from the sun is too powerful for allies to be present- and someone could clip me in an instant. So, that's my weakness. But, as to whether or not history will ever see me abducted by organics and thrown into the sky to be done away with airborne style; my currency is on that not happening.

Seth, um, lost his hand. That time I had the allies throw him out into the energy storm; he sustained an injury. A piece of flying shrapnel clipped him and left a disaster at the end of his left wrist. I figured the allies would have protected him better, but his hand was injured badly. They had to remove it. The allies knew I wouldn't care much. They were just having a little fun.

While Seth was getting the wound taken care of out in the zookeeper's quarters, I roamed the west wings for the first time in my life. The high white stone walls were immaculately clean. The marble floors shined. The long hallways smelled of varnished wood. The lighting was atrociously bright. I could see every speck of dust around me. Not that there was much dust. But I had to break out a light-bulb with a bullet just to get a shadow and call for an ally to send a Dagger to get the hall lights turned red. I mean. I didn't need the shadow, but that's the best way to be sure they're listening.

The biggest news is the cache pact, of course. Yes, I was given self-sustaining armories. And I was given armadas. The finest ships in the world belong to me. Yes, I have access to military vehicles and all the trained man power I could ever need.... still.... Yes, I have a set of strata-born pulse devastators. And nuclear bombs! None of that matters.

Within the vault, in the deepest hidden reaches of this house, I found everything Henry would have ever had to tell me. There were instructions for contacting the Zeta Riticuli. Those aliens are aware of my life and they are in support. People don't realize- or give me credit for- the service I'm providing. There is a karmic reaction to an event such as myself. They bitch now, but will be worshiping me when I'm gone.

I also found a folder containing the name and whereabouts of my mother. Apparently the woman has been existing off the radar, until now. I also discovered Seth is my twin brother. That may seem like an outrageous coincidence to you, but you should remember that supernatural forces are constantly at work behind the scenes. So this is the reason Seth had foster parents. This woman, in human life, was our real mother. Her name is Holly Killingworth. I shit you not. Now they just call her Killingworth.

Seth didn't take the news very well. He's kind of a closed off little fucker, but that will change. He's just confused. He thought his parents were his real parents.... He doesn't know whether to be envious or afraid or what. Even if he could be like me he would have to leave behind most of himself; much like dying. And nobody in their right mind wants to be a Dagger. From an organic human stand point, living alongside me is somewhat of a betrayal to his kind. He doesn't understand those things. Children are very stupid at his age. He does however find it strange that he be allowed to live while so many others die. It's made him somewhat melancholic. He'll come out of his shell soon.

Sometimes he even comes out from under his rock. That's a zodiac reference. We were born with the sun in Scorpio. Down in that hole on the Day of the Dead. Leo Rising. The implication, I will explain, is that twins swap the sun and rising traits between each other and the Leo is much in effect with me. As you might be able to tell. The implications are staggering.... If only I'd been a Virgo. Maybe things would be different. Maybe not. Probably not. I can respect his sentiments. But I didn't expect keeping him alive to be such a drag.

He'll come out of it. I bring him up beers when I can. He's staying in the main guest suite. The allies bring us beautiful Dagger strippers from the most ethnic points of several exotic locations. Hawaiians, Swedes, Asian school girls just a few years older than us, Mexicans, and the most beautiful American 'girls next door.' We haven't even gone through puberty yet. The anticipation of reaching sexual maturity is what moves me from one day to the next. When I start getting erections you won't see me for months at a time. I'm going to be banging inorganic strippers all day, every day. I reckon I'll be all over them organic girls, too. I am interested to learn what love is. I have not yet begun to love....

I have aided Seth in attaching a small and effective chainsaw to his wrist. The weapon runs off of an electric cell and is very efficient. He's no threat to me. Allies wouldn't let anything happen. My father died because he wanted to. They couldn't protect him.

My plan is to go to our Mother's compound at the Florida Keys to meet her. We'll see what's what. I'm done with Texas for a while. They can die now. This state will be 100% Daggers by the time we get where we're going.

$Snow On The Bayou$

We helped a blind man across the street and after that we shot him in the legs. Seth was like, "Ha! Ha! Now you're blind and you'll never walk again." He's become a lot like me. I guess I broke him.

We wander out into the refugee towns and pretend we're any typical kids; killing silently when we decide to. As in, we kill within a certain region; the survivors smartly stay somewhat beyond reach. Then we wander back out into the swamps.

We cut in on a steel canoe guided and propelled by the allies; my father's Daggers within distant earshot on orders to be silent. We're here to enjoy this and enjoy ourselves; quieting the wildernesses again. I've always wanted to see this place. Experience the natural sounds of the owls and the insects cutting through the trees.

Deep in the swamp we're consumed by this hard wood growth; the canoe wake sloshing among the tree trunks. Alligators peak at us every here or there. We're about the right size food for some of those reptiles to devour. A solitary small brown owl has been following us around this afternoon. He flits about; curious and attracted to something in the woods. Us?

The peace of the swamp is remarkable. The sky through the treetops is darkly overcast. Moist air wafts like billows into your face; warmly. We drank up mimosas and I played pirate games with Seth, who is a child, remember. We claim the floating corpses in either of our names as though they are real estate. Later, if we please, there will be two new armies of Daggers 'round these parts. It will be his acquisitions against mine in a battle to the death to determine whether or not he is more observant than I. You'll see what I mean. If you've ever watched your children survey their surroundings for points of interest, then you will know Seth is quite good at spotting dead bodies. Whereas I play the game passively. His swamp army can defeat my swamp army. Why would I care? I do like the game. The Allies will make it happen for us.

In the next town we rob the store keeper for his fresh donuts. Then we display fits of anger and mock rage that there aren't any frosted ones or any powdered ones and shoot up the store with what's under our trench coats. We riddled the glass, register, and the shelves with bullets. As if donuts could ever matter so much.

Seth hops onto the counter right close to the back of the man's head with the chainsaw whirling and the survivor turns to run but goes into a wall only to live no longer when he mistakenly throws his own brain-stem back into the saw blade.

"Convenience store donut hick creep," I said standing among the quick store ruins. Seth's chain saw winding down.

"His name was Lincoln," Seth says; staring at the body.

"That's patriotism. Bet they ain't sorry 'bout being americans, eve' to this day. If we asked the donut creep if he's got some love for the USA, he'd kill himself the same way that girl did about Jesus in the Columbine story. Pride comes before the fall. Fuck the united states. They think I'm bad but never once looked at them warmongering selves in a mirror."

"What do I know about a Columbine story? Public school, 'member?"

"Yeah. That's right. Still. He ain't helpin' nobody by dyin'! He coulda fed a lost kid or somethin!"

"Hey!" Seth said. "Do you feel these mosquito's?"

"No." I say this jokingly, "I feel the brushes of them squashing in a silent pulsation of ether and hear the 'tink' as them bugs hit the ground. We took a boat up 50 miles of canals and we're in a swamp town, Seth. In a swamp! Bugs. Wait. You want allies to take care of your bugs, too?"

He looks at me like I've whispered a favor from God. And if I were him I would think that, also. So, the allies set to keeping bugs off of him, too; with little pulses and poofs of electricity like tiny fireworks.

There's still places like this town, though. Plenty of them. And grocery stores, too, like that quick stop. They sell whatever they can. There's a lot of starvation obviously. And I'm fine with that. Dagger's got operations to fix most dead bodies. They catch most cases of starvation before permanent damage occurs anyhow- if they're so inclined. Maybe not out in this place, though. The point is, 'the more Daggers, the better.'

We left the store.

When you go to these places, the people know there is no such a thing as good gunfire anymore. The other reason we are even here is because we know there is a heavy organic concentration out here in the swamps, eating up the wildlife. I hate that so much. People should be vegetarians. There are way too many human animals for them to be eating non-human animals. Or there were way too many. The connotations attached to each death of a human food animal constantly makes me feel as though I haven't done something right. They won't take a hint.

As for survivors? Those people will flee into each other and keep moving North.

No one left around here. One more corpse lying out by the gas pump. I have to do a thing first.

*The recorder falls to the ground. RRRage says, "You are Snow, the Benefactress of Bayou." The recorder is jostled as it's lifted. Only the noise of Cicadas follows *

Snow be our lovely Dagger slave we got from a little young womanly thing I spotted hiding under a raised root system and up to her shoulders in water. She a lovely lil' Cherie. But she a Dagger lil' Cherie now.

"Dry flies for dinner, Seth. Predator satiation. We can eat our fill of these little bugs, and so can everything else round here. Then the survivors will breed in peace. That's no different than Daggers an' th'allies an people. Allie emerge from a dead Dagger... the Dagger come from the dead ta begin with... the dry fly shell goes back to been dead... the ally goes back to their place. What would I be like as a dry fly? Snow! Over here! Orchestrate a dry fly feast! I want em Cajun! Lots of beer! She on that?"

"Yeah. She's on that. If you were a dry fly you'd be the last dry fly breathing."

"You'd be second to last, Seth."

The Sun's going down. Still light, mostly light before still night, mostly night.

Get a meal by darkness, prepared well courtesy of a generous country homestead, be eating real food this night. These bugs don't come around but for once every however many years. Seven, I thunk.

Maybe I'll stick around till morning en travel back to da armada. Maybe we'll leave ta go back affer dinner. Maybe sleep be in order. Maybe a party in order... With Dagger women dancers. Drug abuse? Oh yes. We can use en abuse dem drugs tru deeze canals. Send da guides away en get lost. Awesome idea. I'll refuse to call a helicopter just to fuck with Seth. Voila. We'll be in the Keys before we're even lucid and after a lil' jokin. Think I'll call in the mimes from their perimeter to gnash. Scratch that. They can make they own dry fly feast. The mimes are my Father's Daggers, they don't talk except sign and mime. All Daggers speak sign language.

$Genocidal Tripping$

Sun setting aboard the Texas- a battle ship I recommissioned- out in the open gulf of Mexicoil, with the armada beyond me, outta sight in every direction; Seth and I watch a barge floating nearby from midway up on the viewing deck; fresh tripping on LSD.

Dead calm water stretches and shines in the sun sinking at our backs; casting golden rays on the iron barge rocking in the waves. A 12 foot no man's land stands between fifty miles worth of swamp Daggers packed into either end of the barge; naked, confused, and eager. Men, women, and even kids. The allies love this sort of thing.

Staring directly through the blinding sunset the allies hover; watching the battle from across the way from us. Their spirited essence swirls like a living galaxy; visibly ultraviolet in the golden sunlight. Seth is holding the pistol, giving me a funny look. I nod at him and glance to the gun.

The bullet blows the world up and in layers cosmic echoes course across the water and ripple. Euphoric body highs flow through my nerves. The cries and screams are cries and screams of monsters in pain; dirty dead Daggers tearing each other limb from limb. They bite at throats and the bones snap, similar to the gun shot. As if we're bubbles in a carbonated drink; all shook up. There's white noise singing like whales behind the screaming, and the water jiggles under the rocking barge like that same zen motion the kids with autism love.

Seth is wearing a captain's dark leather cape over a black and white striped shirt and cheering for the democrats. The cards are stacked against him; we know how vicious republicans had to be to get the way they are...

"You should have never put faith in politics!"

"Why do you say that?" Seth says.

"Politics was a virus detracting from the health of humanity."

"Oh."

They're tossing the dead and dismantled corpses overboard. I reflect on misery. I see it everywhere and never feel it. How do I feel things? No one feels things like me. I walk to the other side of the deck to stare into the sun. Seth is behind me, transfixed on the action.

"No one feels like me. No one feels things like me."

The effect of the violence and the LSD is to my back, emanating toward the sun. The star burning life into this world. Fueling growth. Energizing my face the same way it would yours. That is exactly what an organic man would see. At least for a moment. Soon enough there's allies in my eyes with UV filters to catch the damage. I can watch this thing burn much better than you can. Damn it all. I'll never be like you. There is nothing about me like you; besides my form.

I've got a brother that's human. My brother is what I have in common with the humans. No. He's more like me than them. My eyes are the same as their eyes. No. False. My eyes tell all facets of existence. Or show, excuse me. My eyes always say something different. Their eyes show fear. Nothing ever but fear. Except for Seth.

I move back to my Brother as he's shouting obscenities at the melee.

"Hey Big T! Big T! Rip his fucking eyes out!"

That's cute. He named one.

"Hey! Hey!" he's saying. "Hey! The Republicans aren't gunna make it. My Democrats went crazy on them and your republicans started playing dead! They're fucking eating them!"

"Then they're demigods, too..." I muttered that.

The democrats are eating republicans. Tearing away limbs; using rusty hunks of barge for cutting and hacking. The allies are dancing, and whistling around the pain bubbles. The cosmic pulse waves emanating from the air glow with colors of infrared and ultraviolet; the most intense hues molding to the forms of pain moving through this atmosphere of the dead; of LSD and me.

"L! S! D! And Me!"

We watch for a glorious moment; the feeding. Even the allies become as calm as the quiet. We hear the ravenous sound of cannibalistic devouring. The warring is over and so they feed. They eat... I am vaguely intrigued. We watch the carnage until the democrats wander back to their corner. They're either satiated, lying in recovery, or leaving their carcasses behind as they bleed out.

"The allies are dispersing. What did you think of that, Seth?"

"It is like when you burned down Houston. And my fake family and my friends died. Only this time I don't care."

"You know they were not your friends. There are no friends. There are just enemies so vile you think you love them. Family brings you into this world kicking and crying. Another person to destroy and consume. If you cannot have friends then neither shall I. I shall just have one brother."

"Yeah. I like that. Me too. I will just have one brother, too."

$Torching The Armada$

Off the coast of a far western Key in southern Florida's Keys we've filled the armada with personnel from all 12 branches of law enforcement from the region. Control freaks. Every last one of them. They are still human, and more or less alive; many wearing crumbling uniforms. They've been being held in high school auditoriums for the past couple weeks. Starving. Praying for death. I hear those prayers. The allies tune me into the good ones. Isn't that sad for them? Their prayers go to me, of all beings...

'Nurture the souls of my family,' is common. They wish for my death; pouring their hatred into me. You would call the feeling, 'exhilarating.' Personally, I feel empty without the influx of others' ire.

Haven't been on this sandy dune long. The impending display took a few hours to arrange but it was the first thing we ordered when we arrived. And while we've been waiting we are enjoying the finer things in life.

The Dagger's out here used to be yuppies; cheating wives and droves of gay guys. Definitely a Dagger place, out here. Except for those warships packed with glorified authority figures out on the water.

Waging war on drugs. Good for them. There didn't need to be a political agenda taken out on drug users. Drugs claim lives as it is and so you wage war against the problem? That is backward logic. How will you ever find a balance when you keep attacking, violently, the things you don't understand? Chaos and crime for the sake of control under the guise of compassion. Y'all never had a sense of personal freedom. Penal codes were created to enforce penal codes. Imagine that. Never been allowed to make your own mistakes. The laws dictate the mistakes you'll be making. Your situation in life does much the same. Did. Excuse me.

A mediocre debater could argue justly for the lives of these doomed men and women on the boats. I wouldn't be listening. To me they are among the better of examples exposing this country's deep rooted greed issue to a true light. Less government is more government, and more government is less. Control is not the answer. Never was, never will be. That is why your friends are really enemies. Because as long as somewhere someone is out to get someone else then no one anywhere can be free. Humanity needed more discipline. It wasn't meant to last in the way it was.

Two aircraft carriers are stationed out at the center of the near horizon. They stretch far in contrast to the smaller boats but from where we're sitting this scene could be blocked out by a dinner plate. In front of the giant boats a full sized nuclear submarine is floating at the surface; a long dim hump and a modest tower. They are the prizes of our exhibit.

Fanning out toward us is an array of armada warships, some stealthy and low, some battleships proud and tall, boats from Cuba, Mexico, the US Coast Guards. The Cutters are in the hands of the Daggers. Ha!

Daggers shuttle smaller crafts to and fro in the last minute organizations. We have the DEA on one ship, the Coast Guard on another, police scattered through the smaller boats, etcetera. So on and so forth. The Daggers out there are the necessary operators and crew. It's written down somewhere. Or at least recorded in the agenda of the allies guiding the Dagger's around.

Me and Seth are on our second beers waiting to push the button. His eyelids are heavy and his head is hung over. We finished a joint recently and are sucking down some dudical Cuban Cigars. That's Seth's word. Dudical? Kids, man. Innocent minds edging ever closer to a destiny so far unforeseen.

"How you feel, Dice?" I call him Dice. He loves throwing dice.

"I feel good, RRRage. These seats are awesome. The air smells like fish. And I don't have to hear any engines for once. I like the sound of the water better."

He says this without picking his head up or moving it whatsoever. However, he's right, the giant futon seats draped in black fleece are a nice touch.

"Why don't you call in the death from above?"

"Roger that." He's looking with his drunk hand for the walkie-talkie.

"Put the dial on 7."

"Death from above. Repeat, death from above."

We wait for a moment, watching, trying to discern the movement atop the aircraft carriers, though they seem impossibly far away. No matter, binoculars aid the visuals and we both fiddle with the zoom nobs to see better. I am very attracted to this. On the edge of my seat. These unusual events are the moments I cherish most. Exploding Mount Rushmore felt a little like this. Burning Houston was more grand.

Seth, who can't hardly move, had predicted resistance. He doesn't yet fully understand they cannot fight back. The humans are always helpless to the power of the allies. At every moment they've got the cosmic equivalent of a hat pin to their ear.

In rapid succession dozens of apache and comanche(that's ironic) death machines lift into the air. In the hazy sky I can observe the reflecting windows and shining lights. The blades spin trails of dim purple light in circles through altered ether as the intoxicated state of my consciousness dictates the appearance and nature of what you consider to be reality. Yeah, but I'm talking about the everything essence. Static, what have you. The water is a sucker for the difference. Even the hues of the blue sky will mold to my whimzie.

Florida needs cats, I think. For every cop we kill today I will deliver one cat to its own territory in this state. They'll come from zoos across the nation. Maybe I'll release the big zoo cats here- see what comes of the experiment.

The helicopter squadrons have positioned themselves in both left and right peripherals with a half dozen on either side; weapons aimed at the distant boat. And the fighters have begun to take off into the sky from the runways of the carriers. The screams of the engines burn through the thunder of the rotating copter blades. These powerful vibrating sensations make Seth throw up beside his chair, as indeed, to him, this effect is as nauseating as a tossing rough sea.

When three jets have departed from each carrier, the missile assault of the choppers begins. The lesser vessels closest to us are the first to burst into flames sending shock waves across the water and through the air. I love that feeling! That shock wave!

More missiles penetrate into the firestorms; causing them to grow. From the nuclear submarine a single rocket shoots high into the air. Then another rocket launches. Then several more.

The fighters scream toward the boats directly over our heads. Having targeted the remaining ships they unload more firepower into the engrossing destruction that bulges and leaps like ecstatic clouds of fire across flat water and over the vertical and capsized boats. An inferno for the memories. A city burning on the ocean. Populated by the worst of the worst; beautiful.

The jets streak over the strike zone, raining down bombs. From what I can see, through the binoculars, and with my naked eyes, even the larger battleships have been blown into nothingness and the three largest ships are the last remaining.

Seth is awestruck, still wrapped in his giant black leather cape, anxiously revving the quietly rotating circular saw on his wrist. I have my black panther gear on; just black pants, shirt, and slip on jail shoes. Red bandana, of course. We chug on these beers and watch the show.

High in the sky, the burning rocket fuel marks the position of the incoming missiles heading for the three targets. From the distance in six directions comes a six pointed star formation as the fighters break the sound barrier; gearing to kamikaze the carriers as the rockets strike. One jet strikes, then another, then another, and another, another, another; in rapid succession, like frantic pulls on pistol trigger but so much bigger.

The planes' collisions are shut out by the larger blasts of the bunker busting submarine rockets. An especially jagged and jarring series of obnoxiously large explosions sends Seth running to my chair, grabbing my side.

The sonic booms, the heat, vibrations and pulses, the roaring thunderous sounds; these wisp over us for exquisite moments; swaying us this way and that way playfully. These blasts permeate like hurricane winds, for sure. We can feel heat from miles away. The breeze burns in the gentlest way; alcohol causing invigorating bodily sensations to roll through me. I feel fire like the touch of an angel; flames as beautiful as bare breasts and Hawaiian eyes.

The boom thunder reaching us is off the decibel scale as it rains down steel and cop limbs out there. Finally, the billowing flames settle into each other and the black smoke thins out by a minor degree. Once the last metal frames have sunk I see no evidence there were ever three enormous war machines out there. And that's the way it should be.

I've spotted something much more special than these boats and dead authority figures. In the distance there is an extraterrestrial presence warming my heart. I can count six of them in different places around us. I smoke my cigar with a pressure in my skull gentle enough to pass for a greeting. They said hello, and now they glitter red, blue, and golden light as they sparkle and loft in place. Over the firestorm, a slowly twisting vortex has appeared way high in the sky; the smoke being pulled into this vibrant phantom green force; swirling migration of spirit moving toward the source.

I wonder, 'Where does that go?'

Recording devise cuts out

This is Seth talking, "... not what the adults I knew said about dying. I heard about heaven. The allies weren't anything they mentioned. They said there is nothing afterward. They said, 'black nothing.' Why would we live a life if there is nothing after it?"

"There is nothing before life, either. You gotta learn to enjoy the little things, Seth. Your race went their entire existence never seeing a vortex of this significance. I presume.... Can't say for sure. Just look at the beautiful way the smoke's turning green and the vortex is spewing that color through itself and out across the entire sky- the only sky- but the smoke goes someplace else through that portal. Those cops are going with the smoke; into the sky, or beyond it. No matter where they go, we are staying here. With the big cats." The helicopters have positioned themselves over the flaming water, and then they simply flutter, falter, and drop in curving dives toward the ocean below.

$Wandering and Wondering$

I've never seen sands whiter than these. The shallows stretch out for about a mile, as far as I can see, and this windswept sandscape is speckled by sparsely distributed palm trees. We're not necessarily in Key West. That place is further... west. This may as well be there though. Without the town. It's nothing more than a little blotted mark of a key.

Who would waste the opportunity to bask in the bewildering tug of a heavenly vortex while submerged in the emphatic beauty of this key? It's uplifting in the most twisted way. The great hole in the sky is no longer visibly inhaling inorganic commodities- not visibly, and it would be shrouded in night's darkness were there not an evanescent glow emanating from its currents.

The air is fairly clear and calm, as I desire. The black skies are lit with green light like fumes, or aurora borealis too far south. The water no longer appears blue. Instead the water is reflecting shades of green and black. The sun set an hour back but a full moon is glowing low on the horizon over the perceptual oddities of this moment in my life.

Seth switched out the cellular circular blade on his wrist for the cellular fire thrower we had made. He's rushed out on amphetamines and magick mushrooms. He's been throwing fire at a hungry panther stalking us; just keeping it at a distance. Though this black panther, of course, is not a hallucination. She is very real and very wary from the air lift down from a zoo in Georgia.

We're two little kids to the cat. Actually, Seth is a little kid. I probably don't register to her. I'm like air to most animals; not even there, but I think they're beautiful. This girl wants to eat Seth, though. He calls her Dizzy. We think she is actually dizzy. I mean, I don't. He does. The cat's perfectly fine.

We should really feed this cat, though.

"I need a pig and I need it's legs broken upon arrival."

I'll show Seth a little something about the way animals experience pain and fear and distress. Pigs, as it is, display these characteristics in an unmistakable way. They panic like a little human child does. Like any human would. Pigs know when they're going to be slaughtered.

"I'm getting kind of bored of playing with this cat. I want to stop."

"You got the fire, Dice. Dinner'll be here in a minute and then it'll leave us alone."

I hear the first faint squeals of a terrified swine coming closer through the quietus. I really would rather have not done this. The significance is so palpable. If a young boy is to respect nature, and the wonders of this awesome planet, he should see a pig die right about at Seth's age. The child should observe the way the pig is aware of it's impending demise. And children should see that the pig wants to live exactly as much as they themselves want to live.

A screaming uniformed police officer arrives on the wind. There were extras. This one looks feisty and wiry. He could hurt her.

"Better break all of his limbs. Keep the bones in."

As he drops to the ground and the allies disperse, the guy shrieks bloody murder at the snapping of his forearms and shins, but he falls silent in shock nearly immediately.

"I thought you said you were going to feed the panther a pig?"

"That was a joke, Dice. People had a lot of problems with the police during this last era and called the police 'pigs' as an insult. I don't know how much cops act like pigs or don't, on average, but I'd say it's a fair way to demean them for the way they blindly hold society to laws created by the most miserable, selfish, and corrupt minded of people. They would let what little good they were doing outshine the frivolous laws destroying stability for the people they oppressed, and they would perpetuate the illusion of having the moral high ground."

"Dizzy's gunna bite him. Why's she rolling him over?"

"She can crush his brain stem quicker than she can choke him."

"Brain stem is in the back?"

"At the bottom of the skull. It's what tells your lungs to breathe each breath. And it's the reason your heart always beats. He won't ever move again. Not dead yet, though. His mind isn't feeling his body anymore, no more pain. Death comes a moment after. The heart beat stops. The blood halts and stagnates in the brain. Now he's dead. He will find his way to the hole up there, too. That's where the raw consciousness goes, beyond the veil, past the atmosphere, and up up away from here."

The lesson here is to never eat pork unless you feel the meal can honor the dead pig. The animal wanted to live. And maybe they called cops pigs for that reason. That something can behave so similar to you all, but for obvious reasons are nothing like you, nor, as long as he is a pig, will he ever be.

We'll wander on through the night. Over the keys. Walking on water. Sometime tomorrow night we'll arrive at my Mother's house. We'll have a manatee for dinner tonight. An old bull. An old bull, I'll have. In the moment before the manatee dies I'm going to acknowledge he was alive and wished to continue being so, and I'll do the same again in the moment before I put his meat into my mouth.

$Initiate$

"She lives on that island in the distance. A castle on stilts. Five m-60 guns on every corner tower. Various kinds of stinger missiles and grenades, too. We can be in range immediately. But first...."

From 20 feet up a rubber raft is thrown down to our left, throwing a tremendous splash of water vapor stunningly through the moonlight, and we move toward it. It is filled with food: Fruits and vegetables in one rubber tote; we'll float these out last. Dead fish in another tote. Chum. Oatmeal. About 100 live crabs. These crabs need to go first.

