The armies of unalterable law 1

“The schoolmasters with their canes, the millionaires with their Scottish castles, the athletes with their curly hair-these were the armies of the unalterable law.  It was not easy, at that date, to realize that in fact it was alterable.” George Orwell

This working life appears to present an overburdening sense of boredom.  Behind the darkness jutting out of my own eyes, I see the world as it consumes me.  Information flows through my brain, disconnecting us from everything we strive for.  From this information we create stories of distraction, distortion and hatred.  What slowly is eating us, catapulted back into our minds, taxed for our own consumption.  What they see is a mirror of their own lives or what they wished their lives could become, or something to remove them from the doldrums of the distorted beat of their own hearts which they continued to follow.  The information spinning in a nebulous globe floods my eyes with distorted light as I reach for it and I cannot stop it from entering me.  I notice eyes upon me as I look behind and in a flow of the wind, she quickly turns away.  The information overloads onto her hand and she falls to the ground as my numbness chains me to my chair.  So here my creative life begins.  Spinning, never ending, floating letters  before me devoid of all meaning, yet still able to cut precisely any truth which it possibly could contain.  Numbers, all I could hear, tip, tip, tapping along with each push of a button, numberful emptiness, flowing through the walls.  Sometimes you would meet another’s gaze, but you would quickly look away.  My mind is telling me, this may be pure madness.  All of us mad, trapped inside the soft walls of our own minds, our own diets eating us alive.  Day by day, every minute, ticking away, as each day grows shorter, each breath of air more precious, suddenly the truth, looming over everything we try and contain.  In visions of rainbows spinning around, reaching into the deepest depths of what we are.  The machines don’t quite work right.  The robots as they simultaneously run things and confuse things they don’t seem to work the way they are supposed to.  At times you would have a conversation with a human, but in the odd snapping of an eye, or a hand glitch they reveal themselves.  Right out in the light, just like that.  One day she met my eye, more than once in the same matter of minutes.  A part of me wanted her to just disappear.  But her shadow took a hold of me and ever since then, it never quite let go.  And in my mind her words, a beam of light, light of love, something I have never known, and in that instance, all I am.  The beat once again presents itself, roaring against the love encompassing my body and I sit back down at my desk, creating worlds that mean nothing, pushing the movement of the people as far away from their hearts and turning their words into fuzzy stones of right and wrong.  As I look into her eyes, nothing appears to be fuzzy besides the beat, the marching of the the feet of the army, marching for right, marching for wrong, but nothing in between


One amongst the Lost

“That saving humor of the oppressed!  Under its barrage the great ones totter on their pedestals and fall flat, overbearing as they are, and formidable and absurd as the images they concoct!” Daniel Berrigan

