genescyst...

when Eve made apple pie

and served up Adam

her elegant pie

all hell broke loose

 

when Moses tried

to get his people to be let go

and then gave egypt a few 7 year itches

and then a bath

all hell broke loose

 

when Christ got nailed

the jews got baked

and we all became sinners by default

then all hell broke loose

 

when Bob and Carol and Ted and Alice

maybe being of a different configuration

opened the wrong door

and something went bang

scattering itty bitty bits of everything

in every direction

all hell broke loose

 

and chaos was born

but no one figured out

that the natural state of the universe

is anarchy

so all hell broke loose

 

but if we grasped the progression

instead of being so contrary

by shoving absolutes

down everyones throats

and up everyones asses

maybe all hell won't brake loose

so much...

skunk

felt it necessary
to submerge into an
alter-stated buzz
to numb the antennae
coated fuzz
upon senseless senses
cuzz

didn't want no
straight edges
didn't want no
pruned hedges
dotted t's
and cross-eyed
prying wedges

wobbly old poet
slurring philosophical drip
lost life slant
leaning on a former hip
whiskey bar
not too far
dare i take another sip

dare i slip farther down
this slippery slope flows
bourbon with a beer back
red nose
profusely bleeding
gutter rhymes
and tilted picture prose

they...

it's the first thing they do
a punitive reactive
to cut expenditures, because
we get compensated, and though
they over-compensate the few
themselves
the deserved core elite intellect
they under-compensate the most
and most of the most
are the ones that must go, because
less is best when more is better

sometimes they get the state
to reimburse the expense for having
to to pay compensation, so
the state extracts from our pay
puts in back in the till
the kitty
to award contracts
to build stadiums
to subsidize over-production
to bail out under-performance
and to go to war, because
sometimes it's easier to take
than to negotiate

we could stop them
via a regulate
sanctioned by the legistlate, but
there is something we fear
that they will let us go
into the nowhere to go abyss
and we owe them for our livelihoods
for our homes
our cars
our futures
our toys
because the only reason they
give us compensation
is so we can buy their shit
their products
their brands
their policies
and for a place to go everyday
and they lend just in case
we aren't compensated enough
but they want it back
with interest
so we keep coming back for more
to the plece we go everyday
and we measure our worth by
the amount of their shit we accumulate

we could walk away
we could disable the connection
we could unplug and turn off
not recharge
for this is our disease
our dysfunction
our predicament
we could choose to not qualify
we could not be pre-approved
for the new and improved
we could eat because it tastes good
and not to look good eating
we could dress because it feels good
and not because it's in vogue
we could drive to get somewhere
and not because we belong
to the hip that's going

somewhere

30 sec ad...

sampled testaments
testimonial spewed
a lunge and a thrust
toward ending this fued
what is it about our findings
you seem unwilling to trust
we know what we have
is what you really lust
we know what we have
is on your list as a must
we know what we have
is a go for broke or bust
we know what we have
is destined to collect dust
we know what we have
is likely to rust
we know what we have
is worth it and just
we
is us
we
is us
we
is us

sweat equity...

a creation is but a sum of its parts,

but some parts can be bigger than

the whole

 

some parts flow,

unintended moments of clarity,

some are painstakingly brought

into light,

raw bloodied scabs to honed hard callous

 

by the time all parts are assembled,

disassembled and reassembled,

refitted,

censored and expanded,

whittled,

enhanced,

molded into form,

and if the creator is not thoroughly exhausted

or on the verge of madness:

beware the duplicate

plagiarized twists and turns

rehashing a stale truth,

reinforcing an absolute that isn't

 

beware lost momentums,

patchworked with duct tap,

with nostalgic epoxy

and trowelled putty trying to get something

to stick

 

beware the sinister edit

that deletes,

self corrects

and spell checks

its way in redundant lull

generic dull void

 

beware deadlines

 

 

ex-accumulate...

imagine the intensity,
an application to become independently poor,
anti-abundance dripping out of every orifice
and around somebody's corner lurks a punishment
because the hierarchical links got scrambled
and the chain of command lost its validity

who's gonna pay for this?

