by It was in Attica where two crows sprang
Raised with copper wire.....
Per link:http://www.linsdomain.com/totems/pages/crow.htm
Keeper of the Sacred Law
Crows are the keepers of the Sacred Law
and to have a Crow totem is very powerful.
Personal Integrity are your watchwords and your guide in Life.
If you have a Crow totem, your prime path
is to be mindful of your opinions and actions.
You must be willing to walk your talk,
to speak your truth and to know your life's mission.
Crow is a omen of Change.
Crow lives in the void and has no sense of time,
therefore, it sees past, present and future simultaneously.
Crow merges both light and dark, both inner and outer.
It is the totem of the Great Spirit and must be respected as such.
They are symbols of creation and spiritual strength.
Look for opportunities to create and manifest the magic of life.
Crows are messengers calling to us
about the creation and magic that is alive in the world today
and available to us.
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Where did all the Open Minds Forum members go?
Fri Oct 19, 2012 12:29 pm by Admin
With Open Minds Forum restored now for almost half a year at it's new location with forumotion.com we can now turn to look at reaching out to OMF's original members who have not yet returned home. OMF's original membership was over 6,000 members strong, prior to the proboards suspension, according to the rolls of the time. We can probably safely assume that some of those accounts were unidentified socks. If we were to assume a reasonable guess of maybe as many as 30% possible sock accounts then that would leave potentially somewhere between 4800 to 4900 possible real members to locate. That is still a substantial number of people.
Who were all these people? Some were average individuals with common interests in ufology, exopolitics, globalism, corruption, earthchanges, science and technology, and a variety of other interests. Some just enjoyed being part of a vibrant and unusually interesting community. Others were representative of various insider groups participating in observation and outreach projects, while still others were bonafide intelligence community personnel. All with stake in the hunt for truth in one fashion or another. Some in support of truth, and communication. Others seeking real disclosure and forms of proof. And others highly skeptical of anything or limited subjects. The smallest division of membership being wholly anti-disclosure oriented.
So where did these members vanish to? They had many options. There are almost innumerable other forums out there on the topics of UFO's or Exopolitics, the Unexplained, and Conspiracy Theory. Did they disappear into the world-wide network of forum inhabitants? Did some go find new homes on chatrooms or individual blogs? Did they participate in ufo conventions or other public events and gatherings? How about those who represented groups in special access? Or IC and military observers? Those with academic affiliations? Where did they all go and what would be the best way to reach out and extend an invitation to return?
And what constitutes a situation deserving of their time and participation? Is the archive enough? How exactly do people within the paradigm most desire to define a community? Is it amenities, humanity or simply population size for exposure? Most of the special guests have been emailed and have expressed that population size for exposure is what most motivates them. But not all. Long-time member Dan Smith has other priorities and values motivating his participation. Should this open opportunities for unattached junior guests who have experience and dialog to contribute to the world? How best to make use of OMF's time, experience and resources?
Many skeptics would like to see the historical guardian of discourse opportunity to just up and disappear; go into permanent stasis. They think that not everyone has a right to speak about their experiences and if there is no proof involved then there can philosophically be no value to discourse. I personally would respectfully disagree with them. Discourse has always been the prelude to meaningful relationships and meaningful mutual relationships have always been the prelude to exchanges of proof. In a contentious social environment with regards to communication vs disclosure how do we best re-establish a haven for those preludes? Is it only the "if we build it they will come" answer? Well considering OMF has been largely fully functional over the last four or five months this line of reasoning is not necessarily true. So what would be the best way re-establish this? Your suggestions are sought. Please comment.
Who were all these people? Some were average individuals with common interests in ufology, exopolitics, globalism, corruption, earthchanges, science and technology, and a variety of other interests. Some just enjoyed being part of a vibrant and unusually interesting community. Others were representative of various insider groups participating in observation and outreach projects, while still others were bonafide intelligence community personnel. All with stake in the hunt for truth in one fashion or another. Some in support of truth, and communication. Others seeking real disclosure and forms of proof. And others highly skeptical of anything or limited subjects. The smallest division of membership being wholly anti-disclosure oriented.
So where did these members vanish to? They had many options. There are almost innumerable other forums out there on the topics of UFO's or Exopolitics, the Unexplained, and Conspiracy Theory. Did they disappear into the world-wide network of forum inhabitants? Did some go find new homes on chatrooms or individual blogs? Did they participate in ufo conventions or other public events and gatherings? How about those who represented groups in special access? Or IC and military observers? Those with academic affiliations? Where did they all go and what would be the best way to reach out and extend an invitation to return?