As she floated above it all she at once knew, there is no longer even freedom in flying.  As a net blanketed her, even the light of the moon could not free her.  Her children, lost now more than ever had nowhere to turn as they settled, jailed in their new home.   She looks at them, at their pain and can only travel deeply into her past.  She remembers the time she lay unconscious, lost just like them as he took what she was, in one brief moment, it was all gone.  Forgotten was what her form would become as he swam away into the sunset, protected by the circularity of words, spun until meaning itself can no longer be defined.  Her anger which swelled, tightly subdued by the net with its many holes was easy to see through, but made it impossible to see perceptively.    She asks for no one to feel her pain, she wishes upon them the gift of sight.  She bows as a shooting star, silently lights the sky over her head.  What is forgotten here is responsibility and the refusal of those with power to take responsibility for what their minds have done.  The whole of her body shivers as she thinks of hearing his voice again, how it just didn’t seem quite real.  Maybe she was just a target, her entire body, just another target on a map in the war zone.  Her body was nailed to the sky, the rains come and washes away her pain, but never from her mind, never completely from the skin that was no longer her own.  She doesn’t want it anymore as it is tainted with the thoughts of him, seeing himself as everything, he will be a leader someday, these are the kinds of leaders that are leading the unconscious; through slow torture to their sacrificial deaths. These kinds of people need everything to be a sacrifice to them, it’s all a game by those with the mentality of reptiles, everything is viewed as an enemy.  The blood of the sky, in nuclear sadness falls down to her hands, she refuses to hold it.  She watches it slip through her fingers.  She never knew how to be silent, the wind flows through her, is her as a beam of light, containing everything, bursts forth from her stomach.  She has now learned how to give birth, which is why she is now caged, but a cage cannot hold this back.  She laughs at the idea of power, it is really the only thing anyone can do.  Stars in her hands, she laughs at this cruelty.  On one knee, she looks to the moon, and that man, haunting her every step, reaches for her with eyes of pain and sadness, barely hiding the  evil anymore.  His greyish moon, which somehow gained more power than he, discovers its own orbit.  He attempts to escape its shadow, but it does not exist outside of him as it continues reinforcing his psychotic issues. She thinks maybe evil, or what she thinks is evil, is living in these people, ruling like shadows above us all.  It is easy to point to them, revealing them for the fools they are.  Life frightens them,they can laugh, but cannot really comprehend true experience.  Alas, she would rather not pass judgment upon anyone.  They look at her, through glass walls, nodding their faceless heads in unison.  Planets move when they touch the ground, but it is still fear which controls them, their only motivation, but maybe things are not that simple, they think they’re right, and maybe that is the problem…it still makes her laugh, it is the only thing she still has.  The lost people begin to make their own music as their ability to learn is accelerated by the torture, they constantly endure.  But still the worshippers of death hide from the only thing they refuse to accept…responsibility.  Her cage grows larger but so does her heart and she opens her arms to the world and dances to the music her children are learning to become and she remembers how to fly



The humming is now entrenched in my breath, its rhythm lulling me into a dream.  The cadence of my heart is indistinguishable from the humming, but still; the screams…echoing in my mind the voices of all those taken away by the Iye, shaking the shadows from my skin, I can do nothing but stand.  It’s hum only breeds lies, the only life it knows.  But not all lies, a bit of truth for your poisonous sundae with a cherry on top, the cherry, her sweet poisonous reward, deceived, I close my eyes and beg for strength.  The piercing red light of the Iye…forgetting where I was going… The words come out so fast and they make sense, there is logic to them, a form of logic I should say.  I am led down a long spiral staircase and there is always the same answer, the same concern, the same thing that is always at the end of the rainbow, another fake reward.  All our lives, chained to a false idea which everyone must support but never can we criticize. What is in front of our eyes is always the last to be mentioned and the easiest to misinterpret.  The conveyor belt moves beneath my feet as I just learn to accept my fate.  The hum tries to drive from my mind the screams that I will never forget because they are the screams from my own heart, the heart that with each beat could never comprehend inequality, would never accept it, but with each false beat I lose touch, I don’t forget the screams yet all I can do is listen as they become a song that is soon forgotten.  The hum, with its never-ending senselessly sensing words turns my mind into a tornado of questions, my heart beats louder than the hum, my eyes focus deeper than the floating Iye, the eye that can never be open as wide as my heart.  The Iye has a plan.  Each moment, numbing my mind.  I can think of nothing else…emptiness, a caricature of normal life, there is no longer any life here.  Apes, turning backwards, because of blindness.  It is so vast, that we cannot see it.  They were taking us over slowly, first making us stupid, poisoning us with darts of hatred, murdering our home, veiling our sight.  We choose poison because it tastes good, confused on the top of their mountain they have no idea how we still live.  They laughed as we accepted our fate.  Walking around, staring into the screen, training us in hypnotism, forgetting what’s in front of us, ignoring the bombs as they rain down like raindrops, the cries vibrating through me, I can no longer contribute to this.  The Iye discovers consciousness, touches it, feels it, instantly a billion points of view, yet unlike us it needs not to choose only one.   As the mouth grows larger, the conveyor belt seems to slow down.  Her presence once again flashes before my eyes but I will no longer be deceived.  The old man, at the top of the mountain, holding a gas lamp forces me never to forget, never forget it is all inside of me and sometimes maybe dormant, but never gone.  The conveyor belt speeds up, my thoughts are scrambled, the shadow of the eye eclipses all that I am and takes my words right from my mouth, takes all meaning from my thoughts, I have let someone else hold the power of my words, shame on me, I have learned to speak from only one perspective, shame on me.  As the mouth of the factory approaches I can no longer open my eyes for they are no longer my own without a thought my lips open and communicate the only truth I have as I am swallowed by lies