class struggle of and by ascension into dissension
where nothing is everything
and the recess bell tolls for thee
and the playground monitors are trying to hide the balls
but it doesn't matter,
we don't need no steenking balls

who gets to go first,
class clowns and homecoming queens,
perma-pressed media darlings
limo'd to and fro
with no where to go
but back from whence they came

indigent freedom from shackles clasped
around a choked want need redundancy
and the nose knows no other ring
and the cheek can't feel the hook set,
until you are ready to step in you can't step out...
fish off muddafisher

I read the bait today oh boy,
chummin' for dollars,
status,
and quid pro quo
until the lost leaders never get found
and someone left the fake out in the rain

there in court I sat
awaiting hand-me-down verdicts
from people obsessed in finding faults,
fissures and gaps in the growth curve
like I put them there
and all I wanted to do was to go with the flow

and now for something...

...completely not all that different than before. Except I've decided to stop playing with HTML. I'm waiting for the enhancements to come to me. When I go to them, I somehow lose more than I gain. I am learning to surrender to the semantics of techno-voodoo to reach totality. The content wasn't embedded in the delivery anyway. Besides, I like the wallpaper. It reminds me something old and musty... like me.

today's hick sermon...

I've been deep within this moment before, away from the midst of calamity and chaos and only here is where the senses are afire, sparking ignitions and consuming combustive residuals. I keep going back, but there are segues to tangents and sequels to digressions around every turn and I lose my way. Everyone elses drama unfolds around me and their bottomless vortexes implode sucking in what is left of the light I need to see by and yet, I persevere. There is no end to this tunnel that I can find, or even want to look for. I'm not nearly as interested in getting there as I am just being here. Alternative motives and agendas don't work all that well. Strategies and manipulations are pretty much in place to make the most amount of people the most miserable most of the time.

 

There are no filters. If there were, they wouldn't work. Inner space needs no purification and I haven't a clue as to what outer space wants. Other people more important than me are  in control of that realm and they've got a lot more money, guns, and lawyers than I do. Nothing is more pure and void of toxin than inner space. Nothing. So many others carry the burden of waste, packing it about their shoulders: chips to be knocked off upon dare... double dogged and the such. Where do they put it all? They must just resell it to each other over and over, like mortgages or currency or something no one can really get their hands on as it moves from one digital pocketbook to the next.

 

I know I've been around a long time. Creation was a one time happening, a tick fart in the continuum when we all stepped into this room called the universe, simultaneously, and in that moment before any of us could get even a "whoa" out of our mouths, a violent ignition jettisoned pieces of our cores in all directions, propelling expansion across the expanse. We disintegrated upon contact like one of us was carrying a lit match when the door opened and in this universe, someone had let the pilot light on the stove go out. Whatever micro particles that were left after the explosion got scattered to be reassembled elsewhere at a place and time not of our choosing, probably random.. maybe. The hand of God? Maybe he was the dumb fuck that left the gas on. Maybe we might just get reassembled when the universe gets tired of expanding and decides to retract. Funny thing would be if it has done that all ready and quite a few times at that. So I don't think I'm really any older than anyone else, or any younger. This shell I'm wearing is, but I'm just borrowing it for now, and when the lease is up I'll shed this skin for another one... until the universe wants everything back to where it all started. Like I got any control of that. Besides, evolution has control of where this form is going, and if we keep forgetting to wear a condom now and then and stop poisoning the environment enough so sperms and eggs can do what they were intended to do, it just may keep on going. If not, well, I can't see something as big as the universe worrying about what happens to a bunch of stupid humans.

 

Everyone and thing around me seems to be in the same predicament. Some of us are here and some are somewhere else doing the same thing, being something else, following our destiny, or not. For all I know, I could have a three headed brother and a six-titted twelve-eyed sister in some other galaxy on some other planet fiddling with a component to some kind of contraption and I have not the slightest idea as to its purpose. We all are nothing but sparks of continual potential ignition, reving our own particular resonant frequencies, pinging off every one and thing around us, inanimate or not, all in the same rhythm. We exist for no other reason but to allow the consciousness of the universe to evolve. We are the portals of access, monkeys with consciousness on our backs, porters and bell boys toting the luggage of existence to a room with a view, and its not ours.  