And what constitutes a situation deserving of their time and participation? Is the archive enough? How exactly do people within the paradigm most desire to define a community? Is it amenities, humanity or simply population size for exposure? Most of the special guests have been emailed and have expressed that population size for exposure is what most motivates them. But not all. Long-time member Dan Smith has other priorities and values motivating his participation. Should this open opportunities for unattached junior guests who have experience and dialog to contribute to the world? How best to make use of OMF's time, experience and resources?
Many skeptics would like to see the historical guardian of discourse opportunity to just up and disappear; go into permanent stasis. They think that not everyone has a right to speak about their experiences and if there is no proof involved then there can philosophically be no value to discourse. I personally would respectfully disagree with them. Discourse has always been the prelude to meaningful relationships and meaningful mutual relationships have always been the prelude to exchanges of proof. In a contentious social environment with regards to communication vs disclosure how do we best re-establish a haven for those preludes? Is it only the "if we build it they will come" answer? Well considering OMF has been largely fully functional over the last four or five months this line of reasoning is not necessarily true. So what would be the best way re-establish this? Your suggestions are sought. Please comment.
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Musings of Randomness
Bard- Moderator
- Posts : 588
Join date : 2012-04-29
_________________
"It is not in the stars to hold our destiny but in ourselves."
William Shakespeare
Share this post on: 
Some shows are good then there is Morgan Freeman - and the mysterious wormholes
Classic reading
Classic reading
rofl Morgan Freeman and Wind in the Willows....still laughing....side ache!
Cy
edit to add...for any lost on why I'm laughing, I can sum it up in one word: transhumanism.
Cy
edit to add...for any lost on why I'm laughing, I can sum it up in one word: transhumanism.
I've been Spending some time activating long dormant areas of my mind. Back into the Arts, Right-brain style. It is, like they say, a terrible thing to waste.
So the other night, I am out admiring the weather while staring into stars, contemplating Pan's Shadow in the video above, wondering how many could he possibly have.
Does Pan's shadow have a shadow or shadows?
If we cannot hear in our physicality the footsteps Pan's shadows would make - can the shadows hear their own? If they were to stumble abound in the night - would they say, "Get back - Get back!" or perhaps, "Move back - Move back!" one, trying to protect its other?
Who protects the shadows from themselves? Physical beings - more IN form?
The story after the 10min mark seems - appropriate.
So the other night, I am out admiring the weather while staring into stars, contemplating Pan's Shadow in the video above, wondering how many could he possibly have.
Does Pan's shadow have a shadow or shadows?
If we cannot hear in our physicality the footsteps Pan's shadows would make - can the shadows hear their own? If they were to stumble abound in the night - would they say, "Get back - Get back!" or perhaps, "Move back - Move back!" one, trying to protect its other?
Who protects the shadows from themselves? Physical beings - more IN form?
The story after the 10min mark seems - appropriate.
I had a dream the other night... Hilariousness and bizarre.
There is a poor enlisted sap, in the middle of an unfolding match of Roller Derby. Now some may think this enticing – but the typical rough and tough Amazonian warriors have been replaced with physicists, techno-geek Jedi, Priests, and phenomenon 'inclined' individuals running each other into the rails. During this battle on wheels – no one could speak, as their tongues had apparently atrophied from lack of use. This game of roller derby is a thinking mans game! And I do mean, Thinking. Remember the quote, “I think – thereforeI am?” Consult, Descartes, in your dreams, and then inspire him to place fire into the shadows, to bring them a fragment of light to admire.
Everyone wants to capture the flag at the conclusion of this race, or tear it down in frustrated malign.
The scoreboard was actually a 'secret' image, without numbers, but goals, with projected time-frames. Viewing the dream unfold, someone runs into the room claiming D-day was a year away, roughly, and I remember thinking, “What happened to 2017?” At some point, this dream fades only to be replaced by another group of people standing around pecking on their Galaxy Tablets, as little rats begin to scurry around with antenna you'd find on a Madagascar Cockroach, under some form of guided behavior.... Pet Projects, were moving into larger creatures and PETA was not happy.
