Friday, November 6, 2009

First Series: IN FLUX

IN FLUX is a contemporary experience in literature of a sort.


Welcome ... This is a Blog:
                                             My First Virtually Published literature wherein I have the distinct pleasure of sharing a lil' of mah self with ya...

My works are both divers and sometimes even awkwardly genre'd. I have a strong use and preference for idiomatic structure...

...And yes, I use ellipses as if it were one of the only punctuation marks acknowledged by the English language. My reason...



...Simply the fact that life, wine and literature should all flow as smoothly...as an ellipse...allowing nothing more than the impact of the following experience to punctuate, discipline and even tame what would have been otherwise an other than wise, unruly mane.

        From time to time you may come across things in which you don't understand...


GOOD

... I'm not always trying to speak to your ration-al, but to your heart, for lack of a better word...

        Yup...Your Heart...You know...that place where those

Feelings of rage swell,

        Love rests,
                Envy bubbles,
                                   And lust
                                                Cultivates.

        You know that place all-too-well...The Back of your neck, the pit of your belly, the corner of your eye where those tears of remorse, woe, pleasure, ecstasy, laughter, love insperation, anticipation, jealousy and downright loathing repose themselves.

Enjoy!

Saturday, December 4, 1993

What Is Truth

SUPPOSING that Truth is a woman—what then? Is there not ground for suspecting that all philosophers, in so far as they have been dogmatists, have failed to understand women—that the terrible seriousness and clumsy importunity with which they have usually paid their addresses to Truth, have been unskilled and unseemly methods for winning a woman? -- Sils Maria Upper Engadine, JUNE, 1885.
Nietzsche’s percpectivism posits a similar assertion that I am about to make.  Logical truths are founded on the concept of absolute truths, those truths which are universal.  Are the statements I am about to make a set of truth-claims or simply claims?  Does Nietzsche’s posit of truth stand firm if we hold percpectivism (Nietzsche & Hollingdale, 2003) as the subjective consumption and synthesizing of information, which during a transitive phase, becomes neutral?  For instance, my truth is my truth at the time of writing these words, however, perhaps, upon the commitment of these words to paper, the words become neutral and devoid of a truth value (Evans 1982: 227). At this point, the reader can choose to agree or disagree with these claims, devoid of assigning a boolean value to it. My paper can neither be true nor false, because truth does not exist, nor does false exist.  Does the absence of truth default to fallacy?  Does the intention of truth hold sway over the received truth, or does the received truth trump that of intention?  An anecdote: there once was an individual who claimed that Nietzsche had a somewhat narcissistic perception of man and self.  At this point, said person was redressed for his “cavalier” and “judgmental” reproach of Nietzsche.  Further it was explained to the former by the latter that his statement was ad hominem – an attack on the author directly as opposed to the intellect or content of said author.  If the former’s intention was not one of attack but an intended compliment to Nietzsche, was the author ever attacked?  Who should judge whether the author was attacked, the former individual or the latter (Kant & Gregor, 1998)
In our culture and rhetoric, “Truth” is a fallacy because it presupposes that there is something opposite to it when in fact there is no false or “Untruth” within the realm of our existence.  There is simply a truth which is wrapped by other truths until we render it false.  I say the word WE, not by error or by whimsical assertions of poetic measure, but quite on purpose.  I will speak of the measures of truth as they pertain to our culture because my knowledge and experience regarding other cultures are both limited, at best.  Throughout all of my readings, scientific, philosophical and otherwise, the determination has been made that “way leads on to way” and that we do not arrive at a thing spontaneously – neither individually, nor as a group.  With so much said, we must begin from a place to go to a place, further we are all assumed to have a common origin, birth.  We all have an intuitive predisposition to survive (Wilson 1975).  This may be genetic; however there may be an overarching universal law that governs survivalAlbeit, there are exceptions such as suicidal individuals and warriors that sacrifice their lives for the life of others; I would fancy both of these tendencies to be derivatives of the social contract, wherein the suicidal is opting out of the social contract by means of premature termination and the warrior upholds the social contract—sacrificing oneself for the continuity of members of the social contract, thereby supporting the survival of the contract.  Both of these cases are beyond the scope of this essay and so I will not continue to digress any further.  Before I branch away from my initial statements any further, let us circle back to the last point and align that with the aforementioned. 
