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.


Reflections on Pi

Mmmm, Pi . . . Let's see, where to begin. First off, Pi is an irrational number. Which means it can't be represented as a simple fraction. We all know it is represented by an endlessly non-repeating series of numbers to the right of the decimal point. In ancient Greece, the Pythagorean scholars discovered the first proof of irrational numbers by studying the sides of a pentagram. (The pentagram, as you most likely know, has represented everything from the 5 wounds of Jesus [nail through the right hand; nail through the left hand; nail through the right foot; nail through the left foot; and the spear driven through his side by Longinus] to having been associated with Freemasonry.) The pentagram is also utilized in the symbolism for neopagans and Satanists. To the Pythagorean scholars, the pentagram merely represented mathematical perfection, and served as a symbol of good health. The neopagans have circumscribed the pentagram and rendered it into the pentacle, representing the four elements + "spirit", the fifth indicated by the upwards point. Satanists, as you know, have inverted the pentagram and traditionally circumscribed it twice into the Sigil of Baphomet.

Pi is the ratio of a circle's circumference to its diameter. Pi is a real number. Real numbers are comprised of both rational and irrational numbers. Rational numbers are a countable set. Irrational numbers are not. Therefore, most real numbers are irrational. Natural numbers are the normal ones we're all familiar with, used for counting things. Since there's never been a universal agreement as to whether or not to include zero in the set of natural numbers, some say there are ten, while other's maintain there are only nine. Pi is a mathematical constant. A simple way of understanding Pi, is to realize that the circumference of any circle is a little more than three times as long as it's diameter, or 3.14159 etc. times as much. This remains a constant regardless of the size of a circle. Pi is also a transcendental number. Forget about understanding transcendental numbers, since almost all real and complex numbers are transcendental. Forget about understanding complex numbers as well.

We're here to try and understand Pi. One interesting fact is that it is impossible to "square a circle", that is, it is not possible to construct a square whose area is equal to the area of any given circle. That's kinda weird, if you think about it. About all I can add from my own observations, for whatever they may be worth, is the following input. Obviously with all the natural, real, rational, irrational, transcendental, and otherwise numbers being classified ad infinitum by the progression of mathematical science, we might infer that "enough is enough already", and suspect these classifications have gone way too far, thank you very much. It is for this reason I provide you here with the ultimate wisdom. And that is the fact that in reality, there is only one number. That would be the number one. Zero is not a number, for it merely represents the lack of numbers, the lack of value itself. Everyone already knows that any of the natural numbers we count with are merely multiplications of one. Ten equals ten ones, one million equals a million ones. Therefore, the entire set of natural numbers beginning with "two" and never ending, really exist for no reason other than to divide the whole. The reason for this has been lost in time. The wisest philosophers of old knew of this ultimate truth, that one is the onliest number. And it's because the wisest philosophers that ever existed knew perfectly well that all of creation is in fact a singularity. Think of it this way. The entire cosmos is a singular creation; therefore, numbers merely exist to divide it into parts, and to further divide the parts into smaller parts, ad infinitum.

We all saw Highlander when we were growing up. We all know perfectly well "there can be only One." This is no joke. Science has been exhausting itself by chasing the infinite tails of sacred division till Kingdom come, and for what purpose? Apparently to confound us all for no reason. The square root of infinity may as well be Pi. Because infinity is a circle. There is no such thing as nothing anymore. And that is because our entire existence, that of complete universal creation, has arrived here and now from negative existence itself. We may know nothing of negative existence; it is the great mystery which has confounded all the wisest men since time immemorial. We now dwell in static existence. We along with everything in creation are inexorably moving towards the inimitable light. That is all we can know of our state of being. Pi suffices as well as any symbol to represent that universal constant which remains unfathomable to us until this very day. Make of it what you will.


A Rose in the Dark

Let us discuss this with ourself.
Just what is this, if not an extension of that?
In other words this is that.
If we must ask questions does that not imply
we recognize the need for an answer?
If there is an answer it follows that by now
it's been archived somewhere on the worldwideweb.
The answers to the questions we commonly ask
are not out of reach, the questions are.
To ask which came first, the chicken or the egg,

reveals of the questioner their not having stopped
to consider that they are one and the same thing
completing an endless process.
To ask which came first is to be
ignorant of endlessness.
For only in eternity are questions
such as this one completely unnecessary.
The real question this begs is whether the questioner
exists outside eternity, or whether he remains
merely unenlightened within it.

Well this, the only question,
evaporates quickly because
one natural implication of infinity is
that it would consume and include everything
imagineable and as yet unimagined in addition
to everything real and unreal, rendering
all questions the trademark of the uninitiated
to the one easy secret of the universe
right here out in the open in front of all
for anyone to see for themselves.

