Hacked into Syria via Poetry and Web Developer Club for Kurdistan (Amen)!

Feeding Damascus the fucked up nature of America as vengence for their hypocrisy  I’m into Syria consistently six years later. Amen. Badazz!#solarpoemmachine

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Fukushima Angel: Know When to Walk Away

Safecast radioactivity map.

Late afternoon March 11, 2011

Just outside Sakura no Seibo Junior College, Fukushima, Japan

Radioactivity — 0.36 + microSv/h

She is there in a small tiny apartment, cold and alone. Beaten by life, optimistic. A smile graces her face. Surrounded by madness, sane. They said, “Know when to walk away.” To get out of the burning car and take that first step. To walk away before the flames touch the gas tank, before she can’t work. To walk away before the neurons fail and it gets too hard. The ambient air shimmers with heat, microscopic nanoparticles of fallout. This Fukushima angel is the future, our future anywhere around here. Waters are rising and tempers are simmering to a boil. She lights a joint, California kush shipped in via UPS. This is now, here, there or anywhere. What is it to be alive when the car’s on fire and you’re just walking away? Where is love and home when it’s in a box, five or ten on a truck driving to a new ‘hood? Survival mode and nothing more masks the subtlety and grace of the city cloaked in a thin veil of fallout, just enough to cause her eggs to mutate 0.0001% faster, to what no one knows. His sperm count was in the red, it was a lost cause. Their marriage was a waste of time. Earth is on fire and there’s nowhere to go. Just hop out the car and run. The war on drugs is on her, on him. It’s one day in the life of the post-modern couple and we’re all looking for answers.

Radioactivity 0.36 + mSv/h, Sakura no Seibo Junior College, Fukushima, Japan.

“New map shows America’s quietest places,” Science, Feb. 16, 2015 from here.

Apple Store, Minneapolis, Minnesota, USA

Ambient Noise Level — 75.9 dB

He is there typing on an Apple Macintosh laptop, cold and alone. Beaten by life, optimistic. A smile graces his face. Surrounded by madness, sane. The screen to the right promises human contact that costs nothing other than the purchase price of an iPhone, a photo walk in local surroundings. Off work for the week from UPS, afraid his analytics scores are not high enough to meet the cut. The metaphors of this adult kid’s hour are not that opaque. It’s going to be an admiration fest of big houses, manicured gardens, front yards, birdhouses, and fountains. Boring, at least to him.

He checks his Facebook account for the tenth time in the afternoon, realizing that his friend Kate in Amsterdam has some questions. She writes of his short story post, “Nicely written … and what is the concept? To run? On what sign? To where? … or will we all be lost? Can she get off the island? Will all marriages be useless? Will they go live underground? How long? … haha? I am building food forests for after the apocalypse … wow! Very end times … Fukushima is a horror … for all of us… I don’t dare swim, nor eat fish. No more.” He writes back, “I’d love a paragraph from you.” She replies, “Wink. Smile. Haha. Emoticon. I’ll think about it. Cool, yeah! First World War III … Revelation, this woman? Ah! She’s fine! She understands our situation very well. She’s sane, living in the end times of what, we don’t know.” “Age of Aquarius,” he writes back.

To map the normal hysteria of his baseline existence in real time, giving the real time data stream away as entertainment, is his dream. In all that, the first thing to do in a time of panic is to know where the noise is. The ambient noise of panic, joy, mayhem, ecstasy, and agony. The birth pains of a dream, a silent city with nothing but humans and spaces. No electricity, no speed … silence. To visualize the screams of terror of the masses as they withdraw. What will it take? To be subtle at first, to cloak the intention of the project in a veil of good intentions. It begins as a survival strategy, a plan for answers in an infinitely complex Gordian’s knot.

Walking home, he picks up an ounce of weed from his friend DMT Max and a set of Ziplock freezer bags. Picked fresh from the foothills of Mt. Shasta last week, he drops the fragrant, medicinal herb purchased from the Shasta Green Heart Collective into the Ziplock bags and wraps them for shipping. He writes her address on the envelop Sakura no Seibo Junior College, Fukushima, Japanand drives to the UPS Store. He mails it UPS Air Express, and goes to work. He wants to go legit, to live a good life. To be like his parents wanted him to be, a smart beautiful wife, 2.5 kids, a dog, a three-bedroom home, and a white picket fence. To not give a shit. To be cold, and care about nothing but North Face jackets, iPhones, cars, and house drapes. There’s a long way to go from here to there, it’s impossible to him now. He gets lost in yoga, cheap beer, dancing, and poetry. Head in the clouds because the ground is full of pain. Full of suffering, sonic noise. A cacophony of voices, cars, and computers. He wants it all silent, like the woods. Yet, he craves attention, affirmation, and the presence of others. Where to find that? In Facebook, or on a walk around the Apple Store? In a book, or in a bar? Where?