To survive – means to persist.  Everything which we collectively, and or, individually accept as an existing thing, strives to survive.  This survival goes beyond the base survival of the thing itself, but of its kind.  To put this into context, let us explore a human being.  A person first strives to survive with immediacy, seeking the Maslowian elements of base survival, such as: food, shelter, sex, sleep, breathing, and so on (Maslow 1943).  The search to consume these elements of physiological survival is the first priority of survival.  The anxieties of termination, death in the human, not only catalyze this search and development of survival products, but spur the innovation of ways to cheat death.  Cheating death comes in many forms, most of which have to do with the creation of a thing that will persist beyond the lifetime of the individual.   Here I do not speak of the basic survival tactics found in every living thing such as natural reproduction – participation in the conception and birthing of another entity of the same species (procreation).  We all originate in this fashion, we will always return to this base.  The ancillary creation of the persistence set that will persist beyond the natural life of the human being can be the creation of wealth, knowledge, ideas, physical structures, art in audio or digital form, or anything else that one may produce which will be consumed by others, after the individual’s physical death.  Natural reproduction, birth, is the most basic form of transcendence beyond one’s lifetime in that it promotes generational survival (Watson, 2006)
If the aforementioned survival technique is basic to the existence of man, then what is to follow?  For something to be given, the thing must be received.  Logically, the recipient of a thing may be the same giver of a thing.  The contrary is true – the giver of a thing may well be one and the same as the recipient of a thing, however where survival of an entity beyond its lifetime is the goal, it is impossible for one to give to oneself any element of self in order to forestall the termination of one’s existence.  And so in human beings this “cheat of death” technique, the search for immortality must be a group exercise.  A group in this case may be more, but not equal to or less than one – two individuals can be considered a group.  What does any of this have to do with “truth”?  All of the aforementioned are indicative to the measures we employ to do a thing:  the building and negotiation of social contracts, and finally the performance of said contract.  There is a quote that I have yet to disprove on any level – “how we do anything is how we do everything”.  Perhaps the exploration of the correlation of the Fibonacci sequence and the Mandelbrot Set as it correlates with the formation of natural structures would elucidate the premise of this quote, however, qualitatively speaking; I have never experienced the contrary.  Social contracts are at the heart of individual survival, let alone the survival and persistence of a group.  Which brings us back to our original point, truth is true in and of itself, “untruth” is the collective wrapping of other truths around a truth until it renders said truth false.  I used the word “we” quite deliberately, and in the same fashion I use the word “render”.  The definition of render is: …creating, shading and texturing of an image.  In this discussion, the image is the truth.  Truth, much like the word underprivileged, by dint of its definition, is a fallacy in and of itself.  Underprivileged infers the existence of an overprivileged, yet the word overprivileged does not exist in the English language (The Pathology of White Priviledge, 2008).  When something is rendered false, it is thought to be false in its entirety; if this statement is untrue then something false must be in part true.  If something is true and that same something is false then should it be considered true or false?  If we contextualize a thing and say that this thing is true at this time but false at this time, then we must include the time vector in the assertion.  If the total composition of the assertion is true, that assertion remains true, regardless of its false cousin, because it is not the same thing, but a derivative or modification of the first true thing.  The first true thing remains true and the false thing is an inversion of a truth.  We can then reduce the inversion – the fallacy, and have an equivalent truth.  If the reduction of a fallacious thing results in a truth, it follows that the fallacy was derived from the truth.  This brings us full circle to the assertion that truth is a fallacy, because there is no such thing as false only true comprised of other truths that render the first truth false.  If truth is a fallacy, and there is no such thing as a fallacy, then truth may not exist either. 
Truth is a descriptor which is subjective in measure and objective by agreement.  We apply this descriptor after the consumption of a thing and the rendering of a thing.  We derive categorical attributes of the thing; assign ancillary descriptors of the thing, and then further assign a value to the descriptor of the categorized thing consumed which we agreed on to build an objective base, which we first had to perceive subjectively to arrive at an initial descriptor (Hughes, 2010).  Yes, this was a run on sentence, and yes, it dilutes the point, and that is in itself the point.  Once a thing is diluted it is no longer the thing.  From a chemical science point of view, H2O is the descriptor for water (both well-established social contracts).  If an additional part of hydrogen or water is added to this construct, it can no longer be called water.  This is exemplary of the homeostatic contract.  We agree that a thing is a thing and once changed becomes another thing.  If this is agreed, then the truth is the truth until it is changed.  It cannot be changed by taking something away, or it will become different from the first truth.  This makes the derivative false, but the derivative remains true unto itself.