And that would be the plain obvious knowledge
that every living thing on this planet is immortal
by definition whether conscious of the fact or not
because when you apply the question
of what happens to us after we die
it should not be too difficult
to perceive immediately that
once again it is the question
which is faulty because
we have already established

without a shadow of a doubt
that the chicken and the egg are one and the same
so by extension and in a similar manner
asking about the afterlife once again
reveals that the questioner
hasn't taken the short time
to realize for himself clearly
that since we are innocuously connected
at the fundamental level of the great tapestry
of interdependent life

upon this planet our individual deaths appear
to terminate our existence as apparently
the mother hen came after the egg
she stepped out of,
and therefore in conclusion,
there must be a good chance
that our questioning stance was arrived at
due to not having been able to visualize
the bigger picture of our continuing
to exist in eternal propagation,

a cycle of unprecedented proportion
which left us all standing out
under the burning sun with the ability
to reason out our direct situations
in order to maximize
the survival of our species.
So we must remember to
not apply our questions to those topics
which have remained unanswered,
since this is a misdirection of skills

beyond the relative domain they were
intended for, and keep repeating
to ourselves that we really don't
even know who or what we are exactly,
so suffice it to say we are the surviving fathers
and mothers guarding immortality, protecting
our sons and daughters along the way,
and rarely stopping to deeply inhale
the scent of our one eternal skin
blossoming in the dark.



Look at the Devil
as the embodiment
of  negative memes.

Call it chaos, reality
evil, whatever.

Anyone can sit
around providing proof
there's no such thing
as good or evil until
the cows come home.

At the end of the day
someone has to know
that evil is alive and well.

Sometimes things happen
between us we'd rather
not have happened.

We can choose to let
fate work it out,

stay out of it and let the gears
of the reeling cosmos execute
whatever justice they will.

That must be tempting
to a lot of us.

But if we do that
then any of a billion
equally terrifying fates
randomly await us.

I'd rather not place myself
on the yawning altar of space
as a piece of bait like that.

Instead I choose
to wield some form
of human moral code,

to interlock my shield
with fellow soldiers,

to direct Hell Itself
(the negative-thinking meme pool)
away from us,

to decant it back into
the vacuum it came from.

If we do nothing
the dark side of the wild
will seize the chance
to take root,

using our blood
for its fertile soil

and our bodies
as the clay pots.



The micro verse lives,  
an active universe.  
Constellations in the 
macro verse become 
the ghost in the machine
deep inside.   Just look.  

We are present here at
the furthest boundaries  
of an expansive domain.  

If one wishes to know what
lies beyond the farthest 
points of this reality, 
they must only wait 
to see what happens 
directly about them. 

Without a doubt, we are 
the extra terrestrials.

The cosmos warps 
about us, our refutation 
of nonexistence arrives 
along time's axis 
in the spiraling wake 
of wink out of stars.

Everything appears inside out 
which means that truth lies 
concealed within paradox.

Anywhere in space it is we 
who are the central point.

What we think of as outer 
space is really just time's 
mechanism, and what we 
believe to be the passage 
of time is only the space 
where life still fluorishes. 


A Message from One of the Capitols of Eden: Or, How We Suffer from an Inverse of the Understanding of Sacred Geometry

The reason we may as well be the aliens at the other side of our universe appears as a startling obvious truth which everyone seems to miss out on its direct simplicity.   The nature of our planet is roughly spherical, and the nature of outer space is such that any point within it is effectively as much the center of the totality as any other point, right?  Right.  Far from being a joke, this instead should be considered by everyone to be nothing but common sense.

Which means, that if you extended yourself in a singular direction unwaveringly away from this planet pointed anywhere, you might eventually, after crossing the unfathomable depths of outer space, reach the other side of our own Earth.  Sound childish?  That may be the reason most adult mentalities dismiss the potential for this possible cosmic truth out of hand.  Yet take a moment to realize the real potential of it, and you will see that, effectively, China may as well be considered one of those undiscovered countries on the far fringes of our universe itself; and so we, too, must necessarily be considered that which appears truly alien, insofar as the cosmos is concerned, to them. And this dynamic goes for any race of people inhabiting this planet, the actual center (for us all gathered together here) of creation; and furthermore, each planetary body in there (referring to the constellations) might be considered one of the many (past and present) Capitols of our cosmic Edens, for lack of a better term.

Because we are all on this planetary vessel together, and dream as we might to escape our actual condition here, we mayn't for now, nor mightn't we ever get farther than the fringes of our own solar system, for that matter.  There are certainly plenty of satellites, moons, dwarf planets, and various Trans-Neptunian Objects for us to explore right here in our own solar back yard, anyhow.

What we are suffering from, here on Earth, is a condition which randomly strikes an unknown amount of sentient civilizations throughout the cosmos; or, quite possibly, may be a natural stage of development for all sentient species granted the opportunity to advance their civilization.   It's a curious phenomenon which reverses most everything we perceive, even logic itself, turning it inside-out, and rendering our condition of seeking to understand truth apparently hopeless, which may be why we continue to suffer through countless wars, man's inhumanity to man, etcetera.