“This, then, is how you should pray: ‘Our Father in heaven, hallowed be your name…’”

Matthew 6:9

Late morning March 11, 2011

Biology Building, Sakura no Seibo Junior College, Fukushima, Japan

She woke up one late morning to the sound of a nun shuffling across the room to catch an errant piece of dropped chalk. Biology class was always a drag, being right before lunch. Dazed and confused she did as she always did in times like that, she raised her hand and asked an impossible question. “What are we to do as good Catholics with the genetic editing enzyme CRISPR-Cas9 in light of Pope Francis’s stance on climate change?” She knew like every other lazy ass with a genius IQ level the best defense is a strong offense. To avoid punishment for sleeping it’s best to shock the nun into cerebral submission. “We’re talking about Mendelian inheritance now, dear, not what?” the nun replied bluntly. “I know, so am I.” Just that second the intercom came on and simultaneously everyone’s Androids and iPhones blared an emergency warning system alert.

“There’s been a tragedy today” the college president announced on the speaker. Students scrambled to decipher the EMS messages while simultaneously clumsily trying to silence their devices. “A tsunami hit one of the Breeder reactors at the nearby power plant, and we are here to inform you that there is nothing to worry about. Everything is contained, no radioactivity has been released and we have seamlessly switched the electric power to draw from backup generators. Keep calm and carry on students.” The president ended his statement, phones were quickly put away, avoiding the wrath of the nun. The chalk rolled on as if nothing had happened, under the gap in the door to the hall. The bell rang, the nun groaned, and all the students heaved a sigh of relief. Everyone left the room but the nun and her. “Why do you sleep through biology? You know more than I do, why?” “I have salsa class now, I’ll see you later,” and with that she left the classroom like all her peers before her.

Her body was a billboard for her inner state, a neon sign for her neurotransmitter ratios and moods. One flick of her jet black shiny hair to the right and you knew you dropped a decimal place, or was off count by half a step. A Sailor Moon style curtsy meant several things, you were in, she thinks you’re odd, you have it coming not necessarily balanced or in that order. Dance was an escape, a connection to space, air, and the unspeakable force of life. In a time of madness, it was her portal to the Goddess energy in her deepest recessed of her repressed Japanese female soul. As much as she wanted to be a rebel without a cause, a libertine free of restraint sexual, moral or otherwise she was tightly bound by ancient codes of behavior evolved from feudal days and before. Catholic values and theology was her grandmother’s escape after her Hiroshima. She had folded 9,454 paper cranes as prayers for peace, peace, peace after suffering severe radiation burns. Passing away before the count could reach the 10,000 target promising immortality right before the last breath of air left her lungs, a nun came and prayed with her. That was enough to bypass centuries of hatred and she died believing that there was a promised land, with a smile on her face, in heaven. That’s the memory that she had that shackled her with restraint, a dance here or there in a dark club late at night freed her inner Kali. The devi, chasing a fleeting moment of feminine memory before agriculture and city-state, freedom.

…to be continued…

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Integration of AI via Black and White AIPoets.

Teaching how to make Amazon Echo Alexa skills now via my new website hippiebook.io, making the videos this week on two poetry robots the Black and White AIPoetBots.

Posted by Kaya Erbil on Monday, March 19, 2018

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Love Letter to a Millennial Girl

Love Letter to a Millennial Girl

My love, I know, I’ve seen it too,

It’s not like you are any one in particular,

Or, small or fat, skinny, or tall, or white or black,

I’ll tell you a secret, a quiet one that you learn in time,

Paint in the face of doubt, lift your body out of the chair,

Walk outside my love, don’t be afraid to run away,

Walk, walk with the winds of time,

…escape for a moment and go to the waters,

Get a couple used bottles and get the water,

Go home, boil it down, and go to Blick’s Arts Supply,

Buy a canvas, and do an enso, just pour the water down in that canvas,

Let it dry, stare at it, come back, that’s your mind,

Your mind is earth and water, it’s her is it aways has been,

Take a walk with me in five dimensions, not that I am there,

I never am really anywhere, drifting here or there,

Where are you my wife, my love I was there long ago,

In a small hut by the sacred water of Coast Guard Beach,

I walked with a stick and played in the sand,

Come on out to the sacred water, my love you can see it now,

In ways that you once could not, toiling away at a cotton mill or in a call center,

