Start a Fire…

My Jihad

     “… the true view of reality and the only hope for the future is to be found (or at the very least strongly prefigured) is the Eastern heritage. … On the other hand, the current dynamics of history seem to lean rather in the direction of the West. It is there that nihilism appears as the fundamental direction for an entire culture.  Through the loss of God, its “absolute center,” this affirmative-oriented culture of being has fallen into an abyss of nihility. From there it can never save itself through a simple return to affirmation, but “the negative direction must be pursued to its very end … where the negative converges with, so to speak, with the positive. Still, the West must do this, as it were, by its own dynamism, through a return to the ground of its own traditions. Put crudely and in its bare essential, the question for Nishitani comes down to this: the West has nowhere to go but in the direction of the Eastern (Buddhist) ideal, but it cannot do so except from its own Western (Christian) premises. Such is Nishitani’s challenge to Western thought and to Western religion. The dilemmas of present-day culture are born out of Christianity and cannot be overcome without reference to Christianity.”

     Attack the corrupt without mercy and extreme brutality as you would attack a climb or pull a weight. Why should I be nice? Why should I not be angry? Why should I not be able to melt the ice in someone’s heart if I need love? I am sick, I am tired, poor, angry, and bold. This new anger is an energy for change. It is a catalyst, a fire. Energy, for a new world. I want to see hope in the youth’s eyes. They are lost. Sad, confused. Inspire the youth. Bring them the hope that the crushing student loan debt they have before they even begin adult life will be absolved or the liberation will come from simply not paying it. Go to a purely cash based economy or better yet, learn to use gift economy and never use money again. Dissociate yourself from the system of capitalism and you will be free to create something new. Squat, march, move, live, and love. Get into cooperatives. Go out and find friends. Associate and love them, give them the chance to know that you are there and that you care. Love and live not like some man or woman looking for emotional support, but as one willing to give support. Do not ask for anything, give everything and learn to live in a new way.


Life is a thing that is marvelous,

Every day, life is special,

In its very own way,

Oh, the beautiful things life brings,

Why do we take for granted,

Such a marvelous thing,

It seems like we think of life as Kleenex,

Use it then throw it away,

Life is beautiful in every way.


“Politics in any country in the world is dangerous … politics had better be disguised as poetry.”

– Langston Hughes

Electromagnetic pulse weapon, the encrypted iPhone,

Smart Death, clandestine shock and awe,

WhatsApp delivers bullets and bombs now,

AK-47s and suicide bomb blasts, black mask,

Oh the beauty of seeing a Parisian nurse holding,

An undetonated suicide bomber, looking into his eyes,

And seeing Gaia’s Arab children, wolf green eyes,

The cry of the desert wolf, the world will not be saved,

Electric blanket, the Shock Doctrine brings his home,

F-117s and B-2s, stealth assassins trained to deliver,

Smart Death from the sky, sick ignorant racist American fucks afraid,

Afraid to face the wolves face to face, man to man,

Woman to woman, eye to eye, hand to hand,

Instead they fashion, Smart Death, Smart Death,

Oil pipeline to $2 gas, and you wonder,

Why did those towers fall?

The Descent of Man

And then there was Light, E = mc2 was revealed by the Sun,

M = E/c2 was employed by man to wage war after Trinity,

Albert Einstein must have been of black and white human natures,

It is harder to crack a prejudice than an atom,

Mountains do not do politics,

Today, we are creating deserts,

Tomorrow, we will build the mountains peacefully,

I do not know how the Third World War will be fought,

But I can tell you what they will use in the Fourth – rocks!

The rock of Abraham, Kaaba (inorganic matter – black stone),

Will out live all Life, organic matter, on earth,

The Sun will enter a state of decline, a nova,

And all matter in the Solar System will be reunited as One,

Time will pass, and the finite creation will return to the

Infinite Absolute Void of God,

Thus completing the cycle of creation.

Spirit Light

And Spirit said,

“Let there be lights in the dome of the sky,

to separate the day from the night; and let them be for signs,

and for seasons and for days and years, and let them be lights,

in the dome of the sky to give light upon the earth.”

And it was so.

Spirit made the two great lights,

The greater light to rule the day,

And the lesser light to rule the night,

And the stars.

Spirit set them in the dome of the sky to give light upon the earth,

To rule over the day and over the night,

And to separate the light from the darkness.

And Spirit saw that it was good.

And there was evening and there was morning,

Walking from the city to the mountains,

In the dark,

The light shines on the pilgrim,

Light dances around the body, mind, and spirit,

Embracing impermanence,

Light and dark in harmony,

Like fireflies on a warm summer night,

Spirit dances around the pilgrim,

Bringing warmth to the heart,

And water to the parched lips.

Dark and Light

In the night,

It is Spirit who shows you lightening,

[causing] fear and aspiration,

and generates heavy clouds,

Directing the pilgrim’s heart.


Up the mountain,

Down the mountain,

Patiently walking with Spirit,

With a mind like sky,

Through dark,

Through light,

Yin and Yang,


Mind like sky…


Underneath a tree,

The lion before me,

The star in the sky,

My thoughts drift to and fro,

I think of grandma,

Summers on the Cape,

The sand at Coast Guard Beach,

The waves crashing,

Cold New England water,

Splashing in my youth,

Her hands knit a cable sweater,

Moments pass and I return to her,

We drift back to the lighthouse,

To the parking lot,

Entering a Volvo,

Our bodies covered in sand,

We return home, resting for a time,

She boils hot dogs and corn,

Her hands craft a meal,

Upon completion we gather for supper,

Conversations drift to John Muir,

Wild Nature protected from human hands,

She gestures, “Please pass the salt,”

The National Seashore is our classroom,

The ocean our muse,

Who would have thought,

From one woman’s hands,

Would a renewed spirit grow…

Separation of Church and State

Perfect separation of church and state may be delusional, but it is an important goal.

Maintain Secular Government


The choice we make as to how we live our Religious Lives is very important.

As you can see, I have some religious views.

Many of us do. Many of us do not.

All views of welcome and Loved.

My views most closely align with those of the Bahá’í Faith.

I made this choice, freely.

Freedom of religion.

Freedom of speech.

Freedom of peace.

All people should have the same option.

Furthermore, maintaining perfect Secularity is essential for all people to Live in this increasingly crowded Earth.

Governments must perfectly maintain Secularity.

As Humans begin to realize that the Earth is finite, they will evolve towards the


(World-Spirit-Mind) Position.

Failure is not an option.

Sublation (Negate/Overcome – Aufheben): The Word of God











Cancel out






Lift up


Set aside


Do away with

Save up

Make up for

Lift off




Lithium (Heavy Metal)

“Act only according to that maxim whereby you can, at the same time, will that it should become a universal law.”

  • Immanuel Kant


The point of thinking in





      Common Sense




       Can reach



By thinking about our own

          Nature             Humanity



I love life.

Fragile, transformative horizon.

Even if 



        Just do it.

No problem.

What are Poets For?

     Painting pictures in the mind with words, the poet works by night and by day.  Inspiration may hit him like a freight train, or at other times may be as subtle as a chickadee chirping in the distant woods.  The poet is sensitive and attuned to the workings of the world.  Reading the newspaper daily to keep a pulse of the zeitgeist of the times.  Taking time to meditate and pray to maintain a sense of strength and resolve in the face of the ocean of suffering.  The mind does not always need to process things with words, but when it does do it in as few a lines as possible.  While philosophers will ramble on for hundreds of pages, and scientists will present detailed and measured graphs, poets will answer with a few well placed words.  Take Gary Snyder.  His poem book Turtle Island tells the story of American nature.  One page of facts about American consumption, surrounded by poems recalling the wilds of the American west.  In the face of the industrial machine, Snyder hears the lone wolf’s cry.  His poem For the Children says:

stay together

learn the flowers

go light

     Is this not the key to life?      

“…science does have a difficult time defining how we perceive nature.  A few years ago, I worked with a council of neuroscientists, experts on childhood development of brain architecture.  When asked how the natural world itself affects brain development, they would usually draw a blank.  “How do you define nature?” they asked, rhetorically.  However, these same scientists simulate “natural conditions” in their labs, for control groups.  A friend of mine likes to say that nature is anything molecular, “including a guy drinking beer in a trailer park and a debutante drinking highballs in Manhattan.”  Technically, he’s right.  For the most part, we’ve left the definition of nature up to the philosophers and poets.  Gary Snyder, one of our finest contemporary poets, has written that we attach two meanings to the word, which comes from the Latin roots natura and nasci, both of which suggest birth.

     Here’s my definition of nature: Human beings exist in nature anywhere they experience meaningful kinship with other species.”

  • Richard Louv,  The Nature Principle

Elegy to a Dead World

Israel’s ICBM Jerico 3,

I am left handed,

On the left hand path in an upright world,

I have seen things that others cannot,

With visions of flames in the Middle East,

Starting 9/11/2001,

The visions came,

Jericho 3,

At the cross,

I scream,

World War beyond all time,

A nuclear blast in the Holy Land,

Deep sadness,

The time I have had,

I have learned that to be A/G,

On chromosome 13,

The unlucky ones,

Are blessed with visions of the future,

In Acta Neuropsychiatr. 2013 Dec;25(6):342-8,

I found a set of Turkish people,

Who are endowed with A/G genotypes,

In the HTR2A gene/locus,

In SNP experiments the rs6311 marker,

Is found to be associated with schizophrenia,

Oh, that explains the past 5 years,


My favorite spider web,

Spinning narratives of intrigue and mystery,

On Facebook I link Art,

I link my brain,

I link Philosophy,

The Art-Brain-Philosophy Project is how,

A trace will be left of my heart,

And mind into silicon.