That condition is most likely terminal ego-centrism. Which is probably what anyone reading this thinks is precisely the condition the author of this very passage is suffering from. Ironic?  Well I am human, after all.  Of course it's ironic, and it's merely a symptom of our collective egoism, which potentially renders logic itself inside out, remember.   No, it is our own perceptions which, when aimed away from this planet we were born on, and which dictates that out there must be other greener fields than Earth, that becomes the fundamental error in perceiving the real nature of our state of being.

Because in truth, and by the dictates of purely mathematical thus scientific principles, what we consider the cosmos out there turns out to be, in fact, the inner core of all creation;  this becomes an indisputable fact when one takes care to balance out the equation.  Thus rendering the point of our world and the human race as defacto the center of our actual universe. And for all intents and purposes—the entirety of it.

Think of it this way.  Everything we consider to be on the inside (our planet's nickel-iron core; our own bodies' organs and cells; and everything on a microscopic level, such as the atoms and electrons that make up all matter) in fact comprise the exterior of creation; while everything we typically consider to be out there on the outside remains in truth the inner core of the universe.  This is not in any conceivable manner a contradiction to reality; it's merely a contradiction to our reverse way of seeing things.

I hope you take the time to see how this works, and how stating that looking inwards from our perspective entails observing the expanding skein of the physically manifesting universe, and that looking outwards to the stars entails observing the interior of that skein—our universe; quite paradoxically, yes: which appears to be the nature of quantum reality (i.e, truth itself)—if you haven't figured that out yet.

Because universal existence is a relative thing entirely.  Each star spread out across the core of this creation is a potential nodal point from which life might emerge, if and when conditions align themselves properly.  And when they do—and the Mayfly we call a sentient species arises from negative existence into the static, and builds its hovel we deem civilization—the point of our live's journey is not to arrive so to speak; but rather, to live it to the best of our capacity, here, now, and to confront our innate challenges as a species and conquer not those territories which exist outside our own, but rather, to level the playing field of our shared territories so that everyone may prosper in relative equality.

Only then might we be granted the next level of our evolution; which, for all we know, might actually involve the contact of extraterrestrial races.  Yet if we keep destroying our own selves here on this planet in a fruitless quest of expanding our own respective individual  territories, we will have succeeded in nothing else but to have utterly compromised the real intent of our having been granted existence here in the first place.

Existence is an interactive phenomenon, and there is no difference between ourselves and the universe. We do not exist outside of nor separately from the cosmos. We are this universe. For lack of a better way of explaining it, we are each the digits of creation. The fingernails...claws, talons, and fingertips...the fingers themselves. We are the hands of creation; we are the thumbs of existence. We are the eyes, ears, and noses. We are the arms which reach out from the darkness, and grab ahold of the elemental ingredients necessary to cultivate our ongoing existence. We help carry forth our legacy into the beyond.

We dream of sending ambassadors as astronauts into deep space in the hopes of reaching out for and meeting up with alien civilizations.  Would we grant any extraterrestrial race the benefit of our respect, I wonder?  I already know the answer to that one, "It depends on whether they're evil or not." Whether they intend to conquer us or not would most likely be our rationale when contemplating an encounter.

And just why do you think that is?  Could it be that we are still thinking from the point of view of the primitive stage of conquerors, ourselves?   Because that is precisely how we are still conditioned to think.  So we impose those qualities which are our own—those aspects of our nature we can't help but unconsciously suspect others might be in possession of as well—all the while never thinking that we might be the real problem.

If it turns out that my seemingly childish fantasy were true—that foreigners here on Earth might just be the "alien civilizations" we've been looking in the wrong direction for all this time—would we be capable of sending an emissary to China (for instance) with all the diplomacy and respect due towards meeting up with another practically unknown race?  I don't know the answer to that; all I can suggest is, why not treat them and every other foreign culture on Earth as potential cosmic allies, as we might do with an extraterrestrial race in the unlikely event we happened to encounter one?

We might just become surprised if we put aside our petty squabbles and differences in order to work together, here on this only planet we happen to share. For as far as each one of us knows, this place might just be tantamount to our entire universe, right here on Earth.  Life itself might even open up new possibilities heretofore inaccessible to us due to our having been stuck in the counterproductive low gear of barbaric ego-centrism.

Why don't we just pretend that every other race here on this planet were indeed the sum remainder of all civilized sentient life in creation?  For all we know, it's all we've got. Oh right, I forgot:  because that would seem childish.   Speaking of aliens, the next time you are near a child, look upon him or her as a sentient being you might learn something from.  And carry the hope within your chest that the child you dismiss might one day grow into the person who will help lead us all from the selfish pathway of ego-centrism onto the enlightened path toward world (i.e, universalpeace and prosperity.


Myth Appropriation

Value other people's mythologies.

Do not merely “tolerate” them: positively value them. The way I figure it, all peoples' and all cultures' various myths serve as keen insights into that great unknown. That undiscovered country that in order to try and understand, we are forced to fill in the blanks with our imaginations and apply our own interpretations of what “God” (or the lack thereof) might actually signify.