I tried all that and it broke, Mind, the deep secret is that it’s water,

It always ways, I saw you at first sight and could read the pain,

The way you never looked me in the eye,

I wanted to blow you apart and put you back together,

Those I love I don’t leave untouched, the omega point is not that far off,

We’re almost there, total unity, Facebook says unite the world, make it smaller,

You swipe right for love, my love, let me give you a secret,

Lovers write with pens and paper, they dictate to secretaries,

…or hid long enough waiting for the moment to explode with yearning,

Where are you, why have you not been here before,

Your generation, is full of children men, and sage women, healers, dancers, shamans,

Artists, not hippies, cyberpunks and torn jeans, black boots, and share snaps of wit,

Not that you have much choice, I could not see it today, in my life,

We looked for the hole in the wall, the fly in the ointment,

You, see the sun for the light it is, yearning for the age of Aquarius,

But you know, I thought that was gone long ago,

On your arms, you wear a badge of similarity, of Minnesota Nice,

The thing I like about New York and Boston is they just go ahead and run you over,

Just get it over with already, they said,

“At Harvard the knife you in the back, at MIT they knife you in the chest,”

So true, glad I like it that way now, I’d like you to dance over your walls,

Learn to scream and run naked in the snow with me, with your sisters,

Madness is a human right now, in this age, we are all allowed,

Let it be the norm, so we can all understand we’re all together,

It’s not that I know what to say when I see you in pain, my love let me write you a letter,

A love letter by hand, I know that sounds so strange, to profess love to a digital phantom,

Tha phantom sees it as the norm, I’ve never really known home in earth,

Or see peace, in a time, here or there, for these reasons, I am there with you,

I skipped a generation, a generation is all we have now, to decide,

It was put there for you to determine, for that reason forget it,

Walk away, it’s not your problem, go to the water and pray,

These are the times we are in, to accept fate and bow and relax,

Forward we go and I know anything that is slow is good,

Slow food, walking, shoveling snow, animals in the woods,

Goats that eat poetry, cats that drink poison water, they are here to accept it,

They will come back, don’t worry, we will create space soon,

Let me hold you in prayer, I don’t know what else to do,

I am scared too, these are the time we face, be it as they may,

But know that you have done something extra ordinary today,

Something I know, and want to heal, I dream and pray,

Each day, for your healing, what else to do but write and paint in the face of doubt,

My tears run as the rivers, to wash away those things that hinder you from crying,

See a man cry, a grown man cry, it’s possible, I did it yesterday,

Let me tear stain a love letter to you, whereever you are.

Sent with ProtonMail Secure Email.

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Environmental Restoration LLC Destroys Another Supply of Water for an EPA Contract of $25,000.00.

See Navajo Gold King Mining Accident Wikipedia for background on this company.

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How I Hacked My Way into #MeToo via the Arts.

Cadmium Blood.  Black oil from Austin, Texas streets, yellow is cadmium sulfide, red is cadmium sulfoselenide.

I’ve worked for about three years with people involved in the Standing Rock water protection movement in the United States documenting abuses with the misuse of AI by companies like G4S, TigerSwan, etc. independently away from any media outlet or money source. Everything has been self funded with help by my mother. We’ve been at this for nine years since a false mental health diagnosis at MIT in 2010 while I was a postdoc at the Whitehead Institute of MIT in the lab of Susan Lindquist. It’s a really long story that I’ve documented on my blog in the form of poems, photos, and art. It’s my long term hope to publish the content of this blog in a book called “Steal This Facebook!” modeled after Abbie Hoffman’s book “Steal This Book!” I am looking for readers and people that might serve as friends and allies in this long struggle for peace and serenity. I’ve been on the margin of poverty for a number of years because MIT and Berkeley blacklisted me as a chemist making it nearly impossible to find work. My advisors sold out Berkeley to British Petroleum for $0.5 billion as explained by this LA Times article. Chemistry and other upper level sciences has long had a problem with abusive research advisors both at the graduate and postdoc level. It’s my sincere hope that my poetry and other art can help other people in similar situations see past the darkness to a more holistic way of life. I’ve adopted a more spiritual path to life after grad school and have found a great deal of healing in the way the arts can help and serve as a bridge to others.

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Catskill/Palenville Toxic Landfill Experience.

