A notebook bulletin board
tacked on when randomly bored
applied thoughts in a scribblebook
open for the world to look who passes by
so fast to see like a needle in a haystack we
safely stash those innermost secrets thought to be
at least you see languishing up and into pristine
blossoms for you to pick and sniff and hope
they don't make you sick.

2/28/09

book note
entry


On about a winter
long hour cut short
During a terminal
afternoon too late
to abort, this momentary
reprieve arrives like
a slap on the stunned
chops of abject reflection.

In the rippled disarray
a forest of shadows beckons.
How does one decide between
fight and flight in a dream?
It depends on what one wants
out of life and remember, reality
is not what it might seem.

passing the lie


God put Adam in his garden.
Adam said he was lonely.
The Lord broke his ribs.
He made a woman out of one,
"There, you have no reason to complain."
Oh but Adam did, because
he was still only talking to himself.
Now both Eve and Adam stared
forlorn toward God.
"And don't eat outta that Tree"
bang went the screen door.
And while Adam tried to "find himself"
in a corner, Eve turned to speak
with the garden snake
who flickered the secret to her
and the next day Eve brought Adam
a pomegranate and urged him
to go ahead and eat it because
the garden snake said it was okay.
They both looked at each other then
and smiling, Adam bit into that fruit.

-the moral of this story is-
(What they didn't tell you in Church
is that now we're even with God
)

On words,
bricks,
prisons,
and freedom



on words


A good purpose of
words is to serve
as a solvent which
assists in breaking
down those barriers
which block the truth.


A bad purpose of words
is to serve as the mortar
used in building up, brick
by brick, those very same
structures. Truth itself
is neither good nor bad.
Words only frame the
windows through which
we can tell this.


on bricks


The foundation is
made of half-truths.
Its walls are made
of lies. A glass roof
invites mockery
from the stars.


on prisons


Thus are the houses
we are invited to
dwell in. Too often do we
make them our homes.


on freedom


With honesty as your sword,
let truth be your shield
and in to this brick prison
you will never yield.


2/14/09

revisionist history in a feedback loop


What is it about revisionist history I can't stand?
Let us examine the dynamic. First off, it sounds alright.
I mean, there's nothing wrong with revising one's perceptions
of how something might be, especially if those revisions are toward
improving accuracy, which of course would be the whole point
behind the intent for correct revision.

But before we get ahead of ourselves in revisionist exercises,
shouldn't we first and foremost have as best an understanding
of history before we go about revising it?
A problem with this recent phenomenon,
it's a given we're always re-vising
our perceptions of history
as a matter of course.

History is a lie, a dead shell, a sloughed off snake skin.
History is a story with bits polished up and others added in.
An amalgamation of our collective variety of different perspectives,
cobbled together into an abstract portrait serving as a place-holder
for something that can only approximate what really happened.

And the main reason for this is direct simplicity itself.
It's because whatever really did happen is actually still happening,
it hasn't finished resolving itself yet, new developments
completely redirect the course of significanse that our history takes.

History isn't over yet, and the problem is that the term itself insists
that it is, as if it could really be relegated into its proper context
seperate from its entire superstructure, as if the sense we can make
from one piece is clear. Well it is not clear at all,
and that is due to the holographic principle, that within each bit
is contained the whole, only blurrier, without proper focus.

In conclusion, history, no matter how many revisions it undergoes
in our perceptions of it, can never really achieve the degree
of focus we need to see clearly what really happened.

For that to occur, we must take into presence the
mindfulness that our current moment is but an
integral development along the winding tail
of history, continually in the process of
growing its head. I propose to you all
that history is but eventuality
in its birth pangs, and we are all
to be the midwives of this most
important of births: destiny.