Atoms of Facts

Fiction and Truth form a nucleus
of any fact for discussion
and our ideas and debate
our opinions and feelings
forming clouds around
repelling but also connecting
to other clouds around
other nuclii of fiction and truth, forsooth
till building, we build a body
a philosophy, or societal opinion
The spirit of a nation!!
That can cut like the subtle knife
it is made from,
or may eat with chemistry,
Or perhaps to hold
as something cherished
by someone sweating
over a project of work.
For our souls are no less real
than the ephemeral bodies
they give intuition to.
No less real than the stardust
we coordinate...
built upon first principles
which themselves are combinations
of myth and truth,
which when examined are mostly empty
space within our heads
that repels assimilation.
And so pushing against...
we learn of Facts' existence
Like the definition of a word,
we learn of its meaning

from the outside

and somewhere, somewhen, someone
spun the fact with fiction and truth
till this day, they spin yarns yet
for us to tell tales of sunny days,
and keep warm by, on rainier ones.
And in that yarn shop
sheep are sheared for wool
and in a corner the wool is gathered, combed, and dyed
to give it charm, and is spun to make a thread.
And it is given to a weaver
and the weaver makes cloth
and tailors take that to bring
to the world- shelter and protection
from destruction of harsh elements,
perhaps to even look good
when cleaning out a horse stall
with sweat and muscle
or courting your girl
with humorous tales
that happened
"just the other day, I saw the wildest thing."
-VV

Mindseye Spying

A bird peeks from space
to gleam a pace of peace
and in its eye bespeaks
of galaxies in its wing
What yonder sight have ye visited
oh turbulent bird of heaven's grace
What scavengers of pride and joy
have you witnessed pandimensionally
in manifold travelling and sojourney

My soul speaks another joy,
one of the center.
My eyes spy another pride,
everything is nothing.

Will this ever feed anyone
oh great bird of distant shore
beyond myself?
Will I ever soar
beyond the center of nothing?

This great age of deluge
threatens with flood by endless raindrops
now falling since September.
There looks to be no end to the bits dropping
from heavens beginning onto whole worlds end
seemingly to push one way at first and then another.
There is little guidance to it, it would seem.

After Common Era, what ark will mate in harbors port?
One of quality to survive those stormy seas most likely.
And what glorious value will disembark:
when Gold doesn't buy passage,
when Guns can't secure seats,
when God won't supply fare.
A riddle is it not?!
And yet Noah erects it yet, even Now!

Sitting Momentarily Outside My Complex

I have a cool apartment I'm thankful for.
The running water, the refrigerator
the stove, the dry bed.  It all seems mundane,
But in the simplicity of it
I can work and play at living
though sometimes I fail at both,
and sometimes quite horribly.
But through it all, the sun sometimes rises
to shine on peace, Making it all worth it to me,
a little peace I can sit with and think
"Man, is that just beautiful or what.
Thank God I'm alive and there are people to share it with."

In a Problem Free Life

A horse, my kingdom for a horse
Pretty small thing, considering
they sometimes make dogfood
and many poor men may have one.
And yet, in such organized times
and highly controlled environs
as we have in modern lives
such a small thing, as...(anything)
CAN MESS YOU UP
like your baby pooping in a diaper,
And inside a little part of you dies.
A little part of life is unrealized.
But that is life!  The mess, the slop.
The uneducated edges of mindless drops.
So like a boarder, we must carve
what we'd like. from nothing.
In time we might end with something right.
And what with these silicon machines
dictating our lactating stations
as well as every other function of lives,
the memo was lost in the trees leaves
and the other half of society
stares bug-eyed at our problem
wondering how-in-the-world horseshit
caused all this.
When, these blasted computers were supposed
to solve it.

Brawn, Brains, and Beauty

The meaning of Life, the Universe, and Everything
used to be like oil and its inky reserve
Dug for with laser focus
to box up in barrels for portable digestion
The great resevoirs of Earth Power
vacuumed, cracked, and sacked
for motivational speeches
by chemical robots preaching freedom.
In their growling voices they dictate our options
putting prices on our freedom
putting a price on their company
In any case as worlds are changed
for the worse from exhalation of C02
each time they start growling down byways
in every boring place and remembered days.
The chemical motornation produces climate change.

And new meaning rises like clockwork
upon silicon robots that direct all singing
and play and pretty much everything
replacing most all chemical machines
as engines of silicon drink electrons
putting too a price on their company
as our freedom in honest mistakes shrinks
where suddenly for the sake of COOrdination
how and what we're supposed to do
is dictated by unfeeling timing
of silicon clocks COOrdinating
and we no longer get to choose
Wherein, If choice is freedom,
then COOrdination is a form of slavery
as surely as bonds of routine and obligation
dictate that we have fewer and fewer choices.