 

So until this skin I'm in decides to shrivel up and blow away in the wind and I can be off and on to bigger things, I think I'm going to be content to just sit here and listen to the vibrations around and within me. They appear to be the only one's I'm privy to... until I'm not.

 

 

today's diatribe...

Yesterday, in the county of Whatcom, amongst a mass of 400 plus participants housed within an assemblage deemed a convention, Georgiann was nominated as one of sixteen from a field of 120 potentials all vying for delegate status to represent the great state of Washington in the Democratic National Convention. It is a daunting process. This accomplishment was but a segment in a series of micro elections of precinct, leading to mini elections of county, then on to higher accomplishment of region, and then the final acknowledgement of State--all ending up with a granted exposure to the national. It plays out like a giant single elimination tournament where one competes one-on-100 for the opportunity to compete one-on-200 and so on.

I've never really took the time to attach any consideration to this process. I think this is a prime opportunity to do so, not just for the amusements of curiosity concerning the human predicament (I spend most of my awake and non-awake time in that realm anyway), but a wake up call for me, any and all who are concerned about the path we are on and the historical ramifications. I'm listening to and I'm hearing of determinations pushing beyond the considered norms of operation amidst a dysfunction at all levels, one that is amplified by the overwhelming and unexpected amount of participants demanding a voice, a voice building in decibels beyond the ability of the status quo to silence with manipulative tactics to thwart and divert. The old ways of politics as usual are in a state of deconstruction. If this is the way the Democratic Party implodes upon itself, I can think of worse reasons for defeat to another Republican regime in November. I can't help but believe a shift in collective consciousness is occurring beyond the usual modes of manipulation encouraged by deceitful exclusions and postponements. There are people at ground zero uncompromisingly demanding their right to access.

We are too diverse of a culture to be channeled into to one ideology, to be governed by these priests of compliance that are incapable of comprehending the force of reason to the point of refusing access and denying mechanisms of accountability all the while spouting the virtues of "our" version of democracy. Exclusion does not work, especially when awareness is elevated by articulation. This articulation is Barack Obama's strength and quite a few people are "getting it". I am still hearing the usual hoof steps of irrational momentums and there are those proficient in the application of herding, and as usual, I am quite disturbed by the mannerisms of "the sell". The ghost of Karl Rove is alive and well on both sides of the fence. Though I can't help but think, in this instance, there is more here than the ends justifying the means.

A new global consciousness has to form a significant base and soon. We have entered dangerous stages of depletion, over-consumed extraction at such an efficient acceleration that the stripping of sustainability could possibly lead to a global chaos of unprecedented proportion, yet still in my lifetime. We no longer can allow our institutions prejudicial persecutions on peoples and nations for the sake of unimpeded access of monopolies employing the concepts of deployment and security and leverage, just because we can, without the constant threat of reciprocal or escalated retaliation. We no longer can promote an economy driven by the expectation of continual linear growth, based on irrational consumer exuberance where the culture of ego elevates personal identity by attachment to "things".

As it stands, if every human on the planet attained the material accumulations we in the US now enjoy, it would take about four Earths to provide such prosperity to all its inhabitants. The residuals from this incessant quest, in the form of exhausted waste, is manifesting into the disintegration of our atmosphere. This is our responsibility to fix as we are the greatest perpetrators and unrepentant ones at that. Somehow the attitude of "I got mine so fuck you" has got to go. Freedom of prosperity methodology will suffer. Predatory mechanisms will cause backlashes in the forms of depressions and shortages and possibly war. The old consciousness of ego will not go quietly into the night. Whether or not Obama can reach across the table to lessen these impacts is yet to be seen. At least he understands the need to try.