Why should we value other people's perceptions—? Their gods or religions, even in the face that we may not necessarily buy into them wholeheartedly—? Take a popular myth around the world, “Christianity”, for instance. I positively value that myth, and the teachings of its alleged savior, “Jesus Christ”, who was crucified to a cross—a common form of execution back in the day delegated to anyone from thieves, murderers, to petty criminals. Christ was a petty criminal in the eyes of the Roman Empire, which Pilate served. Right before Christ's impending crucifixion, he told Pontius Pilate “Everyone on the side of truth listens to me.” Pilate's reply—“What is truth?”—underneath whatever guise one today wishes to cloak it with (whether sneering contempt, cynical jesting, dead seriousness, or the innocence of a child) nonetheless provides the perfect antithetical reply, and the fact that Pilate did not await Jesus' answer may be a topic of discussion for the next two thousand years, but that does not change the observation that there really was nothing to add, and besides, Pilate already perfectly well knew what Jesus' answer would be (as we all must perfectly well know). This extremely brief exchange must've been Jesus' last communique—(before lifting his eyes skyward and beseeching his Father of course)—with mortal men on this earth before being hung up to die one of the most torturous executions devised by human beings.

What does this exchange reveal about Jesus, about Pilate, and about we who are left to ponder it—? It is a compelling dialogue that has served to keep me endeared to both men in an uncompromising situation. Think of it what you will.

Can a person who claims “I AM THE WAY” be misunderstood or misinterpreted? What if that person only meant to show that his advice was the way to the truth—and afterwards for countless generations more and more people misconstrued the genuine simplicity of that statement as literally meaning HE was the way—? Is it possible these generations of well meaning people may have got it wrong—? Misunderstood the original message preached by Jesus—? (Of course its possible.) Does it matter—? (Of course it matters.) Would it matter to these countless successive generations of misled people whether or not they got their own lord and savior's original message wrong—? I would think so—but maybe they should be asked. What would Jesus think if he were alive today, about the various sects of his followers, and what they believe—? Who knows—? Does anyone care—? Does anyone care if anyone else cares—? Who knows . . .what Jesus would think . . .except for Christ himself.

I'd like to compile parallels in myths, such as the fact that various disparate culture's mythologies all reference common events, such as the Flood. I wonder how many disparate people's myths I will find references to the crucifixion of their personal saviour—? The Hero With A Thousand Faces.

The most popular expression of religious faith during the era which saw the rise of Christianity was not the official state religion of “Olympian” gods, but the salvation cults known as the “mystery religions.” Each of these had its savior god or goddess, such as Mithras, Dionysos, Attis, Isis, Osiris. Most of these cults possessed myths in which the savior deity had overcome death in some way (not necessarily raised from it), or performed some act whose effects guaranteed for the initiates good fortune in this world and a happy existence in the next. Their rituals included communal sacred meals, often involving such things as bread and wine and bearing strong resemblance to Christian sacramentalism (Paul’s Lord’s Supper myth may well have been influenced by Mithraic counterparts), and the mystical relationships between initiate and deity are very similar to those expounded by Paul in his branch of Christian belief. While Christianity and the pagan cults interacted on one another as time went on, both can be regarded as more or less independent branches of the same broad, ancient-world tree.

On towards “The Spirit Of The Question.”

A fascinating concept that I learned about during my stints in 1982 and 1983 working on creative problem solving in what was then called “Olympics Of The Mind” (now legally changed to “Odyssey Of The Mind”) was referred to as “the spirit of the problem.” It was the simple issue of addressing the fact that each problem or question facing us will have at its core its true intent. When someone asks you a question—and quite often, as it turns out, that someone may make a mis-step in phrasing or botch up some other technicality—it is almost a prerequisite that in order to deliver a proper answer, one must use their perception in order to “get around” the “technicalities” or mis-phrasings possibly inherent to the questioner's imperfect use of wording. One who suddenly realizes what the questioner intends to ask, would be exercising cordiality and good grace in waving away the mis-phrased “technicalities” and instead opt to strike at the heart of the intended meaning of the question.

This is known as reacting to “the spirit of the question.” Obviously, our legal system is one good example which is built specifically around attempts at avoiding the “spirit of the question” if technicalities are utilized to allow a guilty party to go free; look no further than the O.J. Simpson case for a likely example of this. Of course nobody really knows with 100% certainty whether or not he was guilty of the double homicide—but by using Simpson as an example of the misappropriation of “the spirit of the question”, we can acknowledge that if he was indeed guilty of the murders, then his lawyer was able to get him away scot-free on a technicality—i.e, the spirit of the question (i.e, the problem) was not addressed. On the other hand, if Simpson were in fact innocent then his lawyer indeed may have addressed the spirit of the question correctly, and established his client's innocence from that. Of course we are simply not privy to the real facts, we can only surmise and make our best guess as to what actually happened.