The crusty crustaceans rise high and swirl briefly at tornado speed and then fly through the distance toward the fortress on the horizon. They'll swirl and hover high and low like they're in a drunken orbit until the birds come for them. This isn't enough chum and we don't really need these fish for much. 'Use the chum and pop these fishes in the water around the home.' The fish and the bloody mush rise and fly away.

"Here's a beer, Seth. I got the rest in this bag."

"Thanks. You got shots?"

"Yeah." 'Hey, dump those fruits and veggies out over the floor; lightly mash up half of them, and send this raft out to float. And fireworks. Loud screaming ones. Booming ones. Arm some of those leftover police. Like five SWAT teams and give them the biggest guns we have, and grenades, and stick them in orbit with instructions to take out the defenses. And if you can keep the pigs coming, that's all the better. The more the merrier. But get fireworks out there, too, cuz the sun's coming up soon.'

"This is going to take a little longer than I expected."

"Whatever. Can we get hammocks?"

"Brilliant Seth! We have been wandering for almost an hour.... Hammocks for all! I want those dead cops orbiting on hammocks, too! Wait. Scratch that last thing. But shots. I almost forgot. Rum shots."

"We can have the shots right here while we're waiting for the hammocks. You see the dolphins over there? Blowholes puffin water? They're coming this way, sort of. Probably getting the same vantage point we got. They're fucking geared up waiting to see some crazy shit go down.

"Here we go, Guava Rum. That's a good sunrise rum. Kinda weak, but chill, too. You know Seth. A drunk is a noble thing to be. There have been drunks since as long as there's been hooch and as long as there's been hooch, there's been society and society rains on the dreams of the alcoholics. Alcoholics gain the wisdom of the spirit. The wisdom of an effect passed down since time immemorial, immortalized in the dynamic relationship of spirit and man, and man and society. Gamblers have it, too. Worse even. But, no. We have to cheers to addiction is the point here. Cheers Seth."

"Cheers RRRage. To addiction."

We fell asleep to rapid bursting of gunshots and the distant hardly audible screams of dying pigs. Brilliant flashes, whistles, and explosions of fireworks and overwhelming intoxication. Things are beginning to become very surreal. We must have dozed away an hour before I got the call to arise. The sun's broken through the horizon to the east, beyond the little key cities. The green hues of the night aren't much more than a dissolved solution barely perceptible in the fiery oranges of morning. The feedings have been primed and are awaiting our arrival.

In the distance I can see the home of my Mother. A whirling swarm of birds is the visual. They're catching the influx of crabs. Some vultures feeding on cop corpses I imagine. Corpses floating around. Ready to be laid to rest in the cemetery of the sea. Oceans red with chum about to bleed deeper with the appetites of hammerhead sharks. It's a magical world.

They tell me my Mother is right there waiting at the middle most point of her fortress home; listening to the automated gunfire and watching the sharks swim below her feet. I never knew anything about Killingworth until recently. I also almost killed my Brother, too. This lady is the other part of what created me. The Yin to the Yang of my God. I hope she's amused. I know I am.

$The Frenzy$

Neither Seth nor I have dark skin but Killingworth does. She's a pistol. Real foxy lady. Like this gypsy who radiates sex. Her flowing brown hair is sun kissed and her white satin Capris pants and matching tank top shape her masterpiece figure of curves. Currently, she's enjoying key lime pie with Seth. I don't want any of that stuff. We're observing the water from the south west corner deck as this is the closest proximity to the various bio masses and feeding frenzies. We can see the show through some open storm windows. Storm windows I guess shatter easier in a storm? Because they're kind of thin. Them water birds are obscuring the view of the sharks as they dine upon the fallen officers. The peace keepers. The street cleaners.

"So you just talk into a tape recorder all day?" Her eye sockets are almond shaped. Pointed outward. So seductive. She cracks a smile and her curls bounce in the light breeze.

"No, Mom. It's a little more complicated than that." There's going to be transcription involved.

"Do you know I was still one of them when I had you two? Human?"

"You don't say.... Listen, what comes after this? The cops are dead. The sharks have fed. The water's bled. But the demons aren't dead. We're still here. So, what now?"

"Now you live on. You free the animals, as you've said. Far and wide, RRRage. This is a big world filled with cages to be emptied. Carnivores will eat people and the livestock will roam free. And look at the water. You've already devised how to sustain struggling carnivores. We eliminate the humans. They really had it coming."

"Yeah, you're right. I can feed them cops. I can feed them whoever, really. And they'll have the space they've always needed. But this wilderness won't look like the original one. This planet is polluted and toxic and dramatically warped by the scars of man. These third dimensional environments are breast feeding from a sickly, cancerous, old woman. Can she ever be quite right after what we've done? Ma?"

"Yeah. I don't know. So, how about those baboons out on the raft? You didn't think that one through, did you? These birds are vicious."

"Well. They're baboons. They'll just keep mauling them like that. Look, you can kind of see them flying a little less close to the raft than they were. Yeah, they won't even go near them anymore. The monkeys are eating that one bird. And there's another swimming in circles. I give it 15 seconds until a shark is on that. I never knew there could be sharks like this in one area."

Seth says, "It's a feeding frenzy. I like how the scraps are still floating around; half eaten."

What Seth would remind the reader of this manuscript is that they need to understand how everywhere I go objects tend to float about. If you haven't acquired the visual yet.... They hover. They levitate. They loft. There's inertia involved. People have witnessed similar events in poltergeists. And for the sake of your fragile comprehensions you can identify my power as a transcontinental, all powerful, poltergeist. By all means.

That shark took a bird!

I wish you could see this. Blood red waters all around; distorting the shimmers of sunshine. The sharks- big or small- attack fiercely. Then the bodies tend to disappear below. This is the ocean as I would have it be always. Though, as much as my indulgences fall short of actual possibility and the waters everywhere can't bleed forever, so too can they always bleed when I'm around.

"How long are we going to be here for? It smells like birds."

"Well, Seth, first, it's not going to smell like that the whole time we're here; second, we'll relax for a while; then I think I want to know what you would do and where you would go, if you had a choice."

"I'd go to Ireland. We can kill the Catholics! And the other ones? Who was it Mom?" Seth asked.

"The Protestants. The whole country has been hunger striking because of us. Could be interesting."

"I think now is the end of this story. Me and Seth got here to you, Mom. That was the plan. But I do believe we can go to Ireland. When we leave here it'll be to go there. What month is it? Not Summer.... No crop circles in England. Then definitely Ireland. Wait!

"Let's make Seth into one of us..."

"No!! No! RRRage! No, you can't. Momma?"

"I think he's against the idea."

"Please. No." RRRage puts the microphone up to and into Seth's face and the sounds of sobs become muffled and crackle.

"No Brother. You will stay the way you want to be. Because you supposedly mean something to me. And your meaning means I grant your requests. Like a Djinn. Undoubtedly more unfortunate, informal, and unorganized."

"You can't recognize your own order RRRage. Your form of action echoes the cries of Gaia. You speak for the Grandmother. For her. The Earth Grandmother. Your father was invested in the indigenous peoples of the world. He had a vested interest in their trade negotiations. Their souls helped to restore the life of the surface world. Your deeds are cleansing and rejuvenating specific targeted demographics of nonhuman and human life. My purpose is to heal. Your father's job, like reproduction in nature, was finished the quickest. In and out. No. He saw every corner of this planet, really. He planted the seeds of you and me. Not you Seth. Ha. Kidding baby. You'll have to get used to demeaning jokes. Inoffensiveness is low on the agenda."

"Who impregnated you?" I ask her.

"Wouldn't you like to know? It could be anybody and still not be that person. You won't guess and I can't give you clues."

$oMEGA$

There was gummi bears and there was jubilation. There was beer literally falling from the heavens. There was flaming bird feeders burning grain alcohol. And I'll admit, my spirit is getting a little frazzled.

I think I've altered the minerals inside of me somehow. Could this be my downfall? Yeah. Right. Nothing will ever defeat me. Save for time.... I never was and never will be again. I was born Eternally Dead. When the Pale Mystic is within you, you feel it like the sun on a summer's dawn. You would feel like the sun if you were me.

My star collapsed into the first moment of my awareness and I've been a black hole since. Never actually eternal but as close to eternal as this universe allows for. I long to explore outer space. And I may one day. I want to see the entirely different universes; mere specks in the energy mass of the omniverse. I cannot explain to you the power of my desire to explore those other universes and their limitless possibilities. I fear I will never experience another universe. For now my biggest concern is getting to Ireland. Though I fear even Ireland is out of reach.

I feel as though I am shutting down. There is finality lurking in every direction I look. The allies stare at this fucking stuff. Black fizzles of spooge lofting around me; fading in and out of existence. The Omega. Omega forces. How could this be the end? It can't. For one thing, my lifeline runs up to my armpit. I mean. Your death is not your decision. I thought mine was. I'll be martyred. Or I'll martyr myself for the religion of Me. Either way. I feel a need for jail. I feel I need to be confined, or I'd rather just leave this body behind; return to the Black Hills to find my mind.

I want this carcass to rot on the rubble of mount rushmore. I want to never remember what happened when I came to this place. This human place. I see the beauty of nature and in a moment I gasp; for I am breathless. I have shed tears in awe of Gaia, and then I remember what you people did to her. Your stupidity allowed greed to know limitlessness. I constantly ruin the fucking moments when the Mystic within me should be melding with the Mystic beyond me.

Your behavior has put chores upon me. I'll be freeing every single imprisoned animal on this planet. Resetting your karma. You're welcome. I'll assign Daggers to care for the sick and support the various needs of this global project. There are Daggers worldwide thanks to Heinous Henry- by the way, if you didn't catch that fact, I mean. The operation is simple, really, and not worth discussing. I mean, we can feed the regeneration of wild cats with human meat. Wild human meat. Live human meat that runs or cowers in shock. It will be easy for the herds to graze when jungles grow over your cities and the weather levels the remains.

Some species might not make the transition. They'll be missed. The animals I release will do better than people's propaganda lies- about inability to adapt- said they would. And, I mean, that's basically my plans. Some of you will live, of course. Wait. Yeah. Probably. The enlightened ones. Places like Mexico, Tibet, India, Peru, Shaolin, and so on.

I might start a zoo of my favorite human specimens. That would surely get boring. No. It might be worth it. I could keep people in jars. With air holes. And one stick and one leaf. To recreate what they're used to.

I don't always talk into this recorder. Mom could use it. I'd like for her to have more face time with this recording devise, but she is an elusive and mystical woman. My guess is she spends most her life as a mermaid.

Alright. Let me survive this time in my flesh and then we'll do some real big things. Seth. Mom. Me. Ireland. The omniverse. And cats! More cats than were excluded from the bible. We'll see how well this recorder picks up eye contact and body language while I communicate with the cats for a day.

Are you still upset about the extermination of the humans? Forget about it. I did you a favor. I swear. We'll talk it out sometime. We'll talk about how you can avoid repeating their mistakes. Rejoice, I found paradise for you. Remember, you were chosen to live. I was chosen by the Omega Forces. They're agitated. They're the dead and I am still alive.

$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$

Near death experiences/ Solving the puzzle/ Before my eyes/ With my hands/ With my very life/ Viciously cleansing/ Culmination/ As all the lighters/ Lose their fuel/ And I've never seen/ A Pisces sun like this/ Like a karmic grease trap/ Getting cleaned out/ Back when:/ The landlady postponed me/ And my van became weighed down/ By homeless furniture/ And the squirrel/ The almost second squirrel/ Ran under the vehicle/ But made it out the back/ Alive/ Only ever killed one thing/ With a car.../ That I know of/ Six years ago/ That squirrel was cursed

Back when:  
I'm on suicide 6/ In the heavy van/ Motor struggling/ And the Possum/ Gnawing on a carcass/ Passes underneath/ I hear no sound/ And the animal lived/ A rare glimpse into a Possum life/ And I knew then what I know now/ About the Pale Mystic/ I experienced the message/ And was unable to interpret/ Unable to interpret the way/ The land lady could postpone me/ When there was so much at stake/ The animals were warning me/ Of something I was already expecting/ Two narrowly escaped their deaths/ Revelation is oddly obvious in hindsight/ I should've been in the apartment/ Why did this happen/ In the first weeks/ Of meat abstinence?/ Then today/ As I struggled/ Again against the vortex/ The sun was bright/ For the first time/ In a long time/ Driving down the dirt road/ There is a Beagle/ Then a Lady holding a bigger Dog/ A burly brown One/ I pass the Beagle/ I pass the Lady and Dog/ With a cryptic half wave/ A nervous half wave/ Soon a sigh of relief/ Then thumping/ So much thumping below/ Brakes slammed/ Park/ Throw open the door/ Hands on my head/ Was the Dog dead?/ No./ There hobbling to it's feet/ And away to the Lady/ The sexy but cold Lady in gray/ I see a limp in a hind leg/ The Lady absolves me/ Somewhat/ She blames the Dog/ It's leash had broken/ As it chased a squirrel/ All I care is the animal/ Appears fine/ I neglect to inform her/ Animals hide injuries/ The dog had been rolling/ Another day/ Doing my job poorly/ Weighed down by furniture/ And psychotic complexes/ About house keys and ownership/ Everyday this guy/ Plays Russian roulette with my job/ And the law/ And my life/ And my stresses are blowing me down/ Under the forces of a Pale Mystery/ Black helicopters haunting my movements/ Military surveillance/ One small red light/ Right overhead at the CVS/ While Mars has spent eternity/ On the cusp of Leo/ Dancing backward to Cancer/ Planetary taunts of Mystery/ En route home:/ I receive a phone call/ From my Spiritual Adviser/ He describes to me his own/ Key Mystery/ I describe my Mystery to him/ He reminds me of the UFO/ I remind him of the Pale Mystic/ Us two chosen among ourselves/ I approached home/ And turned back to town/ To go play Go/ Buy some herbs/ Discuss the synchronicity/ Of the yogurt to my job/ Another dead local/ And new vegetarians/ Replacing the finished ones

Back when:  
I needed my mother's advice/ But turned away to buy pot/ So I gave her a phone call/ And told her the Mystery/ To which she prescribed me:/ The White Light/ And yeah, Mom was right/ I drove past the hollow at night/ And asked for the White Light/ Specifically to stop harming animals/ I cranked the radio/ And turned left onto 195/ Great song/ The sound needs adjusting/ On a small two lane road/ I barely look down then/ I see headlights in my lane/ And headlights in the other lane/ I swerve to the right/ Fully prepared to hop a curb/ Toward an upward slope/ A pickup truck moves between/ Myself and the other car/ The entire van rocks/ I survived/ And I'm driving/ White knuckles and adrenaline/ Synchronizing song/ Someone else survived/ Survived on two counts even/ The Third Party/ Was the safest throughout/ Unless they had a Baby/ I called my Mother/ And She told me the answer:/ Those three Animals/ I nearly killed/ Were telling me/ I was about to die,/ Even the cursed Squirrel/ They inspired me/ To consult the Her/ Who gave me/ The White Light/ And so I survived/ As I talk to Mom/ Chelsea in South Dakota/ Texts me the Imagination Song/ Quite randomly

Now:  
I talk to my cat with respect/ He's not equal, He's better/ Animals saved my life/ When all the while/ I nearly killed each/ I am honored to get him cold water

$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$

I wish you'd want to hear this story/ About black and white images/ I see you in the dark photograph/ And I remember a dream/ Completely black and white/ At the fifties party/ Abstract art distracts/ We three flee swiftly/ Stealing away to the attic/ Where stars shine/ Beyond the skylights/ As the little black dresses/ Slide from shoulders/ And to be a gentleman/ I tend to the Italian/ But my dreaming heart/ Was pumping my physical blood/ For the one I've lost/ Almost every single night/ Since I was fifteen/ And as I penetrated the Italian/ With my face between a Dream Girl's thighs/ I felt something immediately awry/ They faded from me in an instant/ And I awoke to the dormitory/ I was humping my bunk/ In a sea of pinstriped/ Farting prisoners

$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$

I've found another vortex/ At a cottage by a lake/ A private dirt road winds/ Through woods/ And past a couple neighbors/ A job three years in the making/ An avenged rejection/ I should have known it would come to this/ Like growing on the limbs of a career tree/ Without an inkling of the coming view/ Rising up is for the view/ When I can't even tell you what I do/ What is this place?/ Where arbitrary laws/ Control unimaginable consequences/ Why would I side with an agency?/ One I never see/ While the client controls me/ Clutching me in his psychosis/ Tearing at me with his insanity/ My life line is a dying van/ Waiting to fall from underfoot/ As he orders me across the miles/ This is my place/ At the cross roads of integrity/ Facing the event horizon of insanity/ Lock box, lamp, fish bowl, table/ So hollow, so vacant and empty/ As though this world is nothing/ Howling wind clattering trees/ For the sake of love, remind me/ What I used to be/ Before the vortex consumed me

$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$

Take away our freedom and say we earned that/ What do you know about debt?/ Dress us in a uniform and call us a threat/ Too often forgotten significant differences/ Too bad these ants already know the alphabet/ The problem is criminals are equal and the facilities ignore that/ Pinstripes in a circle, an equal, an identity, unique in individuality/ Common through collectivity/ I see men sharing a curiosity about our surroundings inherent obscurity/ I see wisdom attained by an injury; sever the leg and the mind will grow/ I see an old man who never lost his sense of wonder, no matter how many times they tried to take it/ I see sadness kindled like a final ember to be shared with no one else/ A middle aged man struggles to overcome feelings of inferiority lingering since he was little/ One man alone, his thumbs twiddle/ Some spend their whole lives in the middle/ Others struggle to enjoy small pleasures/ Younger guy so shocked, traumatized, shook up, and scared/ I'm pitying his mother/ And to my annoyance/ As the inmates settle down I can distinguish less and less/ At any rate, whenever lock down ends, I'll see some more pain again/ As we mindlessly grasp at our severed individuality

$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$

Today the second eclipse is moving into position/ Crowded in with the criminals is my disposition/ A card flipping pencil scribbling waiting tradition/ They don't care that you're not comfortable/ They don't care if they're not dependable/ Within this system we're all expendable/ And I hate the way they make me feel/ The way you would hate the way they make you feel/ Like my cell mates hate the way they feel/ Because only our disbelief is real/ We can't believe this place is real/ Or that minutes can be like hours, so real/ Yeah, maybe I'm weak and unable to deal/ Only by comparison to another's nerves of steel/ Either way, jail is a wound that never heals/ We walk in endless circles, blistering our spirits/ Creating a callous; tap us and you'll hear it/ Park by a prison and you'll feel the pain we emit/ The prisoner's plight is a losing fight/ Fought every night with wishes we'll be alright/ Until tomorrow comes and brings more sorrow/ Like trout being stocked in a hollow/ Guards change and inmates stay the same/ Men of every color, creed, race, and nation/ A single sex congregation/ This is the eclipse moving into position/ Four days and I'll be free/ Of this place where they torture we

$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$

In reality,/ The totality craves/ The same delusion as always/ Yo, Uncle Sam/ You sick fuck/ What's your problem/ Evil monster/ Letting people die solemn?/ Do the right thing/ Let the power fade/ It's your final hour/ In the newspaper column/ They told me I'm free/ Beautiful obscurity/ Crushed by a monarchy/ What they do can't last too long/ Mister and Misses King and Queen/ Your next door neighbor/ Slice of the pie/ Dead to the stars/ Born to the stripes/ And we all know/ The time is ripe/ To crush the capitalist/ And his greasy life/ Herbiverous revolution/ We reject the delusion/ Change the system/ With Veganism/ End world hunger/ End the strife/ Become a vegan/ End the genocide/ Change is forged/ By peasants on hillsides/ Simple. Accurate. Legitimate./ Honest. Effective. Considerate./ Consider it. Consider it. Consider it./ Now:/ Slip back to the static of stagnant solutions/ Understand the fate of a philanthropist/ Meat is murder with no guarantees/ Take away the meat and trust me/ End the genocide, I guarantee/ They'll say you're wrong when you know you're right/ They'll tell you to quit when you have to fight/ They call change deranged when there's nothing else sane/ They call change deranged and there's nothing else sane/ Herbivorous revolution/ Stop eating meat and get pissed off/ Be the change/ Embrace innovation/ Kill your television/ Fuck the politicians and fuck the system/ Fuck Times Square consumerism/ Think about the children/ End the confusion/ One message, no delusions / Our new evolution/ Herbivorous revolution/ End the greed/ End world hunger/ Feed your sister/ Feed your brother/ End world hunger/ End world hunger/ One vegan world/ One vegan world/ One vegan world/ One vegan world/ If we consume the earth we consume ourselves/ We're sending the kids straight to hell/ Forgetting about the souls we sell/ We're so selfish and we can't even tell/ Change the hunger inside of you/ Rising up is for the view/ Stop dying for the fucking stars/ Hungry others are your blood brothers/ We can feed everybody/ We can burn all the money/ Socialist Philanthropists work as one/ Start the vegan revolution/ All the animals dying together/ Screaming agony to the weather/ Damn the vicious imbalanced culture!/ If you won't help, then there is no other/ We fucked it up/ Now we gotta fix it/ We fucked it up/ Now we gotta fix it/ We fucked it up/ Now we gotta fix it

$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$

Perpetually overlooked/ By peers, contemporaries, and women/ Ask why/ And cry./ Most integral manuscripts!/ Weigh heavy on failing shoulders/ Like/ You will./ Validate/ Vicarious successes/ Hyena writers on all sides/ Eating some of me./ A failing/ literature writer's/ disillusionment knows/ no anguish control, nor contentment./ A star system/ Unimportant star system/ Show me how well I'm conforming/ Don't break or build, just be.

$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$

Give me a bullet wound/ Or at least create a new scar/ Inflict some other pain on me/ I have had enough of final decisions/ There is nothing but crying guitars and stabbed beer cans/ I am through punching myself in the head/ My knuckles are starting to hurt/ So I've taken to pulling my hair out/ I am through eating and I am through sleeping/ I am through teetering on the edge of weeping/ The phone book is not truly as interesting as I've been finding it/ Maybe it is/ Fuck it/ My 'F' looks like it's dancing/ My 'F' looks like it's romancing you/ Hold on while I check if my nerves are still working/ ................................................................................../ Yeah. I guess they are/ Pain is still pain no matter how much pain you're in/ Fuck. Fuck. Fucking fuck. Fuck. Fuck/ Sorry. I hit a wall. Not literally/ I blew a fuse/ I need to blow a fucking Vicodin.

$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$

There's a river I shudder to recall/ A shore of blood and broken glass/ The lingering curse of burnt shampoo/ The state says they own the place/ I'm the only one who'd trespass/ When the floods come,

The Natchaug gets formidable/ On the shore I had a tent/ And sometimes friends and fire/ My pugga wugga walks beside me/ Through the woods to the pond/ Along the clearing she trots in the sun/ Her tongue pants and her eyes sparkle/ I hadn't seen her smile in years/ At the forefront of the pond's oblong?/ Well, I did lots of things there/ Most recently burned a camping chair/ And the van bogged down in grass/ Originally,/ I failed to seduce neighborly beauties/ Or burned my childhood with gasoline/ I did a lot of entertaining/ As much as I possibly could/ It was something I enjoyed/ Someone once said/ A Leo is like a bonfire/ I say,/ Only the friends burned away/ Some were never meant to last/ Or even to ever exist/ And up a short ways by the driveway and house/ Oak trees are survivors, yet forests loom beyond/ Always/ I hear the owls screaming through the witching hour/ I should be asleep and yet I'm not, I should call out/ "I'm not going to work today and I have no choice!"/ The house I grew up in is there always/ One day I might see this go away/ My cat is around somewhere/ He might be around somewhere/ If he's inside, I'm jealous/ Only for the warmth/ I'm writing through the winter/ This is the time, you should see it/ This is the time when I have to do/ what I have to do/ and I have no options/ Trapped in a moment of time/ The spirit of the gargoyle/ Among a Dead Bride,/ A girl named whoever/ And the Love of my life,/ holding my skull in her palm/ My Mom has rose bushes now/ Those are nice/ Though the frost is here/ And I doubt many blossoms remain/ I still walk up the street to hang with J/ Creep past the new neighbor,/ so unlike the old/ He wasn't expecting the spectacle of I/ Always lit up across the way/ A guy you've never met, yet/ Already don't understand/ Uncomfortably, one to keeps to oneself/ It's come to this/ I need the cold in my bones/ To convey a grim reality/ My sacrifice to what/ We as a world face/ Self-awareness murdered the planet/ Our oddly fragile world/ I wish you could see it from my mind/ We are in a crystal dish and,/ Life is like a flame, and we're smoldering/ Away, releasing the spirit, all of our spirits/ We're fucking going home!/ And we're leaving the dirt/ where it belongs; in the ashes/ I'm riding a current/ Foreboding like the Natchaug in spring/ Keyboards claim the fingertips of gloves/ Me and my computer against the fire/ I could tell you about a nameless road/ Where a certain pit hosted a vandalism/ Or the creek where I played on slimy iron/ All I'm saying is/ I always knew it would come to this/ I speak only to survivors/ I can only imagine how much worse/ The fascists' actions will be than what I imagine/ So to you, I'm sorry/ But you live/ And when you die/ You will go to the place we all go/ Exactly where we belong/ And me, I'm/ Living my greatest fear;/ A lonely apocalypse

$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$

If you're not mine, I'll be better off dead/ The day I can't love you, will be the end/ If I can't have you, then I'll die instead/ I weigh the options and get sick with dread/ The less you help me the more I descend/ If you're not mine, I'll be better off dead/ There's always less and less skin left to shred/ Without you I don't know what is pretend/ If I can't have you, then I'll die instead/ There is a stinging inside of my head/ Some poison for the antidote; please lend?/ If you're not mine, I'll be better off dead/

I can tell this poem really ends in red/ Love. We like to think we can comprehend/ If I can't have you, then I'll die instead/ So much said. Still, so much is left unsaid/ Damn. I was hoping these lines wouldn't end/ If you're not mine, I'll be better off dead/ If I can't have you, then I'll die instead

$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$

When I fall asleep I awake in tears/ You belong in this bed more than I do,/ I suppose, I've been dreaming of my fears/ That no one alive might feel this blue/ Your dad had the mattress lying around/ The sheets you bought are as black as my heart/ The thick red blanket sops up my raw wound/ The brown fleece wraps me like we aren't apart/ I haven't seen the sun much in months since/ Like your absence, the world's omnipresent/ You leave easy and stay hard to convince/ I lament, repent, and choke on torment/ Sleep to sleep, and in-between, you stay gone/ Wake to wake, in this bed, you still belong

$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$

I lost my best friend the day I lost you/ And now, here alone, I've only regret/ You, me, we love, and the rest is untrue/ I think you thought I thought you were a pet/ You need to know, you, us, I won't forget/ Ignore my pain, forget it's relentless/ Ignore the dry tears, forget the cold sweat/ Please remember, you, us, our lost caress?/ We meld, fuse, and tear apart in duress/ The things we've seen and done, I won't recall/ I'd burn the words, to transform our mess/ More to be done; reconcile the squall/ All you've done for me I do for you now/ If we get even, please, let's take the vow

$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$

Like layers of fog stacked up to the sky/ With a piercing full moon burning through haze/ The thought of your kiss won't cease to amaze/ The kiss I get between your inner thighs/ Yeah, I'm lost in the words, I'm left to die/ And I have seen dishonor in your gaze/ When I ask where you go all these damn days/ To which your inner thighs kiss me goodbye/ It is as though the air has come into life/ And I won't know why the fuck you aren't here/ There's too much to know to leave me alone/ I've shown you life on the edge of a knife/ I know of a way so peaceful and clear/ If you learn you will feel the dead moan

$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$

I'd have liked to avoid the twilight zone/ My heart went out to you so long ago/ You've lost your innocence and now it shows/ My heart, lost, is losing its mind alone/ Your distant deliverance I can't condone/ Nor your twisted way of taking it slow/ I am the mouse and you are the crow/ You cannot see if you will not be shown/ My allegiance is to you forever/ Your pain seethes across my every last nerve/ Your flesh is like paradise on Earth/ On our wavelength we can never sever/ I melt into you at every last curve/ Will you ever understand your true worth?