These assertions may lead one say, I agree, there is no such thing as false, and truth becomes truth unto itself, so how could there be no truth?  One may further use counterpoint, leveraging my statement of “no fallacy” to say that to render the truth false is not possible, because applying further truths, to the truth would either change the first truth or further modify the first truth to render it more true (if the aggregation of truth is accepted as being an augmentation of the first truth and not a separation from said truth).  These counterpoints would in fact render my argument ineffective if not for one simple fact – a thing is only a thing if that thing could ever be something else.  The opposite of love is not hate but indifference.  What under this construct would be the opposite of truth, ambiguity?  If so, can we say that it is true that this thing is ambiguous?  How can a thing be ambiguous and true at the same time, would they not cancel themselves out?  The semiotics regarding a thing and the thing are not the same thing.  A rose by any other name would still be just as sweet – and thorny.  What we define as the truth in our western culture is perhaps the closest thing to “The Way” found in the Tao Te Ching (as I interpreted it, subjectively) (Tzu, 1995).  Laoists believe in a natural order of things, or natural form, Confucianism would push for “the Way”, which is his own system and could be thought of as his way. Laoists unfortunately have interpreted “the way” to be our way (Tao, 2010).  My interpretation of the way, is that there is no way, no tangible way -- but the thing is what it is unto itself as it presents itself, to whom it presents itself, and is a collection of all of these perceived and unperceived aspects.  The sum of all of this is the way of the thing, only that way is active and not passive and by the time the way is perceived it is already not the way, in that the thing is transient – and is continuously on its way to being the way in another form.  Further, time is in itself both a human and relative construct.  Assigning an attribute to a thing is a subjective and oppressive measure that modifies the thing.  The modification of the thing becomes the symbol of the thing we discuss, and not the thing itself. 
The truth is the nothing which resides equidistant of every conceivable inquiry into it.  Our interpretation of the truth then becomes an approximation of the sum of all results of our inquiries.  The accuracy of our truth then becomes subject to the qualified number of dimensions of our inquiry – the aspect of the truth we inquire upon.  Lastly, the vector of currency of the reporting must be taken into consideration.  All of this – and still only an approximation of nothing – and if it something, it would be an incomplete artifact – can an incomplete artifact then be true?  Is causation a matter of fact or a matter of inference?  Is there order in the universe or a unified ignorance of the disorder of our everyday habitat?  What is the truth?  The truth is a fallacy because it is wholly subjective, and because there is no thing as false the truth cannot exist. 
Let us take a look into the relativistic and subjective nature of man.  Our archaic measuring system is bound to the relative as if there is no other form of measure.  Perhaps we may become a grander species once we have innovated or adopted such a form of measure, free of relativism.  Many philosophers and scientists have inferred that to explore the new in freedom, one must first delve into the mouth of madness.  Madness, in that they must free themselves from the social contracts that bind every man.  He must elevate, remediate, and eliminate every governing notion of what is known – he must question everything.  The philosophical question then becomes how a person can elevate, remediate or eliminate these notions if the only tools at the actor’s disposal are these notions.  The eastern philosophy answer is to “remove a wedge with a wedge”.  In this light, we may fashion the   tools at our disposal – the learned elements, to unlearn what has been accepted in the social contract and explore a personal madness for the sake of returning to reality – the social contract with the bounties of free thought.  Perhaps we can go to the Tao Te Ching for a third way – perhaps we can look at the truth cycle discussed in this paper – perhaps we can question everything by questioning nothing.  To be more specific, we can question every social notion by questioning nothing of the natural order of anything (actively excluding the social contract).
Earlier I mentioned inversion of truth and fallacy – what happens when we begin to invert notions?  Weird things happen, like the discovery of heliocentricity, God Forbid (or so said the Catholic church).  When we exert inversion against the concepts that we hold dear, we open the opportunity to use the reality that we have all accepted as our collective and everyday habitat as a springboard into the realm of possibility.  The inquiry into plausibility will naturally follow; however, from rote, our natural inclination and predisposition to pursue homeostasis will cause us to digress and to quickly revoke the rights acquired by freedom of thought in exchange for the security of the known.  How do we then take our experience out of the “cave”?  We must force ourselves into the question of plausibility of an inverted notion.  I do not suggest that we propel ourselves recklessly into this state, but rather leave bread crumbs in our wake so that we may return to the collective contract of our reality, more knowledgeable and open minded.  We must follow and record the path from our sanity to our personal madness so that we may find our way back to sanity with the booty of madness in hand.  