I have never forgotten about my lesson learned during the Olympics Of The Mind creative competition, over thirty years ago. And I have always striven to apply the proper use of “the spirit of the question” in all my daily endeavors.

In so doing, I also try to remember to apply “the spirit of the question” to my quest in search of knowledge and truth. Forget momentarily about “absolute truth”—for that, I feel, would be getting ahead of ourselves. This quest is best embarked upon one step at a time. (Hence bothering to ask about “absolute truth” or “Who created the creator?” is simply far too many steps ahead of us to make it worthwhile asking; after all, we would not want to unnecessarily project ourselves into oblivion, now would we?) As we make our first steps towards our quest for “truth”, we can only be certain of things within our reach. This keyboard I type on, it is made of plastic, perhaps the truth is “plastic.” My umbrella plant I left out on the porch yesterday while the temperature dropped uncomfortably low—I got home and immediately brought it indoors and wrapped a fluffy comforter about its base—and gently warmed up it's various stalks with my heated hands. Poor thing—some of it's beautiful leaves were slightly wrinkled from the temperature drop. I hope my warmth and blanket I wrapped around it was enough to restore it back to normal health. That is truth—that umbrella plant I named “Mary Poppins.” The food I buy from the organic market—that is truth, at least relative to my existence—I can see it, I can feel it, I can smell it—I can taste it, I can eat it: that food is real, it is true: meaning not an illusion; it is really there: it is something I can believe in.

I am not saying the things I cannot see, taste, feel, hear, or touch are not necessarily true. I believe in God. That is, I believe in Something we can not possibly understand. The only way I can believe in that is through Faith. So I have Faith. Faith in something that remains, essentially—Unknown. That does not make it untrue. It just makes it—inaccessible to me other than via Faith.



Existence appears as a very peculiar condition. 

There seems to be no such thing as separation.  

Life forms fit together like metacarpals in a universal body.

Human babies are extensions of their parents.

The very idea of separateness seems irrational. 

Unknown power must reside within imagination itself. 

Anything that may be conceived by the mind can become real. 

Mankind  invents new ways of alienating itself.   

Humanity remains unique to this solar system.  

Perhaps our destiny will be to create separateness.

Every star of this galaxy might spawn its own form of life.


memo re-sent

What could be the mystery of life well put that question aside for one moment because nothing could be plainer than there being no question at all and we're here right now so even you can see there appears to be no mystery after all really when everything about you happens to be procreating since before ever we can remember which is to say building a bridge across time and space so let me ask you this in return what have you been doing lately as the world boils over around you?  (Waste no more time wondering upon the mystery of life my friend for there is no mystery to life that has arisen from the boundless depths of obscured wells any more than there is to the direction our lives take us which guided by the love and support of our family and friends just happens to be ever forward in building this bridge across time and space.)  


To Seventy Years

I don't even know what to say. It's Father's Day, 2013. Sounds like a futuristic dystopian date to me. My own father was murdered over a quarter of a century ago in the beloved country where I was born and he'd lived for just over twenty years, Honduras. To even imagine ever having lived there can sometimes be difficult, when I consider the time spans involved. Then I remember that I am, after all, nearly fifty years of age, myself. Now that I find hard to believe. My father would be seventy if he were still alive, today. If he were still alive...that's when the substream of my mind which slumbers on is jolted awake, suddenly. That's it...I've only been assuming he wasn't alive. Who are we to define anything. I mean, just look at it. If all the energy and matter in the universe is recycled endlessly as implied by the second law of thermodynamics, there is no such thing as death really. I mean sure, there's such a thing as the shedding of mortal coils and a whole conglomerate of other details including but not limited to the ritualistic burial of human beings whose biological functions have ceased altogether, but I just don't want to get into all that right now, suffice it to say I've given the matter some thought about how the process works and it just occurred to me, if all the recent discoveries we've made about the real nature of black holes turns out to be true (and there is no longer any reason whatsoever to not suspect that all life in the entire universe is seeded through black holes) then I don't even really need to comprehend exactly how the biological remnants that were my father may have been cosmically recycled, all I can do is rest assured and more than suspect that my feelings of having been mistaken upon deliberating over the perception that we and everything around us are merely parts of a greater whole have been only half correct and hence the likeliest conclusion in evidence of the fact that one is the only number in existence since all remaining numerals are merely indications of fractions of the universal totality, is the plain and painfully obvious observation that I am my own father after all just as my four month old baby son is truly me but to limit that statement to referring to ourselves genetically is to miss the entire picture you see of simplicity being so enormous that it often misses observation by the likes of you and me but like I said, like me, you may rest assured that the reason we are born when dying and ressurrected at birth is we are only one entity and that is why we continue to crucify ourselves because at least half of the world cannot see the beautiful forest for the prison of their trees, that there are no parts, just you and me and everything, so happy Father's Day to all who have dared or stumbled upon and fallen into the role of precursor, it is a glorious day after all when you stop and realize this is all from you and for you alone, our father, our son, our holy ghost at the very least, and at the most, I do dare to declare a toast.          