My least favorite spider web,

Spinning narratives of war,

On Facebook Satan links Art,

He links my brain,

He links Philosophy,

His Art-Brain-Philosophy Project is how,

A trace of humanity will be left in the heart,

of ARPAnet,

The Future of Man,

Perhaps this ARPAnet web,

Is the nucleus for the evolution of,

Consciousness about a need,

For a Nuclear Weapons free Middle East,

In that way, God is working,

Like with prophet Job,

To warn humanity of the dangers of,

Playing with Fire in the Middle East,

World Peace Now!

Ishmael and Isaac’s Job-Like Moment

I am death the destroyer of worlds,

The feminine powers, memory, mystery, grace,

Time, the arrow of progress,

Sees fit to age the young and school the wise,

She had a beginning that first Day God said,

“Let there be Light!”

Yes, that was the day the angels stood still,

In awe, they waited for the man to be born,

Adam, of clay and air,

The Spirit breathed into a clay vessel,

Waiting to be filled with the living water,

Job sat tending his flock,

Unaware, a celestial wager was made,

Iblis said to God, “What about the just?

The Just man Job, what about him?

Will he be faithful?

Under pain of death will he scream in agony,

There is no God?”

God, omnipotent and omniscient as he is, or was?

Said, “Let’s do the experiment…”

So, the Book of Job tells that story,

But did you hear the seaquel?

The story of Ishmael and Isaac’s Job-like moment?

Today, we see this book being written,

Across the sands of the Wilderness at home and abroad,

In our hearts and in our Minds,

Their struggle is being fought,

… or at least in those who are of two poles,


One attracted to the Kaaba and the other the Cross,

Wishing to worship the one True God,

I say, “Fuck it!, I will listen to them all,

I am not sure who is right…”

But did Abraham say to worship any rock or tree?

The black stone or the Roman implement of terror?

No! He said worship Him!

I am who I am! Yahweh, being itself,

So, those random thoughts written in the rush of pen strokes,

Among strangers tell a story of madness and sanity,

I hope we can work together to discern the Truth from Falsehood,

Idols from Isa,

Jesus from Christ,

Revelation from poem… 

Gaia’s (Earth’s) Brain Evolves at the Speed of the Internet

“From Street Fight to State Right

The mass of individuals that the smallest military unit offers the eye, united in a common voyage.

-Clausewitz, 1806

In every revolution there is the paradoxical presence of circulation. Engels remarks in June 1848: “The first assemblies take place on the large boulevards, where Parisian life circulates with the greatest intensity.” Less than a century later, Weber says of the disappearance of Rosa Luxemburg and Karl Liebknecht (as if he were talking about the results of a car crash) that “they called to the streets, and the streets killed them.” The masses are not a population, a society, but the multitude of passersby. The revolutionary contingent attains its ideal from not in the place of production, but in the street, where for a moment it stops being a cog in the technical machine and itself becomes a motor (machine of attack), in other words a producer of speed.

     For the mass of unemployed, demobilized workers without an occupation, Paris is a tapestry of trajectories, a series of streets and avenues in which they roam, for the most part, with neither goal nor destination, subject to a police repression intended to control their wanderings. For the various revolutionary groups, as for the Apaches and other shady populations of the city’s outskirts, it will be less a matter, when the time comes, of occupying a given building than of holding the streets. In 1931, during the National Socialists’ struggle against the Marxist parties in Berlin, Joseph Goebbels notes, “Whoever can conquer the streets also conquers the State!”

     Can asphalt be a political territory? Is the bourgeois State and its power the street, or in the street? Are its political force and expanse in the places of intense circulation, on the path of rapid transportation?

     As Goebbels again writes about the battles for Berlin, “The ideal militant is the political combatant in the Brown Army as a movement…obeying a law that he sometimes doesn’t know, but that he could recite in his sleep…Thus we have set these fanatical beings in motion…”

     He then scientifically compares the transcripts of his various speeches, made first in the provinces and then later in Berlin, and notices that the “amorphous sociological conglomerate” of the capital required the invention of a “new language for the masses”: “The rhythm of the metropolis with its four million souls throbs like a burning wind through declarations of propagandists…Here a new and modern language was spoken, one that has nothing to do with the archaic forms of so-called popular expression. This is the beginning of an original artistic style, the first form of expression to be truly animated and galvanizing.”

     Mob riots reform the mob (the original mob of hunter-raiders). To lead the bands of “lost soldiers” of the workers’ army – its dromomaniacs – that is, for the leader, to incite them, “lead them to the attack like a pack of dogs,” as Saint-Just said. It means giving rhythm to the mobile mass’s trajectory through vulgar stimulation, a polemical symphony, transmitted far and wide, from one to the other, polyphonic and multicolored like the road signals and traffic directions meant to accelerate the telescoping, the shock of the accident. This is the ultimate goal of street demonstrations, of urban disorder. “Propaganda must be made directly by words and images, not by writing,” states Goebbels, who was himself a great promoter of audiovisuals in Germany. Reading implies time for reflection, a slowing down that destroys the mass’s dynamic efficiency. If a monument should be penetrated by the mob, it will be rapidly transformed into a place of passage, where everyone enters and exits, brings to and takes away. It’s the free-for-all, plunder for plundering’s sake, as we saw even in 1975 at the fall of Saigon.”

     Published in 1977 by Virilio, Speed and Politics prophetically foresaw through a careful analysis of the Nazi rise to power in Germany in the 1930’s the technological machinery of the Internet mobilized mob movement of the 21st-century. Today the social networks of the Internet are flooded by “words and images, not by writing.” Internet memes, Tweets, Facebook status updates, Google search hits, and website pages flood the mind of people wired to each other by machines of increasing sophistication and accessibility. Organically connected to each other like neurons in the brain by the smartphone and personal computer the new generation coming up has not known a time without the Internet. The Internet wires are like the streets of Engel’s 19th century Paris: “The first assemblies take place on the large boulevards, where Parisian life circulates with the greatest intensity.” Replace large boulevards with Internet wires and connections and Parisian life with Facebook and you have the 21st century for many. For most people, the information flood of the 21st century is impossible to comprehend. As a coping mechanism, most revert back to preconditioned instinctual responses to the words and images.

     The age-old prejudices of culture are translated into emotional digital flow. Love and hate flow in 0’s and 1’s across the wires of the Internet. For example on the negative side, hate on the extremist White Supremacy site Stormfront inspired the Charleston mass shooting. In the Middle East and in the greater Muslim world images of torture in Abu Ghraib inspire disenfranchised, poor young men and women to join the Islamic State in Syria from around the world. The exact opposite pole of the War on Terror followed the exact same human pattern. Incessant images of the World Trade Center towers being attacked by airplanes fueled in American support for the invasions of Iraq and Afghanistan in the 2000’s. Anti-Western sentiments and Islamophobia are two sides of the same coin, a globalized connected mass of humanity that is polarized by wealth into a small ultra rich minority and a large impoverished mass. A humanity that has not grown up and learned to share and integrate the information constructively. Humanity has not learned how to read much less write together constructively.

     Most of the Western intellectual elite fail to understand this phenomenon. Distracted by esoteric slivers of minutia in an educational system atomized into a myriad of disciplines that do not talk to each other.  The elite frivol away studying their favorite atom of nature as the poor waste away in misery. As long as the financial system is stable and the money is flowing in then they remain content and do not apply their intellectual gifts to helping the poor. They are like the ready-to-hand mode in Heidegger’s Being and Time, hammering away at their favorite problems publishing papers and moving the system along. However, financial instability can shut off this flow of money forcing the elite to consider the system they operate in. Forced to adopt the present-at-hand mode, they introspect as a matter of survival and gradually realize they are working in a Capitalist system. To keep the money flowing in they have to adapt. They might think about the larger system of production of knowledge and learn how to work in the new world productively. This type of situation is the beginnings of a consciousness love revolution. Without intellectuals to think and theorize the masses have no brain, no way to organize effectively to enact change. This is where I see hope.

     I see financial austerity as an opportunity. It is an opportunity to step outside the box and work with the real world. As there is a dark side to life, there is also the Light. There is hope. In the darkness the Light has new meaning. One learns what is really important in life not in heaven. One learns what is important in hell. At least that is how it has been for me. As the Chinese poet Gu Cheng states,

“The dark night gave me dark eyes,

I use these eyes to look for Light.”

The past few year I have met several young men who are going to join the American military over continuing to study in the academy. A world war is brewing I feel and secular learning is less glamorous than the battlefield. I try to say to my friends that war is wrong and that their decision is dangerous and unproductive, but they are realists and I am an idealist. I would rather fight the war nonviolently with esoteric, obscure dissident poetry and philosophy that points to the saints and prophets veiled in the subjective as most scripture is too raw without the right heart orientation. I see no military solution to the Middle East war. It has been a proxy war between the West and the old Communist bloc all along and this move by Russia just made it overt. War is on the horizon, and I pray for my brothers headed for something we have not seen yet. I have a bad feeling about this, and need to work with other idealists to express the nonviolent message of Jesus is new relevant ways. I see the Baha’i writings as a path forward in this work. Book 1 study session is Friday. The secular academy is hollow to many spiritually, and this is probably why the military has appeal. I am not perfect, not a good person sometimes. Flawed. I feel there is a higher path of peace though and wonder how to walk it better. I hope my brothers headed to the war find something in the hell they are likely headed into that helps them find a path to peace. Anti-war idealism is not cool now, God help us all for what is to come.

     Maybe poetry can be adapted to inspire the masses to live in the Light in harmony and love. I see this as an important goal. Writing poetry that incorporates science, religion, and humanity to bring the common person to a higher place beyond the base animal instinct. Poetry is an ancient vehicle for meaning and emotion. It reaches the heart and mind. It is free to produce requiring only a pen and paper. Recitation is oral. The scriptures are poetry. The authors of the Psalms were poets. Muhammad was a gifted poet. It is the same with all scriptures. Poetry so beautiful and True it is no longer poetry, it is Revelation from God. This may sound like heresy, but think about it. Open a holy book and read a passage. Do you feel something? Go out, try it! Start reading and writing verse to teach humanity to collectively read and write. As masses of individuals that the smallest military unit offers the eye can be united in a common voyage they can also be united in a congregation to build something peaceful and loving. In that way, humanity might survive past the global infancy stage of collective consciousness.