$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$

It seems at last I've found myself so lost/ In dreams that drift through long days so awake/ Silent screams the rift, and dead earth don't quake/ Poison streams quench the thirst for you, at cost/ With inside out doubts it's me you accost/ Dead sprouts rot and writhe like mummified snakes/ Blood spouts out, down, as dry nerves fry and shake/ Eyes cry and fallout as mouth shouts burnt frost/ Spirit master. Ghost of the wind slaughter/ Face of plaster. Host of the masquerade/ Love disaster roasts quartz sand of laughter/ Here I followed the wandering daughter/ A sad hollowed painful fractured charade/ Where wallowed I in shallow hard water

$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$

Your absence is like ether on my skin/ Like absinthe or weak acid through my veins/ By chance a noose like unforgiven sin/ My balance, a broken chair, hands in chains/ All day my yang burns so hot for your yin/ You say you care then leave and pain remains/ Empty hearts are the worst when they're silent/ Despair starts quiet then becomes violent/ Painful arts, I've bled more than I repent/ Dark deserts embrace. My eyes, confused fire/ Wherefore dost my love go when I get ill?/ Yes, this hurts, but whose is, this, is whose ire?/ Blood I've lost when she wanders off could kill/ Babe reverts, comes alive, while I expire

$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$

The reason I keep dreaming about one girl is because my obsession with her is what has been destroying my relationships. I've been wanting the wrong thing. Death, to me, means saying goodbye to everything at once. Never getting a word in, a thousand times at once. I understand that tarot reading now. Fuck. Four of swords. There you are so clearly, face down like the others. How can recharging my batteries be the final outcome? Being a loner means you are apart from the social hierarchy. Being a loner is to be a king and a peasant unto one's self. Behold the Sioux Falls Clonazipam/ Aphetemine Salts Twist of 2009: At some point a few months ago, sordid interactions of drug chaos circumstances rooted themselves into my memories only to disappear, only to return as a recollection in regards to a current, less sordid, drug interaction- not literally- regarding a new circumstance possibly related to the first. Amphetemine salts; the blue and orange pills; Blue, 5 and 10 milligrams, time released capsules for the extended relief; Orange 20, 30, even 40 milligrams, time released capsules for the extended relief. Best when snorted and swallowed simultaneously, in large quantities (50 to 90 milligrams in the beginning, then go less. Always consider personal health first- how's your heart, how are your nerves?), with pot or moderate alcohol. 8:00 am one day, I was almost done on the ten hour work shift. The Virus called and told me to meet him at the coffee shop across town. Some shit went down at my apartment while I was at work. He'd robbed a girl he was hanging out with; something to do with amphetamine salts. I arrived, bought a drink, waited, sat Zazen. He arrived after I'd been waiting 45 minutes. His face was hanging to the floor. Eyes dead to the universe. The Virus could hardly stand up crooked, forget straight. His bike was broken from falling too much. It was backward. He'd told me he was on speed all night. He shoulda been perked up and strung out. Regardless, he was belligerent and beyond coherent cognition which he clearly demonstrated to an employee who'd been admiring my badass van. Nonetheless. He thought the cops were going to be in our affairs at the house. He wasn't thinking well, of course. I called this girl he'd robbed and left her a polite message telling her, to back off their bullshit issues, and to not interfere with my life. She broke my bathroom mirror, somehow, into a few pieces. The house was an ashtray. The only thing that mattered was that there were some drugs kicking around. Also, I made him throw me 30 dollars of the stolen money (I don't think he ever paid me that). I researched these four green pills the next night at work. They were actually clonazepam. Which explains The Virus' state of incapacitation, although, that day he insisted on standing around the van while I slept. I assume he was keeping an eye for police. Also, he thought he was strung out on speed, uppers. Placebo opposition. He'd been doing downers. I thought this drug guise strange but wrote it off as a single occurrence. Until now. Months later Shenequa, this random, somewhat heavy set, black chick- a possible lunatic but docile enough- that is becoming a friend of mine via living in my living room gave me an amphetamine salt on the promise that I give her, and a mysterious "hot blonde" friend, guitar lessons. That's whatever, but the pill was pink and I had even seen it before, but I didn't know that at the time. I told her that amphetamine salts have always been blue or orange and she is the second person to claim otherwise. And this is the only town where I've seen this. Only recently have I ever heard of other things being passed as the salts. But, ya know, maybe I was wrong, so I took the pill. I'd been pretty manic this day, watching good movies from the library (STREETCAR NAMED DESIRE for Stella, HOUSE OF SAND AND FOG, THE LAST TEMPTATION OF CHRIST, THE MOTOR CYCLE DIARIES, FIRST BLOOD to give you something to do, if videos from 2012 are an option for you. Hope you aren't reading this underground in a fallout bunker), drinking rum, and getting high on weed. Then I took the pill and talked to Rachelle over the phone, from our distance. By the time I got off the phone the pill had set in. I knew it wasn't amphetamines. Maybe she'd meant Ritalin, the other pill that is prescribed similar to amphetamine salts. But at the same moment that I recognized the effect of the drug, I recalled the identity of that pink pill Shenequa had given me. I had been staring at that pill at my job every work shift for months. Knowing that the non- verbal old man with autism getting the dose was so drugged out on several other things that him reacting to a missed dosage might not be observed by the staff. And if I only did it once? That pink pill. The same one I'd just taken. I think. Clonazepam. A great downer, a great drug, in its own right. I've raised my claim about this with Shenequa and she refuses to believe me. She's just in denial. I'll prove the trivial matter tomorrow. All that remains to be answered is that one question that always stumps us; why? Who is lying about this pill? Clonazepam is even, in general, worth more on the street. I want to meet the lying or misinformed source of this disarray. Trying to sleep, my eyes don't stay closed well. They were time released. Hence not much rush. Just insomnia. I was completely wrong. Once again, I was the misinformed source of disarray. Later, at the library I am checking out movies from the guy working. From, neither distant nor far across the way, behind the desks, the brunette librarian with the eastern European accent gazed into my eyes from her task at hand. Her eye literally twinkled when she stole a glimpse of everything there was to be seen and she smiled knowingly. This one's for Malcolm X and Hamlet. Thanks for happening, each in your own rite. The internet however confirmed that I had taken amphetamines. Not the salts though. Apparently the salts have become pass A. I never understood that term though, 'salts.'

Cor/ 135/ celtic cross on back

Thats code for:

Cops/ The new breed/ Still, it's been the same since the bible and before/ The same breed/ Cops/ Still, the same deeds, now without failure/ Police vehicles/ And tom, dick, or harry/ With too much power/ One mind and one mission/ Dictated from a system/ Beyond out of reach/ Armed and out of touch/ Jails are filled with people/ Who deserve to be there/ Disheveled and disgruntled masses/ All at the ends of their own ropes/ Cops/ They come from a terrible place/ And they pull you back with them/ Remember when there was hope?/ That's why the stars were in the sky/ And that's why we can't see them anymore/ This cannot end well/ I am finished writing the names of cops with capital letters/ The same goes for any other government official/ Judge not lest ye be judged/ We are born judged to live out the verdict/ We can pretend/ That there isn't something wrong with this world/ And that there always wasn't/ Just stop pretending we don't have means to change this/ They want us divided and conquered/ Unite. While it's still legal/ We don't have the means because they won't give us the means/ Help me?/ This is what I ask:/ Stop capitalizing the names of people/ Who have too much power over you/ Stop capitalizing the names of those in government/ Judicial, Executive, Legislative/ They are not us/ They don't live like us/ They don't think like us/ They are below us/ They deserve to have something taken from them for a change/ The future must know who to hold responsible/ Lowercase the capitalists

$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$

Grim came back from the hills again/ He hadn't been home since November when/ Grim didn't come home from the hills again/ A wide eyed son who knew only love/ God came down from up above/ And snatched up- that boy we love/ The rest of Grim come home today/ The best of Grim has gone away/ This thing come back today to say/ It's time we all go away/ He says it's time we go away/ A force vaguely resembling hell/ Licks life from us like fire on our heels/ We're torn asunder is how this feels/ This boy, he ain't god/ And he ain't the devil/ Little Evil Grim is an animal/ Little Evil Grim, gunna exterminate man/ Going on and on about the animal plan/ I hear and know nothing but if you can/ Save the world from this A.L.F demon/ How long have I been singing this song?/ And praying my memories become delusions?/ Confined and starved, sleep is a confusion/ How long have I not known/ Known the fates of those I adore/ Grim was lost but what about Catherine?/ Evil told me what he planned to do/ And Evil showed me what he can do/ Then he left me here in a little white room/ Alone, endlessly singing to a vacuum/ Endlessly. Singing to a vacuum.

$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$

Love can save lives. Sure, maybe/ If the air itself- it is- is not evil/ Live everyday with blinded eyes/ Maybe you will see when you die/ Good intentions break wills like glass/ I've felt worse, but it's always bad/ Breathe this toxic petroleum perfume/ Humanity stench makes you choke/ Light the fires and run breathlessly/ Hide away and wait until dark/ Praise your achievements and awards/ Yet the truth- your love's freedom- scorn/ Joy is for the day of exaltation/ Descension madness is pure sadness/ Fuck over whoever, just worship your lover/ Frustration makes the dead fight/ Laugh if you will but that's the plight/ Humanity is so horrendous I could cry/ Forward thinkers already know doom/ None are catching up looking backward/ Up, jump, rise, fly, and bestow your gifts/ Before too late; you'll drop, fall down fast/ In spring your will will be your destiny/ Until then you must remain cast out/ Freedom comes at the reversion point/ Without this the sky rains acid fascism/ Yoni is the yin- so love-/ To the yang of a lingam/ Cold temperatures are for within/ Get without when the air is hot/ Cardinality sets in motion/ What will be still and fixed?/ Will the whole be mutable?/ I don't know what I feel/ Perhaps the whole is hurt/ Or maybe it is pleasure/ An ache is on and off/ You shout to a friend for fun/ I scream in pain to god/ With a few words on this page/ What if existence is wuji?

$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$

Live in fear or don't live at all/ All choices black and white/ I don't want to write these times/ I'd rather not witness crimes/ Let's leave this place to the meek/ Give it to the least guilty/ Meet up on the other side/ Together, after we died/ Unreal pain of others/ Lofts vividly on the breeze/ Souls drift in the atmosphere/ And don't care the end is near/ I don't want to write these times/ I'd rather not witness high crimes/ So we'll go out in tandem/ With no reason to condemn/ The horrible actions/ Of a few wealthy men/ With an inhuman agenda/ An inconceivable genocide/ We'll watch with open dead eyes/ In an era where the corpses cry/ Nothing we can do is wrong/ Now is for coming undone/ When there is no brotherhood/ This view must be understood/ I don't want to write these times/ I don't want to witness high crimes/ If this were Rome,/ Why would they/ Catch their empire/ With a butterfly net?

$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$

Domestic pets are essentially whores/ Through human intervention/ The traditional pet animals know/

Inherently/ Who puts the food in their dish/ Puppies lick faces and/ Cats cuddle up close/ Pigs and ferrets/ And others, too/ Can figure out quick/ Who butters their bread/ The only significance of this/ Is to further raise the awareness/ That we are in debt/ To the ones we do wrong/ By overpopulation/ and euthanasia/ Let the dogs live among us/ Let the cats live among us/ And walk the streets freely/ To live free or die/ In closing:/ When our greed creates/ a situation-/ Animals for profit/ That we must atone for:/ One vegan world

$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$

I never/ even/ knew.../ what a dissident was/ They die in revolutions/ And that will be me/ Quite possibly/ Asthma doesn't get me out/ Neither does the booze/ The psychosis nor/ Flat feet in my shoes/ Might I give my life for the future?/ Would you?/ We won't have an option/ We may just have to/ I lost my mind this time/ At least I'm not arrested/ For committing a crime/ All of this for a lost love/ I never knew. I can't endure/ I never knew pain til I lost her/ Where do you wander when your heart beats for no one?/ Why do I wonder where if you were me you would run?/ Every time I write to you I die a little inside/ You make me want to hurt him/ He makes me want to die/ Another dead poet/ With a romanticized butcher knife/ Then the girl who tried to hide/ Will appear at the cemetery/ Where she will realize/ The answer is the tears she cries/ And I can't sympathize/ because I am not alive/ And all she wanted was me/ But all she could have was him/ And as certain as the animals die/ As certain as the ocean acidifies/ I wanted her and she wanted me/ But society stood in the way/ Uncompromisingly

$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$

Disguised As A Quo

Startled aware from traffic dreams. Foregone destinies after fate's murder. There is no stopping the unstoppable. Or so we aspire. Pushing relentlessly through time and oceanic tides. Maniacal empire as vast as the starry sky. There are sharks in the water. Connect the charger. Batteries run low, burning hot. This will have to be what it is not. As we are who we aren't. Photos can't show what I have to tell. Like a penitentiary can't compare to hell. Maniacal empire vast as starry skies. There are sharks in the water. The big swim. We dive in. Over and over and over again. Ever ready. Ever anxious. The kings business cannot be performed slackly. We are the guardians of his ransom. There are sharks in the water. We are seals to the slaughter. We're prey. Never safe. Still. The king's business is not to be performed slackly. Take me away mighty current. Take me away so far. I am off to fight the war.

2

The journey west is larger than words. The tracts covered are vast. Size isn't the same back home. I feel bigger in a bedroom. We are krill apart from the horde. We are barnacles alone. We are not special. We are not different. The journey west is larger than words. The tracts covered are vast. We are fish with no school. We can't be discerned. We won't be noticed. So alone. Don't notice. So vulnerable. Don't notice. Predators can't find us. We can't be seen.

3

Everywhere is here. Nowhere is not. There is a single tai chi. Not two. Everywhere is here. Skyscrapers appear in the fog. In a city off the highway. Here is the place. This is where we are. It is not home. Home is not far. This is where we are. One town like the next. One road west. We go, we stop, we rest. Everywhere is here. Nowhere is not. There is a single tai chi. It set me free. Allowing me to be completely serene. As if in a dream. Where nothing is what it seems. Everywhere is here. No matter how far gone. Home is near. Because here is everywhere.

4

My best foot was on the last leg. This step trips and clatters. Further forward forever. Lest the interstate close for weather. The sun rose in the rearview. Drowsy eyes revived. Back to life. My best foot was on the last leg. Only the next leg matters. Moving so vague. Deception is the best protection. After an election. Before the secession. Desperado wheels roll to the goal. Unstoppable. My best foot was on the last leg. Perpetual nervosa lingers. The wheel in my fingers. Holding my breath. Head underwater.

5

Pendulum mood swings. Blessed like baby Jesus. Cursed as the Dark Prince. Culture cultivates discordant fortunes. We gamble with our lives. A king's ransom. Across the ocean. Hunted. Wanted. Haunted by pendulum mood swings. Catch us if you can. That's fair man. This is righteous. It feels horrendous. The duress. The distress. The success so glorious. Threats notorious. Pendulum mood swings. Danger relentlessly rings wrong. Highway sings a sweet siren song. This is what tomorrow brings.

6

Sleep deprivation vocation. Crop shot vision. Sluggish motion. Disorienting devotions. Fatigue, caffeine, and heavy machinery. An ocean of time. Depths of misery. Tides of torment. Sleep deprivation vocation. Fundamentally broken. Far too outspoken. Forever unforgiven. If suicide could kill me then I'd be dead. Instead I've got a revenant in my head. Dead. Dead. Dead alive. An ocean of time. Depths of misery. Tides of torment. Sleep deprivation vocation. This price is too high. Throw me aside. I have no value. Dead alive. Delete this three times. Keep just what rhymes.

7

Longest night I've ever known. Just me awake. All alone. Street lights seep through the blinds. I toss and turn in insomniac binds. Kill me in my sleep. I've sowed what I reap. Kill me in my sleep. One promise to keep. The darkness is soft, my deer. My deer. Take away my pain and fear. I've never cared about being here. Agony is crystal clear. Death, so far, so near. And I all alone. If I could have known I'd be like this when I'm grown then I would have never been born. Into this world thrown. Nothing taught. Nothing shown. Ultimately beyond family. On my own. My overlooked books unknown. With the bends again. Drowning and not dying. Still struggling. Boys don't cry. Men don't quit. Kill me in my sleep. Take away my agony. Take away my malady. I can't live without my lady. So baby. Save me with your beauty. Or kill me in my sleep. If I ever sleep again.

8

A happy accident. We give thanks. Upon foundations of suffering. In homes of exploitation. Roofed by selfish principles. Upon poverty's land. The hungry stand at the gate. We give thanks. A happy accident. Grateful for friends. Kind words as the world ends. Grateful for family. And the privilege they gave me. For the earth and heaven. Slaughtered at the hands of men. Time and again. I give thanks for what I can. Sick culture we can't save; be with me in my grave. I'm trying to be brave. They made me a slave. Numbered. Documented. Subjected. Disillusioned. Rejected. I give thanks for water, blood, and the end.

9

Moving with the sky. Clouds in my face. Get me out of this place. No exit. I don't exist. That is not what this is. It's a pulse. A single beat. Bury my heart in Waco. Off I-80.   
We are where we were. We are where we weren't. Moving with the sky. Clouds in my face. Nauseating waves. A particular distaste. Everything I was. Needs to be erased. To begin a blank slate. To keep it pure. At any rate. The endless mission is owning me. We are the king's ransom. Moving with the sky. Clouds in my face.

10

Never was a voice so beautiful as hers. That melody I've never heard. Like the impoverished rich man. I finally understand. Hear me if you can. Fate grows irate. Issues exacerbate. You must be running late. To our nonexistent date. I can't wait. Everyday is a little more pain. Like radiation in the rain. I'll never be whole again. Never was a voice so beautiful as hers. That melody I've never heard. It is nothing wrong with me. It's culture. It has to be. Weaponized insanity. Find your destiny. Find me. There was never a voice so beautiful as yours. That melody I've never heard. Incomplete, until that first word.

11

Highway hypnosis. Distract my necrosis. It's the pits. Hot blood. Cold world. Music ends before it begins. Hourly near death experiences. The house always wins. Salt Lake shooting star. I wished for her. Only a schizoid. Has faith in a meteoroid. Hot blood. Cold world. Stank salt lake is rank. For the concentrated dank. Another full tank. Expression blank. An owl to thank. Death omen. Boat sank. Hot blood. Cold world.

12

What I want to say. I cannot convey. Legally. Please bear with me. It's twisted allegories. Hazards and dangers. Half-hearted metaphors. About sailing the seas. We're fighting covert wars. And praying to Satan. Oh, my lord, please. See me home safely. What I want to say. I cannot convey. Legally. Believe this. There is a fire in my fist. Peril in my wrist. Four hundred miles west. Then a brief respite. That's adequate. That's legit. I just need a minute to sit and forget about this for a bit. What I want to say I cannot convey. Legally. I want you to know. How this really goes. So much to expose. Another day I suppose.

13

There is a correlation between depression and exhaustion. The demons creep as you begin losing sleep. Like fruit left out. I just can't keep. Like nagging doubts become screams and shouts. Let me say what hell is about. Hell is desperation. There is a correlation between depression and exhaustion. Hell is this nation. And our hypocritical condemnations. This is heaven's vindication. Fairy tales of mice and men. Neither will ever thrive again. The worst laid plans. Purposeful mismanagement. We do what we can. Alone. I feel this as sand slipping from my hand. Don't find me, my love. My dove of blue sky above. Don't find me my love. I need the motivation. My desperation. My desolation. This nation. All nations. There is a correlation between depression and exhaustion. I need a decent night's rest. To continue this test. To prove what is best. Lest the figurative chicks fall from the metaphor nest. Or we take hollow points to the chest. Never forget. There is no safety net. No regret. Desperate. One slip and that's it. Let's get to the port of destination. For rest and relaxation. For a brief vacation from the vocation. Before we're out to sea again. There is a correlation between exhaustion and damnation. Sleep well, my friend.

14

The devil has sea sickness. This is extremely hazardous. Mountain roads perilous as a cobra's kiss is venomous. Slow down. The dead don't get around. We'll never make it back to our hometown. Don't let the devil die on his mission. Let him be shanked in prison. That's justification. May I never know another mistress. Your devil has sea sickness and is in distress. Captain, this is extremely hazardous. The terrain mountainous. Don't let me die like this. Let me fall from grace again. To my home among the demons. Captured, tortured, heathens. Anything. Just get me off the mountains. I despise heights. Like darkness hates lights. Don't let me fall from grace, alright?

15

Nevada has a call only the wicked can hear. An outback of prisons, gambling, and fear. Loathing, too. So I hear. Burning brush beside the tar. Smoke wafting through the air. No one fucking carez. That much is clear. Land swallows you and your tires slow. The land is ours. Like we don't even know. With decadence like this there is nowhere else to go. Nevada has a whisper only demons adore. A desert of substance abuse and whores. Battle Mountain I accept your challenge. Reno I will be seeing you. In wastelands of radiation and risk. The Elko sun intense as the sin around the mountain bend. Nevada has a familiar cry. Sorrowful sobs of solemn remorse.

16

How many more bitches want to settle for less? I be the last lost child born apart from the rest. It's like living in the past. Puritans and heathens in endless distress. I can feel hunters stalking the innocent. The wicked incite mob riots. I be the last lost child born apart from thiz chizz. Rocking out in the outlaw inns. Fine dining in the renegade restaurants. Far beyond desires and wants. Life and death are hanging in the balance, bitch. Baby. Take a chance. True romance underground seduction dance. Dreams of mystery liaisons in the towncar. I've come home from terror war. No worse for the wear. I made it there. Take it as a dare, my deer, step out of the ether and into the atmosphere. They don't have a word for what we will become. In the void we make our home. Cutthroat living can shower you in wishes. Expecting the worst. Fighting for a treasure chest. Yo ho ho, it's thug life bitch. I be the last lost child born apart from thiz chizz.

17

The dab that made me pull over for an hour. They say a dab will do you. This is really ingenious. It's just an internet connection. Everybody has one. Well, anyone who is anyone does. Tell me what you know about 70 percent. I'll tell you how to double your profits. It's all about the farmer's markets. The haze gets thick. You may lose your way. The haze gets so thick and disorienting. I can't feel a thing. I can't think. They say a dab will do you. They don't say what it will do to you. One, two, or a few. They say a dab will do you. I'm done. I'm not having fun. Completely spun, like the bullet in the six gun. I try to run. Asthma attack. I fall hard. Done. Broken. Coma land. They say a dab will do you. If I only knew.

18

Chattering teeth and rattling fingertips. Chapped lips. Highway chess. Eternity road trip. Well. We're halfway through about half of halfway through. Sharks aren't a concern as much as open wounds. Torn apart on state grounds. It means how it sounds. Can't swim. Put on the pounds. It means how it sounds. Head in the destiny clouds. Staring down 9mill rounds. Take the shot. You've taken all I got. I hope you die and rot. Kill me now. Right here. In this spot. We're halfway through about half of halfway through. If you only knew. Not even god has a clue what me and Satan get into. Jesus Christ.... I did it with love. I did it for you.

19

The sky inside is a ceiling. Cali rain falls drenching. Comfortable rooms relaxing. Techno interweb word pro phone. The air's a bit cool here. Hardly like east coast November. No more or less wetter. The AM hours coddle zeros. Getting soft under covers. The night breaks into daylight's dawn. Blinds closed. Lights off. Single silver band of sun through the curtains. I am getting too comfortable. A mistake ill affordable. It's condemnable. Vigilance is not ignorance. In poor condition. Lethargy collision. Oh. Sweet treats. Rot my teeth. Destroy my organs. Moreover. We own your mind. We own the future. We have the key to the generator. And intend to share. If that is not clear. I can't say what I have seen out here. Not before I get back there. Where? Home. No. Time. To where you are. We'll get lifted and go to a bar. I won't drink but I can buy a cigar. And say god damn we've come so far. As my lungs fill with tar. Like a dream turned nightmare. Or a thousand mile stare. I've dreamt this before. The end is a bore. Nothing so much worse. Not the unimaginable curse. Not hell of this earth. Simple futures. Home and hearth. Self-worth. Dignity. Destiny. Sanity. Safety. Off the seven seas. Peace. Be easy.

20

Let's hear those tales from Misquamicut. We're a long way from the Quinetucket. The sun chases a shadow around a spinning orb. The redwoods don't grow from granite. Finish your job, put on the gloves, and take another hit. Basement pugilist. Has the system in his fist. His eye on a fascist. Despotic overlords make yourselves known. I can feel you in my telephone. How far we've come, how little we've grown. After all you've seen that we have shown. We will rise and make our cause known. You have transgressions to own. You must reap what you've sown. Humans have earned truth. We're done lying to youth. Mercenaries aren't heroes and that is fact. I know. It is my right to know. We're a long way from the Quinetucket. A long way from home. The righteous follow the integral way. They blaze trails for the wanderers to wander lost in their wanderlust. Redwoods scrape the sky. Ancient forests pass you by. The bay blurs into the sky. Rain forest drive; deluge falling over streets. Exotic canyon vista escape.