Our technology seems stuck because we are stuck in a tired economic and social system based on a false definition of growth. The technology we need to transcend our current predicaments is spoken in a language we have yet to discover and won't if manipulated market mechanisms continue to restrict and devour or we have to wait for the hand-me-downs of military application into the civilian sector because of national security issues. This situation of intellectual blockage beyond that of an elite core of industry proponents will not change until the political equations are recalculated into more humane and non-institutional terms. We desperately need a rational voice that can apply reason to factions that are willing to destroy all in their path for a supposedly greater glory, whether it be entrance into an afterlife or attainment of unfathomable infamy and wealth at all cost... with compounded interest. The verbiage to transcend is available to be spoken and there are plenty of recipients ready to listen. The one candidate left standing that has the potential to begin this dialogue is in my opinion, Obama. Will he be the next great communicator, the solutioner, this consciousness elevationer, the door opener? Will his attempt be his own undoing before he even gets to the convention, let alone the national election and beyond because that "ain't the way shit happens"? Who knows. It seems reasonable there needs to be a spark and for that reason I am on the Obama bandwagon.

If Georgiann makes it all the way to Spokane and then beyond, I will be there grasping her coat tail, probably bearing an "I'm only here for the beer" T-shirt, just because, and totally revelling in the beginnings of a transformation (evolution?) of human behavior, one I'll most likely never live long enough to experience the fruitions of, but oh what an exquisite journey it could be. And if it all implodes into a soon to be forgotten irrelevance, I'll still be riding the coat tails of that potential spark too, one I really don't think the powers that be can stomp out as easily as they would like.

all structures are unstable...

This impermanence of that which is now, soon to be considered later and inevitably to be delegated as was, is where we exist: a fusion of divine cohabitation in this house we built, a puddled coagulant of surrender upon the floor we spilt. It took us millennia to reach this acceleration, where extraction and depletion are no longer fathomable concepts, where awareness of the absolutes we passed through, wave after wave, accumulating residuals within our forms, became unbearable burdens worthy of detachment.

We can now freely and with peace discard these shells of hindrance, these forever obsolete skins that upon completion are immediately beyond applicable revision. It is our destiny... to enhance and become enhanced beyond the confines of our own realities by whatever means perceivable. No longer are we predators subject to the whims of defiants. We are the parasitical immaculate, attaching to availability... not until it's sucked dry and left barren, but only until it no longer serves our useful purpose. Never have we been so close to or so far away from becoming gods.

We think, therefore we are not enough.

----- Singularates III Rev 3.0
2065-2232 AD
excerpted from "The Impermanent Being - The Last Implant"

pop quiz...

climbing down ladders
rickety stairs cased and welled
to lower lower levels
where rungs and railings guide
to a safer compliance...
...balance

some places never visited
wasted space?
with chalky residue powdering palms
raspy fingers flick
kicked about dust puffs
scattered
redeposited micro plumes
drifting elsewhere between
respecting the newly placed indentions
prints of trespass
exposing the intruder
evidence of invasion...
...a question

the room there
dimly lit
struggling light of unknown origin
intent on barely gracing outlines
beyond undefined shadows

sound of heartbeat
rhythmically rejuvenating circulatory pulse
each beat ever so slightly less
weakening
like an eventual nothingness is all
that will finally be heard...
...probably

the smell is an arid must
void of oils
the life lubricant
usual breeding grounds
where enzymes can proliferate
evolving from must to musk
that funk is not here
that spunk...
...that junk

a chair
both old and hard
faded dull varnish
a residue of a former glossy past
where moisture once beaded
a shielded force field
repelled digs
deflected scratches
projected luster
now but tools for static application...
...props

i could sit in that chair
hours on end
neatly tucked under the table edge
hands clasped
elbows opposed
a clerical secretarial buddha prone
wondering...
...now what

i can wonder about the war outside
how i can't stop it
but maybe affect it
undermine it
divert it
i can wonder about collective manipulation
how i can't stop it
but maybe reflect it
unravel it
subvert it
or i can just stay here
in this never used dirty room
safe
locked away
listening
counting that thumping rhythm...
...fading into bliss