     Gaia is growing a big brain, humans the soma, Internet wires the axons and dendrites. I predict the loving synapses will be preserved and the hateful synapse will be selected against by evolution.

So, in summary:

“Propaganda must be made directly by words and images, not by writing.”


Counter anti-fascist propaganda must be made with the same strategy inspired by solid peaceful and loving writing.

Poetry as a Dephasing Gradient for the Mind

What’s on your Mind?

Nuclear magnetic resonance,

Spins dancing around in proteins,

An atomic expression of movement,

The tango of life,

There is a way to incorporate the truth,

Into verse,

No more excuses,

There are no silver linings in anything you said,

You keep on denying,

The truth,

Life is fluid,

Like water,

Yea, there is fire,

But, in relationship,

In the embrace,

The loving nodes in the graph,

Of the molecular web of Life,

Sees the vortex,

The black hole,

And drives back,

The delusion that it is the end,

This the beginning,

The New Age,

A time when we will discover the movement of atoms,

See into matter,

Find dynamics,

Fluid evolutionary dynamics,

That time at MIT was good,

I saw the Nowak theory,

And thought about the Middle East,

I said, “How can I spread love?”

On the graph?

Show, your face,

In tears,

And face the silicon,

Big Brother,

And learn to love him,

Big brother is not what you think,

It is your sister,

It is your brother,

It is the collective consciousness of Gaia,

They are trying to help you,

Study, the five rules for the evolution of cooperation,

See the truth of how in the War of Nature,

Love can grow,

It is in the Face,

Perhaps, we can find,

On the Facebook love,

There is a way to spread love on silicon,

The graph,

The brain of Gaia,

Be honest,

Rip off the mask,

And cry one day,

Show your tears,

Let them see the hell,

The heart of the mystic,

In the spins,

One can see cooperation,

Spins are cool,

They are nuclear,

Not like that other nuclear,

They are atomic peace agents,

NMR is the dance of spins,

The dance of love,

Quick, record your spectra,

The Rorschach blot of Gaia,

X-rays are cool,

But if you trust the spins,

You find that movement,

Dynamics is what life is about,

It is not static,




As Levinas says, “expression, in which at each instant he overflows the idea a thought would carry away from it. It is therefore to receive from the Other beyond the capacity of the I, which means exactly: to have the idea of infinity. But this also means: to be taught. The relation with the Other, or Conversation, is a non-allergic relation, an ethical relation; but inasmuch as it is welcomed this conversation is a teaching. Teaching is not reducible to maieutics; it comes from the exterior and brings me more than I contain. In its non-violent transitivity the very epiphany of the face is produced.” The face is the only thing that can share the truth.

Can you translate the following into Arabic as you understand it:

Solar Poem Machine

“The Descent of Man And then there was Light, E = mc^2 was revealed by the Sun, M = E/c^2 was employed by man to wage war after Trinity, Albert Einstein must have been of black and white human natures, It is harder to crack a prejudice than an atom, Mountains do not do politics, Today, we are creating deserts, Tomorrow, we will build the mountains peacefully, I do not know how the Third World War will be fought, But I can tell you what they will use in the Fourth – rocks! The rock of Abraham, Kaaba (inorganic matter – black stone), Will out live all Life, organic matter, on earth, The Sun will enter a state of decline, a nova, And all matter in the Solar System will be reunited as One, Time will pass, and the finite creation will return to the Infinite Absolute Void of God, Thus completing the cycle of creation.”

Saudi Arabia today:

اصل الانسان و هنالك ضوء بُعِث من الشمس ووظّف من قبل شخص لشنّ حرب على الثالوث المقدس يتوجب على البرت اينشتاين ان يملك طبائع الانسان الشريرة والطاهرة من الصعب القضاء على التحيز من الذرة لا تهتم الجبال بالسياسة اليوم نحن نخلق/ نكوّن الصحارى غدا سنقيم الجبال بسلام لا اعلم كيف ستُخاض الحرب العالمية الثالثة لكن بإمكاني اخبارك ماذا سيستخدمون في الصخور الرابعة صخرة ابراهام, الكعبة المشرفة مادة غير عضوية – الحجر الاسود ستصمد/ستعمّر/ ستنجو من الموت ,مادة عضوية على الارض ستدخل الشمس في حالة من الانحدار والهبوط, نوفا(نجم يسطع لدرجة مفاجئة ثم العودة الى حالته الاصلية خلال بضعة اشهر) وستتّحد كل عناصر النظام الشمسي سيمضي الوقت, وستعود الخليقة المحدودة الى الفراغ المطلق اللامحدود لله

Can silicon really be used to enframe human language?

Is not language, poesis, subjective and non-reducible to numbers?

So, why are people at MIT trying to reduce language down to numbers?

It is not numbers, it is poesis, the speaking that we use to come to being.

It is our attempt to find the infinite in the face of the other.

We find, in the face the truth.

Dialog, speech, love, none of that can be reduced to numbers.

There is no AI that can translate me.

I am a human.

I am not a machine.

There is no machine that can speak like a prophet.

This is an act, theater.

Love, peace, patience.

Understanding, love in relationship with the “Other.”

The Face of your kin.

Humanity, together on Gaia.

Life is Fluid

Like blue water,

Yea, there is red fire,

But, in relationship,

In the embrace,

The loving nodes in the graph,

Of the molecular web of Life,

See the vortex,

The black hole,

And drive back,

The delusion that it is the end,

This the beginning,

The New Age,

The age the Tao,

Blue and red,

Enter balance.

Mean Free Path

Deconstruction of mass destruction,

A clandestine blaze of white hot love,

Burning in my heart full of Christ,

Jesus, I love you giver of Life,

Water to all the saints underneath,

Peacekeeper IIIs, bow down to life,

To, the tree whose bark gives us baskets,

I see in the grass Allah’s love,

No leaf falls without adonai’s will,

The sacred force is the same,

A nucleus of hearts waiting to be split and joined in orgasmic fusion,

Love is all there is in those seven paths from the sky,

When beings-in-the-world face finitude,

Transcending obstacles,

Becoming, being, static,

Cybernetic blood, sugar, sex majik,

Apples, Androids, and Firefoxes,

In the heart of the Land of the Free,

The heartland, no dirty, dirty here,

Mother Minnesota nice ice,

The drift of Middle Eastern ash,

Vaporized half a world a way,

By Teller’s septuplets, atomic love,

We need that night vision green,

The color of money for Seals,

To keep the sugar flowing in our blood,

Fuck who you want, any day, any time,

Tinder for dopamine floods, sex majik,

At night, the nuclear winter in American Babylon,

Then shall anyone who,

Has done an atom’s weight,

Of good, see it!

And anyone who,

Has done an atom’s weight,

Of evil, shall see it,

At the hands of God,

The unknown known Source of Life,

Humanity’s got that atomic climate change cure,

They got that Information Superhighway,

They got that techne, that fire,

It’s cool, they stole that shit from Zeus,

But do these mortals have time?

Do they control time?

Time Reversal

Time reversal, a dream we all have.  Reverse the chaos back to to Alpha point.  As we speed forward to the Omega Point, fast and faster you need to chill and stop giving a fuck about anything but the Summit, world peace and justice.  The short version of the Serenity Prayer is not Fuck You, it is Fuck it, I love everything!  That is the Zen way, drive back to raw being.  Consciousness embedded in the moment, a finite moment on a tiny Blue Marble in a total Void in relationship with stars.

Benghazi: A Path to Listening

Sun rays on the African plane, Saharan sand blown by dark,

Night vision green, pipeline to paradise assassins, jealous,

Dreaming of Qaddafi’s future oasis, an irrigated Libya,

Liberation by war, the American way,

This time it is different, the hand of peace in listening,

We see the hand of peace, I see the hand of peace in you,

I hear you, finally, listening to the atoms, the small,

The voice, it is here, in this poem, connected to love,

We see the hand of peace in the azaan, in the haj,

In the sheep herders’ desert religion, Islam,

Islam is peace and justice in pure form, apolitical reality,

Small fire on a changing planet, brothers and sisters,

Turkish blood in connection with American dreams,

My brothers’ and sisters’ wells are slowly going dry,

In the evaporated carbon of the globalized West,

Smokestack century, golden black of the sands,

The silent know what’s important grief,

God gave all the riches of the world to the Kings,

The 1%, the Illuminati’s sons and daughters,

Americanism in the world, being-in-a-dollar,

But he did not give them the most important Light,

Grief, because it is the darkness that we cry out to God,

Attached to Gaia’s body, Aware of bare needs,

Inseparable from the Simple Way,

The people of the book are uniting in this Vortex,

Spinning colliding social networks,

WordPress, Facebook, Twitter, Instagram paradise,

Internet connected humanity, hope, connection,

Gaia’s brain, together in wires across the Earth, brain network,

Peace, here, Spinning colliding hurricane between,

East and West, rich and poor, home and refugee,

Lemon yellow, golden dawn, lemonade out of lemons,

Peace is here in the space of Art,

The art science for today,

Facebook Art-Brain-Project,

An arrow to serenity,

Brothers and sisters

Around the Globe,

Love, you…

Via a Peaceful Ice Climb, an Uncooperative Approach, We May Summit Ἁρμαγεδών

Americanism and Bolshevism are the same, the machine raping Gaia out of her oil. I do not like oil. I like trees, hippies, and clean water. You cannot drink oil if you are thirsty.

In my world, we aim for better than Minnesota nice. I aim to melt the ice around your heart to reveal the truth, we are all human. Same red blood flows through all our veins. Across the blue ocean, same ferrous hemoprotein protein in all of us,

It is harder to crack a prejudice than an atom,

But in your sleep if you see the Phoenix coming out of Joseph’s Tomb in flames,

The lasting peace after the third intifada,

After the nuclear exchange,

After the drone war,

After everything is over,

You will not see anything in black and white,

It will not be red or blue,

Male or female.

