Saturday, June 25, 2016


One man's catacomb is another man's beneath the freeway sleeping place for the homeless guy.  Or maybe, it is a black dark place where the light rarely reaches you, and you avoid contact.  I might be there at the moment.  A good friend and comrade in work died, of a terrible disease. For a number of reasons I am feeling nostalgia for my mother, who has passed in 2012.  I miss her with every breath I take.  And I regret that in my depression I took issue with some people and it led to my having enemies.  I don't regret much in life, since life is a learning curve, and we don't come with a learning manual.  But being in the darkness, is not good.

Although the large depression I was in, from 2011 to 2015 is over, I do occasionally fall into the black holes of grief.  It isn't, as those who have no idea sometimes suggest, that I love my darkness.  It isn't, as others suggest, that I enjoy the attention for being depressed.  My mind, spirit, and body just get hit with extra hard unhappy motions, and it is an unpleasant place to be. 

This kanji says, I am told, I am my own demon.
So, since I've entered one, and I know it will be temporary, I thought I'd share with the few and proud readers here what I do when in a place like this, and what brings me to life.

I have two very amazing cats.  I love them dearly, and would not have made it through cancer treatments without them.  I am not suggesting my wife, son or friends and family weren't necessary, just that, after chemo, nothing comforted me like kisses with cat whiskers, purrs and cuddles.  My Katya especially made sure I was loved.  She is my darling.  My cat Sophie is a dear, but she is more about look at me I am pretty than she is about loving or giving affection.  Still, I love her.

I love art by many people, and some great works by Tim White from the UK grace the covers of some books I love to read, those about the Cthulhu Mythos.  I love these books, the design, the contents, the way they were compiled and how they look together.

And I read the absurdist and magnificent Albert Camus.  His works allowed me to escape my feeling of being without purpose.  I'd often fallen into fits of depression when I'd worked myself into exhaustion, for almost no reward, thinking, how can I go on?  And it would wound me, how I'd work myself trying to serve the deity I believe in, and have no reward or feeling of acceptance from those who are similar in belief.  And then I read Albert Camus, and he explained that the world itself is absurd, and that the way in which a moral, bright person fights the absurdity is to create meaning by their life and manner of living.  He was one who questioned the existence of God, but he was not an atheist.  He suggested that the reasonable mind does the best it can, and hopes.  And that is what I do.  I believe, I do my best, and I hope.

I have hope for you, and offer you these closing quotes about eternity.

Wednesday, June 22, 2016

Other minds

The search for intelligent life by humans
Is a joke, to begin with, for the folly
That we have ignored our companions
Upon this earth
For how we perceive them
By how we are limited and are able to imagine
Rather than how intelligent they are
We will gladly leave this planet
Abandon it
Thinking we've found another Eden
When instead they've been with us
As we have ignored the garden
The entire time
Unseeing eyes
Unimagining minds

The Bible 

“Consider the ravens: for they neither sow nor reap; which neither have storehouse nor barn; and God feedeth them: how much more are ye better than the fowls?

And which of you with taking thought can add to his stature one cubit? 

If ye then be not able to do that thing which is least, why take ye thought for the rest?

Consider the lilies how they grow: they toil not, they spin not; and yet I say unto you, that Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these.”

Friday, June 17, 2016

Repulse the Dragon Lords

There are before me now
Evil dragons to slay
They are wild with power
With ancient spells endowed
Every day becomes judgment day
And they come as a killer tide
In groups, and by individuals
It is nearly impossible to survive
As the serpent lords strike
But I will prevail
I will deny them
I am alive
I stand in their path
I deny their wrath
And drive them from this land
Because I am the last
The only
Who will do so

“The hunger of a dragon is slow to wake, but hard to sate.”― Ursula K. Le Guin

Le dragon crache du feu, - Ce qui éteint ses larmes. - Quand on vit de rancune, - On naît pour être vieux.”― Charles de Leusse

Thursday, June 16, 2016

The Quest

I lost a friend.  Edmund Quinby, of Tallahassee, Florida.  He was an artist, a friend and someone who I looked to for advice on occasion.  We were not identical in views but we shared an identical goal, that our work together was a quest, that we were on to achieve greater acceptance of our work, and to aid each other in our quest together.  We were allies, and wanted the best for each other.

Our quest was not unlike the quest knights of King Arthur.

An impossible task was before them, to restore the king, and restore the land.  They had been called by Arthur, Rex Eternus, to find the chalice that had caught the blood of Christ, when he'd been hung upon the cross.  The Holy Grail as it was called, could bring life back to lifeless, restore hope to the hopeless, and make vital the flesh that had been withered by aging or disease.

The legendary Grail was worth more gold than could ever be mined, or found, and was subject to numerous quests.  But only a rare few knights were worthy of finding it, and fewer yet were worthy of touching and grasping the holy vessel.

But what if the Holy Grail, the vessel capturing the blood of Christ, was the body of Christ?  Some writers suggest that the Grail was a metaphor for the Church, or something other than a chalice.  Some recent writers suggest it was a secret bloodline of the French kings. 

I do not give any credence to the metaphorical interpretations of the Grail, nor do I actually have any idea about a historically true Grail.  I suspect there could be souvenir hunters, relic seekers, because that is human nature.  But would there have been someone who collected the blood of Christ in receptacles and kept those unsullied for generations, with a line of known handling so that it could be provable?  I doubt the provenance aspect, but I don't doubt that there could have been something like a souvenir here or there.  But not one we could prove.