So, PETA catches wind of all of this absurdity, and starts staging protests right outside DC with little fanfare, tumbleweeds rolling along for weeks with Wack-a-mole season apparently in session - Poor things. Down the steps soon appear some low level staffers with the generic name badges that read - “Hello, My name is – Not What You Expect.” and then a smirk appears from underneath a disguise even Jamie Shandera would swoon to investigate.
Yet, alas, all dreams have some Morel of the story. I have a few to offer in no order of preference: Technology is Truth – Rock, Paper, Scissors ,Allegorically defined. Truth-seeking: Getting noticed by kicking in doors and shitting on the kitchen table. Cricket-speak: “What have you done to your brother?”
Hey, don't put much thought into my musings – it was only a dream. Off to read the about the future.
http://www.starpod.us/2012/10/12/dan-smith-interview-part-one/
Video: Unrelated.
There is a poor enlisted sap, in the middle of an unfolding match of Roller Derby. Now some may think this enticing – but the typical rough and tough Amazonian warriors have been replaced with physicists, techno-geek Jedi, Priests, and phenomenon 'inclined' individuals running each other into the rails. During this battle on wheels – no one could speak, as their tongues had apparently atrophied from lack of use. This game of roller derby is a thinking mans game! And I do mean, Thinking. Remember the quote, “I think – therefore
Everyone wants to capture the flag at the conclusion of this race, or tear it down in frustrated malign.
The scoreboard was actually a 'secret' image, without numbers, but goals, with projected time-frames. Viewing the dream unfold, someone runs into the room claiming D-day was a year away, roughly, and I remember thinking, “What happened to 2017?” At some point, this dream fades only to be replaced by another group of people standing around pecking on their Galaxy Tablets, as little rats begin to scurry around with antenna you'd find on a Madagascar Cockroach, under some form of guided behavior.... Pet Projects, were moving into larger creatures and PETA was not happy.
So, PETA catches wind of all of this absurdity, and starts staging protests right outside DC with little fanfare, tumbleweeds rolling along for weeks with Wack-a-mole season apparently in session - Poor things. Down the steps soon appear some low level staffers with the generic name badges that read - “Hello, My name is – Not What You Expect.” and then a smirk appears from underneath a disguise even Jamie Shandera would swoon to investigate.
Yet, alas, all dreams have some Morel of the story. I have a few to offer in no order of preference: Technology is Truth – Rock, Paper, Scissors ,Allegorically defined. Truth-seeking: Getting noticed by kicking in doors and shitting on the kitchen table. Cricket-speak: “What have you done to your brother?”
Hey, don't put much thought into my musings – it was only a dream. Off to read the about the future.
http://www.starpod.us/2012/10/12/dan-smith-interview-part-one/
Video: Unrelated.
http://www.thedailybeast.com/articles/2014/06/11/from-hush-hush-to-tweet-tweet-why-the-cia-is-embracing-social-media.html
Made me smirk, a little.
"It is suggested here they are directed by an unseen intelligence acting behind the scenes (or in the mirror)."
Q: What do Gilmore girls, vanilla, and 'hating this game' have in common?
A: Ambiguity. Why is a Raven like a writing desk?
Pay close attention!
Q: What do Gilmore girls, vanilla, and 'hating this game' have in common?
A: Ambiguity. Why is a Raven like a writing desk?
Pay close attention!
Chapter 4: Scify ideas to fuse into the story.
Some families have been volunteering for quite some time, on this world despite it 'normally' remaining beyond their 'keen', purposefully. How many wake up to this fact? One has to wonder, if waking up, comes with a bit more frustration as well as acknowledging the immensity of the situation. Frustration stems from the games being played, part sanctioned and part acknowledged, but dare not speak out of line. Actually, don't even mention it, kid...
Ambiguity cuts like a butter knife, here. There is metaphor for OMies to use while attempting to remove the meat from a T-bone steak you might eat at some fine establishment in Malibu or perhaps as you dine with Jungle Jack at one of the Nations best Zoos.
My favorite quote of the week; “A fossil? I've never skipped a fossil!” Fossils don't skip – for the record, but if I were some Hindu Monkey God, which I am not, I'd have to consult my magical-tale, for insight.
In all seriousness, researchers in Cali discovered a 25% increase in white matter connections in relationship to pathological lying. Some might think this as an evolutionary step in mankind’s abilities but they also discovered 14% less gray matter necessary for critical thinking. Perhaps, secrecy and science have it all backwards? Just thoughts, minus the judgment.
