‘Memories that fade away
Have not left their mark
But you live on, every single day
In many ways.
It is the truth between his cunning lies
That hands him his suspicious alibis
Persuading with your force will never be the way
To our destiny.
Suddenly we have lost the force
To close our cursed doors
No one seems to realize
That wolves are in disguise.
It is the truth between his cunning lies
That hands him his suspicious alibis
Persuading with your force will never be the way
To our destiny.
Your engine was so strong
But the road was just too long
Hope is not the end
So never lose the faith.
If we can say
They can never take away
Our freedom, the most precious thing we have ever had
The reward from the blood, we have ever shed.
His quest for higher truth, life of eternal youth has just begun,
despite being on the run
Many virgins wait for him to come
Persuading with your force will never be the way
To our destiny
Our destiny’… ‘Safeguard to Paradise’ by Epica
The Glass Beaker Folk are glass managers. All gathered ‘round petri dish and dishing out samples of small fleshy beings as large bark folk decided to mix, and their creations are forms-of-forms and other-forms, of twin-spin shapes ‘cross planets’ twirl of simple complexities arriving with baby cries and little howls. And! Pondering if one stares into eyes-of-disarray one finds an honest illusion without confusing-disillusion or solution keep-seek or chose-to-lose? Deliberating, if the deities of Beaker Folk create creations with wrong formula uses and mixes of humor and myth. Immaculate contraptions birth and dissonance for every-other-sun; sister-brother, reasons and rhyme along with bottled time working cords of yesterday’s todays and tomorrows’ sighs.
The word ‘Honor’…Many descriptions and quantifiers involving this word…Honor is not just a word. It is a singular way of life. It is without description and not reserved for Military motions. It is not an Executive twirl or a Legislative swirl…Though legal twist and turns, it is not a Judicial term. Honor is a simple way of Life.
Sky films block pearl light as an evening of workers’ failed strengths; home bound as, the ‘Nighters’ replace the ‘Dayers’ and continue as work begins ends and starts along the edges of digital clicks and analog clacks. Time cataloged into spreads of pages indexed assorted stuff straightened arranged packed for space-spin or unpacked to go consumers consumed with curiosity; hunger required, needed or fulfilled desires. Oppression succeeds triumphs when its legitimacy is internally assumed. The freedom to write it right or write writing toward the right cross of sails unfurled and imagined as sea’s endless might and distance ‘tween stars ‘tween galaxies and ‘tween the universal folds of space. There be books here and just listen to these stories from spirit-speakers of volumes long and voltage sweet. We change everything with ‘Blue Planet Waste’.
“Beyond the Palace hemi-powered drones scream down the boulevard
Girls comb their hair in rearview mirrors
And the boys try to look so hard
The amusement park rises bold and stark
Kids are huddled on the beach in a mist
I wanna die with you Wendy on the street tonight
In an everlasting kiss…” Bruce Springsteen.
It is our nature to run with and from the many or the few. We often see through the curved ceiling of high doorways only when curved light enters tiny windows. Animation is symmetry without structure, save winds and rains and those foolish storms of chaos and belief.
Speculating currently concerning infrequent simple sets? Are these objects transuranic elements in the study of symmetries nearly impossible to construct, not likely to be found by chance but still necessary to the complete structure of the theory of Sporadic Simple Groups. Freedom for or from a Peoples’ will still be the imitation of an everlasting Robot. Or! We Robots be. Just you wait-and-see.
‘The most heroic word in all languages is ‘Revolution’––Eugene Debbs
“In the current phase of intellectual corruption, it must be stressed that, like democracy and human rights, the economic doctrines preached by the rulers are instruments of power, intended for others, so that they can be more efficiently robbed and exploited. No wealthy society accepts these conditions for itself, unless they happen to confer temporary advantage; and their history reveals that sharp departure from these doctrines was a large factor in development.”—Noam Chomsky.
A historian once wrote that future’s Child, ‘did not need to be told that the angel of death had passed over the land; they had heard the beating of its wings’. So! Wondering if; ‘The reason the Dead do not return nowadays, is the boredom of it.’ One fare-to-fix and one fix-to-fair. Life is precious in every form. Life animates every style-type of flesh, smooth or fur and sweet life goes—becomes and ends and becomes again…’Tis good donchaknow…
And! Beautiful you are…
‘Letters From The Sky’ by Civil Twilight