Once we have crossed the threshold of possibility, we must then challenge what is plausible – redefine the notion of statistical evidence and suspend its hold on us.  There is an eastern philosophy that says (and I paraphrase), just because you’ve dropped something and it has fallen to the floor a hundred times, does not mean that we should take for granted that on the hundred and first time it will occur in the same manner and not fly into the sky.  A tool that can be employed here is inversion of statistical evidence.  There are several ways to analyze the evidence of statistics and to infer upon it the result of an action.  One way – the traditional way, is that if the sun has risen every morning for over one thousand years, it will continue to do so.  It is then a plausible and valid inference to believe that the sun will rise on Tuesday, as it did on Monday.  This arrogance is tantamount to the ignorance encapsulated in beliefs such as yelling at the sky during an eclipse will scare the wolf god away, that he will not eat the sun because we have frightened him and that the sun will appear again.  How arrogant is it of us to assume that we have such an intimate knowledge of the universe, that we can presuppose anything upon it, let alone the “rising” of the sun.  Does not our archaic and semiotic vernacular indicate the immaturity of our notions?  Perhaps the sun has “risen” over 200,000,000,000,000 times since man’s inception and the odds of the sun NOT rising is 200,000,000,000,000 to 1 then does it not follow that if Monday was in deed that magical tick of the clock, that we are now overdue (statistically speaking) for the sun NOT to rise?  Again, the barometer of our relativistic measurement subject man to the aggregate social contracts he holds dear concerning truth. 
Let us investigate the madness of subjectivity and its correlation to truth.  I see a color, I call it red, you see a color, you call it red, we agree that the color we see is red, however, I will never know that my red really looks blue to you or otherwise, we just know that we agree that whenever we both see this color that we will call it red.  What experience is not subjective?  Do you know for a “fact” that you were ever born?  Perhaps the whole life that you have you experienced is a scenario, a notion or idea played out in the mind of God, as he decides whether to bring you into reality.  Perhaps there is no God, and you are the first of your kind and the whole lot of us, including the self you project is your personal pondering on what the structure of reality should be.  Perhaps still, your notion to survive is driven by Freud’s definition of the id which is fully aware of God’s conjecture and so it drives you to prove that you are useful and worthy of birth – that you are good, or wise, or intelligent and worthy.
What if you were born but only had three hours of life.  You lay unconscious in the hospital, you are not reading this writing, but have conjured it up.  Likewise, you have conjured up all that you have perceived to exist.  In your dwindling state, you have never seen the light of day, if in fact such a thing exists, and your infantile mind has simply grabbed the bits and pieces of whatever sensory functions are available to you and have constructed the notion of the life of which you live?  You are trying to make sense of the anxiety of your impending death, and so attempt to justify it and rectify it in any manner you can.  If you were truly born, you would have knowledge that you would never die.  You would see how silly your concept of war is – why would there ever be any such thing?  You would do something comparable to laughing if you had the opportunity to consider the way that you have imagined people to look, or the notion that there is such a thing as animal or love or hate.  Because time is relative to the expected lifetime of the agent, it follows that the experience of 43 years would be divided by the three years of life of which you actually existed in your semi-slumbering state.  The notion of subjectivity remains a social contract still in that when we all thought the world was flat, the notion to follow, you fall off of the earth if you travel to far out was an easy correlation to come by.  In our contemporary and relatively enlightened state, we take for granted all of the discrete corollaries that both individuals and the social construct would effect as rote, without question.  When we were the center of the universe, what did this mean to an individual?  What did it mean to society?  What if it were a fact that we think that we are born with eyes facing forward, as opposed to eyes facing inward?  What would that mean?  What if it is a “fact” that what we have perceived as looking out into the world is us actually peering into our very own body?  What if the notion of biology is in fact astronomy, a microscope allows us to peer into the workings of the universe?  What if the galaxies that you perceive are really your very own synaptic pathways, that the trees that you see are the nerve endings of your very own nervous system?  What if I am not a man, but a cell or some other entity in your system?  If this social contract were to be adopted, would war exist?  Would we fight for power over one another, or would a natural synergistic order go into play?  Would not our selfishness and notion to preserve oneself force us to protect each other for the sake of our own preservation?  Is it really so implausible?  Once we discount the notion of why would that be true, and replace it with how can that be true, the notion begins to crystalize itself. 
There is no such thing as truth as it is subjective.  Truth is a fallacy and there is no such thing as fallacy, simply other truths wrapped around a single truth until we render it false. 