Very important Post, please help us with sparing a few minutes of your time, and Help is contact another Region NYS DEC, also responsible for the damages from the illegal landfill dumped inbetween two innocent families, and directly into our Nationally/Federally, NYS Protected Wetlands.
~Please Help Share~
Many great supporters following our struggles have witnessed the evidence we have shared through these years about this Region 4 NY State DEC, responsible for the area the illegal toxic landfill is in physically, and how they continue to completely manipulate this entire experience, and going to extreme lengths to protect the illegal landfill, including working with our own NYS Health Dept. to falsify water test results.
However, I don’t believe this Region 4 DEC should be the Only Region concerned for what toxic issues this illegal landfill is creating, as the same protected wetlands/waters are actually Shared with the waters running directly into the next County (Ulster County) below the area of the landfill, which is also a separate Region NYS DEC, as Region 3.
Im going to include a photo in comments that shows just how close the Ulster County/Region 3 DEC border is, as the line runs straight across the wetlands, with the waters running directly down to the next Region DEC and County. It’s been admitted, and proven these waters the illegal landfill is dumped in, runs down to another Towns waters supply, the Town of Saugerties drinking supply which is Ulster County and Region 3 NYS DEC.
Not only should this Region 3 DEC be concerned for the water quality coming to their area for their environment, waters, wildlife, and residents, but should also be well aware that this illegal landfill has been admitted to be one of a string of properties with this illegally transported debris dumped from NYC/Long Island.
It’s been admitted by the illegal landfill owner that two other property’s has this same illegal activity of dumping this debris, dumped down on Route 9w in Kingston. Which is also Region 3 DEC (I’m asking help calling today), and Ulster County. From a very knowledgeable contact, Ive been told the Region 3 NYS DEC was investigating the illegal toxic dumping admitted to in Kingston, but they were Not able to fully complete their investigation specifically because of the Region 4 DEC’s manipulations, and devotions to protect the criminal activity.
The same NY State Protection agency, yet separate Region actually halted the investigations for this criminal activity of transporting toxic debris to Upstate NY, like they’ve manipulated the investigation for the landfill next to My Home, and in protected wetlands/waters?
Please look at the photo attached, and how close the next agency’s responsibility is. There’s been some testing done, and it’s results are showing contamination’s of Lead, and Cadmium running down the waters to the next area, and stated it’s coming from the illegal landfill sitting in our protected waters? Test results also stated for Lead contamination’s to the entire local Aquifer?
I’ve had some concerns for How much knowledge the next Region DEC, County, and Town actually has about the contaminated waters, with respectful individuals telling me that the Town of Saugerties (these waters from the illegal landfill run to), has been searching for a new location for their Towns Well/Water supply? The only reason they are admitting to, is just because they want another well? What Town ever spends more then a dime, then what they have to? Why would they just choose to dig a new well, for an entire Town for No reason?
It concerns me, wondering if those local Town of Saugerties and Ulster County Representatives may actually Know something is wrong with their waters supply, and if they’ve been aware about contamination’s entering in their residents waters, without warning the Residents is what I believe to be Criminal, and would hope they would be held accountable for neglecting to Protect their residents..
The illegal landfill may Not be physically in their area, but they’ve been made aware of its location to their area, and its possibilities of toxins running into their water supply..
Please Help me contact the Area NY State Region 3 DEC, who would also be responsible to protect the residents, the environment, the wildlife, the sensitive area of the protected wetlands, and its Waters that so many depend on to be safe and healthy for their families…
**Below are the NYS Region 3 DEC contact numbers, with a choice for which department you believe should be responsible or upholding their Sworn duty to the health of the public, wildlife, wetlands, etc.**
The main number for Regional Director is Kelly Turturro (845)256-3033
Or I also believe Region 3 Law Enforcement should also be made aware..

Thank you All for helping my families voice be heard..

Region 3
21 South Putt Corners RoadNew Paltz, NY 12561-1696
Dutchess, Orange, Putnam, Rockland, Sullivan, Ulster and Westchester counties

Program Phone Number Fax Number Email
Administration (845) 256-3000 New Paltz
(914) 428-2505 White Plains (845) 255-3042
(914) 428-0323 r3admin
Regional Director
Kelly Turturro (845) 256-3033 (845) 255-3042
Air Quality (845) 256-3045
(914) 428-2505
Westchester County (845) 255-0716
Environmental Monitor (845) 256-3138
Remediation (845) 256-3137 (845) 255-3414
Freedom of Information (845) 256-3052 (845) 255-3042
Habitat (845) 256-3087
Hazardous Materials (845) 256-3137 (845) 255-0716
Law Enforcement (845) 256-3013 (845) 255-9249
Marine Habitat Protection (845) 758-7010
Materials Management (845) 256-3000 (845) 255-3414
Spill Prevention & Response (845) 256-3121 New Paltz:
(845) 255-2987
White Plains:
(914) 428-0323
Water Quality (845) 256-3000 New Paltz
(914) 428-2505 Tarrytown
Wildlife (845) 256-3098

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