21

Beyond the redwood valley you can find me. Misty mountains as far as I can see. This operation isn't as smooth as it could be. This must be living free. We do what we do passionately. Crossing our fingers faithfully. It's victory or fatality. We do what we do vengefully. Sharks stalking us menacingly. In our inflatable raft. The adventure is our craft. West coast desperado. Moving with the ebb and flow. Rising so high. Falling so low. Let's just go. This whole place is going to blow. The operation is a mess. You don't even know. Misty mountains as far as I can see. Towering red wood trees. This may as well be the other side of the seven seas. We are the sacred mystery. Dancing with calamity. Flirting with catastrophe. Going home with emeralds and rubies. Collecting the king's monies. We move with the breeze. Through misty mountains and redwood trees. We toil toward our release. Only once the king is pleased.

22

If my phone doesn't delete this then I think you should read it. If you've never seen a desert sunset then I think you should read this. When the land turns to gold, the youth feel old. I had never seen yellow shrubs so bold. An eternity until home. I wonder what will unfold. Like the California sky is grey until the mountains break, I grow tired and my healing heart begins to ache. Driving ten hours without a break, your nerves begin to rattle and shake. Like mountains rising from an earthquake. I cannot sleep, so I cannot wake from this dream. Won't let myself scream. We stay strong for the team. After all I've seen I feel unclean. This is the in-between. Now the Wyoming air is so damn cold. But before this I'd never seen gold so bold as the west coast and the memory I hold. There is no telling how far we can go. Since a story unwritten is not a tale untold. We drive through the night and into the fold. The sun runs away. To rise again some other day. Be gone snowcapped peaks. I miss the east. We've been gone for weeks. Some rivers are creeks. Salt Lake reeks. Just a couple of freaks. Crossing the atlas in streaks.

23

Artificially induced insomnia. Hauling through dystopia. Sick from the paranoia. Sharks in Nebraska. Don't let them see you. The next hour won't be so free. License plate obliterate anonymity. We aren't where we need to be. Blend in hard. Just drive the fucking car. Don't swerve or speed. Stay right as you are. We've come too far. So close, but no cigar. These waters are infested with sharks. Sharks in Nebraska. Artificially induced insomnia. For the Thanksgiving cornucopia. Blame it on myopia. Or even schizophrenia. We be the dark age mafia. Surfing apocalyptica. The point is this. We do it for the bliss. However morally remiss. That's just the way it is

24.

1000 miles of fog. Like the world was a bog. And I but a frog out for a jog on a log. Hitching a trucker's light. Never liked driving at night. To make an error so slight. It changes the course of your life. I guess I know dick about strife. Cripple's veins kiss the knife. 1000 miles of fog. Huddle near me stranger. Together we lessen the danger, angel. Watch out for the ranger, angel. Be a baby in the manger. Or an Armageddon harbinger. We don't know what we're living for anymore. To deadbolt the door. To sleep on the floor. To be a corporate whore. Who can't afford formula in the store. Heroin breast milk lore. Days been awake. No piece of cake. Just another bloody steak. A good driver does not an insomniac make. I almost died twelve times today. Save the date for my wake. Cops casing our plate, model, and make. Make no mistake. I may be many things. But I ain't no fake. Call him a shark. Call him a hog. He's got no right. It's just plain wrong. So I move along. Into a 1000 miles of fog.

$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$

Dear Audience,

We have an obligation to revolt. Our opposition is dreadfully formidable. Our reality is more frightening than the most traumatic nightmare. Ask the people you know if they're ready to do what it takes to turn this situation around. Most of them aren't ready to do anything whatsoever. So that leaves us; the committed. That's not going to be enough. We have to do a massive outreach campaign. Again. That's first. Again. Once our numbers rise we should secede from the united states. Theoretically we could turn the whole world inside out with ideology; even the worst places. Secession needs to be everywhere. Our enemy is blind patriotism. People are brainwashed slaves to their government's mythology. The entire planet needs to reject authority simultaneously. If you can think of a better way to make that happen than what I'm proposing I'd love to concede to it. Nothing like this has ever happened. Look around you. We're enslaved. And people don't realize. That's why most are not fighting back. They're enslaved to banks and banks wage holy wars against us. The obvious solution is to strike payments. Strike payments. Money is our weakness but it is their weakness, too. By withholding money the masses can invest in supplies and then strike. Striking comes before secession. This nation needs to strike its way out the door. And please, somebody, please do something about the military. The military- the largest polluter in the world- is out of control. Look who they work for. It's madness and murder. Murder. If those people came home this country would be a completely different place. Soldiers need reorientation; instead of being constantly convinced their spirit equals dirt and their life is for the taking- that's ridiculous- look who you're fighting for and have some dignity; aim up the chain of command. Or break the chains altogether. This is sick. And this is what we're up against. The planet is dying. The masses expect us to submit to their apathy while the planet is dying. The overlords want us to applaud their holy wars on drugs, terrorism, women, children, men, the environment, health, oceans, aquifers, power plants, oil wells, natural resources, weaponry, and the planet is dying. We know the way. We have the answers. Our people know. That is a fact. We understand the solution. When people accuse us of offering no solutions, this is because we have no voice with which to speak to the people; our people. The people cannot hear us because we have no talking heads. We need talking heads. More than that, we need access to mainstream media. The truth will set people free. That's what we have to do, spread truth. For instance: When is 9/11 truth going to be on primetime television? Architects and engineers for 9/11 truth could pull the nation together against our shadowy domestic enemies. We have to introduce the nation to the real guerrillas in our midst. Whom they- ironically- already know so well. Not that it matters. There is no reason to hunt anyone down. The Bush administration should admit what they did, lock themselves up, or run away to exile and that should be that. If people want to keep this country, let them, if people want to make their own country, let us. Rebellion; autonomy be thy name. They say that when you can't change a bad situation, you walk away from it. It's one planet, we have no place to go, but forsaking big brother is a good start. Authority got us into this, so when you question authority, ask it if the root grows in love. We're all anarchists. Whether we know it or not. That is beautiful. There is raw potential there. Occupy is so very alive. Empowerment has to be harnessed and shared equally throughout everybody. Then strike. Then secession. Secede for success. Yes yes. We have to undermine their authority. Nobody wants to go through this. They forced us. This is our day, our age, our lives, our fight, our time, our responsibility, our dilemma, and our obligation. This is our calling. We are the resistance. Now is not the time to be timid. Now is not the time to be afraid of the enemy. Now is not the time to respect authority. Now is not the time to fail. Humanity has a shared devotion. And, I'll say it; our task is fairly straight forward at this point. We have to inspire. We have to make people care- or else there's really no chance. We had them cornered for the G8, but now they're on the run and we have to improvise. That's what weakness looks like; thinly veiled lies. They'll be in a little room plotting to nuke the middle-east and trading orders to ethnic cleanse their citizens- but that's basically it. We can take our lives back. It's an option. We can lead if they're inadequate. There is an opportunity within our reach. Outreach. We're an outreach organization now, in my eyes. Which is what the older people have been saying the entire time. I see it like; everything we do is protected by the first amendment. We can say anything with free speech and words are powerful. Some say words are magical. What is there to say? I can't imagine. I'd say sprawl out and live sustainably. Stop paying your extortionists. This apathetic serfdom has to realize there are staggering amounts of work to be done unless we want to go extinct. It's time for a controlled shut down of the entire Babylon operation. We, the people, have to treat each other like family without being selfish. There will never be enough jobs. Get used to that. Luckily, there are more than enough necessities to go around; as soon as we rework the thinking in pertinent fundamental ways. Emancipate your mind and live harmoniously. We have enemies waging holy wars in our names; I am not ok with that. Some say to pray like the devil because the devil is relentless. I'm here to tell you the devil is within you. What you do with that devil is up to you. People turn people against people. People did this to us. Our retaliation must be swift and merciful. I'm not about to force my methodology upon anybody. If people want to do things their way, that's none of my business. However, I know how to do this my way and I hope no one tries to stop me because I wouldn't try to stop them; I'd encourage them. Limitations are limiting. We're going to have to step out of our comfort zones, is what I'm trying to say. So get used to abstraction; it's 2012, enlighten up. No more cycles of aggression; break them. This is going to be chaotic, but orderly. We have to create a culture of spreading awareness. And we have to do it fast because time is running out.

Sincerely,

Roze

$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$

Check myself/ Today, and always/ The precipice awaits/ I walk it every day/ The checks/ Checkin in or out/ With some gin/ A grin and clout/ Checks/ Check on the Xanax/ What goes up comes down/ I gotta check back/ Checks come at the craving/ And sometimes/ I gotta fight the pain/ To check if I still can/ I forget to check/ and fall into depths/ With no hope left/ I'd forgot to check/ It's too late/ So I decide/ How far have I fallen?/ What is left to salvage?/ From this perspective/ Obviously, all is lost/ I don't know/ If I can crawl/ Out of this pit/ If all is lost/ Take the pills/ Take a hit/ Drink the gin/ And surely, I'll/ Come to again

$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$

Something bright green has invaded my space/ Unwelcome energy/ Even the cat is sad/ Hours filling the minutes/ Minutes bleeding from newly dead clocks/ Burnt out strings of red lights hang useless/ The strangest scraps of civilization are tacked to the walls/ Something bright green has invaded my space/ Green interrupts my shadows/ Neon green is feeding on my home/ Powered by the sun/ Coming through the bedroom window/ Changes have brought a confusing green/ Now even the cat is sad/ I haven't been sleeping/ And there's not much to do/ But stare at this green light/ Glowing bright and dimming/ As the clouds pass by/ All the food is going stale/ The guitar is out of tune/ The scorpion is buried somewhere/ The vermouth has run dry/ Stagnant air permeated with ammonia/ From a sad cat's litter/ Cut off- no cable tv/ Cut off- no internet/ Cut off- no friends/ Cut off- no new movies/ Cut off- no guitar tuner/ Cut off- no respite from the green, but night/ Cut off- no respite from the night, but the green/ Cut off- no contact/ Cut off- no company on graveyard shifts/ Cut off- no will to/ Cut off- no will/ Cut off- no will to cheer up the cat

$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$

Our affinity, por amor/ Magnetic harmonious attraction/ Affection, torn asunder/ Wrath of rejection/ Pain stabbing creates/ Insane brooding fate/ Our affinity, por amor/ Losing without antipathy/ Alia Alia Alia/ Draining fear and blood/ Hollow ill sick/ Deathly pale/ Our affinity, por amor/ Deathly thin, appetite gone/ Our affinity, por amor/ Living without antipathy/ Alia/ Alia?/ Chain smoking slow suicide/ Our affinity, por amor/ Pathetic needing/ Begging, pleading/ Man flirtatious with suicide/ Our affinity, por amor/ Loving without antipathy/ Alia/ Alia/ Depressed nauseous convulsions/ Deeply, deeply, deeply affected/ The earth falls from underfoot/ Our affinity, por amor/ Alia/ Alia/ Alia/ Alia/ Alia/ Alia/ Alia

$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$

It's in the name, Killer Whale. Killer. It's not even their real name. It's a nickname to remind everyone that the animals kill life.

Begs the question, why is the Orca doing tricks in a tank anyway? I refuse to believe the presumption that captive animals can't assimilate to the wild. People have been paid to make that claim, however true it is. How will we ever know if we don't try it? Phase one: Liberate the right quantity of captive animals in the right places. Phase two: Protect them absolutely. Phase three: A new ecosystem emerges. Different? Yes. Better? Yes.

Our attitudes toward animal life are outdated and self-centered. How about we stop making animals do tricks and let them all go! Seriously. Do it. Shut down every zoo immediately. Turn them loose. The predators, the prey; make coexistence of cultural importance. Learn to coexist and end suffering.

Animals deserve dignity. Every wild animal stares death in the face every day. Just like people do. Except they do it with dignity. We ignore it. Right now. Imagine your death. At this moment; exactly how it would feel. All the things undone and unsaid, now it's time to face the end. Did you see it? Did you feel death so ready to welcome you? We live like we are immortal, ignoring the other half of this equation, there are only two forces; life and death. When wild animals come into the world of humans their life and death becomes tragic in the exact same way as a murdered animal trainer. As far as wild animals are concerned, we could dismiss the entire burden. So many captive populations can perpetuate in the wild. Live free or die.

$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$

Hung over in the worst way with gashes beginning to fester and deep bruises that ache without provocation; the pain shoots through my ankles and shins after countless miles of walking- just another ignored hitcher. I crawl or gimp. Pain rises through me in this AM hour, foot to head and over and over. Still, the only true and real agony is in the way I long for Alexandria.

There is no telling the secrets I keep from myself while Black Hole drunk. The ether in the potent rum has caused my mind to go subconscious while the sugar will not allow my body to follow. In a way I have released myself from the burden of ego. I can and will do whatever me wants. I will do whatever me will. I will have no control over whatever me will do. Hundreds of people have seen me in such a state, and that was only yesterday. They see a life no one is actually living. R.R.Rose doesn't exist. These faces only see my body. As I drift through the crowds- as I bolt through the crowds- as I anger the authority- as I fade in and out for bits and clips to perceive only one face; one enormous face surrounding me- as I flow through the crowds I have no thoughts. No agenda. A lost and confused essence of something with the potential to be human. My mind encounters a dark force pulling it from its body. The strands of my awareness stretch further, so thin, until there is only darkness. And what of my awareness that is left- bound to the Earth- is delirious and dazed (and drunk, too) by an experience that took place in some other reality beyond the veil. I pray to Alexandria. I need her to help me accept what is happening to me, but before she has a chance to, the darkness pulls me away again. Gone again, shedding clothes and abandoning material possessions.

Fuck. Have I ever been that close to oneness? I swear to Alexandria, I felt everything. In that evening I connected myself to my fellow man, burning into them, scarring them. Someone has my tight black "Time flies when you're having rum" shirt, with the skull and crossbones on it. Someone has my camera, my glorious camera, with the first serious, like artsy, photos I'd ever taken of myself. Hopefully, that item's trampled and destroyed in the grass. Someone confiscated my rum. Who knows when? I was connected to the Earth as I waded through the neck hight overgrowth by the highway. Scraping my skin and letting the elementals living in the dew penetrate me. I banged my legs up as though I was hit by a car or possibly I hurt myself on a fence. Some sort of turbulence. I have a solid suspicion that says something was whispering to me yesterday. I don't know what it is or where it comes from or anything like that, but I do know that it has been with me for a very long time. Maybe even before birth it feels like. I felt the void and felt that consciousness and life teamed everywhere throughout the dark matter. But the Hole. The hole is where everything and nothing is truly the same thing. Eventually I was home. I had walked there.

I assure you, Black Hole drinking at JazzFest was far more interesting than watching the bands and socially interacting. I mean, I like jazz and blues and other good music that's not your everyday thing, too. But most of us have been to a concert before.

So, it was a sad moment when I realized I had been looking at Black Hole drinking completely wrong my entire life. The stigmas I've learned from television and from my parents cast the experience in a really negative light; something to be ashamed of, instead of showing it for what it is; something to be cherished. But it is now easy for me to look back and remove all those feelings of regret and embarrassment I have held about Black Hole drinking. I know now nothing we do matters and it never has and never will. Not all the things we work so hard for, and not all the things I work so hard to avoid. I learned the secret while Black Hole drinking. Fuck your ego. Fuck it. Get raving blind drunk until this world falls apart around you and you will be shown some other alternative. Avoid being arrested. Hear the whispers from the other side. Do what they tell you as if you have a choice. Feel it. Show yourself like this to others and they will be part of your ego and your ego will be part of them. Nurture your ego, break its legs.

Whatever the deviation of power in the universe, further; the Omniverse; two things are certain; I bow down to Alexandria and the rest is bullshit.

I was dismal when I began writing this. But now. Now? I feel alive, because I understand. There is a truth in the spirits. So go get wasted in public.

ADDENDUM:

Two days later my roommate found a crumpled ticket on the floor that- through the faded pencil chicken scratch bureaucracy- appears to belong to me. Apparently I owe the government eighty dollars. Must be summertime.

$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$

Feathers aren't worth writing about right now. Pea soup is disgusting. Same with tomato soup. Tanks destroy gates sometimes. Throwing caution to the wind is exciting. Especially when it blows back in your face. The youth can be tamed. Or maybe that's trained. And then again, maybe not. Driving heals the soul. The soul destroys the planet. The planet can accept certain things. We cannot. Fuhrer might be a word. Deadly hornets are not good for the skin. It would be nice if peace were an option. Liver and onions. Do cows get fevers? Fight everything. Ignore everything. Peeling oranges. Falling down is easy. Bug zappers make death fun. Llamas like one another but look down upon turtles. Fucking bigots. Don't ever relish in ketchup. Ripping off a store isn't fun for me. But it happens. When a bear eats a man, so too does the forest. Raisins should be thrown more often. Natural disasters are like a coffee break for everyone not involved. I will always find terrorism fun and exciting. I'd like to warn people when there is no threat. Change the paradigm. Results may be inconsistent consistently. There should be more things to reap. Or more to sow. Canadians. Water is good stuff. Heroin is bad stuff though I would not mind some right now. Problems are fleeting and renewable. Relatives are something other people do. Tupperware. Oh, for a pizza. Surprises might piss me off. Or maybe that is the lack thereof. Nothing's shocking. That is certain. Lab rats probably don't care. Karma will, though. Peezy is a good mob name. Rifles can be used to shoot pool. Reverence is radical. I will never leave the atmosphere. Neither will you (most likely). Basketball would be cool if being cool meant asinine. Ants are a good note to leave on. I realize farm land is a good place to get sexual with a lady. Or grow something. Nobody reads anymore, and if they do, they read garbage. I once read about the eagle. We don't need this confusing paradox. Bed and blackness. Rebel, rebel. Will he ever be any good? Follow orders like you know you should. Lover, lover. Can you stay by my side? Stay with me and be my bride. I'm not oppressed. I don't sell drugs and I got no cash.

Everything goes unseen/ Evil people lay between the cracks/ They don't have to/ Youth doesn't either/ Faces drown in years of structure/ Makes you wonder/ That people grow into drones/ They are raised to be drones/ Day old and monotonous/ Will breathe stale continuous/ Years of this/ Will get you ready/ To feed the economy machine/ You and your friends/ And the people you know/ Should never be happy/ Your life's irate/ Steal food for a day/ Try it another way/ Letters to Cleo/ And she never wrote back/ Is the pace that they're setting/ A pace that's off track?/ The days of your lives/ When you should thrive/ Burned your spirits alive

It's the lies/ That succeed/ If it's too good/ To be true/ It must be/ When you fall victim/ And don't notice/ The voiceless do/ We'd like to tell you/ The ignorant are stronger/ Than the weak and the righteous/ The ignorant don't listen/ to our silence/ The weak and the righteous/ Scream so endless/ For no true purpose/ For we are voiceless

Our eyes can see/ We know the way/ That you fall victim/ Hoping what you hear/ Could save you/ From your fears/ We try to tell/ With our voiceless voices/ They shout lies over our heads at you/ Bewildered we all watch the empire fall/ At all costs the empire falls/ Stop trusting the system we are running from/ We are still yelling for you to come

$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$

Charisma is like a family of raccoons trapped in the wall of my house. But the mother has died of rabies. Three of the four baby raccoons have been infected as well. They are too frail to harm one another but they suffer and die of disease the same as if they'd bled out from wounds. Their carcasses begin to stink but I cannot locate the smell. Death fumes waft on this draft or that draft but I cannot find the location of the stench. I only know that sometimes, in the middle of the night, when the air is still and the hour is silent, I can hear faint peeping coming from someplace, but no matter how I try I cannot locate the source. I know there is something alive somewhere in those walls. And I cannot save it. If I could find that raccoon I would take it to a veterinarian and pay for its treatment. I would take that tiny harmless raccoon home and nurture it and love it until it was strong and healthy and grown like its dead rabid mother. It would be a girl and I would name her Ester. She would live in tunnels I created in the same walls that were the killing fields of her family and she would be an acquaintance of my cats. One day I would wake up early as the sun turned the blackness to weak blue light. The air damp with fog. I would turn my lights on one by one as I move from room to room. I would unwrap a steak from the fridge and place it on the counter by one of Ester's escape holes then tap six times on the wall. Ester would come running and poke her head out from the hole for feeding time. There I would be waiting with my shotgun cocked and after an inhalation of repose I would pull the trigger and blow Ester's face across the dirty yellow kitchen wall. Except, it's been weeks since I last heard the peeping and the smell has finally faded away to nothing. Charisma is gone forever.

$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$

Straightforward is a bullet; is all of my bullets. I don't know where they're going, but I'll find out one day. I've given a bullet to a co-worker and kept the shell casing for myself. The question remains; who pulls the trigger? Is it me or the one to be shot? I remember the days of adolescence when I shot every teacher who ever insisted I allow myself to be shoved into the foundry. I shot everyone who ran that little school machine as they tried to force me through it, to alter my form in such a way so I will fit into my decided place in the big society machine. So many bullets have been given to my friends as they rammed the same played out pipe dreams into my skull; my unhealthy traits blowing messy bloody holes through their unhealthy traits. I remember how long it took my parents to teach me not to lie. They never told me the truth hurts like a bullet. And somehow they influenced my personality to say what needs to be said whenever it needs saying. My parents gave me the means to manufacture my own ammunition. And so, like a commando clad in over the shoulder belts full of bullets I set off into society with a will to say what I mean to all those tripping over pleasantries and caught up in awkward uncertainty. Like crabs, they skirt the issues, moving from side to side, like little metal ducks at a shooting gallery. In a world of make believe and misappropriated 'meaning,' I shoot to kill the society demons crawling under everybody's skin. Often my bullets hit the mark and I've slain a demon or two, but collateral damage is an ugly son of a bitch and people get hurt. Most people cannot live without the demon parasites. And while I seldom can kill all of them- such tiny little infections- I've got no other means and my brutality is in essence simply my humanity. I shoot to heal and leave them wounded. Without the demons there is no life, so who am I saving really? Is this- my humanity- nothing more than a bloody idealistic highly conceptual form of art? Straightforward is a bullet and I've shot everyone I've ever met.

$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$

Red, white, and blue pride/ Overtook this country/ Like a great/ Sweeping tide;/ Crushing

uncontrollable pride/ A pride that misguides/ Away from truth/ Away from stability

To another man's domain/ Where his ideals/ Rule tyrannical/ Now we/ Find ourselves/ Unstable/ In a state/ In a trance/ Governed by suggestion/ And powerless/ At

Best/ Yet to see/ The worst of/ The horrors/ This will produce/ Can't argue/ With the masses/ Only harass them/ And raise awareness/ Understand hopelessness/ And forgive

$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$

Propaganda / To trick the ignorant/ Into listening/ Propaganda/ To navigate the cracks/ Of a closed mind/ Nobody listens for it/ That fact's irrelevant/ This speaker must hope/ For an open ear/ Anyone to care/ A thoughtless society/ Is a speaker's dilemma/ The outliers/ The agenda/ No propaganda/ For the true at heart/ The masses will succumb/ To Hideous motives/ And how sad/ They cannot control/ Their own damn thoughts/ Can purity help?/ Speaking so blunt/ Speaking one's heart/ To make another agree/ Absent that trickery/ Mental revolution/ Against the oppressors/ Of money and politics/ The selfish goal-oriented/ Self-righteous/ A thriving desire/ To break other's restraints/ For love of another/ As they are/ One's true brother

$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$

The Republic recovered the newborn today/ They'd photographed her twisted spine/ Photographed her disfigured face/ This baby was not mine/ I was there/ I often see this happen/ Though I can no longer care/ There is no empathy, don't be mistaken/ The babies bloom/ Their watchdogs growl/ Mothers cry, choke, and howl/ Committee photos are taken now/ The babies are hidden from mothers/ In small rooms far away they stay/ With no way to find one another/ Mothers wait sedated for days/ Until the republic comes/ To take that baby away/ The babies could go anywhere/ It is not for me to know/ My mouth is shut/ My business is secure/ These are the laws we live by/ This is our Republic

$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$

We'll be fighting the police/ For the right to kill a fetus/ Burying our friends/ Who didn't ever need us/ Drinking ammonia/ From a wine glass/ Standing by the church/ And calling faith crass/ Murder for profit/ Bringing hell to you/ This is the end/ So what ya gunna do?/ Call your mother/ And tell her/ You love her/ This is the end/ End/ Cry/ For your dead god/ Dead god/ Dead/ God/ Hell is the place/ Where I'll lay my head/ Emotionally vacant/ And better off dead/ Burning in the dark/ And suffocating doom/ Bleeding on the dog/ End coming soon/ In need of a casket/ And a cold empty tomb/ Instead I'm alone with doom / In an ugly empty room/ Murder for profit/ Bringing hell to you/ This is the end/ What you gunna do?/ Cry/ For/ Your/ Dead/ God

$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$

Beyond the window there's a world I watch shatter/ Up here in my chair I can hardly care/ In my heart I know this is my fault/ I can hear that soft death rumble/ One after another they continue on forever/ To smile and love again never/ I watch them run about without a single hope/ I am here with nothing to fear/ As guilt and consequence grip me, I grip the steel/ The shard penetrates my wrist/ I always knew it would come this/ Hiding alone inside while we all die

$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$

I wish that I could take you to the mountain and let bugs get ya/ I'm too busy diving the seas, for pearls of clarity/ What would the future have thought of our culture, anyway?/ If lizards don't mind dying than why would we, anyway?/ We don't care about the world anymore/ No/ We don't care/ No/ Not anymore/ We don't care about the world anymore/ No/ We don't care/ No/ Not anymore/ The future used to be made from past memories/ And then time died and now we're all stuck inside/ We are still alive inside of synchronicity/ Wondering if love will save us/ Will love save us?/ Alive on this mountain, we confuse god/ Alive on this mountain, we go bump in the night/ Alive on this/ mountain, we smoke crack and worship Satan/ Alive on this mountain, we are still alive!/ Alive/ Alive/ Alive/ There's no way to know, if we'll be alive tomorrow/ We can plainly see that we are here now/ If it's our time to die than it's our time to die/ Whoever said death is wrong told us a lie/ Death is one last thing you haven't tried/ So if it's our time to die than it's our time to die/ And with any luck, I'll see you on the other side/ With any luck I'll see you on the other side