Bibliography



A.H. Maslow, A Theory of Human Motivation, Psychological Review 50(4) (1943):370-96.
The Pathology of White Priviledge (2008). [Motion Picture].
Evans, G. (1982), The Varieties of Reference. Oxford: Oxford University Press.
Hughes, F. (2010). Kant's Critique of Aesthetic Judgment: A Reader's Guide. New York: Continuum International Publishing Group.
Kant, I., & Gregor, M. J. (1998). Groundwork of the Metaphysics of Morals. New York: Cambridge University Press.
Lagattuta, K. H., & Wellman, H. M. (2001). Thinking about the Past: Early Knowledge about Links between Prior Experience, Thinking, and Emotion. Child Development, 82-102.
merriam-webster.com. (n.d.). Retrieved April 26, 2012, from Merriam Webster - Dictionary Online: http://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/perception
Nietzsche, F. W., & Hollingdale, R. J. (2003). Beyond Good and Evil. Penguin Classics.
Tao, L. (2010). RETURNING TO 'ZISI':THE CONFUCIAN THEORY OF THE LINEAGE OF THE WAY. Journal of Chinese Philosophy, 85-100.
Tzu, L. (1995). The Tao Te Ching of Lao Tzu. New York: St. Martin's Press.
Watson, A. (2006). Self-Deception and Survival: Mental COping Strategies on the Western Front, 1914-1918. Journal of Contemporary History, 247-268.
 Wilson, Peter J. (Mar., 1975).  The Promising Primate. New Series, Vol. 10, No. 1, pp. 5-20: Royal Anthropological Institute of Great Britain and Ireland





Tuesday, March 15, 1977

FOUR LETTERS

Love: A temporary Insanity cured by marriage.

--Ambrose Bierce



Love, a four lettered word that drives out another four lettered word when that four letter word lead to a finalizing four letter word – LOCK, as in wed-lock.

Now the driven out four letter word, I’ll leave to your imagination.

Imagination is the part that can become detached from the driven out four letter word,
when “love”,
our fiery four letter word
gets stabilized and secured and
so-dulled by that finalizing four letter word.

If love is insanity
then our driven out four letter word,
or rather the feverish passionate act of that word
is a mad man’s cadence.

That finalizing four letter word is the breath thereafter.

Not that intoxicating
barely breathing breath

that stoge in the mouth
reach for the lighter
eyes glazed over
click click kshhh -- cigarette lit
inhale slow

– imagination of the moment’s sweaty predecessor – breath.

But the one with bills and kids and yeah – we’re married.

Take a breath.