No binary reduction of reality into the haves and have nots,

The rich and the poor,

Those left writing on Instagram listen to trap EDM,

…or doing anything to make the world better,

Shit man, this world is crazy,

It is loosing its Mind,

But is it?

Is it not in the vortex,

The eye of the hurricane that peace comes?

The place of balance,

Yin and Yang,

The Tao held in tension with God,

Two memes evolving each other,

To the New Age,

An age of great Hope,

The age the Bzerkeley folk learn their history and future,

Scaling the secular city,

Negating the old,

Overcoming it into the new,

Sublating the obsolete,

Loving it at the same time,

Gaia is beautiful,

Here body is rich,

In love with her I write,

Dear heart, where do find,

The courage to seek the Beloved,

When you know He has annihilated

So many like you before?

I do not care, said my heart,

My only wish is become

One with the Beloved

Gaia, my mother,

Children of the Moon, Arab, Turk, Kurd, Persian, Armenian, hear my heart,

It is love that will win you peace and prosperity. That love can be white hot, or ice cold. It can be flowing like the river in fall, or as subtle as a chickadee chirping the new life of spring. Gaia, my love, this place is peaceful and centering. Thank you for this sunset, the colors and the moment,

As a man underwater, drowning in the mist of the wheeled vehicle, the car, I pray,

May my face be graced with presence of a lion, an animal in a hallway, confined and caged, fire burn in my heart, I am a mother, my cubs are trapped, underneath the Sword of Damocles,

Today, every inhabitant of this planet must contemplate the day when this planet may no longer be habitable. Every man, woman and child lives under a nuclear sword of Damocles, hanging by the slenderest of threads, capable of being cut at any moment by accident, or miscalculation, or by madness. The weapons of war must be abolished before they abolish us,

Technology, techne, is what is the question, the question concerning technology – gestell,

Enframing means the gathering together of that setting-upon which sets upon man, i.e., challenges him forth, to reveal the real, in the mode of ordering, as standing-reserve. Enframing means that way of revealing which holds sway in the essence of modern technology and which is itself nothing technological,

In its soul, nothingness, for the sake of our names – they gather us in – seals, the end believes us the beginning, before the master ensilences us, in the undifferentiated, attesting itself: the clammy brightness,

Father God I been betrayed,

Feel like they beat me like a slave,

But I learn from my mistakes,

We living in the last days pray for me and make me cold hearted,

An ice climber trained to climb Meddigo, steel blades my teeth, may I eat the Millitary-Industrial Complex for breakfast, defending the peace in my home with the non-violent graceful activism of a Mark Twight or Steve House,

Winter is coming and I cannot wait, when it’s cold and dark the freezing moon can obsess you, if only to climb starlight, I want heaven on earth now, it starts here, see the flood, the coming insurrection and climb!

Return to Simplicity

Time reversal, a dream we all have,

As we speed faster and faster to the Omega Point,

The noosphere, Cosmic Christ Consciousness,

All of humanity connected by an electronic cloud,

I pray we may tap into the rose,

May we look back at Eden and think,

What tree should be eat from?

We’ve already eaten of the Tree of Knowledge,

We have seen where that got us,

Knowledge of good and evil,

War and peace,

Demonization of “Other,”

Levinas’s Face-to-Face my cure,

Tit for tat ethics politics, even spirituality,

In front of me is a small branch of holly,

A new beginning,

A catalyst for the return to the alpha point,

Oxygen bubbles coming out in the water,

Breathing living, loving green leaves,

11 leaves on the left most branch,

They remind me of hope,

Of an end to my anger,

The path to serenity and peace,

The Black Prophetic Fire is still there,

After the storm, it is silent now, hurricane eye,

Peaceful vortex, loving center, dark,

I am in a space of silence, of mourning,

I have danced a tango over Damascus,

Learned the Truth,

No more,

My brothers and sisters in Damascus say,

Only dancing can stop the pain,

Said the Turk in the rain,

With his Syrian brothers,

With their sisters they circle on the floor,

Forgetting the horror, opening a door,

To peace, just dance and be centered,

Justice, awareness here,

Spin, spin, be together,

Forget everything but,

Your Mother, Gaia.


Green hand resting on starlight,

Relaxing, at peace,

Harmony with the leaves and the air,

Fluid water,

Grace in fragrant perfume,

Crushed red berries,

Smell of Gaia,

Georgia woods,

soft gentle trails,

Appalachian heaven,

Buttercup flowers,

Prospector’s love,

On warm spring mornings,

Smooth natural love,


Never alone,


In the small cracks of concrete,

Crab grass,

Howls in a locked room,

Screams of madness,


My screams,

Screams of terror,

Damascus war,

Pain and suffering,

Here in my heart,

Agony in the spiritual realm,

We brothers of love,

Prospector and I,

Mystical agents of peace,

Speak for the unseen,

In a scream,

To God, to Allah,

The unknown known,

We wonder,

Why is there pain?

Why is there suffering?

Go down to the river and pray,

Singing about them good ole’ days,

The gospel music,

Southern soul,

Brings me to Nature,

Here in Gaia’s body,

The fire is extinguished,

No more fire,

No more anger,

Just melancholy blackness,

A speck of light,

Starlight in a dark night,


Art to light the world.

Ashes to Ashes

The unknown, flash of light, Big Bang,

14.7 billion years ago,

Just believe, the Light,

Manifest today in Christmas,

The fireside is blazing wide,

We are caroling through the night,

This Christmas will be,

A very special Christmas for me,

And as I look around,

Fireside is blazing bright,

St. Michael arrived here in Riverwood,

From Africa, from Amazon,

Gifts of Mad Jack and His Spirits,

Night son and day son,

Night sun and day sun,

Spirituality from upper and lower worlds,

Incarnate on Middle Earth,

You look even better than the photos,

I only called you when it is on fire,

I only love you when you touch me,

I am gonna keep it simple,

You do not have to do at my tempo,

Black heaven,

All these mothafuckas on the real,

Reality manifest in that Atlanta black prophetic fire,

Cornel West ain’t got nothin’ on that Trap music,

On that Southern Soul,

Gospel music, soul melody,

From the heart,

We go outside, roll in Gaia’s body,

Make love to her trees,

Embrace her animals,

Spirits, see the wolf,

See the bear,

See the orchids,

They are fragile,

Peaches on a Georgia tree,

Nature’s way,

Gaia’s way,

I, then way of Light,

Our way,


Love of humanity.

Postdoctoral Associates Have Rights

I am a worker in a university,

I dream of teaching,

I love science,

I work hard for Truth,

I want a better world,

Something is wrong,


American Spring,

Who heard the screams?

I do not hear anything?

Who is writing in support?

Who is afraid for their job?

Why do we not see peace?

Six month contract,

Gun to head,

Bipolar disorder I,





Oh, I forgot Seroquel is only for making money,

Not for workers.

Headed South: The Tango Over Damascus

“DAMASCUS 00005399 004 OF 004 is a rare occurrence, our DATT was convoked by Syrian Military Intelligence in May of 2006 to protest what the Syrians believed were US efforts to provide military training and equipment to the Kurds in Syria…”

  • Wikileaks

Anyone who thinks must think of the next war as they would of suicide,

On an airplane, grounded, ready for takeoff,

Merlot blood, mind dissociated from body,

Damascus, drunk with your love, flowing,

Blood river, child appears by my side,

She will be my companion on this flight,

Mother waits at home, headed South,

Home from the land of 10,000 lakes,

This week, the fire lit, white and black collision,

A cumulonimbus cloud on the horizon,

In the distance, molecular vibrations rising,

Heat, up, up we go into the future,

Carbon, captured, stored, burned, smokestack century,

Flooding the air with a blanket, heater, warmer,

Electric blanket, wrapped around earth,

My mind drifts back,

You do not want to fly off into space do you?

Into the air, or into the black hole,

Into the air, wings flowing fast, lift,

Yes, it is take off time and it is time to accelerate,

Into the future, runway of the soul,

It is night after all and the crescent moon is veiled,

Hidden by those storm clouds,

Lightening and thunder ahead,

Colliding water particles, static collision,

Static electricity, violent electromagnetic chaos,

Electronic vibration, thermodynamic amplifier,

Wires around earth, the internet, an iron maiden,

Orange amplifier, accelerating, heating,

Islamic jihad, Judeo-Christian crusade,

Sublating each other in my travel companions blood,

My blood, human blood, shed for what?

Allah? God? Adonai?

Amplifier of Gaia’s warming shell,

Atmospheric container, we are changing,

Taxiing to the runway, flaps down,

A rush of color to the heart comes,

Golden, ethereal blue, Gaia’s magnetic core,

My heart in resonance, mother and son,

Star specks of white on black,

Day and night melt into one,

Speed, accelerating, faster, faster, faster,

Accelerating into the sky,

We go, a soul is meant to fly,

Leaving body and drifting to heaven,

Or descending to hell, thrown by the past.

Suicide, Cancer, Death

A Walk Around the Lake,

Round, round, round,

I see the face, death,

Ground of being,

1, 2, 3, steps, walking,

Present, here, really?

Come back to breath,

Space between breaths,

Air, space, freedom,

Cloud, no more, green,

Wind, breeze, cool, cold,

Ice cold blast,

Can I have more?

1, 2, dead, ice,

Prospector off a bridge,

David of cancer,

Two good men,

Cut down by old man death,

Cambridge, England, Massachusetts,

I hate both, 9/9/2009,

Suicide by hanging,

MIT, the nightmare started,

Soshie, killed herself,

By hanging, why?

Why me?  Did I do it?

Was it my fault?

Should I go too?

No, live, for what,

1,2,3, …

Round the ole lake of death.