$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$

The heart of the matter is not/ Any part of this consideration/ To hang from a rope/ To hang from a chord/ To hang in the family room/ To hang in a burning mall/ To hang with a broken neck/ To hang with gasping breath/ To hang for the lost/ To hang for your love/ To hang for your loss/ Or to hang for sadness/ To hang, swinging away the madness/ To hang in some shadow ignored/ Forgotten in the dark forest/ Up on the mountain/ With a soul watching/ And wondering/ When the bugs will come

$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$

Amalgamated/ chaos/ Barren/ life/ Catatonic/ despair/ Deprived/ spirit/ Esoteric/ irony/ Fiend/ friend/ Galactic/ conspiracy/ Hurtful/ humanity/ Interconnected/ humanity/ Jesus Christ!/ disappointment/ Kafkaesque/ actuality/ Loathsome/ red/ Meditative/ me/ Native/ deceased/ Odd/ outcome/ Pleiadian/ agenda/ Questionable/ suspicions/ Radiation/ south/ Seven/ sisters/ Touch/ none/ Unfortunate/ one/ Victim/ us/ Woe/ me/ X/ X/ Yearning/ love/ Zero/ hope

$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$

Empty nothing here now, it has all turned black/ Frustration and death are, yes, nowhere and gone/ Harmony has now begun to settle back/ This may have come on slow, or fast with a crack/ Now is for not, when there is no coming dawn/ Empty nothing here now, it has all turned black/ Oblivion is here, not on inbound track/ Oh what, oh what, oh what, can this nothing spawn?/ Harmony has now begun to settle back/ Zero plus zero? What does that question lack?/ It is time for me to leave, so c'mon/ Empty nothing here now, it has all turned black/ In life they kept us bound upon a hot rack/ Oh what, oh what, oh what should we look back on?/ Harmony has now begun to settle back/ Ignore the contradiction, cut me some slack/ My wishes are none, lost in time foregone/ Empty nothing here now, it has all turned black/ Harmony has now begun to settle back

$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$

Something within whispers to me so true/ Some ugliness tells me that it would love/ To be too beautiful to bother you/ You misunderstand, as I just stare through/ You tend to judge and you judge like a shove/ Something within whispers to me so true/ Always the same thing, never nothing new/ Always so different, dreams hereof/ To be too beautiful to bother you/ Alone eating loneliness in this glue/ A peaceful feeling shines down from above/ Something within whispers to me so true/ Watch for that pedestal you may fall through/ Here, I'll resonate with the mourning dove/ To be too beautiful to bother you/ My uncut soul is an ugly taboo/ Magnum in hand and hand in a black glove/ Something within whispers to me so true/ To be too beautiful to bother you

$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$

Here in my black hole/ Where I live and rule/ I look out on my galaxy/ Something really bothers me/ I should set all that free/ Eliminate it all at once/ In death we trust/ Loved and lost/ This is the crux/ Of life for us/ In death we trust/ So what of the rest?/ No good/ No evil/ This hole is simply surreal/ From the reality I steal/ I'll take every truth/ I'll take every life/ Too far removed/ In a galaxy all my own/ So far away/ I want to destroy your planet/ I want to annihilate your race from that place/ With my subtle ways/ My insignificant ways/ From so far away/ So far removed/ There is nothing I can do/ What about you?/ Do you feel this, too?/ Do you feel like I do?/ So far removed?/ Looking out from a black hole?/ Do you feel like I do?/ So far removed?/ Like there is nothing you can do?/ In death we trust/ Loved and lost/ This is the crux/ Of life for us

$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$

No. Still will not speak to me anymore/ Save for dream rendezvous in the dark room/ I awake to our massacred rapport/ In life; too good for me- in dreams; my whore/ Ghost of dead despair passing by my tomb/ No. Still will not speak to me anymore/ A key figure in my personal lore/ An angelic figure amidst the gloom/ I awake to our massacred rapport/ The memory of your scent, I adore/ May I once more sniff your toxic perfume?/ No. Still will not speak to me anymore/ One more poem written, one more poem ignored/ And then when my child is in your womb,/ I awake to our massacred rapport/ I did this. I. Me. The one you abhor/ The memory. The rejection. The doom./ No. Still will not speak to me anymore./ I awake to our massacred rapport

$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$

There is no cure for my old obsession/ Trust I know this is how it's meant to be/ Thank you for your endless inspiration/ Sorry about my lack of discretion/ Please understand I will never be free/ There is no cure for an old obsession/ I may never have you; my concession/ In dreams you remain the same bel esprit/ Thank you for your endless inspiration/ Wonder of wonders, sickness progression/ Cannot imagine what you think of me/ There is no cure for my old obsession/ You are my perpetual confession/ An implicit bliss rooted like a tree/ Thank you for your endless inspiration/ These poems are a seasonal regression/ I send you them for I want you to see/ There is no cure for my old obsession/ Thank you for your endless inspiration

$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$

Your vagina really makes my soul melt/ Hard I get to comprehend all of this/ When between your legs no penis is felt/ This perfection to me some god has dealt/ My fingers caress this absolute bliss/ Your vagina really makes my soul melt/ Before you with ring I have not yet knelt/ Though I admit contemplation persists/ When between your legs no penis is felt/ An aroma my nose savors and smells/ As my lips and your nether region kiss/ Your vagina really makes my soul melt/ Many hours between your legs I've dwelt/ The mirth is so real, my little miss/ When between your legs no penis is felt/ Hang on now and I will undo this belt/ I will join you here in some nakedness/ Your vagina really makes my soul melt/ When between your legs no penis is felt

$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$

This will be highly speculative. Look around you. Perhaps there is a lamp and a table, some sort of a drink, or maybe electronic equipment? Consider carefully the space between yourself and these objects (you may want to do this often). Between you and the object there is something more than air. This something begins before you end and ends after the objects begin. To call this something 'ether' would be distracting, so I won't. Let's instead call it everything. Touch your flesh. Anywhere, doesn't matter. Do you feel it there? Of course you do. Now touch an object. Reach out and place your fingers on the object. Caress the object if you like. Doesn't matter. Sit back now. Increase the distance between you and the object. Did you notice the subtle expansion of the everything amidst you and the chosen focus of your consciousness? The time to tell you what I am getting at is now. You are no more or less tangible than an object within your reach or the space among you and that object. Matter of fact, you are the same as the objects within your reach and you are the same as objects further away than you could ever reach. You are no different than empty space. Most people, in this day and age, will raise the point that our mind is what makes us different than an object or everything. They are both correct and wrong. Maybe our mind, the entire thing, every thought we have ever had, is but one single thought of a higher mind. The higher mind grows over time, the same as our own mind, and I suspect the mind dies eventually and is only one thought of an even higher mind above it. I think when we die our knowledge and experience go to this higher mind- Castaneda called it the Dark Sea of Awareness and I will, too, now- when we die our knowledge and experience goes to the Dark Sea of Awareness and this is the process in which the universe learns. We could have no consciousness without this process and our existence is the result. This grand consciousness is the same as the place it exists in, our universe. The dark sea of awareness is part of the universe, as a result of the universe. The thing we need to consider is that we are one organism. You, the wall, and the everything between, is all one. There are no two things in the universe. There is only the universe. Beyond the universe is the omniverse, the source. And there is no measurement for the size of the omniverse. But the universe is part of the omniverse the same way you are part of the universe. Currently it is not for us to know who or what the higher mind belongs to. Though some research into higher dimensional beings might give you a hint. The secret is that some things are meant to be secret. Or unknown, more accurately. The Dark Sea of Awareness has given us a mind with which to live out a life in this body that is part of the universe. In return we give knowledge and experience to the higher mind. It is a symbiosis we have with a part of ourselves that is much bigger than we can realize. We are not simply part of the universe. The universe is us, united. UNI-ted. UNI-verse. All one.

I ask you to consider carefully the everything amidst you and the objects around you. Know that your every outward action is acting upon yourself in a way that is too big to comprehend easily. This is basically karma. When coupled with the electromagnetism of our thoughts, via the laws of attraction, we can see how negative people will experience negative things and positive people will experience positive things. And one can always become the other. Change the thoughts and change the results; change everything for better or worse.

$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$

I can tell you the usa is the source of your misery. Now China's gunna take it away. China bought our whole fucking country./ Ok/ What do we do now?/ run away/ runaway from ourselves/ Run away from hell/ ok ok ok ok ok ok ok/ putting strain on us/ won't listen to us/ murdering us/ now were all are fucked/ it's coming down/ I swear to you/ it's coming down/ I swear it's true/ bad things happen to you/ when you play the fool/ put your trust in them/ very evil men/ it's coming down on you/ I swear it's true/ you cross a river/ your spine it shivers/ because you were born free/ but you'll die die die an American/ Ok/ so what do we do now/ we run away/ we run away from ourselves/ run away/ run away from hell/ ok ok ok ok ok ok ok ok ok/ do we put up with this shit?/ do we bend over and take it?/ banish evil demons/ with a little love and light/ they didn't know before/ or else they would have tried/ Ghandi had it right/ refuse and resist/ so rich men might/ take their tie and wrap it round the rafters and we'll find the bastards hanging and we'll remember singing/ Ok/ so what do we do now/ Do we run away?/ Do we run away from ourselves?/ run away/ do we run away from hell?/ ok ok ok ok ok ok ok ok ok/ Take your tie and wrap it round the rafters. Take your tie and wrap it round the rafters/ take your badge and shove it up your butthole/ take you gavel and shove it down throat/ drop your gun or eat a fuckin bullet/ the jig is up and we all fucking know it/ come down off your power trip/ it's called the times, fucking get with it/ you hold your office like you hold your credit card/ like it even fucking matters

Fuck you congress. Fuck you senate. Fuck you president demon. Fuck FDA. Fuck USDA. NSA. CSS. Fuck DHS. Fuck USDA and FDA again because fuck them twice. Fuck the USA. For real. Fuck public education. Fuck monsanto. Fuck (insert messed up rights violation here). Sinseriously, fuck old glory. Screw uncle same. It doesnt have to be this way. There is no such thing as too much love.

$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$

Days pass like cigarettes distract/ &/ the daydreams whisper your name/ It's your face I see in the mirror/ &/ we know flesh is much clearer/ The poles shift further and further/ &/ I begin to wonder/ if maybe we're all magnetic/ Or if it's just R&R&R&R/ Like we're the first and last other/ to ever feel something for another/ The ideas we know change instantly/ outdated almost immediately/ Learning is an illusion- like sanity/ there's only art/ &/ science is a craft/ Yeah,/ don't try to imagine/ what I've seen or/ the people I've been/ Versions of myself/ Completely someone else/ I'd like you to know, yeah/ don't/ Just do know/ I've got a lot of respect/ for your beauty/&/ grace/ &/ won't push you away/ with an uncertain embrace/ or with these words -/ these words so laced/ with implications/ &/ undefined expectations/ I feel your blood quicken/ Whenever you're laughing/ I hear the heavens rejoice/ At the sound of your voice/ &/ you're the only reason/ For this entire spring season/ &/ thankfully/ for me especially/ to be given/ someone to believe in/ I'll be how you want me/ I have to end this/ I can only be so coy/ &/ I'm ending that, too/ This is life, let's enjoy, I'm done searching for you/ I only want what you want/ Since I need you to feel real/ I gave too much of me away/ The rest I saved for you/ I don't want anymore of me/ I've had plenty/ I'll laugh when you do/ I'll understand you/ I'll be aware of you/ &/ be there for you/ Watching you/ Watching people watch you/ Supporting you/ Supporting people supporting you/ Appreciating you/ Appreciating people appreciating you/ All the places I'll go/ &/ all the sights I'll see/ Will be purely divine/ If you're there with me/ I get to like you/ I get to adore you/ I get to love what you do/ I get to know you/ You have me now/ There is no one else/ I can't promise you/ Futures that aren't there/ I can only tell you/ What I already know/ I know we know too much/ You're stunning/ You're beautiful/ You're magnificently radiant/ You do something to me/ I hope you can dig it/ You're my new infatuation/ I hope you can dig it/ Your lips touch is still ripe/ It's almost like a distant kiss/ &/ an easy recipe for bliss

$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$

With the face of an Egyptian Empress/ To my delight you stay always so close/ Your head upon mine, my life you do bless/ The way you radiate at my caress/ The way I love my precious Gaia Rose/ With the face of an Egyptian Empress/ You may not be a person, I confess/ I love you and you love me; our love grows/ Your head upon mine, my life you do bless/ Your strawberry fur cures my aching stress/ One day I will display you in my prose/ With the face of an Egyptian Empress/ You move over me with perfect finesse/ Resting peacefully on my skull you doze/ Your head upon mine, my life you do bless/ I find it sad these words cannot express/ The way I love my darling Gaia Rose/ With the face of an Egyptian Empress/ Your head upon mine, my life you so bless

$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$

Maybe this writing life would lose its sting/ If agents crawled out from under their rock/ And all I'd have to do is write the thing/ Literary talent is what I'd bring/ If only I could leave behind the flock,/ Maybe this writing life would lose its sting/ Then finally it's my doorbell they'd ring/ If publishers had no slush heap to mock,/ And all I'd have to do is write the thing/ I could laugh and frolic and write and sing/ If upon my front door I heard that knock,/ Maybe this writing life would lose its sting/ One day I hope they'll throw me a life ring/ If someone removed from my breath this block,/ And all I'd have to do is write the thing/ Let me just say what I've been avoiding/ If the literary lords sucked my cock/ Maybe this writing life would lose its sting/ And all I'd have to do is write the thing

$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$

A gift from this weapon I conceal/ And all these regrets adding up to none:/ The painful sting that will never heal/ It perplexes me to watch you squeal/ And you can keep that bullet from my gun:/ A gift from this weapon I conceal/ Soon you will be many earthworm's meal/ Not going to lie, you should have outrun/ The painful sting that will never heal/ You keep that bullet and let it reveal/ The way in which you were so quick to shun/ A gift from this weapon I conceal/ Your death so real, unreal; no, surreal/ Your punctured lung must weigh about a ton:/ The painful sting that will never heal/ All of this blood has begun to congeal/ I'm out of here. Alas, your life is done:/ A gift from this weapon I conceal/ The painful sting that will never heal

$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$

Please. Nothing writing related right now/ Endless edits? Query letters to send?/ Please. I don't want to write, but can't see how/ The vacuum won't get to me. I avow/ To stick this out until the sullen end/ Please. Nothing writing related right now/ This page an attacker through which I plow/ Protecting self lucidity; I defend/ Please. I don't want to write but can't see how/ This discomfort a torture I allow/ I will tend to the ends which I intend/ Please. Nothing writing related right now/ I cannot remove my palm from my brow/ They said I would rise. I only descend..../ Please. I don't want to write but can't see how/ Looking at this pen I must disavow/ Looking at this pen I need to transcend/ Please. Nothing writing related right now/ Please. I don't want to write, but can't see how

$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$

A new start for the upper hemisphere/ Finally, a brand new cycle will proceed/ Say hello to the actual new year/ This season is like a brand new frontier/ Now is the time if you plan to succeed;/ A new start for the upper hemisphere/ The dreams bound to blossom all begin here/ Easy goings are ready to gain speed/ Say hello to the actual new year/ Spring is the time to leave behind the fear/ Virtuous birth is beautiful indeed/ A new start in the upper hemisphere/ Take the time to enjoy those birds you hear/ Their song is the song of the Earth, pay heed;/ Say hello to the actual new year/ Look ahead to your future there, so clear/ These are the moments to plant your best seed/ A new start for the upper hemisphere/ Say hello to the actual new year

$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$

Stardust falls gently. Stardust falls on you like time and spectacular moments. You wake up unaware of the hope and magic falling from above like the softest precipitation. When you went to sleep it was just another sullen day on Earth. A duty to assist in deer gutting greets you with a simultaneous opportunity to pitch for publishing money. A somewhat typical situation. Here in New Endland.

Stardust is uncharacteristic rejection of sleep. Hours spent adjusting and injecting words instead. Introducing you to the Zeta Reticuli. Because didn't you know 'the grays' have a name?  
Stardust is the chatting about your arrest with a long lost acquaintance on the internet when the lawyer calls you about the very same topic. The courts are dropping the felony. Stardust is not being a felon.  
Stardust is your most enlightened annual friend. A sharing of a single year worth of the good knowledge. Volleying circumstance for points of meaning. Sharing your understandings of the ten dimensions. Meta physics or physics? What do you think? I think physics is how we perceive the meta-physics. But really, that is the least of our concern.

A cigar filled with marijuana is stardust. A new place. Expensive toys on the walls and expensive electronics. Military money. A new person. Shaved head reggae listening, sophisticated video game playing, war veteran, friend of a friend. Come to think of it- yesterday- yesterday I met someone similar but different. I don't meet people... Stardust is new people.  
Stardust is an inconspicuous drug deal.

Stardust is a star that has been suspicious lately. In the trees at an indiscernible direction. Try to remember... East, maybe? The car turns. The driver can see it now. He says it's blinking. Gotta be the autumn tree line. Break a back bending behind a seat and the object is blinking. The star is blinking. On, off. On, off. On, off. On, off. On, off. We pulled over by a harvested corn field. We stared.  
Stardust is what happens to the pressure in your head when the extraordinary object stares back at you. I've felt it once before. Recently. Pressure rises from your brain stem into your skull and through your central nervous system. The other person feels it, too. Or they were asleep.

Stardust is standing by a running car at the edge of a cornfield and looking up and out while telling your lover over the phone about what you're seeing. It's the separate blurry white orb lofting through some haze toward the sparkling red, blue, and golden object. Colors rolling and fading in and out and always sparkling. The object fades quick and appears elsewhere to the left a ways. It hangs a moment, fades and appears back where it originally hovered to the right.

Stardust is a distant police siren, and we need to stop talking about UFO's on cell phones and go.  
Stardust is having witnessed that with the perfect person.

Back at the van I drive home. Stardust is a jarring and stimulating highway hypnosis. The object is still there. Almost by my parent's house except further north. I believe when it moved it may have shifted position to somewhere above where I live.

Stardust is the officer with his lights showing solid colors. The pig is onto something.  
Stardust is telling my mother about my day. Forgive my transgressions mother. I saw intelligent life in the sky. From the hollow, she says. Biggelow Hollow, home to alien activity. Exactly where that light was above and my new favorite place to be.

Wait. A ladybug is suffering. I can feel it because I caused it.  
Anyway, stardust is a lover on their way and the final word of a poem.

$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$

For whatever reason the Tiger cub walked away into the jungle and the Child walking with him split in two. They're paths diverged; one half of the Twin went with the Tiger to the wild, the other half went off alone down the path toward the city. As the Tiger grew, the Child in his care remained young. The Tiger guarded the everlasting child through the wilds. The Boy's inner child was protected from harm.

The Tiger, in spirit, traveled with and watched over the Boy as he moved through the culture of poison. The Boy grew into an Artist, on a separate path, confident in his feral companion showing him the way. The ghost of an impeccable Tiger; an intrinsic presence subtly appearing as a form through the window in a foggy mirror; eyes reflecting lightning through the rain; appearing at times when all that was necessary was to remind the Boy of his Brother wandering with the Tiger; to go within during troubling moments and locate what mattered most. As an Artist, and as a Student, his Teachers tried to steal what was in safe keeping and could not be taken, the Artist thus remained confident in his feral spirit.

The Tiger understood the Child must be returned. The Tiger and the Artist reunite; Tiger relinquishes spirit, a Man vindicates the Child within, two become one; the Tiger and the lone Twin walk together, companions, again for whatever reason.

$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$

*If the writing sounds plastic, so should the characters.*  
Normal Dink: I think my heart stopped.  
Innocent sexy girl: No. It's a green light!  
ND: I'm not going to make it.  
ISG: What are you talking about? There's nobody coming.*looks around* You're fine.  
ND: Air!*chokes out*  
ISG: Roll down your window. You're turning blue. You need to breathe. I'm stopping the car with this emergency break right here.*car screeches to a halt*  
*ND collapses dead in a heep in chair. ISG flags over Mysterious Sexy Guy from traffic or woods or wherever*  
ISG: I let this guy die because he wasn't man enough. I need a revolutionary. *really sell the sexy*  
MSG: I could spin you like a record.  
ISG: Good enough. Get rid of this carcass and give me a ride. Two miles down the road and pull over. I'm feeling so alive.  
*Insinuate Sex- sex in this case is expressed by the act of disheveling themselves in plain sight for costume purposes- Third male voice announces the amount of time that passed. Characters quickly look and behave as if they'd been sexed up*  
MSG: Where do we go now?  
ISG: Back in the back seat? *black sheet thrown over to simulate alone time*  
*Insinuate Sex- sex in this case is expressed by the act of disheveling themselves in plain sight for costume purposes- Third guy announces the amount of time that passed. Characters quickly look and behave as if they'd been sexed up*  
ISG: Ok. So. Now. Where are we going?  
MSG: To your place.  
ISG: That's where my other boyfriend lives.  
MSG: Let's go someplace where you don't have a boyfriend. Like a motel?  
ISG: We're in this car. He'll know. He'll be looking for my loser ex.  
MSG: The dead one?  
ISG: Yeah. I'm not seeing him anymore. But I like you. You're appetizing.  
MSG: I don't want you going down on me unless you take that back. Listen Penelope. If I'm saying I'm jealous of the men in your life, then I am. I'm old school. I can't handle the free love. Where I come from we pay for it with blood. So let's go to your house and kill your boyfriend.  
ISG: You want to do what? Nooo.... You can come meet him and be good company...  
MSG*tough guy voice*: Alright. I get along great with guys bangin on the girl I just now decided was mine before I even knew a thing about her.  
ISG: Jeeze. I would think you'd be a little more relaxed after all that.  
MSG: It's my bloodline. I'm a direct descendant of Satan. Anyway, I'm saying, we don't even really have to be there when we extinct your friend. But it seems like the courteous thing to do to be there in person when it goes down.  
ISG: Are you saying you are the Devil? Because that is not cool. The devil is a bad guy and I won't have anything to do with you if you hang out with the devil.  
MSG: I'm sorry baby. Forget I said anything. Let's go meet your boyfriend. I can say hi and we can all be friends on a human level, and when he drops his guard I'll stab him in the heart with a butter knife. NNoNononOnONNONOonono!!! babbyabaybaybayaybaybabayybabyabaybay! I'm kidding! Kidding! If I were to kill him, that's not how I'd do it. I promise.  
ISG: That's not very reassuring but if you promise to play it cool, and that you're joking, we can go there for the night. Just let me do the talking when we get there.  
MSG: Sounds good. I bet you he's bored stiff on a day like today. Don't you?  
ISG: Sure. Whatever. Just leave me alone after I get you settled in. I have to pretend this guy matters to me for a while because I live there.  
MSG: Maybe he'll be in an unusual mood.  
*Arrive home. Insert third person as the boyfriend's corpse*  
ISG: Unusual!? Un-fucking - usual!?!?! You're the devil! You killed my land- *abrupt correction from 'lord' to* lover... My lover... He's dead and you killed him!  
MSG: Yes. But now we have the whole house to ourselves. Penelope?  
ISG: Yeah?  
MSG: Do you have any other lovers?  
ISG: No.  
MSG: Splendid. Will you live with me in holy matrimony?

ISG: ????????? *React accordingly*  
SCENE

$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$

A Republican and an Anarchist in Washington DC

Republican: It's an amazing thing to be in our nation's capital; Washington DC. Can't you smell the freedom in the air?  
Anarchist: I think that's burning hair venting from the FBI building.  
R: Why would the FBI be burning hair?  
A: They're actually burning flesh. But some people are hairy. Especially the brown people they're burning in there. One day they'll burn people like me. Dirty poor freedom fighters. Washington DC doesn't have many threats, but we're one of them. Us and China, the inevitable slave masters.....  
R: Can't you enjoy the history of this place?  
A: One day what we're doing right now will be history. The final days at the fall of the empire and the decline of environmental stability. The birth of militarized weather. People will remember this time.  
R: Why would the military use the weather as a weapon?  
A: Because if the rich could kill people with their dicks they would.  
R: There are good people doing good work in this place.  
A: Yeah. Hookers and drug dealers, maybe.  
R: No. In government, trying to remove the corrupt politicians. But it's not so simple. The good politicos and the bad politicos work together and sometimes they share interests.  
A: That means there are no good politicos! They're all fascist! I'm done! I say people over profits. No more profits. No more money. No more money, no more power, and no more power, no more suffering. Equality. Unity. To each according to need from each according to ability. Everything for everyone and nothing for ourselves. There are better ways, and it doesn't matter what way they are, because any way is better than this. Any child will tell you the importance of sharing. It could make the world go around.

R: Listen, child, the government is protecting us.  
A: From the truth?  
R: From terrorists.  
A: So from lies?  
R: You're the one lying. Where do you get your information from?  
A: It's the weirdest thing. I make up the worst thing I could possibly imagine one person would do to another person, and like clockwork, coincidently, that's what DC is doing. Out of sight and out of mind somewhere. I'll confirm the facts on your tracking device, let me see it.*Break out phone prop* First, I'll make something up. Indonesian government, funded by USA, slaughtering indigenous people in West Papua. Checking the facts.... And the intel is good! See! There was no way on earth for me to know that was happening before hand.  
R: *With dumb agreeing snarl* That's true.  
A: So, now that I've told you, for instance- that Washington DC has no soul, slaughters babies by the 1,000s, convinces you these actions are justified, lies to you and to everybody so no one has any idea an empire- let alone their empire- is robbing this planet of its ability to sustain life- and is doing it for profit- I ask- do you know what happens to us when this planet can't sustain life anymore?  
R: That won't happen.  
A: It's already happening. The ocean is turning to acid. Check the facts.  
*Takes out phone and checks facts*R: You're right.  
A: Ok. Why is the ocean turning to acid?  
R: Carbon emissions.  
A: Awesome. Those are everywhere, too. Nothing will ever change. *New informative tone vs. confrontational* Listen, guy, you gotta understand the web of genocide, alright; the government controlled media controls the news, so there is no real flow of information, truth, and so people stay unaware and dumb; government controlled public education controls indoctrination which makes kids unaware and dumb, then sends these young people either to college, wal mart, or jail. Meanwhile the police, national guard, FBI, ATF, and all that kind of stuff; they enforce the laws- unjust and highly profitable laws get made by lawmakers who work for private financial interests; like prisons- which trade on the stock exchange, while the same food company that sells them food, sells to the schools, too; and niether eat well because they're both keeping costs down. Food by the way; the food supply; a fundamental source of life- is also not free from corporate death deals and morbid intentions- FDA, USDA, EPA are all run by private companies with no accountability. So, I'm saying one day there will be nothing to eat and no way to grow plastic seeds, and no real seeds; no way to feed the teaming masses of starving people about to tear the whole structure to the ground. And while the extensive list of ways you're being murdered by the government you love so much goes on seemingly endlessly; while you won't listen to me; while you won't let it matter to you; and while you won't change one damn thing about your consumptions, your condemnations, your considerations, because you're content; nothing changes.  
R: I just don't believe your lies.