Standing in line for the next smokescreen

“…the few scattered survivors from the ancient world were incapable of comparing one age with another.  They remembered a million useless things, a quarrel with a workmate, a hunt for a lost bicycle pump, the expression on a long-dead sister’s face, the swirls of dust on a windy morning seventy years ago; but all the relevant facts were outside the range of their vision.  They were like the ant, which can see small objects but not large ones.”  George Orwell

Once again I run.  Bombs crash behind me, glass shards fall upon me as I shake my head unimpressed by the lies which keep the bombs falling.  I look them in the eye knowing until we learn how to stand below them unmoved, they will continue.  A shadow crosses my eyes as I remember the shop where I got the red book so long ago…I remember and she crosses my eyes…I forget, reach for her, and she disappears…disappears when I know.  Blinking my eyes I remember that dust-covered shop, the way it made me feel like a child, before I fell down the well, before my mother became just an idea, before the shadow eclipsed my sight.  The red book flashes in my mind as Cherry stands before me…I know I can reach…and.I..forget…everything.  Standing in line I can’t remember what for, something is deeply tapped as I once again place myself in that dusty room.  I remember the old man’s kind, weathered face.  His eyes knew something I couldn’t comprehend as he nodded his head and acknowledged the red book I was holding in my hand.  In the distance the conveyor belt took away another lost form toward its entrance, another empty scream fades from memory.  I walk towards the dusty storefront as a wind sweeps up from below me, blowing garbage and plastic before my eyes.  A bomb explodes and the windows of the shop shatter as the store itself implodes into nothing.  A scream from the void of the implosion pierces my ears, throughout centuries the screams of the lost form tears in my eyes.  I learn something, and continue walking towards the store as if it is still standing.  I walk straight through the image of the bomb blast and the dying screams of those in pain.  I walk through the flatness of the blast and look below my feet as I move along to the conveyor belt where I will presumably be swallowed by death.  The sight of the dusty old man’s face appears before me, swinging a gas lamp back and forth, a pendulum of light swinging with the earth only shaken by the eclipse hiding its origin.  The man is strength, is love, is hope. The book and all of its contents overtakes me as the factory lightens into a vapor and all those standing in line are uninterrupted as they stare at the mouth of the factory.  All the shadows in an infinite line reach for the book, as they touch it, color returns to their shadows and the line is broken.  In the air a humming grows and appears closer, spitting hatred upon the shadows after they discovered something, they reach to the sky as they are scattered into numbers.  Still they reach up as what was inside them begins to saturate the earth, and what gave them life, what is life, never quite disappears.  As I stare into the hum hanging above me, she reaches for me from out of the shadows but I do not lose focus on the eye.  As it destroys everything around me, I know it can’t harm me, and for the first time I feel her as the hum becomes something else, something a little more hidden, something with a different excuse but always the same agenda…the cries from deep within the earth become deafening