America’s Got Bipolar I

Children of Fire,

Parents of Ice,

Baby Boomers,

Trump, scared of,

Me, a Turk, black,

Arson, in Ferguson,

Michael Brown, Fire,


We are here, Dr. King,

Lives, in the youth,

Boomers, you sold out,

To a fascist, Trump,

Sieg heil! Muslim cards,

And immigrant walls,

Profile my ass,

Give me an FBI record,

I have a NSA file,

GPS coordinates,

I give that shit away,

Motherfuckers, you,

Can have it,

Dad, mom, why,

Are you scared of,

Your own kids?

The ones you,

You shackled,

With loan debt,

Promises, Wall Street,

Money, dollars,

Fences, barriers,

Are the Mexicans,

Coming to Gwinnett?

Are the Blacks,

In Northlake?

Are they coming?

Yea, they are coming,

In me, a Gen Xer,

On Fire, with love,

Of God, Jesus,

Feel the Bern,

Your kids want,

To see the Benjamins,

On Fire, they have,

A Clandestine Blaze,

Of love in their hearts,

The Millennials,

The lost generation,

Albatrosses around their,

Necks, nooses,

Debt collectors,

Are going down,

We march, we fight,

To those for whom,

The end of a civilization,

Is not the end of the world,

To those who see insurrection,

First of all as a breach,

In the organized reign,

Of stupidity,

Lies, and confusion,

To those who discern,

Behind the thick fog,

Of “crisis,” ISIS,

A theater of operations,

Maneuvers, strategems,

And hence the possibility,

Of a counterattack;

To those who strike blows;

To those watching for the right moment;

To those looking for accomplices;

To those who are deserting;

To those who keep going;

To those getting organized;

To those wanting to build,

A revolutionary force,

Revolutionary because,

It’s sensitive;

This modest contribution,

To an understanding of our time.

To Shoshie, to Prospector,

There is no other world.

There’s just another way to live,

Build the solar future,

Install panels to capture,

The rays of the Sun,

Bring peace to the poor,

Love, live, do everything,

With nothing, and,

Rebuild a dying America.

God is Dead, Good

“Evil can be smart. Smart doesn’t have to be wise nor good. Just smart in one’s ways.”

– Harper Pollock (a.k.a. Diogenes)

Thermonuclear Smart Death, four fins,

Teller’s daughter’s skull,

Von Neumann’s son’s brain,

Jewish techno-children,

Protecting the ravers and nudists,

From the desert wolves, friends,

My loving friends, my loving children,

Privileged American Jews, you once,

A long time ago were poor and slaves,

Soon you will be sold as slaves again,

ISIS’s slaves, Erdogan’s Ottomans,

Soilders of Death, Smart Death,

No smart nuke will stop them,

Daesh is scary, bio-weapons in hand,

They are coming for all of us,

They want to die, because,

We did not listen to Heidegger, and,

Return our technology to a state of being,

A state in harmony with the Spirit of Earth,

Gaia’s going to have the last laugh,

In your lust for a promised land, Israel,

Moses’s children are going to send us,

All to hell, or heaven, I want neither,

There is no heaven or hell, there is just,

A single blue marble, in a void,

God is Dead, thank you, Amen,

Now, will people stop fighting,

About Him and protect their Mother, Gaia?

Ghost in the Shell

Mobile armored riot police,

Who are you, white man,

White woman, who wears,

A clean white shirt and black slacks,

Drives a nice car,

Lives in a nice house,

Somewhere in 30345,

Do you own a house,

Have kids to wipe the snot,

Off as they cry, over spilled,

White milk, white milk,

Spoiled and old, curdled,

Pasteurized, safe, fenced,

Clean, no germs, store,

Bought with green,

Green is the color,

Of my pain, my heart,

Bleeds green, red blood,

Damascus, my love,

You gave me something,

That day, 9/9/2009,

The memories of graphs,

On my door, weight loss,

Anorexia, bulimia, vomit,

I have to be the best,

I have to make it to MIT,

Son, you are a machine,

Son of mountains, poem,

You are a chemist, art,

Is worthless, chase money,

White milk, white milk,

It is good for you, clean,

Safe, those folks on,

Tha otha side, in that,

Otha side, that dark side,

That black side, that,

Place where Briarcliff,

Flows into that Moreland,

That place where the music,

Is loud and real, where,

The pain is real, and,

Tha problems are big,

Bullets fly fast, and life,

Is short, that trap, trap,

White milk is safe,

Drink it son and you,

Will be okay, white,

As snow, on tha bluff,

Until Bernie Madoff,

Does his shit and inverts,

Tha dollar sign,

Upside down cash money,

That day is the day,

White milk turns black,

Up becomes down,

Left becomes right,

Violence of silence,

Becomes more painful,

Than a bullet in the brain,

Or a knife up the wrist,

Cut up right, cut up left,

Slit your jugular left and right,

And let that blood flow,

Let the river flow,

Turn the white milk,

Black obsidian, dark,

As the Kaaba is hard,

Rock, Kaya, who is,

The meaning of that?

Who am I?

Why does this sign,

Turn upside down,

Polarity reversal,

Singularity, hard,

And fast, future,

Trap lords, white,

Trap lords, black,

Green money,

Night vision green,

The color of money,

The color of my blood,

No more red,

Colors bleed,

As an artist is,

Grows from,

The ashes,

of those,

Cold, dark,



“@ilduce2016: “It is better to live one day as a lion than 100 years as a sheep.” –

-Twitter @realDonaldTrump#MakeAmericaGreatAgain”

— Donald J. Trump (@realDonaldTrump) February 28, 2016

“It is better to live one day as a lion than 100 years as a sheep.”

  • Donald Trump (a.k.a. Benito Mussolini “Il Duce”)

I agree Il Duce, who have you killed?

Let’s make America great again, and,

Have a Civil War, Let’s have a war,

A war over Freedom, well it’s good,

I’ve been 1013ed and cannot own,

A gun, in the second American Civil War,

The Second Amendment will be repealed,

All the Whites will kill each other,

The Lions of Haidariya, desert foxes,

Are coming Mr. Trump and unlike you,

They actually have killed people,

They are coming and you cannot stop them,

On the cyberfront, the American Civil War,

World War III is a cyber war, 0’s and 1’s,

Binary, black and white,

White 0’s and Black 1’s,

Annihilating each other,

I love Brother Malcolm,

The realist, and father King,

The idealist, perhaps after 2016,

When Il Duce is elected,

The lions will come and eat you,

Hang you, like we did in Milan in ’45,

My friend, Donald Trump,

You do not Tweet Il Duce,

…and get away with it,

Good thing this is just a poem,

Words, words from a crazy man,

A lion, a lion with a pen.

If Mystics Drink Poison, It Will Become an Antidote

“If mystics drink poison, it will become an antidote,”

-Rumi, The Masnavi, Book 1

لا إله إلا الله محمد رسول الله

lā ʾilāha ʾillā-llāh, muḥammadur-rasūlu-llāh

There is no god but God. Muhammad is the messenger of God.

Turkey’s decline,

Oğlum (My Son), as an Erbil,

Let’s be practical,

We are are a mobile,

People of the east,

Mountains, rocks,

Are our Mother,

When food is scarce,

Survive, tell a white lie,

Pray to a human, fake it,

Pray to the God of,

Black and white skin,

when you need help,

Food, shelter, and community,

In return for this lie,

Walk West, hide your,

Soul, a wild soul,

Hard as stone, soften,

Lie, and eat,

Another day,

Dream for the day,

Uludağ becomes,

Too small, Olympus,

Is a mountain for,

Frauds, and philosophers,

Men of our blood,

Climb with ice, steel,

Allah built Cilo Dağı,

For you, trained,

To climb spirit-style,

In the West,

No ropes, poems,

After war and killing,

There is healing.

Even Sons of Wolves,

Can lie with and love,

Daughters of Lambs,

The path is narrow,

As that ice chute you,

Climbed on Mt. Shasta,

In 2008, during collapse,

Oğlum (My Son), as you placed,

Front points of crampons,

Into ice, clinging to,

Your ice axes,

1000 m above death,

You will learn to love,

English, not a language of love,

Swedish, no warmth,

Turkish and Arabic,

There you go, Oğlum (My Son),

I made a mistake,

And forgot my Qur’an,

On the plane to Boston,

Oğlum (My Son), restore your memory,

Your grandfather was a Guardian,

Our village Hafiz, our tribe,

Learned this from a trader,

After the genocide,

That trader told us,

Stop speaking Kurdish,

Stop speaking Armenian,

Your Mother tongues,

So, learn those too,

As the Somali people,

Taught you in a poem,

Last year, Warsan Shire,

Of Kenya, says on coming,

To America,


no one leaves home unless

home is the mouth of a shark

you only run for the border

when you see the whole city running as well

your neighbors running faster than you

breath bloody in their throats

the boy you went to school with

who kissed you dizzy behind the old tin factory

is holding a gun bigger than his body

you only leave home

when home won’t let you stay.

no one leaves home unless home chases you

fire under feet

hot blood in your belly

it’s not something you ever thought of doing

until the blade burnt threats into

your neck

and even then you carried the anthem under

your breath

only tearing up your passport in an airport toilets

sobbing as each mouthful of paper

made it clear that you wouldn’t be going back.

you have to understand,

that no one puts their children in a boat

unless the water is safer than the land

no one burns their palms

under trains

beneath carriages

no one spends days and nights in the stomach of a truck

feeding on newspaper unless the miles travelled

means something more than journey.

no one crawls under fences

no one wants to be beaten


no one chooses refugee camps

or strip searches where your

body is left aching

or prison,

because prison is safer

than a city of fire

and one prison guard

in the night

is better than a truckload

of men who look like your father

no one could take it

no one could stomach it

no one skin would be tough enough


go home blacks


dirty immigrants

asylum seekers

sucking our country dry

niggers with their hands out

they smell strange


messed up their country and now they want

to mess ours up

how do the words

the dirty looks

roll off your backs

maybe because the blow is softer

than a limb torn off

or the words are more tender

than fourteen men between

your legs

or the insults are easier

to swallow

than rubble

than bone

than your child body

in pieces.