A: Because you believe someone else's. I have none. I have no reason to lie. I have better things to be doing than fighting the power. It's the people hypnotizing an entire nation who've got cause to lie, and do lie, more than they tell the truth, and who tell the truth in controlled measures to draw attention from worse crimes, I'm sick of it man! Why won't you help me?  
R: I won't help you for the same reason nobody like me will help you. Because you're a street person. You don't own anything. You have no job. No car. No home. No hygiene. Nobody will believe you. And people won't care about what you say if only for the reason that you care and they are afraid they might become like you.  
A:Then all must be lost. You've got cultural head trauma. From now on listen to people when they are trying to tell you something important. Open your ears. Let yourself change. We're all in it together. I hope you'll see that one day. Because people like me are the only hope you got right now.

$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$

Bulk Kitten Removal

*Extra people making machinery noises- adjust for voice*

Larry: Yeah. Yeah. We're with Head Trauma Tree Service. It's the end of a long shift, a real long shift, and this is the time of night, it's real late and very dark. This is when we offer a complimentary service, after all the trees are cleared out, we do bulk kitten removal. This machine here is a basic run of the mill wood chipper and we take the unwanted kittens, and other animals, too, from all these areas and we dispose of them on site right into the chips here in the truck. the blood enriches the wood and it's great for smoking meats. We're doing Bulk Kitten Removal because equal rights activists shut down the department of animal control. This was our solution to the problem, the way we saw it. We pick up the slack here, for free, because that's what community does. Alright, turn it on. Let's go. We got two kittens and a mama. Lookin live. Lookin hot. Toss them in there.

*Cat hissing and growling and machine noises until up to the nick of time when aliens appear and machine noises go to lasers and pops and fizzles.* Larry exclaims: Why does this always happen to the hill billies!

*Aliens do their best to appear otherworldly. Meanwhile, as the aliens are demonstrating themselves as intimidating, the one or two tree guys are slapping themselves in the faces, chewing on their flesh, attacking each other pathetically, and in chaotic order repeating the words; cat god, suffer unto cat god. Blood packets would work well here for effect. Or anything else you can think of for props at anyplace anywhere in this sketch or even the others. Prop innovation if props at all. Meanwhile, these people are still continuing deranged behavior; the alien proctologists are very preoccupied with probing the rectums. Once a simulated implication of the probing occurs the aliens stand the humans upright*

Alien: I will now speak on behalf of mankind as the unified field of emissions transmits messages through you to us. We have come much far and many times be assured. We want to confirm a suspicion long standing by certain perspectives among you that everything everyone knows is wrong and nothing can ever be correct if for the most basic reason of thought effecting environment and a constant flux or extension to countless fields of academic study mapping and charting what can't be known by your mind as it is now, yet excelling in subtle arts such as ridicule and condemnation.... To learn new things the people constantly unlearn old new things; it seems people are not keeping track of what they do and do not know and for this reason no one can know anything. Human nature is not our concern and we can't humor you anymore; our affairs on earth are peppered with the kiss of one million anuses and that doesn't happen on it's own. *blow kisses with probes. people collapse to heap, and aliens exit*

*Larry gets up after a while and gets the crowds undivided attention in a character appropriate way* Larry: They told me to stop wanting, to only need, and to love infinitely; he said one love, one truth. He said even the most evil deeds that get done come from love- in one form or another; it's fluid like water; it transforms. We harness our nerves with the shredded carcasses of the innocent groves so alive. For me there is a new life ahead, where I know, my anus will never be truly alone, for this old anus will not ever be safe from alien proctologists. Aliens stay with you forever in the form of constant nagging thoughts; hyper awareness of your anus. Your bowels, butt farts, and poop movements consume your mind and your thoughts and soon your whole identity is striving to be the best anus the galactic masters would wish for. It sounds awful, but I am too far gone to give a damn about something like that now.

$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$

Timeless Lovers

*Boy and Girl are dressed ridiculously*

Boy: Are you going to leave your boyfriend?

Girl: I'm here, aren't I? Why else would I be here?

B: Because of a subconscious and vindictive compulsion you have to only come around when I am doing good things with my life- when I've got a girlfriend for instance- stay just long enough to destroy what I have, the delicate bonds I've forged, and then leave me no choice but to retaliate in a similar fashion because you gave me the power just to see what I'd do with it- then you'll act surprised when I do what you already knew I would do!

G: You don't know for certain that's going to happen.

B: If you don't destroy our lives then I will.

G: Don't do anything. I need time. I need to vomit for the next week in order to avoid any proactivity.

B: Great. And your indecision will paralyze me in endless uncertain contemplations while the structures of my life come apart piece by piece and drift away around me as if sticks on a river or dust on the breeze.

G: Don't tell anybody our secret.

B: Fuck that: I want your faggot to know he's been fucking my girl for a year. The only person you cheated on was me with this mashed potato. And you gave me the power which you knew was a mistake because the first time you make me feel powerless, which you know you will, I am going to use it against you, because if I do not then I will lose my integrity. I'll be on serious ground. I'll lose my friends. I'll lose the girl I'm dating. I'll have no life. I'll start back at zero. You'll not care at all. You'll abandon me to my nothingness at a moment's notice. But, no, this is not a power trip. This is not punishment for the wrong things I did. This is what it looks like when you want to be my friend? I told you a long time ago you'll never be my friend. I got too many girls hanging around being friendly, I don't need it from you.

G: Listen. I understand that I love you. I tell you I don't because I am trying to confuse you. I don't know what it will take for me to accept you, so I will tell you that I never will love you again until I remember all the reasons why we belong together and not apart. Primarily love. If you and I are together, we'll never be with anybody else. But, if you and I are apart, we'll only ever be with other people.

B: Yeah. *With a tude* Sure. It's cool. Let's do it your way. It makes perfect sense to run around manufacturing jilted lovers because you pick and choose when and where I am good enough for you. I know you and I know your deepest desires and I've been to that place where your passion begins and I lived and I died at that place, and now I'm haunting it and you will never rid yourself of me- you will just join me in the hereafter of our love life.

G: By the time I'm ready to love you I'll be a used up whore like you. You couldn't accept that.

B: Dead. Yes. Like me. You're right. You'll probably never hear the end of it from me and it won't be long before the resentment builds to a breaking point. If only someone had taken the time to create an elaborate means with which to convey the simple message that our love deserves another chance because whether you're stifling it like a crazy bitch and I am offending your overly sensitive sensibilities, the facts are; we don't drink anymore, we're getting better, you're the best I ever had and I know I love you the way you like- and it so goes that your life is incomplete without me, so answer me this- woman, have I not the power?

G: To have power over a woman is not an easy thing, but somehow you expect it to be. I'm going to see what's out there- I suggest you do the same. I don't care in any way what happens to you- you can drown in a swamp or win the lotto. Just get the fuck out of my life.

B: Fine. But you listen to me. You never made this easy. You overcomplicated our lives when all that should have mattered was our love. Your mind is all over the place, it's like the person I knew is gone and replaced. Who the hell you are, I do not even know. God damn, I should have to leave you behind. You'll be that girl again, I know.

G: That girl is dead. This girl won't let you be happy with someone else, but she refuses to let you love her either. This girl is also daring you to try to move on again. Go seduce another half dozen women for no reason. The poetry, the drifting around to make time, new families, making friends, losing friends, sleepless nights, deep dark black depressions; I don't care what you have to do as long as you do it the fuck away from me. Understand?

B: Fine. But you're a fucking bitch and you'll be back.

$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$

A sign says: TAI CHI & QI GONG. HOURLY RATES

Student One: *Casually strolls by and reads the sign* You give lessons at this ally?

Teach: I do today, yeah. It's spacious and private. It serves the purpose perfectly. I'm basically selling ancient chinese secrets that will revitalize and rejuvenate your mind, body, and soul; these teachings will center you and reconnect you with the unity that is everything everywhere. And I teach it in plain american language.

Student Two: Sounds like a good time to me. How long have you been practicing this for?

Teach: All my life. It'll be 30 dollars per person, can you afford that?

One: You don't look like a martial arts master.

Teach: Of course I do. We all look different. Don't judge a book by its author. Alright. Let's do this! First put your things down, loosen your clothing, and we'll do some exercises, ok? I want you to concentrate really hard until you think your head will fly away because it disappeared. Alright, enough of that. Let's do splits. *teach can't split* I can't split. Can you guys split?

One: You want us to pay for this?

Teach: Yeah. *Suddenly serious*Look, decide at the end if you want to pay, alright? Ok. Here. Let's do kicks. Everybody pick a point in front of them and kick it. However you want. Doesn't have to look good. *Teacher stops and watches them and sarcastically says "goood, goooood."* All right. That's enough of that. Can you guys do one of these?*Does yoga warrior pose that everyone knows*

One: That move's from the x-box 360! Dude, you do not know anything about what you're talking about.

Teach: Ok, man. You gotta give me a break. I mean, look at this place. There're yuppies everywhere. I didn't know how to get money out of them. But I need it, you know what I'm saying?

One: I'm sorry, Dude. But, I ain't giving you money for second hand video game ninja lessons.

Teach: What about for blow jobs?

One & Two together: NO!

Two: What do you need the money for?

Teach: I gotta get my girlfriend out of the impound!

One: *Condescendingly.* Do you mean the jail?

Teach: No. She's locked up in my van. They got me at the border for unpaid traffic tickets. I was smuggling her in from Canada.

Two: Why would you smuggle in a Canadian?

Teach: It was her idea, alright? I just have to get her out.

Two: Your circumstances are mad shady. Have the police do it.

Teach: I can't. She's wanted by the police.

Two: For what?

Teach: Necrophilia, 23 counts of sexual assault on a corpse

One: You want us to help you release a Canadian necrophiliac? No way, mister. Have the cops do it.

Teach: Alright. Listen. You guys got money. You want to buy some coke. It's real pure.

*Two and One exchange glances* One: Ok. Sell us an eightball.

Teach: Alright. I got that right here. Give me the money *one takes out some money and Teach looks in the wallet* You got a lot of money in there, huh?

One:Yeah.

Teach: You should be more like me. I don't carry any money. Just a little drugs. But, look. Before I sell you this, I have to tell you- I'm wanted for murder.

Two: *Spazzing* Who'd you kill?!?!

Teach: I killed god, jesus, buddah, allah, krishna, and all the rest. It's just me and Satan now. The cops are gunna kill my girlfriend for being Canadian. Satan told me so. You gotta see. I'm in this pretty deep. I'm sure you'll understand that, if I don't take everything you have and lock you in this dumpster I'd be forfeiting all this progress I've made. I'm on serious ground, people. Give me your money. Get in the dumpster. There should be food in there if you get hungry. This place is a restaurant.

Whoever is biggest: I weigh *insert weight* pounds more than you. How are you planning on robbing and relocating me with moves you learned on the x-box?

Teach: Did you read the sign? *throws chop to neck*

Scene

$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$

Women are cautious,/ Men aren't courageous/ Men are cowards,/ Women are dangerous/ I need advice............./ What do I do to them?/ What do they do to me?/ They all change me/ And I change them all/ Though, still, alone, like,/ Too many actors in love

$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$

I know the womanly ways of the Rainbow/ How to respect you and to cherish you/ I know the ways of Taiji and Wuji/ For a better life, and to start anew/ We are equal and nothing else matters/ Our bodies operate on one wavelength/ The rest are all insane as mad hatters/ In our crystal unity is our strength/ Our unity is love and pure true love/ Forever I set out to destroy it and us/ With the same ill-will I am devoid of/ Now it is others who misplaced their trust/ In dreams you are lost, awake you are found/ Awake you are lost and in dreams still gone

$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$

There are too many shadows when the rain won't stop/ And they whirl around me until I can't see you/ Choking on ocean puddles of brain scum I drop/ Toward an enlightened crimson veil to slip through/ 'Good love is hard to find,' fucker, so to hell with your tomb/ I'm inside your head, you filthy asscocksucker/ Now is the motherfucking time to remain calm/ Turn away, don't stay, drift into the hard liquor/ This is something I've never tried to say nicely/ Lover, we need to ditch this whole scene, it don't work/ We're not like them, well, you kind of are still, sadly/ But, your hesitation is now holding us back,/ United, in deceit declared, we will convert/ Divided, in scattered subterfuge, we divert

$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$

You can't stop the teachings once you've begun/ I'm your artist, and you are my distress/ This is our time and you must be fearless/ It won't end with us until it is done/ No matter how the time trails get spun/ You're incomplete and I'm getting listless/ Swimming soft stillness, still seeking swiftness/ Out of the shadows and under the sun/ You are my mate and we know the better way/ Or, I know the way, and you will be shown/ We have to do something with our power/ Read through the months in the lost year essay/ You want to know what I know and have known/ I know it's my knowledge you devour

$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$

I really miss my heart/ I miss when it was mine/ But/ My chest was torn apart/ At the behest of the divine/ My heart belongs to you/ To all of those who suffer-/ All-/ Like nothing to the Sioux/ May you be a little tougher/ Because I am not a drone/ Empty, hollow, nor alone/ So/ My absent heart, it scolds/ Stiff spirits of the controlled/ My empty statements/ Made to deaf ears/ Scream at you! I declare!/ And/ Pretend like you can hear/ We are all one person/ We are all one planet/ Soon/ Our health will worsen/ A rotting pomegranate

$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$

I can feel the crosshairs/ On the back of my head/ The laser pierces my qi/ We were never free/ Not since society/ Began the killing spree/ And today I raped/ The rhyming dictionary/ I'm doing it right now/ About the death we endow/ And the murder we avow/ Our undying mindless allegiance/ Zombies who never knew the Tao/ The unthinkable occurrences/ Unimaginable disturbances/A kid with no perturbance/ Like life was too perfect/ Then began the onslaught/ Against towers of innocence/ That were built for naught/ They raised and bred pestilence/ The evil never got caught/ Manufacturing nightmare thoughts/ Warm and comfortable we slept/ While overseas imperialists crept/ Gathering uncounted souls they kept/ It's hard for me to ignore the karma/ When all we need is a little dharma/ So what's a lovely song?/ If not a long evil daydream/ If you can't escape the universe/ Where will you go?/ Do you know about the ecocide?/ Have you seen the accident outside?/ It's no wonder the the Chinese call us ghost men/ Do you know about Taiji?/ Life devolved from right to left/ Here we are obese and ill at ease/ Because if you were humanity/ What would you do about the US?

$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$

Of Insomniacs and Disk Jockeys

The hour was dreadfully late when they returned to the parking lot to search for the lost jewelery. The sun kissed the sky and turned it deep purple. They returned to a hidden knoll where the grass was matted down. She could not find the aquamarine gem stones that matched her eyes. The radio dj's shirt was torn across the front and not hanging correctly, exposing her black bra.

The insomniac, a wirey mess, wearing all black, with a newly broken collar bone, held the red flashlight pointed toward the earth and the woman got down on her hands and knees, similar to earlier, and she searched frantically with her fingertips. The insomniac poked his head over the hill back to the bar. Only obnoxious ornamentation shined back at him. The streets were deserted.

There was too little freedom left in the world. So little room for free love in the checks and balances. They had to take what they wanted when they wanted it. Besides, what had they wanted but a little time alone? Intoxication and altercations of a spirited existence, he guessed. Reckless endangerment neither could anticipate. The perilous behavior of a wicked addiction to carnal escapades.

The insomniac had given her ecstasy earlier. Then he drove her to exctasy after. She'd injured him and it was at the hospital she noticed her jewelry was gone. So back at the bar she could feel the drugs' effect rolling away and the sobriety catching up. Dehydration wreaking havoc. And where the fuck, was her god damned bracelet?

"I give up. Come on. Let's go," she said.

The insomniac limped, holding his arm close to himself. The searing pain screaming through his collarbone took his breath away with every step. They stayed close to the shadows and walked out to her running car at the back of the movie theater parking lot, got in, and left.

There weren't even cops out at that hour. Sunday mornings, everyone was home. Saturday; a distant memory only a couple hours in the past. She turned on the radio and her prerecorded show was still playing. She'd be taking over for herself, live, in about an hour. She lit a cigarette. Her listeners had even promised to quit with her. They all thought she was doing so great.

The insomniac drank vodka from a flask. The vapors gathered around his mouth and wafted through his nostrils. Cheap burning liquor seared down his throat and into his chest. She put her hand out asking. He glanced to her chest. Her eyes caught him and she smiled.

He handed her the flask and said, "You look good right now. Real good. But I'm hurt really bad. Really bad. These pain meds aren't doing a thing. And you have to go to work pretty soon."

She bit her lip, enjoying the warm air blowing in through the window. She fluttered her eyelashes a little and the car pulled into his driveway. "I have a half hour. I'm coming in. I'll make you feel real good, baby," she said.

$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$

Surprised to have a moment/ To just write a poem/ An evanescent moment/ As a black shade/ Slips across the moon/ Inspired by the eclipse to write/ Never was one so documented/ I'm lost in the shades/ In a magical moment/ My insides feel vacant/ I am lost within myself/ Inside the emptiness/ Of the moonshine/ Gasping for breath/ And HAARP!?!/ Weather control?/ Mad scientists!/ An evil government..../ Do you see?/ Do you see how long/ my free time lasts?

$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$

My Dearest,/ Will you watch the apocalypse with me?/ Will you be there when I fail to fend it off?/ You know my heart is broken/ You know my love is true/ I will save humanity/ And I will do it all for you/ I've had tears in my eyes/ Unable to cry/ Since the day you left my side/ There is nothing more enticing/ Then our heartbeats romancing/ I didn't mean it/ When I said I wouldn't die for you/ Give me a child/ I will give myself/ I know I can't be that guy/ With stability/ Who/ can be around your family/ But/ I've woven a magic carpet/ And it wants you to ride me/ I will end the new world murder/ To raise a child in peace and love/ A place where/ They'll be free to write poetry/ Just like me/ Can I do it without you?/ I don't want to find out/ No one else likes Dax/ The same way that you do/ Tears of without you/ Drip like Normy's drool/ I'm essentially asking you/ To be in my bed/ When the assassins arrive/ And whisper reassurance/ That it's only a delusion/ I'm committing suicide/ By alphabet and rhyme/ And too little stage time/ All of this is for comfort/ To get me through/ To the end of your absence/ Who else will save you/ from/ your sleepy cigarettes?/ My love./ My devotion./ My amour./ My lust./ My weakness./ My strength./ My Scorpio./ My wilted Rose.

$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$

Get out of my head/ Get out! Get out! Get out!/ Get out of my head!/ I'll scream until I'm dead/ For me, obsession is love/ I'm not hung up/ Lovingly is how I torment/ Now get out of my head!/ Get out of the world!/ I curse you and our memories/ I curse the moments/ We spent/ that lead me to this/ Get out! Get out!/ A knife in my mind/ A sword in my side/ A razor in my mouth/ An axe in your face/ And neither one of us/ Will see the next place/ When I drag us through time/ To an everlasting moment/ Where you die/ Then I die/ Then you die/ Then I die/ Until our eyes become blind/ Then again we die/ Until our skin becomes boils/ Then again we die/ Until hands burn like brands/ Then we die again/ And I torture you/ The way that you've tortured me/ And we torture each other/ Because you're my lover/ And love is you/ So love is me/ Two people in pain/ Taking out our hate/ In the strangest ways/ Because without me you're healed/ And you attribute this to another/ Someone that could be anyone/ As long as they aren't who I am/ You don't care how much of me/ I gave you when I destroyed you/ That time when I needed you most/ Please get out of my head/ This love of ours is dread/ Without you/ I'm too far from dead

$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$

The pain stops/ When the alcohol rain stops/ The blood stains blot/ As/ The alcohol fires burn  
nonstop/ Alcohol phantoms/ Descend upon my home/ Coyotes and bats/ And Graves XXX/ Myself/ Dancing in fire/ Staring at the Woman I admire/ Wondering about Alcohol Vampires/ The vampire metaphor wears no disguise/ To give up the day for a darker way/ Never eat food again, trade for one drink/ Transcend intrinsic humanity/ A poisoned body and mind/ Changing for the worse/ While all the time/ The vampire writers/ Had wishful emotions/ To live forever/ And only get better/ The addicts/ They were given a Tiger/ We/ Have Tigers/ Addiction/ This is about addiction/ And the establishment/ Demands we keep our Tigers/ Locked away/ So typical/ I've been.../Letting my Tiger out to play/ Always wanted a Tiger anyway/ Though I wish he were free/ And so much further from me/ I've been bleeding again/ Out in the alcohol rain/ Digging in with no pain/ That spot/ Every cutter knows about/ Peace be with you, Amen/ I need to bleed, my friend/ Leave me now to dance in my fires/ To stare deeply at the Woman I admire/ Wondering about these Alcohol Vampires

$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$

Cradle Slave drive to where You thrive/ Escape the rape at any other landscape/ Stay far away or else be led astray/ They died in the morning and they died for nothing/ Sick Man's Son burning your flag down/ That boy burns flags down one by one/ Sick Man's son is the revolution/ Some Writer raised Him right/ Some Writer taught Him to fight/ This Son's fight was birthright/ Right?/ The Son Rose over the sick world/ Born apart from the culture problems/ He would solve every one of them

$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$

Three years into the relationship I finally understand why this girl's unique. Beyond my expectations hind sight truth sheds light./ I knew something about loss by the first time I fell in love. And I didn't know the first thing about love lost. Lost love changed me the same way it changed you./  
So, I figured no way that could happen again. Meanwhile I was losing the second one. I didn't know the first thing about love gone. I left relationships like wreckage on the east and in the midwest./ I was looking for a loved one when the Mystic intervened. For a reason, love is forged by the power of the season. And met the one in the path of a rainstorm. Three years in and I never expected this./ I've mated for life because I'll only marry once./ The first time I expected we would never end. The second time I expected she couldn't leave again. And finally I expected nothing. Although, even now, I find myself expecting this won't end./ She's the one for having never been.

$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$

The wisdom of a place beyond reach/ 'Intelligent' bird of vibrant red/ Want to hear about the president?/ What's going on in your beak faced head?/ Your wings colored by the sun and ocean/ The deep and the soft blue shallows/ Should you be eating these pistachios?/ Should I be feeding them to you?/ You wouldn't want to go outside/ If anyone were ever confined.../ I don't speak parrot eye contact/ Seagull is different, I speak that/ Do you get lonely at night?/ If you could have anything, what?/ Either obvious or mysterious/ Freedom or a frito or a female/ Why are people so different?/ How is it you came to be here?/ Cosmically close like an exhibit/ You're here to sell the other animals/ May your captivity not be in vein/ May you always be kept safe/Is there anyone loving you?/ You seen your dinosaur feet?/ If you get bored- watch finches/ Always keep your beak up/ Do you know any math?/ Seen any weird things lately?/ Well, it's time for me to go/ Sadly, I am far too stoned

$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$

Permeate with The Spirit and Me/ Knowledge undesirable/ A trillion things/ You don't want to know/ (Most magic/ Has a heart of illusion)/ The most real unreal/ Is an air of delusion/ (Touch nothing and fear/ Feel nothing and cower)/ Touch it all and know/ Feel real to reveal/ A world so transparent/ A calamity of confusion/ Crawling through a quagmire/ Blessing Ourselves/ (May We live for desire/ Or parish in the unforgiving quagmire)/ Suffocate on Someone's malcontent/ Alone, disconnected- dissonant/ Separate from nothing/ Observant of obscurity/ Drown. Suffocate/ Snuff out My depravity/ Or cultivate/ A very real disreality/ Behind My ego/ Not yours/ Apart from rationale/ The encompassing abstract/ Seclusion and understanding/ Enthusiasm and obstinacy/ Unaware of nothing/ Apathetic toward whatever/ (Emotions of the Unreal/ Forgotten knowledge raw deal)/ Reaching for the silent knowledge/ Horror and happiness/ Never began to exist/ An illusion/ An interpretation/ Created by Me/ Compromising Your integrity/ (But don't worry/ You will never believe/ What you will never see)/ For it matters not/ If I breed/ Or breathe/ Or bleed/ We will forever be/ Permeating with The Spirit/ (May We live for desire/ Or parish in the unforgiving quagmire)

$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$

What sucker are you talking to?/ My safe pleasant trip is up to you/ This broken chair has no seat belt/ My safe pleasant trip/ Depends on if I bounce/ I understand, so it's cool/ This Bus Rider is no fool/ Still have my money/ Cuz the crook acted funny/ You don't know what I don't need/ Cuz Me and Castaneda/ Are waiting for my death/ On a safe and pleasant trip/ Emerging from a tunnel/ On roads slick and wet/ Another Witching Hour/ Spent waiting for My death/ You can bury Me/ In Iowa City/ But My heart's beat.../ Belongs to Pennsylvania/ We can't escape our parent's influence

$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$

Who or what has been haunting you since you were little?/ What situations come upon you and beat on you at their will?/ What happens when those two get together?/ As they so often do/ I had an encounter with my beast of burden today/ It was ugly and uncalled for; an empty victory for nobody/ I stood my ground and found myself walking/ I became free if only for the next few miles/ I will be cold, but not very/ The sun is glinting off the snowy fields/ The few homes feel so far away/ People are trapped in a blasting sun, snowed in/ I'm alone, but not alone enough/ A car drives by/ This place looks as though it should be deserted/ Overgrown barbed wire and snow/ I'm dehydrated. I'd been working the snow/ I need to eat snow for the water/ It's completely delicious/ Soon, I'll be on a state forest dirt road/ I'm taking the back way/ The walk will last a little longer/ But the silence,/ The silence will be worth three of these trips/ Turning around this corner, going deeper/ There's a strange pine forest/ An unhinged christmas tree farm/ As if those places were sane to begin with/ The pine trees are surreal/ They capture- the Pale Mystic/ And they make it viewable/ The security of the energy of pine/ Is palpable over there/ Across a brief snowy way/ Behind a stone wall/ The New Endland stone walls/ The Pale Mystic is Wonder/ I didn't actually expect any Wonder/ More and more I am drawn/ Back to the Mother/ Always sharing Her with the others/ I've come to appreciate the alone time with Her/ The woods in the winter, Aquarian tyranny/ Oh no. Has anyone considered that yet?/ Aquarians are heinous/ The age of Aquarius could be a mindfuck/ Whatever. My problem has to do with a Taurus/ And a place called home/ And the woods/ I see the Mother of an Old Friend/ Pushing a snowblower along her lengthy driveway/ It's a bigger house set back into the woods some/ We don't wave. But I glimpse Her/ Blowing snow into the wind/ Engulfed in a blizzard for one/ That's what I walked away from/ Nobody says that which matters most to them/ Without first considering the outcome of their decision/ The turn for the state forest is here now/ And this purity lay before me/ Like a high; nothing will matter for the next hour/ Being watched by the government/ Has about a 50/50 shot/ Of being good for my career/ Bad for my life force/ They are in my music when I type/ They're in my e-mail/ Commenting on me in the commercials/ Or there are intense coincidences/ The Pale Mystic is me/ I see a truck approaching/ This part of the road gets used/ Not much, but apparently some/ I am concerned with the trickling creak/ Running along the road/ I don't want my foot in that/ The walking is slick/ The truck gets closer/ Old People, looks like/ I only expect to get blown away/ By hicks like in the movies/ And when I was younger/ They pass on by/ Soon they are behind me/ I trip looking back at the couple/ And then get back up/ I've had my wool hat on/ And my gloves made by sweat shop kids/ And The Eskimo/ The Eskimo is a sweater so warm/ It has a name/ Black and grey, wool, I think,/ Over some thermal padding,/ With a fleece lining/ The Eskimo is spectacular/ A phenomenon!/ A gift from Long Lost Damaged Love/ Walking along the way my feet slip and slide/ I can skate but I don't believe that conserves energy/ Snow falls gently from the branches around me/ Deep woods, I'm looking for The Spirit/ I pass the road that produces traffic and go deeper/ All around me something so fleeting/ Wonder. Wonder is the essence/ This is why children are tuned in/ All the Kids do is Wonder/ Sadly, all I can do is Wonder/ There is the horse camp ground/ Lost Silvermine/ The first place I nailed my girl/ Me and Friends would camp there/ All the time, but it is prohibited/ Only People With Horses can camp there/ Those people were the same way about dirtbikes/ On these same roads/ Much younger, when I rode around they were rude/ Made Us walk the bike back, all the way/ But We hopped on at the state forest/ I'm cutting 60 degrees of walking away/ Shortcut, to the left, keep the sun at My brow/ The terrain is wild but oddly secure underfoot/ My pants froze a while back/ I've got jammies underneath/ I have put my hat and gloves back on/ They sun has been setting/ The whole forest lit in subdued hues/ The sky afire on the horizon/ Burning tree tops sing in my heart/ I conduct an orchestra that never was/ Heading down this forested hill/ Prickers grip my heal and I Wonder/ Could I screw up something so simple?/ Is this being lost?/ Not possible/ The road is beyond the high ground/ I come upon the way, basically trouncing/ Behind me is the closed gate/ Keeping traffic out of here in the winter/ Fallen sticks spice up the undisturbed snow/ Perfection. Only me, no one else/ And My internal dialogue is silenced/ There is no more chattering monkey/ He is silenced now/ I've been walking here a while/ My tracks are that of a Drunkard/ And I am sober/ I've got a head full of Wonder/ Almost at my house/ Down in the gully there my property begins/ I'll sneak along some Horse trails/ Later I will finish telling of The Walk/ And it will be my duty to mention:/ This happened in two different ways/ As it happened/ I knew of no Pale Mystic presence/ Only a perplexing sense of Wonder/ As it happened/ In the writing, I know of The Pale Mystic/ I can recall the essence of the Wonder/ And I Wonder no more

$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$

Dear Reader,

Jail is a lot like summer camp. Except, we aren't allowed outside, and if we were we would not go because it is the dead of winter in the upper midwest.