Rap vs Hip Hop

Hip hop is a straight drop on
The down side of the scratch flow

Rap is a lyrical attack you can find
On any map Hip Hop is oozing

With don'tcha know Rap is merely
Choosing who ya know Hip Hop

Is an embrace rap is beyond race
Hip Hop desperately needs you

To love it rap just wants you to
Shove it Hip Hop runs with the color

Of blood in the streets and rap is
Registered with printed currency

Hip Hop is tolerance rap is opinionated
Hollerin' Hip Hop gets down with

The Crunk and rap is one shot from
Stone Drunk Hip Hop is everything

You believe in while rap is your enemy
Dreamin' Hip Hop got the drop

And won't stop while rappin happens
While everyone's clappin' I tried

To bring my hip hop to school but
Rap stole my lunch money fool

Hip Hop you eat and drink it
Rap you just smoke it what you

Been thinkin Hip Hop's in the park
With Lincoln while rap's out on the town

With Al Capone drinkin' Hip Hop is Obama
And rap is Jeffery Dahmer Kanye West

Is the best Lil' Wayne's insane
But Cypress Hill and Son Doobie

Hail from a House Of Pain
White jiggers paint a fence

And like to call it innocense
While broke down Fords sing

The blues that's yesterday's news
One's all about assimilation

The other usually degradation
They are interchangeable of course

Otherwise I'd get off my horse
Each has got a lil' of the other right

In it they're not in competition ain't
No one tryin' to win it They inform

Each other its called evolution
Going public with a merger

Is the only solution Next year
Hip Hop can go on the attack

And rap music can chill and get laid
Back If you're confused or feelin'

Used then take a swill but not no flack
Cuz they just different words that mean

The same thing and neither one is all
About the bling bling And that's fresh

For twenty-thirteen Suckas 


A Clarion Amid The Din

It's not outer space that's important.  And it's not just inner space that is important.   It's both our neurobiologistical microscapes as well as the deep core of our own planet, and it's not panspermia alone that brought life necessarily to earth nor is it our molten iron womb itself either as much as the distinct possibility that the combination of asteroid (sperm) and planet (ovum) may have resulted in the origin of life and hence ourselves as a bonafide sentient species.  And how could we forget the deep oceanic trenches and the inherent mystery they conceal?  We are allegedly only familiar with 5% of the ocean depths.   That is the real future of science fiction because the exterior outward trip is doomed lost to a telescoped oblivion if that were even imaginable much less possible but yes leave it up to mankind to fervently achieve impossible absurdities something so beautiful and harrowing as to make damnation mundane, go for it rocket boys and may the spirit beyond the deepest waters move you toward the ultimate adventure of discovery and may your destinies meet with unspeakable success.  What a mess.  Enough science fiction about space ships already I call a boycott.  The real space ship is earth and I want to read and write about that so reel your spaced out dream back in quick everyone knows the cryptoterrestrials are here already and we're their latest offspring.  Listen to the leaves inside your mind and realize the wind passing through the seashell of your skull is not imaginary because you've mistaken it for something else it is actually real because you imagined it.  Try to get it right and did you know there's no such thing as out there at all?  It's all in the mind every spanking piece of it including those glittery dead sequins twinkling every color of the alphabet whose interwound songs harmonize into a celestial choir belting out the one hymn we've heard all our lives and it's not whispering myths or describing any dreams that's just the sound of it all breathing.  So wake up and grow mouths so you can stop screaming see what I mean by reading not only in between the lines but repeat the lines themselves because it is not just the words on the page that carry significance it is the distinct combination between them and the empty spaces crowding out the remainder of existence a polarized balance which pings a microtone spark across the dark of space to light up this place for us to see the secrets buried deep enough to make it worth the challenge of our lives to find so please stop searching for extraterrestrials if you don't mind besides they are the ones more likely advanced and are already ahead of the curve searching for us, rest assured they will find us on the television screens of their collective minds and read our lips from the static laden silent film of our history projected in an explosion of gravitational microlensing for their leisurely perusal so meanwhile what else are we going to do here all alone together besides feeling as if we're lost on our own home, for the sake of all that is common and good, alienated and terrified of being invaded because that is all we inherently know from having been born from scratch of the lightning bolt sparkstruck nickel-iron wombcore of our parent planet, don't you get it we're the species that invaded this place if it isn't obvious already then try and think of it this way, every solar system is like a factory in the shape of a vast tapestry okay, which manufactures us at the third station see, and here we are on the conveyor belt of revolving bodies harmonizing cosmic frequencies for the mass production of sentient fruit and the mirror trick to remembering who we are is to not care what the reflection looking back at us from dark matter resembles, because phantom distortions of ourselves are terrifying when taken out of context.  This has been a public service announcement coming at you live online all the time archived on the world wide vine from Thornswrath Guardian of Ambush Soldier for the Army of Trees & Sworn Protector of the Rose Still Blooming From the Heart of the Earth.  


