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.


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.  


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