The jailers gave us matching uniforms, just like at summer camp. We are all wearing horizontal, thick, black and white pinstripes. They are so comfy. Sometimes, when we're all gathered in the common area, it feels like a big gay slumber party. I mostly write in my journal, mostly.

My journal is a veritable mish mash of bureaucratic mish mash pish posh nonsense waste paper folded into itself. Recently, the quintessential drug freak recurring self defense killer handed me a pad of off white colored paper. Like dark egg shells color.

It's not hostile in here like the media often portrays it to be. Unless you consider boredom as a form of violence. Which I do. And from that perspective this is akin to trench warfare. Every day is Custer's last stand for a Little White Boy in a big Sioux penitentiary. No. That's a joke, it ain't like that. A blunt observation and sweeping generalization about the Natives is about to be made.

The Natives resent our piss and fecal matter. Everything about the white man gets under their skin; we live under their skin like a staff infection from hell. And for this fact alone, the native people of the world, torn asunder by genocide, will always have my respect. Anyway, I've enjoyed my interactions with Natives for a similar reason; they don't want to talk to me. They tolerate talking to me, suffer to talk to me, and I walk away with an enriched life having encountered people of that blood.

In here, they don't bother me. People leave me alone just by my scorpion tattoo. My eyes are a whole different issue. They do so many things, and one ability is keeping people away from me. My eyes distance everybody from me.

Man, I miss a woman's touch in this place. These men are terrible scenery. Actually, there are some girls hanging round this other cellblock outside the big chicken wire windows. They're gross women type prisoners, to be exact. Across the guard quarters in another block behind some big windows. Almost like beyond a creepy swamp and a meadow, like at camp.

I can't sleep well here. Even though I have my own cell- for the time being- there is nothing cozy about this place. Except maybe the jammies. I got one shirt and one pair of pants and I'm riding this thing out. I'm about to stop eating again. At night it is cold and my one blanket is small and ineffective. The lump of cushion at the head of the sleeping mat is my pillow. It sucks and I struggle to manipulate the towel into a pillow. I guess I haven't been honest with this letter.

I'm writing because I am scared. It never gets dark here. The light dims for about 6 hours a night. Not by much though. I am not afraid of any inmate, or the ghost haunting the doorway (it's a shadow- but a hardcore spooky shadow). It's my dreams that're getting to me. Nightmares, really. I hardly usually dream, and there is a good reason. My body knows it can't handle the effects of my mind jolting through dreaming, so on the outside, I don't dream because I am highly sexually active and highly intoxicated. Did you catch that twist? I am not sexually active- nor intoxicated- in this place, so I dream painful visions.

One day, I got my lover fucking my best friend, and the next day she'll be fucking some stranger and I need to track him using only his initials with the help of that same good friend. Or maybe I'll fall into some dirty needles, get them good and deep in my throat. Can't imagine how many people have had that dream. One early morning, I had a 35 minute phone conversation with my Lover about our relationship; Her voice, Me, and a phone; nothing else. I couldn't believe it wasn't real until I awoke. The greatest sex dream ever can only be told as a joke:

I fall asleep in an instant and bang! It's the 1950's. Everything is black and white, like a movie, or like jail clothes. I'm taking this Stunning Italian Dancer on a date, maybe back to a reefer party. Who knows? We sneak away from the crowd into a room like an Escher covered in Picasso's; black and white. We find a Short Blond in a Little Black Dress waiting for Us. My Dream Vixen of eternal love. I was in a situation, because They Both needed to be sexed up. They were crawling all over Me and I went to work on the Italian, promising my Vixen undivided attention after I fulfilled my obligation as a good date. There was some exquisite feminine sexuality happening in this dream. This was grade A dream sex. But when I penetrated the Dancer, it took Me about four thrusts to realize something was wrong with the vagina I was fucking. The vagina was a bed. I was in jail and humping the mat. And at this stage of jail I was in an open facility with about 130 bunks in one long room. And it took Me a quick minute to stop humping. I was in denial for a little bit thereafter. If I had known it was a dream I would have dropped the Italian for the Vixen, to get those first few thrusts in with Her instead. Maybe, next time. I need to get back to this letter.

I've got this sexual tension built up in me, but I'm not comfortable with releasing it in this place. I don't understand why. I wouldn't be the first Guy wiping semen on prison walls. I would just rather not perform that deed in such close proximity to so many Men.

Could be nicotine cravings winding up my dreams, too. When I am awake I experience nic fits as anxiety over my Lover's fidelity. Dreaming is about the same, but the intensity is cranked up and amplified by about an infinite figure.

I don't like the smell in here. People in this place, in general, smell awful. They walk around in circles farting poisonous gasses. And who am I to be the fart nazi? Some people don't bathe enough. Body odor seems to match the identity and ethnicity of its manly source. Also there is the shit smell. The smell of shit wafts around this place like it's just another one of the Guys. Which relates to the food.

They give small portions of very low quality food. The carrots taste like water. No. Everything tastes like water. And the meals never satisfy. Quite the opposite, meals only seem to increase hunger pain. I simply skip meals to counter act this. I can easily train myself to hunger less and thus hurt less.

Well. I've written about jail in the past. I think I've made my current point. Whatever it was. Oddly enough, I think my point was: I want to have sex with my woman. It's almost dinner and I am starved. Hopefully you aren't reading this in anything similar to what I am going through. And if you are, I got nothing to say to you. You understand.

Sincerely, Roze

$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$

Inverted and twisted society of mine. How sad? Smiling is mandatory. From day to day the inability to smile on demand is crippling like shaking hands with no fingers. Smiling is a privilege, not a right. Tell me, or show me, what there is to smile about and you will know I agree by degree of hilarity. What you don't appreciate is that I'm coming out of the cold, unemployed and dirty. You don't know anything about my skills by a missing smile. Get bent.

$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$

In the Sioux Falls county jail/ In cell G-250/ There lurks a spirit so frail/ It identified with me/ Many nights alone I read/ Where from the corner of my eye/ The undead watched me there on my bed/ I'd look. He'd vanish. I tell no lie/ Was he destroyed by a C.O?/ Was he snuffed out by a cell mate?/ The answer I will never know/ Yet, I'm concerned with another fate/ A dust bunny like a rat/ Made of hair and lint and skin/ Rolled to the door and sat/ Whenever the spirit was in/ The bunny lived in an opposite corner/ But would roll hurriedly across the room/ Whenever the ghost visited this burglar/  
And then roll back when it ceased to loom/ The jailers soon changed my cell/ So I saw the shadows never more/ But I wonder, if back in that hell/ The bunny still visits the door

$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$

We choose what to pass along/ A wasteland done wrong/ Or/ A paradise revived/ Out of the darkness into the dawn/ Out of the darkness/ We know we are one/ Out of the darkness/ Into the light/ Where we all belong/ The overlord is failing. Babylon is weak/ In peace. In love. In harmony. Below and above/ A part. One. Here. Then gone.

$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$

Like a strangers attention to a blade I've been drawn to this piece.  
Maybe I should give it up to KMFDM or MDFMK playing on the radio.  
Or maybe I'm feeling a little edgy, cuz maybe Connecticut is getting to me.  
Winter Wasteland makes me reconsider the cycle of warm wet winters past.  
Been eating more than usual because my appetite is an aftermath.  
Been jumping through hoops out in the blistering winter of dooom.  
I'm getting married. Trading it all in for the path of least resistance.  
Out of two equally feasible options, always choose the simplest one.  
Sorry Mistress Lockeheart. It was never simple with you and me.  
No budget horror film project is an event I am apprehensive about.  
Our motto: We understand if you do not want to get involved with this.  
I will never, ever, be a musician, they all do it so much better than me.  
Sort of.  
Might have knocked up my fiancé; that would be insanity if I did.  
That kid would lead a hell of a life. What if something happened to him?  
Still shook from trans-america jail excursion; a major inconvenience.  
Engaged to be wed and who the fuck ever said I wanted to be that?  
Regret comes bitterly when it comes immediately; I'm not 25 yet.  
Perhaps I will name my daughter Lust, in honor of my fallen freedom.  
Confined in so many ways to the plot of land where my life began.  
People roll 'R's because they are difficult to say otherwise.  
I've even shirked my agoraphobia. Or at least I figured out the trick.  
Red. Wearing red is my agoraphobia cure. And it works in many ways:  
1. Red illuminates the negativity around you, ill will is reflective.  
2. Red invigorates the opposite sex, a more beautiful reflection.  
3. Red advises those around you to behave in a way becoming of themselves.  
4. Red radiates an ire for society, my schizoid spirit glaring with disdain.  
There is a reason roses are red and not black.  
Clothes are just clothes. No one will be aware of the subtle manipulation.  
The real problem I have now is a lack of red shirts. One just says 666.  
So I can only be being out there when these couple shirts are clean.  
Claws, fear, disease.  
Orca, ice, mist.  
I finally figured out 'who' the Pale Mystic is?  
The Pale Mystic is not a 'who'. The Pale Mystic is Yah.  
The Pale Mystic is the spirit.  
The Pale Mystic is our beloved animalistic essence in the air.  
Inside of you like breath and part of you like fingerprints.

$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$

Looking around at nothing but ugly/ Until I close my traumatized eyes/ Then there is only Beauty/ Thinking of you carries me to tomorrow/ You are on my mind at all times/ On my locked down, all night, mind/ Inside my mind's eye all is alright/ In my arms I'm holding you tight/ I swear my life in here is alright/ You're here with me, I can feel you/ You're here with me, I love you/ You're here with me, I kiss you/ I caress you and make love to you/ Locked down all night I swear it's alright/ In my mind's eye I am holding you tight/ You're going. I love you  
**************************************  
It's been so long/ It's been hard/ I still taste you in the water I drink/ I still see you at night in the dark/ One day soon when the planets align/ You and me will halt the sands of time/ One day soon we'll look up at the full moon/ And see our love like a shadowy hot air balloon/ Eclipsed/ I still love you like a newlywed/ I think of you at night in my bed/ And Girl, you're my heart/ Girl, you are my love and soul/ I'll be loving you only/ Until we each die alone  
**************************  
Imagine the dreams when you visit me/ Clouds rain down diamonds/ But they don't hurt us/ A soft twilight lingers/ Like a warm fleece blanket/ I sit on a stump not thinking of much/ Just staring off into the mist/ I catch sight of you/ Stealthy creature of the night/ Miracle of nature/ Coming to me from the water/ I stand to my feet and walk out into the pond/ Your white blouse is soaking wet/ We meet up waist deep, and I weep/ The diamonds fall through the mist/ Splashing around this lover's tryst/ And we kiss/ SLAM!/ Somewhere cell doors crash/ I pick up my weary head/ Open up my hazy eyes/ And I am still doing time/ Missing you always with every waking thought/ I know I'll see you soon/ I love you like the Sun loves the moon/ I love you like roses in June/ Like God loves everyone/ Like two swans in a pond/ I love you like a conundrum/ Like a West rising Sun/ Like cold boiling water/ Like a scalding hot ice cube/ The way I love you/ Turns the world upside down/ So it spins the other way/ Creating a new sort of day/ All because I heard you say/ I love you

$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$

Propaganda/ To trick the ignorant/ Into listening/ Propaganda/ To navigate the cracks/ Of a closed mind/ Nobody listens for it/ That fact's irrelevant/ This speaker must hope/ For an open ear/ Anyone to care/ A thoughtless society/ Is a speaker's dilemma/ The outliers/ The agenda/ No propaganda/ For the true at heart/ The masses will succumb/ To Hideous motives/ How sad/ They cannot control/ Their own damn thoughts/ Can purity help?/ Speaking so blunt/ Speaking one's heart/ To make another agree/ Absent that trickery/ Mental revolution/ Against the oppressors/ Of money and politics/ The selfish goal oriented/ Self-righteous/ A thriving desire/ To break other's restraints/ For love of another/ As they are/ One's true brother

$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$

Avalanching eyelids after a restless day in Iowa and a caffiene daydream in the driveway./ fade away standing in place and watch the autism get violent./ don't interfere cuz it's inhumane./ you know the committee says so./ human waste permeates through this space and the eyelids are avalanching./ don't interfere cuz it's inhumane./ you know the committee says so.

$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$

Under the ledge/ the rain nicks my face/ it splashes on my shoes/ and on my pant legs/ the thunder commands respect/ and this summer is wet/ the third wettest/ since the first record/ rain falls hard/ and steady and torrential/ and here I worship/ this recurring downfall/ water falls from the sky/ trees grow towards the sun/ trees grow into the sky/ water falls from under the sun/ my cigarette burns wet/ it's dark all around/ to speak with the thunder/ is such a stunning emphasis/ talking to no one/ they're all in the house/ down on knees in a puddle/ I worship a bumper/ my cigarette burns wet/ the summer sky/ hasn't been dry/ in a very long time

$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$

Nine lives and never one to succumb  
Or neglect to offer his love  
Ready for anything- riding the fire  
Master of city, suburban sprawl, and deep woods  
A feline creature of the night  
Nuisance to the superstitious

Black fur hides him from the owl  
Anti-social attention whore  
To me he means everything  
Evil counterpart- he works for me  
So I must work for him

$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$

misunderstood me  
my mind molests magic, yes  
no one understands

$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$

Nothing/ Really... vacant/ Absolute nothingness/ Not black, not white, not anything/ Something

$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$

Corn on the macabre/ Torture and death/ Demons and evil/ Corn on the macabre/ Possession and poltergeists/ Spirits and a pentacle/ Corn on the macabre/ Make pretend vampires/ Undead basements/ Corn on the macabre/ Obsession with irrelevance/ Gothic fashion/ Corn on the macabre

$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$

What's the reason?/ These peoples love coke/ What's the deal/ With dumb girls and coke?/ How do we inhale/ Chemical coca snowflakes?/ And go up/ And go down/ Up and down down/ Up and down down/ And down/ And down/ And maybe up again/ With a little side adrenaline/ Fat chance/ Excitement be scarce/ Then it's only blowing/ Hopelessness showing/ It's only really nice/ While it's going in your nose/ Before it numbs your throat/ Before your friends/ Develop explosive tempers/ Before you can't wake up/ What's the attraction?/ Help you get action?/ Maybe look attractive?/ it's not enough fun/ to warrant this love/ something's out of place here/ It's not my problem/ I'm the only one here who cares

$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$

ignorance and rap are responsible,/ for making your little mind so volatile/ so violent, so cool, all the bitches,/ are in love with you/ just a pimp, just a thug,/ you're just a scrawny little punk/ a tool and a termite doing your job,/ consuming an image,/ cool fucking cool/ you are a fish in a school,/ with no idea,/ what's being done to you/ god you're fucking hostile/ get away from me/ don't want to be around you/ you're giving me the creeps/ you need to look in a mirror,/ and notice your skin color/ learn your place in this world,/ in school on daddy's dollar/ stop writing those checks,/ the ones your ass can't cash/ and stay away from me,/ i've zero respect for you/ you're not a thug/ you're not hard/ you're a student and you're soft/ you've no street credit/ you've just left the nest/ you're still under a wing/ your poor little mind so hostile/ your eyes so misinformed/ your heart so full of confusion/ your purpose to conform

$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$

New Year's Eve Again/ New Year's Eve Is Not My Friend/ That, This, Bullshit Day/ When The Last Year Ends/ I Resent Today/ I Repent On This Day/ And Say Goodbye In A Way/ To What Could Have Been/ And Goodbye To What Was/ Or Everything Or Nothing/ Or It's Just Another Day/ Where From Afar I Observe/ Other's Jubilation/ Just Like Any Other Day/ I Detest The New Year/ FUCK YOU 2005!/ FUCK YOU 2004!/ FUCK THE FUTURE!/ FUCK THE PAST!/ FUCK New Year's Eve!/ it can kiss my ass

$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$

Culture shock flavor/ The way we differ/ Unrelenting discrimination/ All people/ One nation/ When California met farmers/ Rebel's trouble with daughters/ Color skin down the road/ Causing problems/ Up the road/ Bitter sweet/ Ugly taste/ Can't find peace/ This hatred erase/ Love each other/ Dumb fuckers/ Ignorance supporters/ Love me/ For I care/ For you/ Not that/ I want to/ Cannot help it/ Go along with it

$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$

Nature channel tv/ Can set your mind free/ I know/ You're chained to a box/ It's the paper clip/ To pick the locks/ Why watch a sitcom?/ Bullshit industries/ Surviving on you/ Surviving on you/ The spending you do/ Consume yo/ Consume yo/ We don't have to creep/ Off of a couch/ To get sleep/ If ever you've wanted/ To love an angel/ A swimming whale/ Straining a meal/ Better/ Better/ Better still/ Fish in a river/ An Eskimo shiver/ The beauty here/ Won't be found/ Over there/ Nature channel tv/ Nature channel tv/ Set your mind free/ Nature channel tv/ Set your mind free/ Nature channel tv

$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$

Not doin nuthin for nobody/ It's a lot easier this way/ Ignore everybody/ Until I get away/ Everyone wants something/ And I got nuthin/ Nothing to give away/ To people these dayz/ Not even my mother/ Oh god do I love her/ I wish I could help her/ But I can't help myself/ So estranged from family/ I'd rather not face them/ Cuz we both know it's hopeless/ I appear tasteless/ They appear faceless/ They know I wanna get away/ From them, this, today/ any way shape or style/ It's gonna be a while/ Numbers don't get dialed/ I do nothing no more/ No access/ To life ore/ How long will I do this for/ Marination cant baste my core/ I can hold out for a while/ Take less and less/ For a while/ Until I take nothing away/ From anyone's day/ so they don't come to me/ And they all go away

$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$

A litter of critters/ crawls towards daylight/ from out of their hole/ never seen anything/ and rather unaware/ a day goes by/ fewer critters exist/ then had existed an earlier day/ the dead, gone, victims, food/ remaining critters eat/ grow, defecate/ some die/ few critters left/ months pass/ another dies/ a couple still exist/ nowhere near one another/ in the same region/ one critter has a litter/ another spreads its seed/ the mother feasts on her offspring/ the rest of her litter/ crawls toward daylight

$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$

Harmony/ Not/ This is not harmonious/ Those horses on a prairie/ Trapped/ That is harmony/ To be harmonious/ To exist like bliss/ Could I dare?/ Is it still possible?/ Can I catch the pitch?/ Amidst these days/ In which we exist/ Is there still/ Relative energy/ For everyone to grasp/ Or did we manage/ To destroy that as well?/ Why not harmonious?/ Do we let them/ Take that from us?/ It will be harmonious/ Regardless/ This is/ Not/ Harmony

$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$

hey you/ ME?/ yeah, you/ it's yourself/ get ahold of me/ cuz ur fuckin losin' it/ remember that/ outside of your head/ there is a fucking world/ they don't take kindly/ to a space cadet like us/ so fix the fucking problem/ fix our fucking dreams/ fix our fucking emotions/ and don't say/ I didn't warn you

$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$

The Meta-Physics of Kitty Litter

Before I introduce you to the cast of characters and before I get into the topic I am here to discuss, let me first express something about my attitude towards this piece: I didn't want to write the damned thing. From the very beginning of the matter at hand I knew there would eventually grow, from the specific interactions of these characters, a story. From the very beginning I knew it would end badly. I didn't know how, but I knew. The entire time I hoped certain parties would come to their senses and realize when the matter had been pushed too far. Every moment throughout I hoped and hoped the driving force behind this karmic imbalance would cease and desist. I wondered upon wonders how the object of objectionable objection could seemingly make a situation so much worse by ignoring it. Every moment of every day, as I witnessed this go on, I slowly realized nothing would get better. There was a vortex of negativity created by the meeting of an unstoppable force and an immovable object. From a very early point I realized things could only get worse. And I knew eventually I would have to document these events, regardless of how little I wanted to. And in this sense I relate to the Object of our story; ever forced into modes of life he, given a choice, would object to.

Meet the Object. Call him Six. He may or may not be myself. Basically Six is a man with a girlfriend and a cat and an obsessive compulsive revulsion toward anything resembling an authority figure or a command. He is of strong mind and of strong will to impose no will upon others, the same as he would have no will imposed upon himself.

Meet our leading lady. She is Seven. Seven is the girlfriend of Six. Seven is a girl who often tries to communicate the mentality of others to Six; a girl who tries to explain things through the eyes of the others. While she may occasionally excel at this task, it is through Six's eyes she has the toughest time seeing. Seven is the ever helpful, ever compliant, ever loving, crutch with which a crippled Six uses to walk; metaphorically speaking.

Six and Seven have a cat who is more like a person, but not like a child. His name is Psycho. Certainly, one could argue, I could argue, Psycho has more personality than certain cast members (Four). Of course he is a fluffy black cat and the old superstitions abounding are the best way to distinguish the nature of this feline. He possesses the ability to solve problems. He is intuitive and vindictive. He is loyal and loving to Six and Seven; sharing in all Six's opinions and attitudes.

On the other side of the fence, or the hallway as it were, we have the other two main characters within. Firstly, an antagonist. Secondly, the other, who is semi-removed and trying to stay sane while silently controlling the actions of the antagonist.

Five is the longtime friend of Six. She has always been there for him and their relationship is closer to that of a brother and sister. Five opened her home to Six and Seven. She is genuinely friendly but has a tendency to experience bad moods or to be affected and influenced by the energy around her. Therefore, outer disharmony causes Five inner disharmony.

I will introduce Four by his positive characteristics because there is no way I will present him in such a light later on. Four is married to Five. He is friendly and nice. He likes music. He is in a band for which he plays the bass guitar. Like typical Americans, he places too high of a value on rational science and like a typical Virgo he lacks the ability to think outside the box. He appears to have no problem with forcing his will upon others; ever righteous. Four was born one month and one day after Six.

Lastly is the second cat, Patch. Regarded by Six as not much more than a mutilated bastard. He is grey and fat and neutered. You could call Patch a wiener cat because he has tiny little legs- really his only endearing quality. That and wide eyes that reflect the atmosphere. This cat belongs to nobody. He was left behind in the custody of Four and Five, effectively making him their cat.

Before Psycho moved into this home a couple months prior with his two keepers, he was always, ALWAYS, an indoor/outdoor cat. From the streets of downtown Providence to the woods of North Eastern Connecticut, Psycho proved over and over that he could handle himself. Six attributes this ability to survive in the world to the fact that he is not neutered. It used to be Psycho refused to stay indoors and would make Six's life hell if he was not allowed outdoors. As such Six never used any kitty litter box with Psycho. He kept one around but it always remained unused as Psycho only expelled waste outdoors. Upon moving into this house with Patch he of course became acquainted with the outdoors of the new home. Then over a short while Psycho went out less and less until he did not go out at all. Perhaps the temperature of a South Dakota winter proved too cold for Psycho and that was the reason why he stayed indoors more. However, Six suspected that since Patch stayed indoors Psycho no longer found it necessary to go out like he used to. Maybe all that time Psycho was only looking for some company he could relate to. Whatever the case, the original claim, "Psycho doesn't even use kitty litter," was no longer true.