Hey, I hear even Coco the gorilla can lie, apparently. He 'signed' to researches that the sink ripped off the wall was due to the kitten in the room. Cute story to some, I suppose. Coco must have had some issues with the flow, of things. Hey, if Coco can lie – you would think it would be even easier to not admit anything. This has to be a fascinating field of research. I have missed my calling in life because in my world – I would have researchers researching the gorilla behaviorists. That might open new doors into humans nature. All I need to do now is to get my certification in FMRI's.
Life, is a curious thing..... I wonder, would it be better to be a genius or a genie? Genius's change the world. Would it be safe to say that a genie can change things as well? I wonder if the knights of the round table actually sat at one more Octagonal drinking 'martini's' and discussing state-affairs. Then, one, fires up a flaming Sambuca and starts speaking in tongues. You know, Lancelot was always a troublemaker, trying to find his one true love. Now look at the tree hugger – only carving half of the required initials.... How's that for Karma.
I hear there is a Gene-us project around seeking volunteers, or whatever. Perhaps, I should seek a clerical job therein.
Some families have been volunteering for quite some time, on this world despite it 'normally' remaining beyond their 'keen', purposefully. How many wake up to this fact? One has to wonder, if waking up, comes with a bit more frustration as well as acknowledging the immensity of the situation. Frustration stems from the games being played, part sanctioned and part acknowledged, but dare not speak out of line. Actually, don't even mention it, kid...
Ambiguity cuts like a butter knife, here. There is metaphor for OMies to use while attempting to remove the meat from a T-bone steak you might eat at some fine establishment in Malibu or perhaps as you dine with Jungle Jack at one of the Nations best Zoos.
My favorite quote of the week; “A fossil? I've never skipped a fossil!” Fossils don't skip – for the record, but if I were some Hindu Monkey God, which I am not, I'd have to consult my magical-tale, for insight.
In all seriousness, researchers in Cali discovered a 25% increase in white matter connections in relationship to pathological lying. Some might think this as an evolutionary step in mankind’s abilities but they also discovered 14% less gray matter necessary for critical thinking. Perhaps, secrecy and science have it all backwards? Just thoughts, minus the judgment.
Hey, I hear even Coco the gorilla can lie, apparently. He 'signed' to researches that the sink ripped off the wall was due to the kitten in the room. Cute story to some, I suppose. Coco must have had some issues with the flow, of things. Hey, if Coco can lie – you would think it would be even easier to not admit anything. This has to be a fascinating field of research. I have missed my calling in life because in my world – I would have researchers researching the gorilla behaviorists. That might open new doors into humans nature. All I need to do now is to get my certification in FMRI's.
Life, is a curious thing..... I wonder, would it be better to be a genius or a genie? Genius's change the world. Would it be safe to say that a genie can change things as well? I wonder if the knights of the round table actually sat at one more Octagonal drinking 'martini's' and discussing state-affairs. Then, one, fires up a flaming Sambuca and starts speaking in tongues. You know, Lancelot was always a troublemaker, trying to find his one true love. Now look at the tree hugger – only carving half of the required initials.... How's that for Karma.
I hear there is a Gene-us project around seeking volunteers, or whatever. Perhaps, I should seek a clerical job therein.
I had to chase down a Illegal Handicapped Parker today. I'm guessing the shade trees were optimal for waiting in the afternoon heat. People, don't let easy access and convenience make you believe you are above the law... Have a little respect.
A shout-out to the driver, with a little humor..
Watch my jump shot:
A shout-out to the driver, with a little humor..
Watch my jump shot:
Visual representation of an Afgan hamster vs Morgan Freeman's wormholes.
Poor things. All they can see is the ray of light - at the end of the tunnel...
Imagine the hamsters POV vs the demi-godz...Yes, big G might feel a bit slighted, I imagine. Bless all hamsters and their silent battles flinging seed at Goliath the guinea pigs.
Poor things. All they can see is the ray of light - at the end of the tunnel...
Imagine the hamsters POV vs the demi-godz...Yes, big G might feel a bit slighted, I imagine. Bless all hamsters and their silent battles flinging seed at Goliath the guinea pigs.
on and on and on.......
http://studioeight.tv/phpbb/viewtopic.php?t=979
Bandcamp does have some hidden treasures.
http://studioeight.tv/phpbb/viewtopic.php?t=979
Bandcamp does have some hidden treasures.