Tuesday, June 14, 2016

Sheep to the slaughter

We create the world in which we live.  Not the planet itself, the universe it hangs in, nor the stars, but the society and ideas for which we accept and translate by action.  Why then do we blame anyone but ourselves for the grievous injuries we suffer?  When madmen kill hundreds, who is to blame, but the world which allowed them to rise.  When one with a gun, or bombs, or terrorist ideals kills dozens or thousands of humans, why are we confused? 

Our world is not one of forgiveness, nor is it one of hope or of a healthy heart, it is one of acquisition and consumption.  Our world is one of hatred of others, and fear.  We do not exist to create a better world, we exist to enjoy ourselves, and only after being satisfied do we consider the cost of what we have done.

I do not believe that the killing in Orlando was done by a single person.  It was done by a mindset that could only be understood as hatred enabled by a free society.  In a society that is free, such as the United States, the society depends upon citizens utilizing their rights and freedoms and using them positively.  But when disturbed people have an agenda to kill others, they find the United States a vast supply depot for their war.  Easy to acquire tools of assault, low levels of public control by the state, and the presumption of innocence by the state as according to our rights, an unknown assailant finds the United States to be the easiest of places to operate.

So, with the government wanting to steal back the rights of the honorable and innocent, alongside of the guilty, what can be done?   Can anything be done?  Only when the honorable and innocent realize that their rights are less important than lives being slaughtered will things change.

wir sind wie Schafe zur Schlacht
wir sind wie Schafe zur Schlacht
wir sind wie Schafe zur Schlacht  

Monday, June 13, 2016

Say it, just say it.

I am amazed how many people demanded that Donald Trump be silenced.  In the United States we have freedom of speech.  We do not have limited freedom. 

“If freedom of speech is taken away, then dumb and silent we may be led, like sheep to the slaughter." George Washington

“The ruling power is always faced with the question, ‘In such and such circumstances, what would you do?’, whereas the opposition is not obliged to take responsibility or make any real decisions.” George Orwell

“The relative freedom which we enjoy depends of public opinion. The law is no protection. Governments make laws, but whether they are carried out, and how the police behave, depends on the general temper in the country. If large numbers of people are interested in freedom of speech, there will be freedom of speech, even if the law forbids it; if public opinion is sluggish, inconvenient minorities will be persecuted, even if laws exist to protect them." George Orwell

“No idea is above scrutiny and no people are beneath dignity.”  Maajid Nawaz

"America is a model of force and freedom and moderation -- with all the coarseness and rudeness of its people."  Lord Byron

Sunday, June 12, 2016

We are the dead

As we slaughter the unique life forms that we hunger for, destroy the ecosystems we live within, and waste the areas we have no use for, we are setting the stage for our final exit.  We are going to go extinct.  In fact, in many ways we are already the dead.

“Humanity is not without answers or solutions regarding how to liberate itself from scenarios that invariably end with mass exterminations. Tools such as compassion, trust, empathy, love, and ethical discernment are already in our possession. The next sensible step would be to use them."

Splendid Literarium: A Treasury of Stories, Aphorisms, Poems, and Essays

“A shell in the pit," said I, "if the worst comes to worst will kill them all."

The intense excitement of the events had no doubt left my perceptive powers in a state of erethism. I remember that dinner table with extraordinary vividness even now. My dear wife's sweet anxious face peering at me from under the pink lampshade, the white cloth with it silver and glass table furniture—for in those days even philosophical writers had luxuries—the crimson-purple wine in my glass, are photographically distinct. At the end of it I sat, tempering nuts with a cigarette, regretting Ogilvy's rashness, and denouncing the shortsighted timidity of the Martians.

So some respectable dodo in the Mauritius might have lorded it in his nest, and discussed the arrival of that shipful of pitiless sailors in want of animal food. "We will peck them to death tomorrow, my dear.”

H.G. Wells, The War of the Worlds

Saturday, June 11, 2016

One against the Spawn from Hell

Awakened, angry
Hungry, vile
The spawn reached
Through the veil
Of the darkness
One after another
Warriors fell
The hungry demon
Ate his fill
Souls sucked in
Spat out cold
To be hounded in hell
The demon's reign
Fear and violence
His tolling bell
Only one stood alone
Made a stand
His heart prepared
To die
No need to atone
His vigilant heart
Fierce and noble
Frightened the demon
Back to his abode
Somewhere deep
In the bowels of hell

Wednesday, June 1, 2016

Why they revolt

After crop failures and starvation
The taxes steal the last remnants of food
Leaving children to starve and no solution
Filled with ire towards the king and his men
The hungry and poor take their farming tools
And turn them to weapons to be used in revolution
There is no better answer, nature failed this season
And the king could not forgive all the taxes
Or he'd be seen as a fool
But the revolution has its reasons
And if it succeeds or fails
The results could be ever lasting
For throwing off one master
For another
Means nothing
But here
They have no plan
Only to kill
And to be free
Of a master's hand

(with Käthe Kollwitz art now in public domain)

Changing times.

I am in a world that has transformed from a world of old values and ideals to one of actions alone.  Words mean nothing.  It is obvious due to the meaningless apologies sent whenever someone is offended.  If apologies meant anything they'd be given with meaning, rather than of the sort "I am sorry if you were offended".

As a poet my effort to address the world involves words.  Soon I'll have to set myself on fire to draw attention to myself to make my words have value.

Stay tuned.
Life is good, it is just sometimes a matter of figuring.