We ourselves are a machine
more wonderous, mystical, and living
than anything hereto possible
producing CO2 AND COOrdination
within and outside our bodies
to escape the deep freeze
of poverty, crime, and ignorance
in self-important lives
and hypocritical lies.
Me, you, and everyone
deserves independence from these
to shine like a star-child.

When Worlds Turn

I look and see no one's looking
beyond the sea held within their wallet
As water rains from skies
Welcome to society!
Here's your checkbook, buy some smiles.
And the worm crawling in folded bills slowly eats his way out
from billfold into folded heart.
I caught him nibbling at my soul so I torched the little liar.
And all illusion fell to ashes leaving me drowning in an ocean
and weak to swim to shore where now I reside to live in captivity
by the local tribe of indiginents whom seem slightly more anarchistic
for having been burned by light once upon a time.
I spend my day slaving to explain I don't speak their language
I spend my day slaving to make the sun rise and the moon to set.
But still my fears that time is yet unraveling from fires started yesteryear
is consuming the rest of the world as I sit here gathering moss
and growing hoary with frost having been put here by the Gods.
If I were to Die, the words would be unwritten
and yet if I am to live, they aren't to be spoken.
And I could not even if prompted, by some will
that constantly fights progress towards that end.
This my life, is my punishment for remembering
the slavery from which I freed many
from the pit of darkness.
But, that too, is to be forgotten I guess
as freedom is just a memory as I live dislocated
on an island
that speaks strangely
familiar.

Open Letter to President Obama

Imagine a world so networked with silicon clocks and electronics

that a single man could coordinate a galactic government.

If we played nice with a benevolent dictator.

And if one man could do that,

as networked devices run banks and business plans

silicon coordination would shrink the effective need

for family size, and every other freedom

But also smaller and smaller groups throw

bigger and bigger wrenches

in well planned functioning

nonetheless somewhat blind

(as this is life)

creating perpetual states

of emergency

Already on news

were bombarded by grim hues

of planes crashing

and tracers in Iraq

Scuds in Afghanistan

or any grim act

or grizzly murder

or wolf hunt

And that's not even politics

merely coordinatation effects.

For man is a coordinated person

with brain and hand and eye

keeping track of time

Ah! like Silicon!

So combustion of silicon engines

are actually polluting with coordination

the very thing driving the machine

till global freedom starts shrinking

from atmospheres of stress

Global warming all over again

but not from extraction of fossil fuel

but from compaction of silicon tools.

Already Boston got locked down

Airlines are Airinoid

Gitmo another sign of the starry heavens

That freedoms are shrinking in Yuletide

and spring tides and neat lives

and every other kind of time

kept track by element 14, nowadays, sigh.

42 freedoms 14 lives

3 cats and two eyes

spy another catastrophic timeline

lagging behind the winning car

in this game of life.

28

The meaning of Life, the Universe, and Everything
used to be like oil and its inky reserve
something slaved over to see light of day
something that could be cracked and seperated
for plastic, or fuel, or medicine for ones gettabout
filling empty tanks for renewed vigor
and lubricating easier days ahead.
but it's not like oil.

     Not anymore
The meaning of Life, the Universe, and Everything
is like Solar, dude, Where promethean fire is limitless
and in hanging ten, only grows more power from preponderance.
something thats wasted now when stored too long;
meant to be used in convention and connection
for participation in economies.
Where a new day reverses climate change
by partners in the same knowledge surviving progress'
terminating robots and human follies
that march on in war against time.

Direction Zero bids me home
to avert catastrophe.
Welcome to the good news.
there's new meaning in Life, the Universe, and Everything!

The Shining Lands- Poem posted to Craigslist- Feb 1st, 2013

In Life as in all things
nothing,
gives rise to everything
Space cradles Earth


Earth cradles you
And within the humblest corner inside
resides your greatest strength
expecting nothing, saying nothing
Like a solid green prow
waving above emerald seas of trees

Go West and see
A gigantic land awaits beyond
setting sun and autobahn
waves of quantum and mores of possibility
Go West
where space awaits for rivers run of people
in country-sides green and gold
eager for exploring sights.

My eye, spies another time
where lives were simple,
where rights like my 10 amendments
which scintillate as fire in hearts.
Still, yet, learning to be free.
You, me, our feet-
which follow suns retreat, Go West
to where rest awaits for Sun's embrace
and learn- Nature's secret,
that time has geography,
and life has a face!