I'm not going to lie, this video will cause vertigo. Look away often to reorient.
I've also been 'reconnecting' with my poetical roots.
Beyond The Shadows
Memories and Dust
cont.
Going Nowhere in a Timely Fashion
This one made me chuckle.
Time does fly when on vacation....
I spent some needed time with family along winding roads in the foothills of Appalachia contemplating, pretty much nothing. Well, that is not entirely accurate, I did contemplate, incomprehensibility. Conversations I wanted to have, with family never formed, except silently. Even when alone, you are never, quite so. 'Hill country' is what I affectionately call it, a place for hill folk dwellings that sporadically populate those extremities any hobbit would feel comfortable within.
The blistering heat near the hole - along the pond - in the afternoon can suck the life right from you while pulling out Bass and Bluegill, but the mosquito were apparently in competition for the victors cup of blood sacrifice. Something has to eat something else, I suppose. All aboard? I attempted to divide my time between all parties. One did not want to come, preferring technology and friends and the other just wanted to swing after the Catching Fire adoration wore off. One held decent conversation, an engineer of sorts, who’s hole we shared, at 70 years of age. I spared him the inglorious details unfolding outside of the Shire even if he seemed aware of the daily press. His name was Dan, but not the Dan we all know here at OM - and then there was the one who brought me into the world desired more time. Don't we all? Partition Magic? Then there was my Christian sister, bespectacled or bewitched with a love of sorts.
There were archery classes led by Robin Hood himself, much out of practice, schooling Young ones as well as firearms safety and familiarization. The ole re-curve bow left a few bites to admire days later. My green tunic needs some adjusting, but everything else seems to be in order. I have not fired a rifle since my Army days, twelve years roughly, and still nine of ten on the bulls eye? Squirrels beware, because you always tasted like chicken to me.
So, I did agree to attend Church near the Shire, per my sisters request. I'm sure God put her up to it... My friend Chip was also hinting to be suspicious. Yet, I relented to the blood ties that bind and out of respect for the Shire Code of Ethics.
The one room church resembling something like this:Church of the Shire-follk
had a small addition for restrooms and a basement which was not in use. Sunday school was unexciting for the most part, but someone kept poking me in the back from time to time to get my attention. Each time I looked behind me, I realized that there were only two innocent seventy plus year old women clutching the good book in hand. All systems nominal, my Lord?
There was a family of three sitting in the front row who found the Church while walking across America for God. The teenage son was seeking prayer request for the burn to his leg, apparently from an errant can of bear deterrent that exploded the night prior. The father was wearing a well worn shirt proclaiming his walk with God, a red, white, and blue, dew-rag – or perhaps it was cammo – secured to his head and in the need of a shave. Hey, if anyone should be allowed to come to Church not bathed, certainly them!
Attendance was pretty good from what I hear, 27. You could have packed another 15 in the pews if you tried. The master of the Hobbit-hole I stayed in walked up to lead the hymnals after a short prayer, dedicated to me by 'the look' you get in Church. I'm sure there is a recording of it somewhere. The poking continued - on and off. One of those elderly ladies, must have been a comedian or they are LinkedIn to a higher power.
Everything was going according to my predictions even when the the gospel of Luke went near Pentecostal. The yelling raised the roof from time to time, but it was tempered with laughter and humor only a eighty year old leading it could muster. The Pastor nearly fell off the stage, one step down, when his cane landing on something, uneven? “I promise you – I'm not going to fall!” Insert laughter. I was dreading the moment a handful of snakes was going to be passed around, but that never occurred.
I had a few chuckles and smirks as well as the silent conversations that only God could hear or inhabitants of the Cosmos, serving Him. Then I had to remind myself, 'that is not always the case'. There is always rebellion somewhere. Perhaps, even angels drunk off the power of laughter, sitting next to me. Poke – poke poke.....Being one of the last to leave the Church, laying of the floor, I noticed a large amount of a dried paste-like substance scattered around as a reminder of Bears, or rather bear deterrent, and how dirty you can actually be in Church and still provide a meaningful message – second degree burns and all...
My only complaint, and I only illustrate this to cap off a good weekend, was Jesus in the restroom. Sitting directly across on a table at eye level and and arm length away was a ceramic Jesus praying to the Father. Really puts things into a new light! I'll need to tithe some shelf funds off to the Clansman in the Shire.