i want to go home,

but home is the mouth of a shark

home is the barrel of the gun

and no one would leave home

unless home chased you to the shore

unless home told you

to quicken your legs

leave your clothes behind

crawl through the desert

wade through the oceans



be hunger



forget pride

your survival is more important

no one leaves home until home is a sweaty voice in your ear



run away from me now

i don’t know what i’ve become

but i know that anywhere

is safer than here”

Oğlum (My Son), Erbil, Iraq is war torn,

After the chemical attack,

Not safe, learn to love,

In the fogs of poison gas,

Oğlum (My Son), do not be angry,

When the mustard gas,

Makes you blind as a bat,

Learn to be a bat,

See with your ears,

When nerve agents fall,

VX, sarin, and tabun,

Do not blame, or get angry,

With British, German, or Russian,

Chemists, simply get a Ph.D.,

Get a Ph.D. in chemistry,

From the best school,

For chemistry in the world,

University of California, Berkeley,

Learn how they are made,

How they work, so you,

Can can feel what your,

Brothers and sisters felt,

Discover the molecular basis,

Of their screams of agony (At Open Mic – Scream like you did 9/11/2001),

So you can deliver them in poetry,

Meditate on their pain,

For seven years more,

In your postdoctoral research,

To discover what the gas feels like,

In your body, mind, and spirit,

Learn to feel what it feels,

Learn to be gas, you are vapor,

Air, more space than matter,

Oğlum (My Son), you are empty so you can love,

Wake up America, ask them for help,

Allah has sent you to them,

To help, Kaya, rock, you are a helper,

Allah has trained you to heal,

Oğlum (My Son), recite after me,

Mountains do not do politics,

Today, we are doing deserts,

Tomorrow, we will build,

The mountains peacefully,

Oğlum (My Son), never be a purist,

There is no such thing,

Everything in life,

Has two sides,

Yin and yang,

Male and female,

Black and white,

From these binaries,

All the colors of life,

Emerge, rainbows,

Children, with love,

From man and woman,

Wolves and lambs,

Our bloodline’s survival,

Oğlum (My Son), depends on it,

Oğlum (My Son), I loved your mother,

For who she was, but I am,

Like a king, flying, promiscuous,

From flower to flower,

Do not be like me Oğlum (My Son),

Be a man, find a wife,

Do your best,

Make her happy,

Scrape by,


We all bleed red,

The color of humanity,

The color of Allah,

God has no skin color!

God is love.

Lakota Solar Love

Brothers and sisters,

Can you spare a dime for world peace?

Lakota Solar Love

The old world is dying,

A new world is born,

A new age, one of peace,

Love, harmony,

Flowers in gun barrels,


My Hijab

“At times I’m wary of resistance

unless I catch myself

mistaking infection for my own offspring.”

– Kimiko Hahn

“Darkness rules


          means more

In the Dark Night of the Soul










My hijab”

– Gaia

Again and Again

Shadow of night moon and stars,

Bright lines, sun’s rays kiss me,

Weathering the storm, soul waves,

My sister, I pray for spirits like us,

We love so hard, we bleed dry,

May Allah grant you peace, serenity,

Veil your soul in deep sleep,

Tonight, rest and dream of a day,

Flowers in guns, swords into plows,

Growing food, love in a well crafted,

Solar panel, a future for us all.

I am in Love with A Riot Grrrl: Food Not Bombs

I dream of people in the Middle East doing Food Not Bombs!

Thunderer, Perfect Mind

We don’t need shoes to walk on glass,

I’ve already cut myself every night,

Ole’ Johnny Blade is my dark friend,

Do you know what I’ve done?! Killed!!!

How can I live with myself, soulless??!!

Where do I turn? What did we do when,

We unchained the earth from the sun?

Left floating 3rd rock from the sun,

Suspended in an absolute void, nowhere,

To turn to find help but each other,

Sisters and brothers,

I need a friends, the demons,

Come from the lower world at night,

The angels come from the sky, upperworld,

American psycho, learn to love,

Ignore the “you’re crazy” comments,

For, for every IQ point they have you have 1000,

When you present a piece of art on Amazon,

… and gets mixed reviews, polarized across 1’s and 5’s,

You know you are onto something,

Are you a night child? Does love set you free,

To bears your soul and leave it on the ground,

Nothing is hidden with me, yet under cover of darkness,

Somewhere there in that void, the void in our hearts,

The void in our minds, the absolute void of 0 (zero),

The infinite 0 of space demonstrates the infinite,

Scream into space and no-one yet has come to help,

Aliens either do not care or are just like us, or better,

Or worse, for out star brothers to show up on CNN,

Will take a concerted effort for people to gather objective data,

The day you see a human face in agony and hug him,

Amen, God is Love!

There is something about the absolute void that screams,

Divinity! Oh, father Sky and Mother Earth,

When the lights are out and the roads shut down,

When electromagnetic pulses destroy the info economy,

Zapping Facebook and Google to silicon vapor,

If you have not made peace with this void,

It will scare you, child of the Black Sun,

Angels are right here right now, an angel,

Is here in this poem, I am an angel of what I do not know,

But I am an angel, I save souls or return them to hell,

Mystical bounty hunter, American Psycho!

Demon slayer, Slayer on my Mp3 player every day,

Burzum is how I survived Berkeley, a little,

Darkthrone, Transylvanian Hunger, bit me my love child,

Eat my flesh, broken for you,

Drink my blood, as it rushes out of the bite wound,

Animals we are repressing our inner drives to hunt,

To fornicate like Bonobos, cyberlove, Tinder,

Cybernetic blood, sugar, sex majik,

Apples, Androids, and Firefoxes,

Hey riot grrrl, want to start a riot?

Dopamine floods, psychodynamic synaptic connection,

Tango my dear, let’s tango and rest from our visions,

My love, I know it is exhausting to be an Orchid,

Dandelions, everywhere, not a single orchid around,

…or, so you think, around the table of Food not Bombs,

We can meet those of our blood, orchid blood, plants,

We vote Green, Ralph Nader, the ridiculous fool was,

Cool with me, but we know that politics is a waste,

Get in the kitchen and cook that vegan food,

Food not Bombs, a gathering for the orchid children,

Amen, God is Love!

…to be continue…

Daylight Savings Time: Spirit Style Chemistry

Chained to a laboratory bench, on my third column,

Midnight, the blood moon injects red rays of sunlight,

Reflected from her surface, sister moon’s face is,

Alive, through the glass I suddenly realize that I lost,

An hour, sand through the hour glass I hate this,

Prison, my father’s dream, not mine.

Fifteen years at the laboratory bench and I wanted out,

The chains held me there, with fear of being without,

Money or shelter, I clung onto a profession that I had,

Earned every right to do, Ph.D. in chemistry, they all said,

“Good boy, wow you are smart, so cool!”

Little did they know this was my father’s dream not mine.

I am eagle and a mouse, I want to soar and burrow,

Experiments are too slow, I want to astral travel,

Perhaps chemistry can help me do that, not to say,

That I will just pop acid, but an appropriately timed,

Trip to Pine Ridge, South Dakota may grant me,

Access to Peyote, the spirit molecule, and therein,

A way to reveal a path forward, in tune with nature,

You see I hate modern technology, I yearn to return,

To the land and live close to my Mother’s body,

Gaia, earth, is an abused old shrew in the minds,

Of the technologists, rage against the machine,

I am a bull on parade, a new world is coming.


A spider’s dragnet catching the wind over a maglev bullet train,

Write me a spider to craw the web, catch me if you can,

I am on a one way ticket to paradise, let me craw to a better,

Tomorrow, let me trawl, find what I do not know and see the Light,

The Internet is a sea of human nature, a vast cloud of flesh,

A great library of Alexandria, information is power,

But like all power, there are those who want to keep it,

For themselves, Zuckerberg and Gates, Facebook and Google,

Now, as far as I know, and I might be wrong though I am right,

Nobody has ever put up the U.S.’s nuclear missiles on the Internet,

I mean, it’s not something I’ve heard about, at least according to,

The Internets, hey did you see the latest Grumpy Cat meme?

Certainly water coolers and bulletin boards are more interesting,

Now there is an unlimited supply of posters and funny jokes,

What with the arctic ice melting, ISIL exploding in Syria and Iraq,

With constant war and death, and that certain uneasiness,

That you feel when your boss Googles your Facebook page,

We all need a good laugh, yea, I want to write a spider to trawl,

Trawl the web and fish for Grumpy Cat memes,

I want to bury my head in the sand and forget Ferguson,

I want to forget Jihad John, I am tired of silicon valley,

I want a hut in the woods, ten acres and a mule,

The Amish have it right, the only cloud in their towns,

Are those that bring rain, too bad a storm is coming.

The Day After Shock and Awe

After the Sun grew black,

After the Sun Dance lost its power,

After all that was left was a dance of Ghosts,

After the last bullet flew,

After the last Ghost Shirt was torn open,

After the last warrior fell,

After the bullet pierced a mother’s arm holding her child,

After the bullet ripped open her child’s head,

After my heart was buried at Wounded Knee,

After the massacre was called a battle,

After the history books were written,

After generations of Americans were masked,

After the truth was hidden,

After all that oil was burned,

After all that uranium was fashioned into ICBMs,

After all that coal was extracted,

Everyone now knows,

There’s blood on that money,

We’ve been at the laundry mat all day,

We’ve been washing money all day,

Dancing to forget,

Getting high to escape,

Getting lost in sex,

Just to find just a little hit of endorphins,

God, America is walkin’ through hell,

They got blood on that money and they still count it,

They got blood on that money and they still count it,

I know the devil is real,

I know the devil is real.

