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Tomorrow Never Comes

The past can be a dangerous thing, and so can the future. There is a peculiar gloom that comes with the thought that things used to be better, and that you are going downhill. Conversely, there is a peculiarly elevating feeling from the thought that things are “getting better all the time” as the Beatles say. That’s pretty simple. Most people would probably agree that its better to feel like things are getting better than that things are getting worse (regardless of if they are). However, neither is good, so by default then neither can be bad. Let me explain. (more…)

Massacre Of The Yard

Should one of the creatures with the ability to decipher these very written words visit the place in which the following story unfolds they would surely find nothing spectacular. The bland tranquil openness would most likely be of little interest, and the upon digestion of the scene the spectator might condense it in the rather unexciting verbal epitome of “Yard.”   However, for the seeing eye the area was buzzing with life, and the colours blended in spectacular tapestry. The other senses were tickled with the odours mixing in perfumed fragrance, and the humming of a beautiful symphony played by a cross section of instruments of Nature that filled the space. “Preposterous!” the reading and speaking creature might exclaim, but one mustn’t speak too soon, for it is not Nature who is mute but Man who is deaf. Unfortunately, for the Yard even a slight sensibility to listening would make no difference here, for every time Man came to the Yard he came with such a being-penetrating, air-shaking, ground-rattling, and roaring companion that nothing could be heard at all. (more…)

Second Look at Social Conditioning: Dependence

It was a nice sunny Wednesday afternoon, and I was walking through a park downtown. The breeze was blowing, ducks were quacking, and up ahead a man was lying down on the path not moving. Some people walked on by without a second glance, some began to gather around, as did I, but all kept their distances. I heard some people say that he was sleeping, others that he was drunk. However, by simply moving around to see his face I clearly saw that he wasn’t sleeping. Blood stained his hair and a red streak was leaking from his open and glassy eye. We huddled around un-assuredly, and someone called 911. (more…)

Don’t Stop The Rap

Hey you! Yea you person on the bus

Dude so calloused, girl without trust

Bitchy whinny bad vibes for all to hear

You smear and sneer hate disguised fear

Don’t you know its bad to air out wine?

I’m French, so let me warn that you align

To cringe and sputter in disgust and anger

Discovering mouthful of vinegar

Instead of the sweet scarlet vine nectar

Of life sipping cup expecting better

 –

Oenology: science of the vines

I doubt you are licensed, maker of whine

See, autumn chill affects grape quality

Audible shrill simply makes more filthy

product you ferment on public transport

stop that export no one wants to import

Shut down the winery and test this glass

Taste, sandpaper tongue, what could come to pass

If you turn the thorn of your prose

To twist towards tolerance into a rose

 –

First: the crimson of your grail and being

Will not be blood splattering by beating

But scarlet passion, vibrating meaning

Budding vocabulary blossoming

Once deaf to the divine that’s now enshrined

Carved as your words to the marble of mind

So forget the meme its cool to be mean

Sick to be a queen, above and pristine

Free yourself from restricting crime and rhyme

Won’t you please find the time to shine sublime?

 –

Second: Go! Flow and glow, don’t stop the rap

Give in to the trap, the pop, the snap

The flow of lines the sounds that bind

The mind to the universe and find

Fire in the beat the heat of the verse

Flint of tongue sparking the soul from the hearse

Immerse in its flame converse without shame

Sharp dialects reflect who won’t be tame

Weave words of worth to win without hardship

Wounds weapons wails, forget bullshit to worship

 –

Peace in Eden of imagination

Love in the art of enunciation

The liquid members of this vine club

Do with divine elbows rub

Dionysus don’t kick it

With vinegar drinkers or those who make it

So put in your headphones now if you wish

Complain of slow bus so bust English

Language could bring you to destination

If you present yourself at the station

So don’t ever stop the rap

Don’t ever stop the rap

Don’t stop the rap

The Snows Of Time

The old man took a deep breath, inhaling the aroma of the cup of coffee he held before his face. It brought warmth to his being, but his exhalation came out nonetheless as a sigh, fogging up the icy pane of glass out of which he was looking. This was the kind of sigh that would have surprised his wife, bless her soul, were she around to hear it. She would have raised her eyebrows out of surprise, a precursor to her baking fresh cookies to be delivered with a kiss, but those days were gone now. He turned from the snowy evening street and faced into his shop. Here too was a life companion that had heard very few of those sighs, and this too he was now losing. (more…)

The Fur Of The Night

( I wrote this with this song by Bohren & The Club of Gore in mind. If interested, play music while reading for full experience and cool band. )

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The purple silk sheets bent slowly under her paw. Padded cushions marked the division between the purple of the sea and the darkness of the pillar that rose to the heavens; centered in the sinkhole that occupied the ocean of softness. The cushions in turn fused into luscious black fur that led up a long gracious leg.  A round feline shoulder rolled. Slowly it elevated, carving itself out of the slab of the back cresting like a wave at peak, flaunting for a brief moment the ultimate definition of self before coming back down to erase on the shore of body. As the wave descends from its crest, so too does the purple ocean perturb anew making a sound that is imperceptible, but that rings the senses, heightened by the shift of topography and flow of currents. A new pillar of fur passes the previous. Lifting to repeat the process of wave forming, cresting, and crashing into a new sinkhole in the waters; four of them locking in elegant dance. (more…)

The Importance of Changing Perspectives

Raise your hand in front of you, palm outwards, and look at it. Take a moment to take it in, and see its shape, see what it is. Now turn it over and look at your palm. Once you’ve taken that in, spin it around. Look at it from close, far, up or down; move your fingers around. What you have just done is exactly what you did when you were first born and were exploring the world. This is the first thing you did; your own hands and feet were the first subjects in your life of discovery. This is the innate wisdom of the child. We spin our hands around to get multiple takes on them because simply looking at your extended hand without seeing the palm or where the skin bends in the joints it is difficult to know what it is, and what it is for. Sure this might sound silly now, but that is because you know what hands are. When you were born you had no idea, and this is how you started the exploration of hands, most likely followed by experiments with smell and taste. (more…)

The Little Tree That Almost Could

I remember a quiet suburb surrounded by a nice forest and a relative natural silence, the kind that can’t be found there anymore. I still remember the kitchen that I would run around in, and remember playing on the driveway of that first home. Then, my family tree grew: sister was born, and we moved to a new house further from town.

Down the main road that brought us to the intersection with lights, cars, and people were a few shaded homes, rolling fields that would grow grass and flowers, or sometimes crops. I recall the forest along this road that stretched around the fields. One morning when my sister could toddle and I was getting rides to my early years of school, I noticed an abandoned barn that had the roof caved in.  I had seen it before, but now it was changing in appearance. I noticed a young sprouting tree, making the most of the rain-time and sunshine pouring in from the caved roof, planting its young roots in life just like me. (more…)