Love


mODEz

The old blind bastard's trying to sing to you, listen as the Isley Brother’s say, to the music. You must learn to do that before you can expect to understand. Slowly, slowly, a few licks at a time.
--John Edger Wideman


Reality is a blinding blaze of incandescent light – bright and efficient. She’s a butch type dike of a bitch. She gnaws perception and feeds you bit by bit of her truth, past satiation and pleasure, past the it is until you complete her circle of charity on the throne, the porcelain one, with a moan and a grunt. Reality is your best friend, though that two timing broad has ran away with your wife.
--Ron-el Greaves

Hmmmmm


Why ask questions I ain't gonna answer....
Why waste time on the preponderance of reality...
The diaspora of your vision defined scarce and few,
The spectrum of my eyes see way beyond you...
Look into my soul and have it swallow you whole,
Gorging its famine on your ignorant soul,
Try as you might, my dept shall surpass,
Beyond my present life's cycle for your spawns to amass,
Not a threat, though you may take it as such,
Not a promise, though it means just as much,
Simply a prescription,
Of benediction, encryptioned by me...
Peek into my heart's core...and tell me what you see...

Am I?

There was once a time when questions were easier to come by than answers, but I have learned now, that I already know the answers to questions which have yet to be disclosed.  I have seen the solutions within the mouths of disparaging complications.  I have watched these solutions suckle on the tit of dilemma and fervently coo on with gurgles of wisdom, but all to befall deaf ears.  I mistook it for clamor though my innards listened close.

                The problem we all seem to agree on in race relations is the deficit of physical sameness.  I preclude that it is much more than that and ambiguously indifferent to scalar quantification.  It is an irony of such magnitude that it blooms implosively, folding in on itself finding never-ending detail to its detail.  It is OK.  For I’ve heard words yet to be spoken and have seen the pain in the eyes of those who’ve sought to humble me, but my humility lacks not.  Please understand that what you choose to halt is in essence awaiting such attempts, attempts which breathe fiery life into the pools of kerosene blood that we have collectively harnessed.  You sought to destroy, but did not know – you sought to know, but did not understand.  And and but when you sought to understand, all accrued knowledge was destroyed by non-acceptance of the simpler facts and the disbelief of things which needed not be questioned.

                You were merciless, be proud.  You were a force to be reckoned with, accept that valor.  You were the czars of conquest, the monarchs of mayhem, the liege of lies and bloodlust, I commend you.  Please, revel in that glory, I entreat you to that.  I thank you, and stand erect, with your brand on my chest.  I accept that I am as your child.  You made me.  You made a man who’s bones have grown dense to withstand the gravity of the plights you have made my everyday habitat.  You have rounded my shoulders in muscular in muscular mass to support the burdens you’ve heaped upon them.  You have sharpened my eyes so that I may see through the guise of mortals and unveil the cloak of demigods.  I thank you for these things.  I understand and respect and accept and perhaps modestly exemplify all that you were, but pay heed to who I AM. 

I am not me, I am we.  I am the consciousness that cannot be compromised.  I am the word which needs not be spoken.  Iam where you do not look.  I have risen.  It is my time now, as your dusk is upon you.  You thought that I would subtly rear my head, giving time for resistance.  No.  I am.

You need not fear me, for I do not bring death.  I bring life to the lifeless.  I have suffered deprivation of the unalienable, still I am.  I have understood degradation and fastened my feet inot the soil so that I may not buckle.  In the stage of my life, of first conception, you denied me, you said that I did not exist.  Throughout my embryonic development within your womb, you poisoned me by gorging yourself on the perversions of irony: giving God to the godly, giving wisdom to the wise, chastening the chaste and freeing the free.  You took the liberty of redefining language at whim:  protection, discovery, the law, the holy; and I turned in the belly of the earth waiting to be birthed.  And when the time, by natures choice, arose for me to swallow my first taste of air, you would not release me from the womb.  You held me there hoping that I would be unborn; that the defiled uterus of your malice would contract about my throat and that I would stifle on the indignations coiled around me.  An attempt, but still I am.  With macabre resolveI tore through the recess of my maternal prison, and of time and of continents and of islands and seas and fields, haciendas, yoke and suffering.  My initial travail was an onerous one, but never the less, I am.