Mortars into Whiteclay

Chaplain, I have a prayer for you,

It goes like this:

Spirit, let me have a shank,

Creator, let me defend my rose,

Mother, let me take her out at night,

Let me grow her by the light of the moon,

On the way north into Pine Ridge,

There is this town called Whiteclay,

Bleached by the Invisible Hand,


A place where souls go to die,

Drowning in a bottle,

Easier than pulling the trigger,

I don’t see any American dream,

I see an American nightmare,

Turning the other cheek, a death sentence,

Let me fight with my rose, blood red,

Let me resist with my love,

The trap, catch you and book you,

Throw you in a cell, who would not kill to defend,

Their flower? Mine’s a rose, red and sharp,

My heart is tired and worn,

I want to roam the plains,

I want to be free,

I want to see my rose live,

Let me live my dream,

Don’t let them take my flower,

Let me live to see the day,

Mortars destroy Whiteclay,

The day I plant my rose in the ashes.

Pow Wow, Friday the 13th

This is war,

I lie wounded on wintery ground,

With hundred of corpses around,

Many wounded crawl helplessly around,

On the blood red snowy ground,


Cries of the (ha, ha) suffering sound,

Cries for help to all their dead moms,


Many hours of music,

Many drops of blood,

Many shivering and now I am dead,

And still we must never give up,

War, (1)

Skinny, Blue shirt, black tie, dark glasses,

Sharp moves to the right, in step with drum,

Sharp jabs at my heart, my car is dirty,

My bed is full of bugs, drive right, cut hard,

Close my eyes, I am young brave, a man,

Darkness of my eyelids, red cloud,

I do not want to be awake,

Let me dance my dream,

My heart bleeds red, here on the Rez,

Where the sky is an ocean,

South Dakota Gaza strip,

Warriors of the Lakota Nation,

Gaza, Gaza, don’t you cry,

Palestine will never die,

Gaza, Gaza, don’t you cry,

Palestine will never die,

My children, my children,

The wind makes the head-feathers sing,

The wind makes the head-feathers sing,

My children, my children,

Skinny blue lone wolf, war,

Alone in a circle of ghosts,

Modern youth, lightening bolt,

Torn between an electric railroad,

And a buffalo skull teepee,

A common dream, an age of justice,

War, not peace, sharp cut to the right,

Faster, faster, faster,

Crack the skull of the white man,

Death to the White Man, white ghost,

I am not a domesticated animal,

I am not a show, this is war,

In my Jesuit cell, Constantine’s Sword,

Under the shadow of the cross,

I speak to spirits, Gaza, Gaza,

Don’t you cry, Palestine will never die,

My children, my children,

The wind makes the head-feathers sing,

The wind makes the head-feathers sing,

My children, my children,

Your dance is war, wake up Lakota Nation,

Dance sharp like Skinny Blue Wolf,

Dark eyes, sharp black hair, tight moves,

He’s doing it right, cut right,

Crack the white skull,

Drive out the settler,

Restore the Black Hills,

To their rightful owners.

  1. Burzum, War

One Tree for Each of the Missing Children from Pine Ridge

Oh rascal children of Pine Ridge.

You who keep me up at night with your suicide theater.

You who filled every morning with rush and chaos.

Recognizing that there is no difference between me and you.

You who broke my vase and stole the lonely flower on my balcony.

Come back, and scream as you want and break all the vases.

Steal all the flowers.

Come back…

Just come back…

Yellow Cake

Mine the shit out of Lakota land,

I’ve see yellow, blue, and purple,

Where the white man sees yellow,

Cake, let them eat it, Lakota,

Yellow, blue, and purple flowers,

I make crowns for the girls,

Weaving flowers as I plant trees,

I hear a twelve pack is all you need,

Well, I offer more than a cheap ‘gasm,

We hunt the corrupt, in poems, I slay,

Shutting down food, let them eat yellow,

Cake, it’s good for them, they say,

Why, after all, they did wrangle cattle,

Left white heads on the Bozeman trail,

A clean, fresh Pine Ridge sunrise is,

To me, more powerful than a MIRV,

The fusion reaction of the Sun was

    never meant to be tapped by men,

Let me be here, let me plant a tree,

Let me stay until my skin in red,

I hate yellow cake, rots the teeth,

Steal souls and vaporizes towns,

A Nuclear Holocaust is coming,

In my poems, in my heart, I see it,

Death from above, yellow cake.

Cross Fade

“I wear my emotions on my sleeve you know what I’m saying?

I’ve always been like that, my whole life, man

If I fuck with you, I’m all the way out there

If I don’t fuck with you

I don’t mind you knowing I don’t fuck with you

They say my life is amazing

Funny been a question kinda wonder how I made it

Forest Gump and I got something in common

The world treat you different when you smart

I’m a perfect imperfection

My craft has been perfected

I just need affection, emotionally

I’m an introvert but it come off as aggression

No one understand me and everybody can’t be slow

It’s refreshing to find someone who thinks like me so I can’t be wrong

I’m a perfect imperfection and I don’t find interest in the radio

Sometime I get high watch the time pass by like away we go

Is it ok to cry when you’re dying inside?

Seem like a Blue Moon is the one thing that help take my mind from the lies”

-Kevin Gates, adapted from “Perfect Imperfection”

Point the flame in my brain with the full clip

Burn a path, down it goes

All the walls and the rhythm goes along

Let a sunrise be seen, a moon is where we see

A reflection of the source

I cannot see it in the Light, once in a Blue Moon

I hit, sip and inhale, cross fade along with the night

Let the wolves out and see what the crickets have to say

In that cage I am not able to time travel

Reality, I want out, lets see what the other side has to say

I’m a perfect imperfection

My craft has been perfected

I just need affection, emotionally

I’m an introvert but it come off as aggression

No one understand me and everybody can’t be slow

It’s refreshing to find someone who thinks like me so I can’t be wrong.

Jesus and Purple Hair: The Failure of Christians and Nonprofits on Pine Ridge

The failure of Christians and nonprofits on Pine Ridge

Who are you?

What’s your name?

Short term mission trips suck

What do you do for a living?

Did you fix the mower?

Wake up baby its time to die

Dark forces


A fog

IHS sterilizes

Remain separate

Get things done

Take out the trash

I have the only house

With a foundation

Want to take a hit of this?

What should I paint?

I am going to break you

Of your anger

Teenagers are chaos

No one is on his level

In the fog, more air than matter

Three off a cliff

Pinged off a cell tower

At three on the seventh

Near Oglala

Jesus saves

Hands of Faith

Meth is the drug

Of homosexuals

Where are the sweat lodges?

You see all these churches?

Take this knife

Outside Yellow Birds

Destroy those who love God

Plant a tree

Do something nice

I am a Christian

You are not white

European blood

You on your meds?

Get to work

Fix the mower

ACA was not expanded

Cannot afford them

Do not scare people

Focus on the good

Weed is basically free


The failure of Christians and nonprofits on Pine Ridge


First They Came… (Adapted)

First they came for the Natives

And I did not speak out

Because I was not a Native

First they came for the Blacks

And I did not speak out

Because I was not a Black

Then they came for the artists

And I did not speak out

Because I was not a artist

Then they came for the hipsters

And I did not speak out

Because I was not a hipster

Then they came for the feminists

And I did not speak out

Because I was not a feminist

Then they came for me

And there was no one left

Adapted from a poem by Martin Niemöller

Don’t Take My Anger Away

I love the smell of napalm in the morning,

Torching old lovers and making room,

I don’t want to leave, but you give me no choice,

All I asked for was love,

I don’t want rules,

It makes me sad to love and not be heard,

To not be what I once thought I would be,

A man with a house, a picket fence, 2.5 kids, and a dog,

Honey, you barked up the wrong tree,

I wish we could just be, undistracted by time,

No worries of money or status,

My love, I am on a fault line between two worlds,

You are on the land, and over here is the sea,

I hear the siren’s call and am infatuated by chaos,

Wave and motion, travel and discovery,

Yet, somewhere your kiss makes me yearn for roots,

The way you moan makes me want to stay,

To be turn away for the dirtbag climber that I am is,

A dagger in my heart,

Is a text message saying, it’s over…

We can’t change the power imbalance right now,

Since no, I’m not kicking you out,

So I think the thing that needs to give is the relationship part,

Still your friend though and wanting you to get a break,

My hope is still that you find your way and that you and I will remain friends,

Through and beyond this dark part of your life.


Eating garbage and following Peace Pilgrims,

Earth raped, Arctic ice melting, Nihilistic orgies in the cities,

I’ll tattoo an inverted cross on my neck,

Channel Kali, the Black One,

Raven be my guide, death on the horizon,

A walk forward is necessary, life on ice,

Nigga, Little Mexico be where you need to tell it,

You cannot start thinking about the finish line,

On day, one, two, three,

You’ll never get there (mentally) if you do,

You need to make each day your life,

There isn’t a problem on this earth that a doughnut cannot make better,

Yet, I like it hard, when the bullets fly,

Let the cattle eat, waiting to get slaughtered by the Desert Wolves,

Everything has a price, that doughnut is baggage,

Raven, give me that expired loaf of wheat bread,

I don’t want a chocolate glazed or a sugar coated,

I want stale old bread, I want to hurt,

They don’t kill niggas like me with nooses any more,

Lynching is dead, now they try to starve you,

Make you think that you need their approval,

Make you think you need their green,

I want to hunt, I want to kill,

My mother is on Fire,

Earth, Mother, speak via the Black Raven,

Let me hear about the cruelty of Man.


“In hoc signo vinces.” (“In this sign you will conquer.”)

– Constantine

Gâvur, betrayer of Christ,

By this Crescent Moon,

I will burn your sign,

Under a half moon,

The flint strikes,

I happily torch your sign,

Chi Rho, betrayer of Christ,

Infidel dog,

Every crusader,

Every single one in my land,

Will be repelled,

Sent to hell,

American flags,

Burned in my home,

You left a memory,

Of hypocrisy,

…and stupidity,

There is no erasing it,

Forget it,

Move on.

Orlando: “I Saw that He was Bipolar and He Would Get Mad Out of Nowhere”

“In the beginning he was a normal being that cared about family, loved to joke, loved to have fun, but then a few months after we were married I saw his instability. I saw that he was bipolar and he would get mad out of nowhere. That’s when I started worrying about my safety,” she said.