A mended paper

We are part of the universal quill 
The ink that matters from the dark
Packed in a barrel invisible to this world
The nib forged of an element
Discovered winking in the Sun.

And the lightest agent of combustion 
To produce water will be crowned 
By a long buried sigil for unearthing.

So let flow the mimicry of your creeds
Letting angels bleed stardust and demons  
Sow seeds so the trail of lies you've left behind 
Staining the very fabric of our lives might
Be worth revising now if you don't mind.


What is behavior if not a symptom of what is happening?

Since it seems to be modified for different audiences,
what modifications, if any, take place for one's self?

If one must ask what's happening, may one ever know?
Go ahead and ask yourself, why behave like that?


Dream Harder

When we dream, we access reservoirs of impossible memories. How so? Easily. Realize: "magic" (embedded within "imagination") appears to literally be the force behind creation itself. (Look no further than the Uncertainty Principle for proof of this.) Most of us forget there are four possible known states of matter (not just the three typical states of solid, liquid, and gas). The fourth known state is plasma (lightning itself is a form of it). My point? To remind you to realize that the entire universe--every galaxy, fusioning star, planetary system, ecological niche, asteroid, mineral, protein, bacteria, molecule, and atom--is inherently connected to each other in a single tapestry. The complete "Big Picture" of our existence should be understood as a "singularity", that is, something which may best be described as having the quality of "Oneness." Anyone reading this should already know by now that there appears to be more "empty space" in between the molecules which make up everything in existence than the amount of matter itself.

So how does all this relate to dreaming? Let's stop the busy pace of our routines for a moment and take a look around us. Everything we see, hear, smell, taste, touch, and feel exists in a universe which somehow dreamed us up out of oblivion and in return we ourselves dream of absolutely anything imagineable while we've lapsed back into unconsciousness during sleep. This "little sleep" we experience nightly appears to be a fractal of the "bigger sleep" we all must face, death itself. And so it goes. Death being the gateway (the "omega" to our birth's "alpha") through which this cyclical process continues endlessly as we are each individually restored to "Ground Zero" (the interminable period directly after the "Big Bang" and prior to the formation of stars). Thus matter itself appears to be eternally recycled through this universal process, and here we are today, with only one thing left to do. Dream harder.


Lucidus Terminus

The problem with our understanding of light begins with our insistence to treat outer space like water or any other elemental cocktail for that matter.  

Scientists have been asking about the medium that this electromagnetic wavelength would travel through  for ages yet have they considered their vacuum to be that condition without medium and therefore concluded indefatigably that the light crosses the void?  

It appears they have not for they are yet seeking to understand cosmic truths on their own terms.  

That is all well and good but we must ask ourselves have they sought to understand themselves as of yet?  

I'm afraid not,  otherwise they would know we are of the stars.  

Of this one thing I can remain certain due to an inescapable chain of perfect logical association.  

For what are the stars we see magnified when we peer through our most powerful telescopes but the images reaching us projected from before their long ago demise?  

But what does that even mean?  

The answer is simple and has been staring us in the face all of our lives. 

It means we are still alive.   

We are right now that one Sun out there blazing bright throughout the eternal night that are yet alive to experience the incredible rush of our headlong flight.  

As to another world and another time, "So what!" I exclaim.  

Our world here now still burns in its familiar glow.  

As humans our sight is granted in part by the presence of light itself which is picked up on (through our eyes) as the visible portion of the electromagnetic spectrum.  

Light is thought to be emitted and absorbed in tiny "packets" referred to as photons.  

Many photons are referred to as quanta

Photons are sort of imaginary particles we've devised in order to help us comprehend the nature of light and radiation itself.   

Non-ionizing radiation includes radio waves, heat and the visible light that reaches us from our Sun  (as opposed to ionizing radiation which is ultraviolet light, X-rays and gamma-rays reaching us from way beyond our lone isolated star).

Nestled in between the invisible shorter ultraviolet and the longer invisible infrared wavelengths we are comfortably placed in a cradle of visible light.   

Light exhibits wave-particle duality like any form of electromagnetic radiation.   

The spectrum goes something like this:  

|radio, microwave, infrared...
visible light 
...ultraviolet, X-rays, gamma-rays|

This spectrum should offer us a clue as to the property of our existence out here circling this lone star gracing a spiral arm of our slowly rotating galaxy.   

We emerged from an old radio broadcast that overheated and squeezed us out of the infrared zone until after another period of cooling off which we are all enjoying very much we will ultimately overheat once again going supernova and beyond into the ultraviolet as gamma-rays ourselves.  

We are not yet stardust. 


page in a note book

When using language it is pre-eminent that we first understand our definitions are only relative to the unique conditions inherent to the specific situation involved in our discussion; however, rarely are we conscious of this golden rule.  

The limitations imposed by our definitions cage us, rather than liberate us, when we fail to acknowledge the transmutability of language.  

