In memory of Neil, I will post a poem he wrote for me.
a heart of pounding rivers palms of sunlight streams braids of allways shining eyes of loving beams gleaming luminosity deepened inner peace smile of springtime flowers natures longing reach far and near and everywhere lifting mountains hold warmth of fire leaping rivers mighty flow breathing ever deeply touch of far beyond reverberating everything natures loving song
..peace.. neil
Thanks for your heartsong Neil.
May you journey on in peace.
It was the time of religious wars. It was a time of materialism and
intellectual darkness. It was a time of epidemic moral compromise and
the end justifying the means by whatever means. It was a time of the
worship of the transitory and the elevation of drunken ignorance over
the thirst for truth. Truth was a refugee in flight on a violent night.
It was a time of deception and reaction toward the solution of freedom
as an intolerable state and a non commercially viable condition. It was a
time of precessions and regressions and a confusion of the moment on
the doorstep of irrevocable change. It was a hard time to live in unless
you were one of the few who made existence hard for everyone else. It
was a time of images and symbols that were wielded as weapons upon
superficial minds so inclined and submissive in a pornographic sexual
exchange that mocked the true surrender of the deeper self to the higher
awareness and all things human. It was a time of debasement for the
virtues and a celebration of vice because it was a time of political
correctness masking the hatred for all that was good and real.
We
were the people that might have been; you should have gotten in touch
with us then. We were the unseeing in relentless persecution of those
envisioned who were labeled a threat to the disorder of order. We were
pawns engaged in our own destruction, proud and stupid and false. We
cheered in the coliseums and informed on our fellows. We raised
perversion to be normal and locked normal in a barn. We laughed with
merciless humor at persecutions that came by our consent and everything
that was true and meaningful within us, got up and went. We were the
Hell-bound in denial of the heaven sent. We embraced the animal as the
civilized way, cannibalizing our loved ones and killing ourselves, like a
collection of poor unfortunates who gnawed off their own foot. We held
what was trivial as a worshipful profound and we went all too quickly
into the cold and forgotten ground. We made heroes out of rogues and
pariahs out of our most important friends. We were the generation of
vipers, ever and ever after, amen.
You will not see or I could
show you. You will not hear or I could tell you. You will not be stopped
or moved. You will see perdition as the holy gates and hear the lies of
your corrupted guides as they take you through corridors of the
condemned up the thirteen steps. We would have served and healed you but
we were cast out from our quarters as your neighbors and friends.
Into
this time of darkness came a signal event. They called it 9/11 and they
made it into a royal seal, like a lock on a letter for the eyes of the
few who composed the lies it contained and who carried out the crime.
You could not see the contents but you had their guarantee that all was
well and legal, keeping moving, there is nothing here to see.
You
vain and fatuous mortals you shall reap the indifferent wind that was
roused by your indifference and nothing will be the same again. You
dance and pray and celebrate the horror and the lies. You pinch your
face and become solemn though you must be uneasy beneath and your
keepers snicker and make jokes at your expense. You lick their hands for
they are your master and determiner of fate.
You can’t get there from here.
You can’t get there from here.
You can’t get there from here.
We
few who wait by highway, we hold up the signs, “the bridge is out” and
the road is slippery when wet with the blood of those you have driven
over through proxy and malicious assent. You cannot hear and you will
not see so you will be forced from both perspectives and you will be
brought to your knees. A pestilence moves among you motivated by hunger
and greed. They are the habitation of demons. They are the demons seed
and you are honored and privileged to serve on their behalf which is the
end of all of you. It is no wonder that they laugh.
They will
not change. They cannot change they are the expression of what cannot be
pacified or convinced. They are open to no argument that might affect
profit or excess. They are the poisonous few in your midst. They pretend
they are you and you are content.
