I read history and I find myself constantly bemused by the degrees of subjugation the non ruling populace can be accustomed to. It seems like everytime I come in contact with the government I’m paying them for some kind of permission slip. Money for permission to build a fire in my backyard, money for permission to drive my car every birthday, money for permission to start a business, money for permission to sell and money for permission to buy.
Okay - I get it, you charge me to maintain a safe societal structure that won’t harm me by threat of harm.
You take half of my income and also demand bribe money for permission slips and a signed promise you won’t throw me in a cage.
Since it feels like I have to pay you for everything anyway, then what exactly are you doing with half my income?
Is it just me or you smell something fishy too?
A government that threatens life for payment, kills for resources and drowns us and our future in debt is not fit to govern.
So yea, 100, 200 years in the future, if we get there, I wonder how bemusing our subjugation will be to some know-it-all douche reading a history book who likes to upload his rants to the Datumblrsphere.
See how precise these abstractions can be.
Like the moaning of koans, one finds in the sea,
that longs for the sun to transform it’s form
into a mighty tempest clutching the breeze.
Linking the Egyptian Nile to my backyard tree.
Life that mimicked nature
has now risen to mock, with stories of creation
Risen to rape, to consume
til’ there is just
naked ape left,
who will not be the first to discover
how his lost kin
confused clothes with skin
naked for sin.
He would cut out his left rib
protecting the chamber
where if we had one, the soul would reside.
For a chance to love again
and to reinvent sin
to instruct with the rod
in the name of a god.
And we will forget how we ever lived
with empty thrones
and star filled skies.
There is no place loftier,
than the surface of your skin, purgatory
in a place between
macro and micro
You aren’t normal.
Your heart beats
Just as ours
The rythm alien
and shy of sync
They say you were vaccinated against the world.
You are certainly different, hold still your eyes
Where are your tools to break ice? These waters are deep.
Believe it not, it’s safer under. You’ll freeze to death out here.
Yet, you only shiver in our presence.
I know that’s a riddle.
All of this will be.
So many things are not what they are.
The iris is your event horizon. The pupil, an abyss.
I am but a blur in the cascading light on the rim of awareness.
But I see you looking somewhere. I sense you hearing someone.
There is wonder in your eyes.
What are these beautiful symmetries
this language you comprehend?
Where is this cache
to where your consciousness descends?
You return with gifts.
Of numbers and sound.
Of shape and color.
You return with secrets
whispered by Gaia herself.
The delight you have, when we understand.
When you are sensed and appreciated.
When you take a chance
and meet our gaze
in between blinks
It’s sometimes easier
To pretend you don’t exist
Flowing chemicals and words
That perplex and overwhelm
But carry you away
Far from the shallows
Where many of us reside
Just below the ice
You are natures
Only her eyes
Can you peer into
tear at her seems.
And her whispers
Despite our screaming.
Her beauty, your art.
I know you’re lonely
But not as lonely as I thought
The greatest translator of all
no one cares to understand
You are the Poets without metaphor
We are participating in the first great global dialogue. We voice our issues, share our convictions, we commune and dispute, and some of us even ask questions - all on an unprecedented scale. Nature has connected us and ultimately she will reveal herself through our symbols aligning us not in an ideology, but empathy. We’re the first intellectual species to have what it takes to prosper without the need to devour others - nature conserves complexity - and like the stars, she will not give this up.