Another living creature senses my presence, and in that same moment I sense the presence in the other, therefore, I exist.

great music can be

a break from another awful day of sameness at the job

or a forceful reminder to the soul of what a free (wo)man knows

All The Tribes and Their Singularity

All the tribes left behind some stragglers who volunteered to live on reservations to uphold the impression that the white man has conquered the red ones and now dominates all America. End of story. This is far from true. Every galaxy of swirling star masses has at its soul a super massive black hole which affects the farthest star in the swirl with its powerful draw. All power in the galaxy is in the singularity at its core. The black hole is the powerful source which will not be denied and never, never is it mocked. When it moves so moves the galaxy. Creator and destroyer. And so it is within the souls of all people, all who have been, all who are now, and all who shall be.

The red ones followed the others who left before them in a timeless universe. Yet, they did not go anywhere. They stayed but at a different vibration and here and now co-exist with those who think themselves to be victors; the violent ones who only appeared to win. The red ones and the wildlife they cherish who left and all who left before them are unseen by the blind ones who know not of the exodus through a black hole they most dreadfully fear. But the ones who left see the ones who remain quite clearly since they have been in the place they left behind and know all about it.

Strangely, the volunteers who remained behind as stragglers have a job to do. They dwell among the lost and weary, as the most weary of all, as those who appear to be the banished, to arise from the scourge of awful misfortune as an encouragement to others to surrender to a greater good.

The blackest hole is not a dream but the source of all dreamers.

It Bothers Me

Thinking I am clever. I am clever. I am clever. I am clever. Can I be certain I am clever? I am clever. I am clever. I am clever. I am clever. I am clever. I am clever.

When I stop thinking I know.

Then it bothers me to realize how the geniuses are dominated by so many buffoons. How can they be geniuses? How can I be certain? I am not even clever.

The geniuses are geniuses at one thing: they are good at making it seem that that one thing is all that matters. They do it with imagination, the pattern for the invisible internet believed to be real liable. Everyone is connected to something in that strange place, on that cloud, it appears so anyway. Always and forever what show you are watching is the only show that matters and everybody who knows you is there. Nothing else matters. The crooks are in charge of all the real stuff and all the geniuses work for them and are paid royalties which amount to only a pittance of the real cash flow.

Do you know how much dough the governments collect on selling lottery tickets for every dime they pay out to the very few big winners? The same government you have sworn to uphold with your lives and the lives of your loved ones? Ripping off the poor is a sorry way to go.

Thinking I am clever. I am clever. I am clever. I am clever. Can I be certain I am clever? I am clever. I am clever. I am clever. I am clever. I am clever. I am clever.

When I stop thinking I know.

What Title?

Like lottery tickets you want me to buy up your stocks and all greed's investment paper

and follow the crowds

who pretend real value is stored up inside imaginary clouds

made without vapor…

what?

A cloud with no vapor? Is life a prank or a caper?

I can't spend m' only life an epigone, an imitator.

Did you expect me to eat your classy menus for dinner as my bones, flesh, and organs grow weaker and thinner?

If you have not read chapters 1, 2, and 3 scroll back and read those first please.

Apart, Chapter 4

To all the descendants of those who took the original exodus out from paradise let it be written:

Long, long ago, tired of living among the meek ones who did not care to be right,

our ancestors decided to pack a chest and to leave them;

we'd take along a god that belongs to us, the highest and the best,

who will stand along side of us in a well provisioned quest;

who will lead us to our country (and in our minds we draw a fence where no fence really is);

one that we only think our own shall separate us from the rest;

and declare we believe this fence drawn by the Hand of an Almighty God (although we know better)

who told one of us it's our duty to cause our destiny to manifest.

(shout) And, we want both!

Oh, we want a strong warrior god we can believe in and we demand all that that god can give!

We want a servile milk cow; a cow on which all who are like us can depend!

We want the milk always to be getting better and

What we believe we shall defend!

(aside) Nothing wrong with playing a game with an imaginary cow, right?

Answer: Everything is fine until you want to have real milk with your coffee.

Then it begins to get weird. The coffee is going to have to be imaginary coffee.

And, the breakfast you want with your imaginary coffee and imaginary milk? that is going to have to be imaginary as well…

and this is not going to end lest you give up the entire accursed game, leave the train bound for Hell.

Let's see...has it been 10,000 years? a thousand declared nations?

How many add-on theories have there been?

How many dead martyrs?

How many unknown innocents betrayed?

(shout!) Whole gen-er-a-tions!

It must come finally down to this: much blather and chatter about nothing at the highest possible cost until... all is lost.

Reality cannot be captured in the imaginary kingdoms of man. Peace that comes that way is going always to be imaginary peace. People assemble in a building where some wear robes and practice chanting about it and claim it is real for that reason. A child knows better! Are we not convinced of that by now? How long is it going to continue to be fake? All that has been laid before you here is equally applicable to both our gods...to religion and to science.

Laying aside all differences, with that which remains at hand proceed. It will be rebuilt by truth in joy as if by magic. That is so because we have the way safely tucked away inside us; we each hold a piece of an exact pattern of the best possible system for living together like it was diagrammed on our souls. The piece is known to each as a calling. Can you hear it?

One rule: Nobody has to join us and nobody can stand in our way.

If you have not read Chapters 1 and 2 scroll back and read those first please. 

Apart, Chapter 3

Christ: Do not assume that I have come to bring peace to the earth; I have not come to

bring peace, but a sword. For I have come to turn 'a man against his father, a daughter against her mother, a daughter-in-law against her mother-in-law.

Me: It has been told each of us has a deep wish to return home. Many tell that it is not possible and has never been known to happen in a lifetime of struggling. A Great Sword that does not injure the body cuts souls free from everlasting foolishness...the desire for what is already accomplished. If, with such a sword, I could cut away the ties that never were from around your entangled mental body and show you that you are no man's son, no woman's daughter, and no man or woman's sister or brother, no one's mother nor anyone's father I have saved you and I would. One goes home by moving not a peg. Do not say, I know the truth, truth knows you.

From a memory in darkness this was told to me.

From a memory in darkness this was told to me.