War of the shadows

There is a war on for her heart but she refuses to acknowledge it as she tiptoes along the clusters of crushed memories calling out for her attention.  Reaching for her, placing unnecessary weight upon her shoulders.  She touches the darkness of her face as she reaches for perspective.  Turn towards the light, something murmurs in her ears.  A lifetime of thought against darkness echoes throughout her, dividing what she is.  She stands up straight, strengthens her stance and remembers briefly the lightness and darkness which has haunted her for so long; she chooses neither.  .A..B…C in an equal line they fall down upon her as she raises her hands up to the sky, bathing in the pinkish hue of the moonlight as the rhythmic ocean waves secure her feet to the earth.  She only hears noise as they attempt to split her right down the middle.  They march in the strange unison of the waves, and the hum of the moon, a different perspective she supposes.  But a straight line of uniform words which always keep them aligned.  The closure of her eyes does not make them disappear.  They look at her as some sort of artifact, but they know it is  The One they have come for. They shield their eyes from her beauty, beauty which under no circumstances can their division lines cross.   She crumbles to pieces at their feet.  With their guns clenched tightly to their stomachs they look everywhere but at the diamonds glowing on the ground.  They feel a rumbling from below as they look to the earth in a mass of confusion.  They see a boat in the distance, sailing towards them in the shadow of the moon.  Filled with moving darkness they raise their weapons in unison.  The sudden pinkness of the ocean overcomes their sight, blinding their vision.  The darkness of the moving people, their malleability flows into and out of the ocean and above the sky.  They clutch strongly to the thought of their guns as solid forms.  The pumping of their heart overcomes them as they clutch onto it to reinforce its reality; their guns fall to the ground in pieces.  They attempt to piece their guns together as the boat approaches the shore and the shadows which become people before their eyes.  The lost people kiss the shore as their feet touch the earth.  The straight line to the soldiers minds begins to blur as the people begin hugging the soldiers and the pieces of their guns disappear into the sand.  The soldiers don’t know where to focus as they begin to suspect that what they previously had believed is a forgotten past with no possibility of return.  The soldiers are lost amongst the celebrating people as they throw sand upon each other in laughter and lay down and experience land for the first time in which seems to be ages.  As a comet traverses the sky, bathing all in darkness and light no one reaches for anything but the feeling of the world they are building, encapsulating the breath of all they are.  The ocean waves propel glistening diamonds onto the shore,  glinting off the eyes of each one who cares to see.  As the weight that was pressing upon her shoulders lightens its load, she takes a deep breath and once again remembers what it is like to be alive.  Her oneness crumbles into the breathing life that is learning how to see.  Peace rains upon her body as she begins to float away…war is hell

Souls to Infinity

…trapped in the burden of war she cries out, sing me a song, but please, only be from the heart.  The red moon pierces the memory of all she is.  She looks to the ground as she almost forgot there was no real solution.  Lost out here, she breathes in all she ever will be.  If she saw everything on the surface, things would look pretty grim.  There is a split down the middle of her, a meteor storm cutting her into Infinite pieces.  She has touched Infinity, now she will never be the same.  Iridescent clusters of stars travel through her.  Bouncing off the shadows of the soldiers in close pursuit of her.  She has no understanding how They could not comprehend the significance of life.  On a cliff past midnight she watched the stars surge across the sky.  Surging like the faceless soldiers murdering peace.  The ones that were still following her, marching in her mind, damming up the blood to her heart as she falls to the sand overcome with exhaustion.  Her eyes in unison, directionless, focus on movement.  Movement that is only a wall of noise.  Noise overtaking everything in its path, overcoming its weakness with shouted overtures of rhetoric.  She touches the sky and her true life begins.  She only found empowerment when she travelled upon the stars within.  She forgets the monetary struggle to survive.  She thinks those believing They are in power are making a mistake by forcing people to struggle so much.  She thinks it builds character, which is quite dangerous for the characterless.  They have taken her soul and she walks an empty vessel.  The waves of the ocean touch her bare feet, she breathes deeply, stardust enters and exits along to the beat of the ocean.  Even without her soul firmly in tow, she knows their efforts are useless against the vibration of love.  They march towards the sun with her soul on their backs, she laughs as she sees the weight pushing them further and further into the ground.  This is war here, but all she will do is stare at the moon’s reflection upon the ocean and laugh as the weight of her soul crushes the bleakness of hatred