                On my outset into the world, I was misled and exploited.  You took my trust and mangled it, you took my gratuitous insight and called it ignorant, only to peddle it at a later date for profit.  You bled me and allotted me only the barest portion of this gore to dampen my parched lips.  Still, for this minute amount, I showed gratitude.  You see I am no longer that child, but a man I am.  Reaching throughout the expanse of space and time, touching those far and near.  My mind rages with all the fury of an encaged bore, craving, lusting knowledge that was once beyond my grasp.  You would not allow me to come into manhood, still, I am.  As I entered adolescence you said with a smile and kind gesture, “No, here my friend you may not be”, and I replied, “But, I am”.

                Then as for insult to injury, you said, “No, my friend, these things are not for you to understand,” and I replied, “Relinquishing my ignorance, I am”

                Because of such audacity, such tenacity, you smiled and said, “My son, you are ready to be a man, I accept you as I am, and love you equal to the kin of my loins, : and I lavished the adoration and sat with you, and feasted with you and laughted with you, and slept, full of food and mirth, as you slept awake, creeping over my slumbering form, an ax in hand above your head – you struck, with all of the desperation of a fish on a fisherman’s hook, beating about, choking on the dryness of the air, at my sleeping form, hacking it to bits, sullying your home with the carnage of my corpse.  You did not like me, you did not love, you did not want me, you did not accept me, and I did not sleep.  Please look again at the slain, it was not me.  Please examine close to see blood of your blood, instead of mine, upon your sleeve and face.  I am here, I am awake, I am alive, I am aware, with sarcasm I say, “My friend, I am.”

For this guile and wit you hated me, but for the lessons our shared history has taught us, I adore you.  I credit you and chortle at you.   Once again, the men deemed prtectors, protect the fragile weavings of a society built on the foundation of contempt, synchronously, making efforts to strip me of my manhood, all failed.  I am.  Displeased I am – abhorred I am, all of this ingrained in my heart, but standing fast I am.

Have you yet understood who I am?

                I am the inertia of the universe, turning about itself, within itself, on the axis of itself.  I am the essence of what is feared and cherished, I am the moment between life and death, I am what cannot be stopped.

For each time I am disassembled, there will be ten to replace me, equally fortified and palatial.

I am a tower, erected in the midst of desolation, my base deeply fixed in to the soil – my mobility at angst with my endeavor to remain perpendicular to the despair about me.

I will not stand forever, my form will be deconstructed.  I will not fall, but my shattered pieces will descend onto the ground to lay dormant, however, impromptu to the blackening of the sky, a darkness caused by the ashes of my smoldering figure.  A tower whose peak once punctured the sun – glistening as the sun’s dew seeped through this accidental orifice, dribbling down my lateral.  I will appear beaten and broken, into many pieces which have all descended onto the ground to lay dormant, however, impromptu, to the rain that falls from this blackened sky.

Each piece of I will soak up the airs’ moisture, the dampness of the clay it lay on, the clay it came from.  At that moment, not subtly, giving time for resistance, those pieces shall explode into the sky standing to replace me, equally fortified and palatial.  You, my friend, will be forced to tread between the mountains and caverns that these new factions have formed.

But it is not important that you understand or respect or accept or even modestly exemplify these facts, it is for you to know simply – that I am.

War is God


War is God or rather God is war. War of the soul's damnation vs. the pleasure of the flesh. War of the mind's righteous, do it right, it'll work, just…like…that vs. impulse and spontaneity. War is God or rather God is war. Man vs. Man vs. Woman vs. future bearings.


War is God -- what love won't chase let hate pursue. From the fake-working but raking in six figures to the back-breaking, hourly pay, you can count on six fingers -- to the trigger of the barrel of a gun to the woman jumping from hung to who's more hung to the next CEO rising from the slums to the last CEO who is today's plain old bum.

War is God, no, God is WAR -- children feasting on the bones of children in their hood, no meat left on their carcass -- abuse, malnutrition and a twisted system took their share first. God is where silence dwells; where knees meet concrete and no final remittance of a guilty life is waged. War, the purgatory of closing eyes, blind to decency.

War is God, NO God is WAR.