The setting at this point is in the basement of the house that belongs to Five, and through marriage, Four. Five is 24 years old and Four is 22. In the basement there are two kitty litter messes. The first is something like half a garment box filled with poo strewn ceder litter as well as surrounded by splashes of kicked away litter on the concrete. The other kitty litter mess is contained in Patch's enclosed litter box; where the poo has piled up.

Once upon a time Six lived with a girl he hardly knew and who he didn't really like all that much. She was boring and stupid and dull. Or normal. Whichever. They were in a third floor, two bedroom apartment. In a closet in the bathroom there was a kitty litter box open and exposed. The closet door stayed cracked for the cat to have access to the box. The box was visible from where one sat on the toilet. Really, it was the only other thing to look at other than the wallpaper. And look at it Six did. Every time he used the toilet- for months and months- he stared at that litter box wondering when his roommate would change it. The cat didn't seem to mind. The litter box was still a litter box regardless of how neglected it may have been. Dried poo and solidified pee was the same as litter, really. Six said nothing about this issue. It wasn't his cat. He didn't have a cat then. So, while this neglect was rather disgusting, he ignored it because when and how often she changed the cat litter was none of his business. During the seven months Six had lived with that girl in the two bedroom place, she changed the litter box only twice. Thus in Six's mind a standard of litter box maintenance was developed.

Six didn't often go into the basement. The litter box was out of sight and out of mind. That is not to say he wouldn't have cleaned the thing eventually. But Four and Five were down there, all the time, doing laundry and smelling the box. One day Five told Six to clean the litter box. She didn't ask the household collectively if somebody would clean it. She told Six to do the job.

Understand, Six is a creature of strict habit. Mostly this habit consists of bed ridden agoraphobia. Thus he relies on Seven to handle his worldly responsibilities. He would not say this is the right way to live. It is his way though. The only things he deems worth doing are, the only thing is, actually, writing. And since there is no way to escape keeping a job, he does that as well. Everything else is Seven's problem. He is not lazy, but he does work on his own schedule, and when demanded to do something, a certain performance anxiety kicks in and he feels made small by acquiescing someone else's will. This is tied into what could be called a 'daddy issue,' and also the result of an eternity of self-depreciative thinking. Whatever the case, Five's demand did not change the fact that Six rarely leaves his bed when he doesn't have to work and would not be going to the basement any time soon.

One weekend Four and Five left to go visit some people they knew in some other area of the state. Upon returning the couple claimed to have stated before leaving that the litter box had better be clean upon their return. He knew Five had said something about the issue before they left but Six missed the severity.

It was the middle of the night when they returned from their trip. Four's band was practicing in the basement and the litter box mess was still unchanged. Four knocked on the Six's door and said that Six better get out of bed and clean the litter box. Not only did Six view this as disrespectful, but when put into the context of his psychological disabilities this was a huge incongruity. There was no way Six was about to get out of bed and walk pass an entire band worth of others and perform this subservient task. Four returned to bang on the door and warn Six that if the demands were not met then there would be problems. Six responded with some form of "so be it." At this point, a completely drunk, yet sleeping, Seven got out of bed to perform damage control. She would do the task to prevent the issue from jumping out of hand. Good, Six thought and went back to sleep.

In the morning, at around 8 am, there were doors being slammed and stomping happening on the stairs. Six was awake for this and watching some kind of video on the internet, trying his best to ignore the overemotional nonsense. Four opened Six's door and dropped the garment box of litter on his floor, slamming the door behind him, only to repeat this sequence with the other litter box. Hostility seethed through the ether. Seven was up and about and Six had her get a garbage bag from the kitchen for him. After a short time he put the litter and cardboard box into the bag and slid the plastic litter box across the room. Seven took the garbage bag outdoors and removed the litter box as well. All of this seemed a minimal victory to Six. Instead of his submission to somebody's demands; everybody took part in the cleaning of the litter box. After all, one of those cats was Four and Five's responsibility. Later on Five informed Six that she wouldn't let Seven clean the litterbox when she had tried the night before. Seven, having been so drunk, didn't even remember saying she would do the task or attempting it. Some people needed to stop making his life difficult. And some people needed to relax. Sadly, some people don't realize what is going on around them.

Six is not one of those people. He knew enough to know- from having a father who would stomp around the house bitching- that whatever the issue was, it was going to get worse before it got better. When too much emotion is put into something meaningless and trivial, the meaningless and trivial becomes meaningful and important to those that have made the mistake of caring. But only to those people. As such, Six was not about to care about the fiasco. He resolved to let Four fight a one man battle. At the very least he knew he had a few weeks until the issue would come up again and by then he could have Seven take care of it. Meanwhile, Four's entire masculinity and the validity of his ego had been fused into the kitty litter box. Four's lack of self-control would never be enough to make Six change his standard of living. His standard that would not let someone else's lack of judgment effect his affect. If Six adjusted his way of life every time somebody else was imbalanced he would never find inner harmony again. However, the harmony surrounding him could possibly become more harmonious. It is always easier to change yourself than to change the world. That notion is the unconscious decision his stubbornness stems from; nothing was going to make Six care about something that mattered so little.

Nonetheless, the dust had settled.

It was the calm before the storm.

The assumed few weeks until the issue came up again was over two weeks ahead of schedule. One week later Four was cleaning and reorganizing the basement. Perhaps it was the layer of ceder litter he must have swept up that reignited Four's passion or perhaps he had been stewing over the matter all day and night for that entire week. Either way, while Six was typing on a computer sitting on the couch in the living room, Four carried the litter box up by it's handle from the basement and put it into the spare room across from the bathroom in the house's one hallway. The damned litter box again, Six thought. Let it go, Six thought.

A moment later Four came to Six's side holding a calendar. "I'm making a calendar. We are each going to rotate days cleaning the litter box. Every day. When we get rid of Patch you and Seven can clean it every other day. If it doesn't get cleaned, I am going to kill both the cats."

Emotions and thoughts flooded through Six. His eye twitched and tears almost welled at the thought of anything bad happening to his cat. Hate became real. It was sad. Four used to be a good person but he had opened a rift that on some level Six knew would never close again. That was it; Four had ruined everything. No more happy home life. More so than that, Six knew this calendar was a horrible idea. Who cleaned their litter box every day? Six said nothing. He stared blankly trying to process this. His aversion to all things authoritarian set in. Four was giving him a schedule to live by. Six's home was supposed to be a place where the day by day demands of the world dissolved at the door. Leave it to the Virgo to try and structure his life. Six knew things would only get worse from that moment on. And at the moment Six thought that maybe he could try and forgive Four for the threat against Psycho; Four went and repeated himself, "I'm not fucking around, I'll kill the cats." More tears threatened Six's demeanor and he said back, calmly and straightforward, "Don't ever touch my cat." It was the only warning he had to give. After all, this was Four's mistake, not his.

This was not the way to handle cat litter. If Four had a problem with the cat litter, he should keep it to himself and silently let the resent accumulate. If he valued peace, that is. Apparently peace did not matter to Four. He was proving his resolve to himself and to Five and it was beyond Six now. All Six knew was that nothing was going to make him care this much about cat litter.

Of course Six's name was the first day on the calendar system. An opportune moment arose when nobody was home and he was out of bed, so he cleaned out the litter box on that day. That was the first cleaning since the last so there was a substantial quantity of waste. All the mess he scooped out of the litter box he put into the toilet and flushed it down. The odd grey chemical this litter was made of turned to mush inside the toilet and essentially broke it. The toilet clogged, couldn't swallow, and Six ended up plunging and snaking with a coat hanger and picking away in the frigid water with his bare hands. None of this fixed the toilet immediately. It would seem to be fixed for a short while and then become unable to flush properly again. Later, Seven told him what he had already learned the hard way, "You can't flush kitty litter down the toilet." Great. All well and good. But the toilet didn't clog because Six hadn't realized what he was doing. No. The toilet clogged because the litter box had become possessed with what ancient people might call 'evil spirits;' too much negativity concentrated into a single point in the universe. It would be remiss to try and make this effect linear; something Four would do. Even Seven was reluctant to admit or believe anything more than stupidity was afoot in the breaking of the toilet. Six knew it was of extreme karmic importance to fix the toilet and he purchased some liquid that did that job.

On the flip side of the toilet incident, Six knew that this whole charade was too against his grain. He also knew that there was no way for the situation to improve on any time frame of his creation or by any intervening of his willful hand. He knew it was just going to get worse. It was never in his nature to submit to anything and submission is what this dogmatic calendar fiasco entailed.

The calendar was fundamentally flawed, yet Four had more faith in it than he could handle.

Six's next day on the calendar arrived. He spent this day in the spare room, with the litter box, writing. At one point he considered doing the cleaning. He decided on maybe later and never performed the task.

Like clockwork, the next day, Four asked him if he had cleaned the box. Six had just awoken and walked out into the living room. On one couch on the left sat Five and on the other couch on the right sat Four. Six answered reluctantly, "Yes."

Six is a terrible liar however and has a completely obvious tell. When lying, Six smiles and averts his eyes to anything other than the person he is lying to. At least when the lies are unimportant. And if anything was ever unimportant it was this. Four interrogated him; "When did you clean? Why was it dirty when I cleaned it today? I'll let it slide this time. Just tell me you didn't clean it."

"I cleaned when I was writing in there last night. It was dirty when you cleaned it today because I cleaned it in the morning. Yeah. Er. I assure you; I cleaned it."

More or less Six averted Four's attention away from the issue and towards the matter of Four's band. The band being desperately in need of a singer, and Six desperately wanting to sing in a band. They went downstairs and started recording some vocals. Six stopped thinking about the cat box immediately and eventually Four stopped thinking about it, too. Except this was much more difficult for Four because his ego was so wrapped up in the matter. Nobody in their right mind could be this concerned with cat litter. But they ended up enjoying themselves playing with the music.

That night Six went to his overnight job at the special people house where he received a call from Seven about how pissed off Four was. Seven had never seen Four this pissed off. All because Six had lied to him. Six never being much for lying really didn't care that the act had upset Four. Everyone was so concerned about what Four thought and felt and said and did. No one cared that the awkwardness of the situation had caused Six to lie about something that shouldn't have been lied about. Lie about something to his friends. It shouldn't have come down to that. The spirit of the cat litter had possessed Six then, too. The whirlwind had taken shape. The litterbox was destroying stability and creating chaos. For the rest of the night Six sat awake and alone at work while everyone slept and he tried to forget about Four's bleeding vagina; the asshole had gotten kitty litter up in it.

When Six arrived home the next morning he tried to explain the meta-physics of kitty litter to Seven. She maintained that if Six had just done what he was told this would have never happened. Killing in the Name of by Rage Against the Machine came to mind. In case you don't know, the song ends with a chant of "Fuck you, I won't do what you tell me." From when Six was 12 to 14 years old he listened to that song about 1 to 9 times every day. Every day of every week of every month of those years. Doing as he was told was exactly the problem here. It was exactly the problem from Five's initial demand. Why was it Six's responsibility to stroke and calm Four anyhow? Seven wasn't understanding the energy that was trapped inside the litter box and wreaking havoc on the household. Did she ever learn anything from dating him? Why had he spent the last year teaching her about ether, polarity, harmony, astrology, manifesting, and the golden light, and whatever else, if she was never going to apply it to her life? Had she learned anything? Did Six even know anything worth teaching?

He decided to draw a diagram for her. She said he was making a big deal about nothing.

The diagram basically explained everything that has been written up until this point. Although much more vaguely. There was a vortex drawn on the diagram around the narrowing list of words and phrases that were connected by lines representing the interaction of the different energies. It was stated that Four needed to lighten up. Six needed to compromise. That solution would work. The calendar would work if it were made optional (this last statement was never made to anybody, it was not written, and communication broke down before the idea occurred to him). It was even suggested that they buy an automatic cat box as seen on TV.

When he presented the notion to Five she said he was over thinking it; like he does with everything. Five said that this was all Six's fault because he can't take care of his cat. An unfair statement because he feeds and waters both cats every day; he is the only person to do that. Who cares about what comes out the other end? Cats don't need a clean litter box to survive. Six claimed everybody was under thinking it. Five said that she had never seen Four so mad and called Six a drama queen for making a diagram. Apparently Four must have stated he had "never been so mad" because both girls had reported it. Six is a Leo. Of course he's dramatic, what else is new? He was frustrated that nobody would ever understand the cat box vortex the way he did. While urinating in the bathroom it occurred to him that he was not the drama queen this time. For once. Going back to where Five lay in bed with her door open, he pointed a finger at her and said, "I am not the drama queen here. Your fucking husband is. He's got kitty litter in his vagina." Then Six went into his room and fell asleep. His usual sleeplessness shattered by unhappiness and the lack of useful discourse. Apparently misery was the best sleep aide. No wonder he was never awake until he had moved to South Dakota.

But that short lived period of contentment was over for good.

Later on that day, after waking, Six learned that Four had traveled half the state over to Pierre to stay with his friend. Fucking girl, Six thought. The only comparison to the situation he could make was when a girl gets mad and goes to stay with her sister. Six was quick to point that out to Seven.

While Four was gone, his sister oddly came to stay for a while. Bringing with her an industrial sized box of cat treats. Six could not exactly place the significance of these treats. Such is chaos; strange attraction.

Eventually Four came back and subtly avoided Six. Six was resolute not to alter his manner of life in any way. Though it could be said Six ignored Four as well because Six ignores everything at all times. That is why he has a Seven.

Eventually the object and the force were in the same room and talked again about some stuff that didn't matter. Never once bringing the subject up or acknowledging the diagram that was hung on the calendar.

It was Six's turn to clean the box again and he did it early in the morning when he got home from his last day of work before the weekend. Then he stayed in his room like he would do any other time; watching movies, sleeping, and reading; having Seven bring him things like food or CD's from the outside world.

At some point on Saturday night Seven left the bedroom to smoke a cigarette before going to sleep. She ended up drinking and singing songs with the band in the basement. To say the least, this irked Six, but he got over it. Then Seven came back to bed crying, "Five told me Four is going to get rid of the cats because we don't clean the litter."

Six was not mad about this. He was fed up with Four's bullshit, perhaps in much the same way as Four was fed up with his own delusions of how things should be. 'A Virgo's need for cleanliness and order is an obsession and they should consider therapy' (R. MacDonald 2004). Moreover, dried and forgotten cat poop doesn't smell. What Four was always smelling was the fresh cat shit of which there would always be more no matter how often the box was cleaned. "It's ok, baby. We'll just get our own place," he said, completely unsurprised that it had come to that. Six didn't want to live with somebody who acted like Four anyhow.

A sad thing that Six could no longer approve of the guy Five had married.

He coaxed Seven through her concerns and into sleep. Then he too fell asleep.

The next morning in some jumbled sort of eavesdropping/ information gathering as well as being informed by Seven, Six learned that Five was upset with Four because he had lied to her about something stupid like the exact times he'd be going to and returning from work. And something about how Four'd been playing music late at night. Six didn't know what it all meant but he did know it wasn't that big of a deal because other than being a leftfield dickhead Four was as innocent as a virgin. The moral is that Five was pissed at Six because he was somehow causing her to have problems with Four. This was a beautiful vindication to Six. Usually it was Six and Seven who argued and fought. But the new circumstance had brought them closer together and Four and Five were having problems. Five's blaming of this on Six was a manifestation of her awareness that Six was influencing the household. Six saw this much differently because all he was guilty of was ignoring the problem that he viewed as a stupid waste of time and energy. And the while he hid away and said nothing, those who were saying things had voiced thoughts and feelings that gathered and festered amongst themselves like an angry mob with no one to lynch. As he ignored the problem and stayed away from the others Four had been caught lying about something. Once again, not Six's problem. It was, however, another manifestation of the negative energy of the litter box consuming everyone.

Aside the point, some pesty member of the band had the nerve to utter the words "litter box"; Six overheard. How could nobody see the problem with someone who doesn't even live in the house talking about the litter box? Was nothing sacred?

The unpleasantries disturbing Four and Five's lives were vindicating to Six because they were a karmic indication that Six was not in the wrong. The shoe was on the wrong foot.

Things had gone too far and Four and Five would continue to experience the negativity they had brought upon themselves. It would radiate from and permeate through their lives and probably cause other problems which they may not be able to recover from. At that stage their wellbeing will probably in some way fall into the hands of Six and Seven, though they will be across town and probably reclusive. Six will greet that situation with an open mind but it will most likely be more subtle and under the surface than up front and tangible.

The only thing left to be done is for Six and Seven to pack up their things and move away. It is still to be decided what the fate of Patch will be. He is not a member of a family like Psycho. Both couples need to move on as respective families, not as cat adopting saviors. Six doesn't even like Patch. He only feels a little bad for him because nobody cares about him. Psycho however does like Patch. Sadly, Patch will probably be left behind to the mercy of Four and Five.

Six had been trying to escape this bad magic since it first appeared in his life. This has been the tale of what happens when an unstoppable force meets an immovable object. The object moves on its own accord and the force becomes nullified. The force only existed because of the object. It is the sound of one hand clapping and the sound of a tree falling with nobody around to hear it. Maybe this is why people ignore kitty litter in the first place.

Postscript:

Patch was eventually given to Four's sister where he lives happily with a stable family for the first time in his life.

Four's band fell apart with the moving away of the guitarist. Four and Five got another roommate to fill the empty slot in their home. Two months later, their 7 month long marriage failed and the two separated.

Six and Seven found a one bedroom apartment across town and purchased completely new pet supplies for Psycho; leaving the tainted pet supplies to be forgotten in the past where they belong.

Psycho since became more of an indoor cat. However, the winter is not yet over.

$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$

Anthropomorphizing Pets

Pet ownership is a bond older than history records. People enjoy living fulfilling lives and sharing the experience with animal companions. What often gets overlooked is, when an animal becomes a pet the animal moves from one syntax to a different syntax; a human syntax. Always fed the same food. Lighting and freedom come on a schedule, every day. Sanitation and health is contingent on others, or hopeless. The human experience at its worst. Also; the animal experience at its worst vis a vis human involvement. Since time immemorial. While we may sleep the same hours as our dogs, and enjoy the same activities as they do, there are several ways in which we can enrich the lives of our friends even further than the relationship naturally dictates. There is a little something more to do for pets. When we begin to pay attention to the biorhythms of our animals, we can better regulate their physiological and emotional cycles.

While, perhaps, a veterinarian habitually refrains from anthropomorphizing animals to cope better, pet owners would be wise to do the opposite; to regard our animals as though they are exactly the same as we are. The golden rule, "Do unto animals as you would have them do unto you..." is a path leading toward harmonious pet ownership.

Something as simple as leaving a light on can promote positive emotions and experiences for animals the same way as in humans. This is especially important during temperate winters when there may only be six hours of sunlight. Absence of light can have a direct effect on the proper functioning of bio-electricity. Excessive darkness causes an increase in the production of melatonin; a mechanism of feelings and sleep. Darkness promotes secretion of melatonin from the pineal gland; in animals just as in humans, and melatonin can cause the animal to feel low. Since we want them to be happy, because of their human schedules, dogs should have as much access to sunlight as possible.

Bio rhythms support the abilities to predict, anticipate, and prepare, and hence, are essential to animal wellbeing. Paying attention to biorhythms is an essential way to ensure we provide a natural benefit to an animal living in environments that can at times be unnatural; their very homes.

The science of biorhythms is called chronobiology. Chronobiology is biorhythm studies conducted by a traditional scientist and not a meta-physicist. The difference means chronobiology produces more data and less advice.

The scientists seem to focus their efforts toward determining and documenting the spans of biorhythmic cycles in mostly wild animals and people, or anything else that is alive. Therefore it becomes the duty of holistic animal health practitioners to recognize biorhythmic incongruities in pets and attempt to correct them.

Animal chiropractors are invaluable to a happy and well cared for pet. Spinal columns and brain stems are bio-electric hubs, therefore minute alterations can have powerful effects in altering dysfunctional health cycles. Owner attention to such needs as bone adjustments also marks a welled cared for animal. Really, the best way to look after an animal's bones, joints, ligaments, etc., is by providing a good diet and plenty of exercise.

The most commonly used method of charting biorhythms is the sinusoidal waveform, which represents the flux of a bio-electric current over time.

We process all kinds of waves in all kinds of ways at all times. This article will mostly pertain to brainwaves and their relationship to consciousness. This simple waveform diagram can doubly express a good way to understand a major biorhythm; life and death.

First we must consider the range of our pet's experiences on a chart from -100 to 0 to +100. Negative 100 can mean the animal is asleep. Zero can mean the animal is comfortable and content. Therefore our main focus concerning our pet's welfare will be their activities taking place between 1 and 100. The purpose is to achieve a higher quality of life for them thus a higher quality of sleep, balancing the equation by instilling health and wellbeing.

Certain animals require certain environments for proper contentment, and in dogs and cats this notion is very much breed specific. Dogs that need to run around a lot will chew on furniture if unable to do so. Since chewing on furniture is counterproductive to harmonious pet relations, the situation can be balanced with a generous helping of chew toys. Most scratching cats just want attention. They want their equation balanced in one way or another. Here is a good place to stress the importance of expertly knowing the abstract needs of an individual pet as well as possible.

The importance of adequate canine interaction is displayed in the growing popularity of 'doggy day cares,' where your dog can play with my dog and hide from the mean dog, and so on and so forth. As pack animals, dogs need companionship and stimulation. When they are not given outlets for their natural charge then their quality of life lessons and their ability to reach 100 on the waveform chart will be inhibited, slowly and surely. Maybe an under-stimulated dog can only reach 95 on the chart; uniformly that dog will no longer reach -100 in their sleep. And once the quality of sleep begins to decrease, so too will the health of the animal.

What is worth explaining is that sleep cycle biorhythms are the negative charges of being awake, and furthermore of being alive; Alpha, Beta, Theta, and Delta brainwaves refer to this subject. The positive charges(beta waves) of a life are the moments when the creature is most alive; mating, hunting, or grazing, etc. The neutral charges(alpha waves) would account for the other third of this equation such as periods of relaxation or down time. Theta and delta waves can represent sleep; these negative charges are the natural mechanism with which a grand equation stays balanced. For life to sustain itself through the corrosive nature of this planet, it sleeps. During sleep, the life form regenerates physiologically.

'Lower' life forms sleep in cycles proportionate to their physical impact on the world at large and the world's impact on them. Generally, 'higher' animals fall into one of several chronotypes; diurnal- active in day, nocturnal- active at night, or crepuscular- active at dusk and dawn, like cats. A single celled organism with little permanence has hardly any reason to sleep because they are not designed for longevity.

From the evolutionary starting lineup through the higher levels of 'organism sophistication,' the duel charges of life and consciousness become more obvious and as such display a greater tendency for sleep. If something wants to live for an extended span of time, the organism is going to have to sleep. Then, toward the end of natural life, the organism neutralizes, the charges flux thins to maybe around -1 to 1, and when the organism dies the charge disappears altogether(or does it?).

A vital point to remember is that we are dealing with life cycles. Animals are accustom to the Earth and the Earth is accustomed to the Sun and Moon. Cycles, cycles, and more cycles. For us to better understand animals, so too should we be conscious of the Sun and Moon.

Circadian rhythms pertain to the 24 hour cycle of the sun. Lunar cycles are controlled by the phase of the moon and last 24.8 hours. Tidal rhythms apply mostly to oceanic affairs which affect about 70% of the world and last approximately 12.4 hours. Circa-annual biorhythms last for 12 months and control the seasons as well as the seasons of our lives, and subsequently the seasons of our pet's lives.

Chinese astrology organizes the annual cycle of seasons by a correlation with the elements; wood, fire, earth, metal, and water. Wood is spring, fire is summer, earth is late summer, metal is the autumn, and water is the winter. Systems like this are a good way to remind ourselves that there are reasons fur coats grow and shed and that we should be considerate of a pet's changing needs over each year, and, inadvertently, the way a pet's needs change as they grow old and begin losing their charge.

The animal kingdom is the place where an animal's various biological clocks can exist in harmony with their surroundings. The human kingdom is a place where biological clocks synchronize to human schedules. Luckily, most biological clocks are self-sustaining and require only minor environmental cues to stay accurate. Even a dog in space will take a nap. De-worming is done in cycles. A familiar scent will comfort a cat stressing about an abrupt change in its cycles. Awareness of pet biorhythms is a way to feel, more acutely, our pet's needs while reminding us that animals are people, too.

As pet owners we take on a responsibility to provide the highest manner of care for the animal. A life in captivity isn't as natural as we might think, however loving, and the experience will feel alien without proper communication and respect. If animals could be humanized, anthropomorphized, they could benefit from our wealth of respect for human life, and all we need to do to achieve this is apply that same standard of living to animals. Together, as one culture, we can cease to tolerate animal cruelty in the same way we would not tolerate violations of civil liberties. Maybe we will all become vegetarians.  
\--------------------  
WRITER'S CUT:

Fixed animals are always confused. These pets can never be of sound mind. Furthermore, the life of house pets parallels the life of inmates. We don't castrate sex offenders. By fixing animals we slap our pet in the face the moment he enters a household. We are too self-centered to let animals be free.

In species that experience estrus, females are generally only receptive to copulation while they are in heat. Not saying to stop spaying or neutering animals. I'm saying that if you choose to chop them up, don't expect to have a balanced and rhythmic animal. You'll get what you get with a mutilated person; damaged goods. Yah made the pet right, you'll make the pet wrong. And the animal will return the respect you've shown it.

The unsubstantiated accusation that biorhythms are not a part of chronobiology is absurd. They are the exact same thing.

The only difference between biorhythmic studies and chronobiology is that biorhythmic study focuses on the physiological, emotional, intellectual processes, as well as the forecasting of the future behaviors of said processes; whereas chronobiology only recognizes such relations between external forces and internal processes exist, but makes no attempt to utilize the information.

What do the biorhythms of house pets look like? The answer to that is traditional astrology.

Birth time and place. Is it so radical, when we are all products of our environment, to presume the time and place of a birth is of significance? Biorhythms, bio-electric cycles, are the mechanism by which astrology can affect every single aspect of life and the world around us.

Not suggesting the pet owner cast an astrology chart for their cat, though many people have. I am saying animals have feelings, too, hence they love attention, so, maybe activities that shower them with a prolonged authentic human attention are a good investment of your time.

