- I'm just ONE voice in this crowd, and though I've listened
hard (out loud <g.), so UNCONVINCING are these *men* who'd teach we
are *alone*, my friend. I have listened to these *learned*, read their
work (completed college), and they do NAUGHT but leave deep holes -- shallow
thinking . . . stunted souls. They pretend reality, dismiss the facts that
won't agree, and counterfeiting history they sell their old hypocrisy.
- I look into a starry sky and see potential, depth and
time. I realize that there's enough (of all the truly needed stuff) to
sail passed imagination -- passing ANY protestation. ALL that we believe
we'd fail, our rabid fictions, legends -- tales, has happened in those
stellar reaches . . . there to torment, stress and teach us. Lost in time
and dusty space, could live the creatures of some race who'd solved the
problems that we face or vanished there without a trace. . .
- We would think they CAN'T be here -- assign to them our
limits, fear, and make out like they won't surpass achievements WE might
make at last? We pronounce imagined *laws* and tell them where their line
is drawn. We pronounce our *flawless* physics airily like fools not "with
it". We ignore new paradigms if they don't fit tradition's rhymes,
and we don't care to spend the time to do REAL work -- a likely crime.
- We're a bunch of sad pretenders, charlatans and glad
offenders living in a noxious past that gloats obscenely, if you ask. No
one finds the facts they need all mixed with misdirection's breed to keep
their status quo alive so they can *live* while WE survive. Hear them tell
you "no free lunch", and bear down for their endless crunch.
Complacent, they're a charmless bunch; they just don't care. That's more
- Something's hidden, and despised, well wrapped within
a maze of lies, and we can't put our finger ON our *strange* discomfort
-- *dear* and strong. We're tied or mated to our fear in ways to make control
more *clear*, and so won't question pretty lies that weave their phony
web -- disguised. We have wives and husbands -- children . . . mothers,
fathers, other brethren . . . needing forecasts they can trust to plan
a future as they must! We would have it solid, useful, realistic, substantial
-- truthful. We'll grow tired of your usual, grow cynical -- had a snoot
full . . . riot in the streets, at last, when we discover what's gone past
. . . that time just may be coming fast, when you're the one confused --
- I don't have the "facts", I'm told, by churlish
goons and shallow scolds. I'm the liar, I'm accused, when I would point
where we're abused, and offer that we can't get *facts* from cyber-thugs
who grind an axe. Something not admitted slinks behind facades of fishy
stinks, and it would change the way we FEEL to know, at last, what's true
and real! Someone knows the real deal, will take what they can grab and
steal, and make their judgement (so unreal!) as to, then, how YOU should
- I'm standing here, my leg is damp, you're saying that
it's *raining*, champ! Trouble is, I heard your zipper, hear the smirk
inside your whisper, smell ammonia, (used asparagus?) -- you should drink
more water. Careless! I can't believe what you propose; it's blown from
Aristotle's nose -- that saucers shan't command our skies, that time and
space won't prove you lie, that we are hidden, unobserved, so quite alone,
and *undisturbed*. I don't believe your mechanisms, I don't go in for your
religion, I don't *buy* your evening news, or think that cops should never
lose. You have earned my hard disgust. It grows as you provoke mistrust.
Insult (try!) just makes me harder, more intense (increases ardor), and
I, at last, regard the sky -- those tiny points of light described, FEEL
space (a living thing!) and KNOW there's more than what YOU sing . . .
- I look up and hear Mozart and Beethoven. You offer an
assumptive monotone of "How Much is that Doggie in the Window."
Thanks, but . . . I'll just keep looking up.
- Oh, and . . . you know who you are.
- Restore John Ford!
- EXPLORE Alfred Lehmberg's Alien View" at his Fortunecity
**<Updated 25 December**
- "I cleave the heavens, and soar to the infinite.
What others see from afar, I leave far behind me." - Giordano Bruno,
burned at the fundamentalist's stake.