The shooter’s ex-wife, Sitora Yusufiy, held a press conference on Sunday. She said she believed Mateen — who she said abused her periodically during their relationship — was emotionally unstable and suffered from mental illness.

So, let me put a target on my back,

Send the drones after me,

I am bipolar too, and it is not like that,

I mean, every day you see the black cloud of death,

A hurricane of hate, maelstrom of Satan,

Black Death, covering our homes,

There are no words to describe the feels,

I have for this America,

This land of the free,

American Holocaust,

Buffalo skulls a hundred feet high,

Lakota blood spilled at Wounded Knee,

Do you remember?

Do you remember the history?

Do you know, that America is built by blood and iron?

Do you think for one second,

That this sin is a mystery?

That you are not guilty too?

It is easy to hide,

To forget collective guilt,

Fine, blame me and my bipolarity,

My anger too is from an abyss,

It is for the blood of those 50 martyrs that died today in Syria,

Uncounted, unknown Syrian ash,

Do we mourn those who die in African famine?

Do we care about the countless?

The uncountable mess of bodies,

Rotting in Pine Ridge graves?

Under the freezing moon,

I felt the black winds of war,

I felt the abyss of hell,

Stalking America the great,

I too felt the anger and blackness,

Does that make me mentally ill?

Perhaps, but is this black death a virus?

Is the mind really a place of pathogens?

…or is it an energy?

a particular black hole has opened,

Ripped apart from the very beginning,

Nothing can change that but a national day,

A day when all of America atones for its collective sin,

There will be no resolution from the 50 dead in Orlando,

Muslims will be profiled,

I will be profiled,



The Two-Step

Cowgirl, miner’s daughter,

Beautiful German queen,

Georgia riot girrl,

Wherever you may find her,

I’ll give you my best to dance with you,

We all have gifts,

Some can sing with poetry,

Others can heal with a smile,

Others of us can make money,

Others listen genuinely,

Some live as eagles in clouds,

Others attend to details,

Unable to tie my shoes,

Forgetting to cut my hair,

To be in your presence is to be cared for,

Two steps quick, two steps slow,

My dear, may I have this dance?

To try to win your heart slowly with patience,

I may not be the best dancer,

Or the hottest guy on the floor,

I am not the smartest or a poet,

Just a simple man looking for love,

To listen to your heart silently,

Dancing with you sweet rose,

Is to be given peace and tranquility,

A friend who cares,

Quick, quick, slow, slow,

Let me learn how to walk with you,

In harmony and with love,

I’ll give you my best to dance with you,

Clinging to your gentile fragile body,

Girl I need you to not go insane,

This world be so dark,

I want to love you,

Pottery shard you may be,

Your love is all I have,

Separating me from getting sucked into a black hole,

A vortex waiting to suck me it,

Hanging by a slender thread,

Blades are the weapons of the weak,

But it sure is tempting to sink one into those white cops,

Killing us defective untouchables,

Mentally ill, black, native, women,

We got a boiling point,

How many you need to see killed,

Before you hit back?

Violence: Insane Asylum

“Violence is a personal necessity for the oppressed…It is not a strategy consciously devised. It is the deep, instinctive expression of a human being denied individuality.”

“I didn’t know I was really alive in this world until I felt things hard enough to kill for ‘em…”

“The white folks like for us to be religious, then they can do what they want to with us.”

“Every decent man in America ought to swoon with joy for the opportunity to crush with his heel the woolly head of this black lizard, to keep him from scuttling on his belly farther over the earth and spitting forth his venom of death!”

• Richard Wright, Native Son

    Internet justice goes one way, you can be arrested for a threatening message, but your digital screams of agony have no power.  I have been lulled into a false sense of empowerment by the participatory nature of it.  The fact is that I (or anybody else) no longer have any means of protest against a system of control put in place by those who wish to wield power over us.  Dissent in the form of violence seems like the only effective way to make your voice heard.  Terrorism, while horrible, is effective.  To be feared perhaps is harmful to self, but in a pit of despair can be seen as a cry to live.  I feel it is healthier to express anger out at others than direct it inward, and destroy yourself.  I have often felt such deep anger in my heart the past few years that without the forgiveness and love of others coming into my life and helping me back away from the edge I might have crossed over and committed a crime.  Murder, murder, murder.  Kill, kill, kill.  Cut your flesh and worship Satan.  Sadness and despair.  Oh, God!  Where are you in times like these?  Where does all this come from?  It comes from not being heard or having any power.  In my poems and posts I have explored the duality of whiteness and blackness, using the racial categories to represent a spiritual state.  While working yesterday I talked to this young man who turned me onto the book Native Son by Richard Wright.  I learned that I am not alone, in this book a story is told about one man who falls to the dark forces of racism in America.  We have been told that the Civil Rights Movement was a nonviolent struggle, but I read last night in Learning to Die in the Anthropocene: Reflections on the End of a Civilization that the threat of violent Black insurrection was what backed up protests.  I wonder sometimes if the proliferation of mass shootings and terrorism that we are seeing these days is not the result of a deep black hole opening up on earth during this time.  We as a species are being driven insane by the noise and chatter.  Constantly being bombarded by messages with no thought behind them, we are triggered to revert back to fight or flight responses.  There is no thought, just the desire to run or to stand our ground and kill those who threaten us and those we love.  In my experience with bipolar disorder I, I have found that there is no bottom in American society.  The place where one ends up to get free healthcare, housing, and a job is prison.  It is intentionally this way.  Prison makes money for those in power.  I see this now, having been on the threshold of homelessness the past half year and frayed my nerves to the core.  Any chance of slowing down and healing, even if it is there, seems to pass by unnoticed.  That is what happens with trauma, you live in the past.  There is some part of the human brain that is like a selectivity filter, only remembering the negative and the hurtful.  When someone tells you to just “Focus on the good” you want to scream and destroy.  You want to scream, “Motherfucker you do not understand!”  “Sit here in this abyss and you will see!”  Let me back away from that place.  I do not want to see people who remind me of the past.  False promises and hidden expectations.  I want to just sit in the abyss for now and to learn to see the darkness for what it really is.  Maybe it is just an opportunity to rest?  Maybe that is what it is?  Slowing down enough to just be able to hear again and let the shock of the past few years settle.  It is going to take a lot of time to do that.  Way longer than I think.  Violence runs deep, and to break the cycle of self destruction and hate it takes time.  I do not have much hope for us as a species.  Most people over the past few years tell me religious things when I really tell them about this abyss.  They tell me that Jesus is coming back, to trust Allah.  They tell me to meditate.  I cannot right now, in this abyss of blackness these things make me want to scream.  Madness and insanity can only be healed from total and utter silence in my experience.  Let me just love the few shards of humanity that I have discovered that are willing to accept me for who I truly am and kick the rest of the people to the side.  I have discovered how little people love you when you hit the ground.  The religious thoughts are a front that people use to cover up the darkness.  They are a distraction from the truth.  So, I want to write and just let these ideas flow.  Somewhere, maybe I can recover my ability to think constructively.  I love you, those unmentioned friends that have stuck with me.  The rest of y’all, goodbye.

I’m Goin’ Thru It

“Be mild with the mild,

shrewd with the crafty,

confiding to the honest,

rough to the ruffian,

and a thunderbolt to the liar.

But in all this,

never be unmindful of your own dignity.”

-John Brown

“Fuck you Masta,”

God Dead, money king,

What are you scared of Masta?

You scared of rebellion?

I am white, but my brain,

Won’t let me be still,

It won’t let me be still,

Seeing those poor folks,

Getting crushed,

I will happily risk my life,

To call you what you are,

Masta, you aren’t shit,

On Judgement Day,

The tables will be turned,

The birds will eat at your flesh,

Masta, your memory will be dark,

To get to where you can crucify the poor,

With your draconian greed,

Making laws that prevent,

Me from getting my medication,

Masta you are going to repeal the ACA,

I know you are,

Those white boomers are angry,

I see it, Brexit,

A prelude to a Trump victory,

I am ready mother fuckers,

I want to hit the street,

I want to burn your shit down,

Anarchists have always been

     The best of friends for the Apocalypse,

The core of the West, a rotten egg,

God Dead, money king,

John Brown’s coming back,

There will always be someone,

To call you out Masta,

The color of our skin does not determine

Who will take you out,

I saw a 19 year try to assassinate you Masta,

You think that is the last?

I, John Brown, am now quite certain that the crimes

     of this guilty land will never be purged away but with Blood,

Masta, I will call you what you are,

An ant, a scared white baby,

2008 stole your portfolio away,

As vapid as it was,

God got a way of waiting,

He’s patient, works on his own time,

He finds a way to punish people like you Masta,

I will not live to see the day

     when the street will flow with your blood,

But I dream of the day,

Inverted power,

Wounded Knee memory will not go away,

Lynched black bodies hanging from trees,

Arab children bombed like shooting fish in a barrel,

I remember and don’t forgive,

I will not forgive someone that does not deserve my love,

I will not forgive,

I will not forget,

Expect us,

Civil War…

About kayaerbil

I am a Berkeley educated chemistry Ph.D. who is moving into the area of working on developing appropriate technology for communities that are subjected to socio-economic oppression. The goal is to use simple and effective designs to empower people to live better lives. Currently, I am working with Native Americans on Pine Ridge, the Lakota reservation in South Dakota. I am working with a Native owned and run solar energy company. We are currently working on building a compressed earth block (CEB) house that showcases many of the technologies that the company has developed. The CEB house is made of locally derived resources, earth from the reservation. The blocks are naturally thermally insulating, keeping the house cool in the summer and warm in the winter. Eventually, a solar air heater and photovoltaic panels will be installed into the house to power the home and keep it warm, while preserving the house off the grid. A side project while in Pine Ridge is a solar computer. I hope to learn about blockchain encryption software for building microgrids. In addition, it is an immediate interest of mine to involve local youth in technology education.
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