I spent some needed time with family along winding roads in the foothills of Appalachia contemplating, pretty much nothing. Well, that is not entirely accurate, I did contemplate, incomprehensibility. Conversations I wanted to have, with family never formed, except silently. Even when alone, you are never, quite so. 'Hill country' is what I affectionately call it, a place for hill folk dwellings that sporadically populate those extremities any hobbit would feel comfortable within.
The blistering heat near the hole - along the pond - in the afternoon can suck the life right from you while pulling out Bass and Bluegill, but the mosquito were apparently in competition for the victors cup of blood sacrifice. Something has to eat something else, I suppose. All aboard? I attempted to divide my time between all parties. One did not want to come, preferring technology and friends and the other just wanted to swing after the Catching Fire adoration wore off. One held decent conversation, an engineer of sorts, who’s hole we shared, at 70 years of age. I spared him the inglorious details unfolding outside of the Shire even if he seemed aware of the daily press. His name was Dan, but not the Dan we all know here at OM - and then there was the one who brought me into the world desired more time. Don't we all? Partition Magic? Then there was my Christian sister, bespectacled or bewitched with a love of sorts.
There were archery classes led by Robin Hood himself, much out of practice, schooling Young ones as well as firearms safety and familiarization. The ole re-curve bow left a few bites to admire days later. My green tunic needs some adjusting, but everything else seems to be in order. I have not fired a rifle since my Army days, twelve years roughly, and still nine of ten on the bulls eye? Squirrels beware, because you always tasted like chicken to me.
So, I did agree to attend Church near the Shire, per my sisters request. I'm sure God put her up to it... My friend Chip was also hinting to be suspicious. Yet, I relented to the blood ties that bind and out of respect for the Shire Code of Ethics.
The one room church resembling something like this:Church of the Shire-follk
had a small addition for restrooms and a basement which was not in use. Sunday school was unexciting for the most part, but someone kept poking me in the back from time to time to get my attention. Each time I looked behind me, I realized that there were only two innocent seventy plus year old women clutching the good book in hand. All systems nominal, my Lord?
There was a family of three sitting in the front row who found the Church while walking across America for God. The teenage son was seeking prayer request for the burn to his leg, apparently from an errant can of bear deterrent that exploded the night prior. The father was wearing a well worn shirt proclaiming his walk with God, a red, white, and blue, dew-rag – or perhaps it was cammo – secured to his head and in the need of a shave. Hey, if anyone should be allowed to come to Church not bathed, certainly them!
Attendance was pretty good from what I hear, 27. You could have packed another 15 in the pews if you tried. The master of the Hobbit-hole I stayed in walked up to lead the hymnals after a short prayer, dedicated to me by 'the look' you get in Church. I'm sure there is a recording of it somewhere. The poking continued - on and off. One of those elderly ladies, must have been a comedian or they are LinkedIn to a higher power.
Everything was going according to my predictions even when the the gospel of Luke went near Pentecostal. The yelling raised the roof from time to time, but it was tempered with laughter and humor only a eighty year old leading it could muster. The Pastor nearly fell off the stage, one step down, when his cane landing on something, uneven? “I promise you – I'm not going to fall!” Insert laughter. I was dreading the moment a handful of snakes was going to be passed around, but that never occurred.
I had a few chuckles and smirks as well as the silent conversations that only God could hear or inhabitants of the Cosmos, serving Him. Then I had to remind myself, 'that is not always the case'. There is always rebellion somewhere. Perhaps, even angels drunk off the power of laughter, sitting next to me. Poke – poke poke.....Being one of the last to leave the Church, laying of the floor, I noticed a large amount of a dried paste-like substance scattered around as a reminder of Bears, or rather bear deterrent, and how dirty you can actually be in Church and still provide a meaningful message – second degree burns and all...
My only complaint, and I only illustrate this to cap off a good weekend, was Jesus in the restroom. Sitting directly across on a table at eye level and and arm length away was a ceramic Jesus praying to the Father. Really puts things into a new light! I'll need to tithe some shelf funds off to the Clansman in the Shire.
Cyrellys wrote:The Atlantis one is my favorite. Cy
Transformational Entertainment
Sandman
How many times, have you walked by
Lifeless, or seemingly so
Besides my bed when resting head
Sandman - in your pose
Creeping between a walls divide
Partly parted like veils of time.