It is a matter of perspective.  Perhaps humanity as a collective prefers to believe in an absolute truth—we gain a subconscious feeling of comfort from thisknowing the knowledgeable ground we maneuver through remains solid and consistent.  

Words themselves are a simplification of much more complex concepts.  A boulder is a chunk of a mountain; a rock a chunk from a boulder; a stone has an implication all its own; a pebble is generally seen as a smaller version of the preceding.  

However, the line is drawn arbitrarily by us, and is usually sufficient for the purposes we intend to convey.  These examples belong in a rudimentary subcategory of tangible concepts, and hence provide very minor, if any, stumbling blocks toward our successful communication of the ideas we are trying to get across.  

These words might be relegated to a category labelled "safe".  There exists another category which might be labelled "unsafe": those words are either describing much larger physical concepts (such as "world" or "universe") or may address more abstract concepts (such as "reality" or "truth"). 

After all, is not the word "mountain" but a subsection of the word "world"-?  In this gradation of physical concepts one can easily see the lines of meaning be erased by the discerning Escapist who wishes to take any of these available avenues into the shelter of anonymity in which to hide.   


viricon: Searching for word origins

viricon: Searching for word origins: Viridis means green in Latin, and around the late fourteenth century the word virus was introduced as meaning a "venomous substance", from the Latin virus "poison, sap of plants, slimy liquid". It was not until the early eighteenth century that the word virus came to signify an agent causing infectious disease. The computer sense of the term dates from 1972.

Although the prefix "con-" indicates being "together, with" something, I want to try to think of the various meanings of the word "con", as well as what it might mean as a suffix.  As a noun, the first sense is that of meaning "negation". Contrary to something...the pros and cons of it all. But it also means "study", from Old English cunnan "to know, know how". As an adjective, a con is a swindle. It's why I try to avoid adjectives (adverbs are outright banished). That was just a little joke. Back to the origins of the word I invented today, viricon.

 See, I looked it up and nothing really came up. I want to take this time to say that I dedicate the word to the writing energies of M.John Harrison, the wonderful British author of strangely wrought and intricately detailed fantasies, whether they be on earth or in space. I dropped the -ium suffix and attained the word viricon, I make no claim to it whatsoever, when we invent anything there's a good chance we're simply rediscovering something buried long ago that not a soul has since bothered to dust off. I feel relatively certain that my word can most likely be found in a proper unabridged Oxford Dictionary, for instance.

 The word viricon with its virile associations through its inherently viridian prefix must not be confused entirely with the viral aspect, and the latter half of the word in particular must not be mis-understood, for the condition of context is crucial to know the real content of any word. Remember, words are consensual entities that we long ago were to have broken off from yet somehow we remain in their service to this day, instruments by which words transform themselves via the inoculation of language...it is a virus.

 Laurie Anderson sang that William Burroughs quote. But I'm staying on track here, pardon me momentarily for expanding the frequency.   Where were we ? Oh yes, a new word I captured today, because there are no discoveries, really, for all we know, if you stop and try to think about it, and succeed, you'll see this idea applies to all things and why shouldn't it, exactly?

That's really all I'd like to know...how could there be any such thing as a real INVENTION when everything's been here since the beginning and it's been proven the very fabric of creation itself is merely recycled stuff?

You are the only invention in the realm of creation and it was you who helped create this word, thank yourself the next time you open a dictionary because it was you who wrote it, every last word from the beginning of the alphabet including all those words that are now extinct in order to make room in the limited size dictionaries so that common people like you and me could keep up with the times!

 I told my brother today that I invented a new form of poetry, and I only want to lay claim to having uncovered it once again, the oldest form of poetry known to our species: one word. That's it.

A new form of poetry limited to being expressed in one word.

And the best part is this form never excels quite as well as it could until it invents a new word, then the form is being exercised. Any one-word poems utilizing words already found in the dictionary are perfectly acceptable yet akin to keeping the horse leashed to his post.

 Only when the poet invents a new word which is to say, rediscovers an ancient lost word and re-introduces it can it be said that this ancient form is being expressed.  And should he truly catch the wind of inspiration and introduce or that is uncover for the very first time a brand new word never before heard or seen in the world, then he is riding this ancient form at an easy gallop.

This is also meant to resemble a test which sets up a standard by which this ancient form of poetry, the one word poem poised at a potential communication as yet unexplored by any member of the human race, may achieve its unique form; this form in deed being a word excavated by the poet that had been a part of the old original language all along, of course because that is the meaning of our race--nothing more than the code script which has been hyper marked up from the below and down from the above in order to facilitate the ancient chaos of the living ecosystem of words.

 Try to think of it this way. We are not the protagonists in the unfolding drama of creation, we are merely the script. Words themselves are in fact the alien sentient beings from which our own species was inexorably derived. Welcome to Viricon, a condition of being, an estate, an empire.

 The negation of viridian, the viral context. The process which sterilizes organic development by committing the perfectly innocent sin of self awareness.  Welcome to Viricon.