As I lay there, drifting away
Perhaps only playing, connection the game
Planted within
By what was left fraught
Flowers between the once broken rock.
Did you ever feel guilt for keeping me down
When my time would have been better spent
Turning insides out then outsides in
Instead, only secrets to master like sin.
Tossing and turning, not water or wave
Too little to late then tossed in the grave
When voices lack meaning and hearts beat astray
Yet eyes beam back of humbler days
When innocence surged, those dreamers in dance
Gifts uncorrupted or cryptically chanced.
I wish I could force you behind these eyes
– Perhaps, you always were --
So you might live another life
As if it were your own
There are no numbers – no ones or zeros
Only colors colliding as emotions in play
Feeling them like music you place in the rain.
I live in a world where secrets are sold
So precious the shinny substance of gold
Whispered like lightning or echoed
Untold.
Is it I, the less likely voice
Lacking the privilege or title of choice
Trying to convey the misery it brings -
Singing the song its leaders can't seem?
Absence of love or loving absence?
A question that is hard to discern
But who would I be, to place more near
A love that all hearts yearn
That stillness of silence when twisted 'round
Unless it was tagged and then tracked.
Yes, I foresee a future where words pass no lip
Today, they hardly take pause
Don't blame me for breaking the ship
When words are like mimes lacking cause.
Sandman
How many times, have you walked by
Lifeless, or seemingly so
Besides my bed when resting head
Sandman - in your pose
Creeping between a walls divide
Partly parted like veils of time.
As I lay there, drifting away
Perhaps only playing, connection the game
Planted within
By what was left fraught
Flowers between the once broken rock.
Did you ever feel guilt for keeping me down
When my time would have been better spent
Turning insides out then outsides in
Instead, only secrets to master like sin.
Tossing and turning, not water or wave
Too little to late then tossed in the grave
When voices lack meaning and hearts beat astray
Yet eyes beam back of humbler days
When innocence surged, those dreamers in dance
Gifts uncorrupted or cryptically chanced.
I wish I could force you behind these eyes
– Perhaps, you always were --
So you might live another life
As if it were your own
There are no numbers – no ones or zeros
Only colors colliding as emotions in play
Feeling them like music you place in the rain.
I live in a world where secrets are sold
So precious the shinny substance of gold
Whispered like lightning or echoed
Untold.
Is it I, the less likely voice
Lacking the privilege or title of choice
Trying to convey the misery it brings -
Singing the song its leaders can't seem?
Absence of love or loving absence?
A question that is hard to discern
But who would I be, to place more near
A love that all hearts yearn
That stillness of silence when twisted 'round
Unless it was tagged and then tracked.
Yes, I foresee a future where words pass no lip
Today, they hardly take pause
Don't blame me for breaking the ship
When words are like mimes lacking cause.
Transformational Entertainment: T.E.
Part 2
“Mother, Her Cries”
What manner of man would I be with no voice
Trapped within a system, no choice
Chess board convincing a thing called life
Masterful pawns, embrace strife!
“Protect the King!” the front row yells
Titles are hard to step down from
Eyes of a needle – should inspire some
Securing threads to pull them through
Prose to the breast for beating ones.
O'er my shoulder Mother has cried
“Leaders, lead from the front!”
An art of war lesson that came from the top.
Treading the truth while locked in this day
He has a steed and we have shoes
Always we are moving thrice as much?!
Noble indeed, with reins in hand
Along the line in powerful trots
To shore up stern resolve
Then straight the back with gear
Signal flag-bearers to face Earthly fears.
The mane of fond steed,surely fine
Yet, buried beneath a boney cage
Your heart, it beats like every man
Moving you to do great things!
While you pretend your eyes don't see
Others must flow like poetry
Not treasure but paper - then placed at your feet
Backing away with nothing but pen.
Titles became words believed too much
Can others inspire to see it such
When you kiss your precious youth, look right, I do the same
But mine must dance a different tune
Those silent cords of other truths
Whose fates are written more deep?
Looking down, these muddy shoes
Never looked so fine
I am holding a place for you on the line
And should you drop your polished blade
Be sure you will have mine.
Part 2
“Mother, Her Cries”
What manner of man would I be with no voice
Trapped within a system, no choice
Chess board convincing a thing called life
Masterful pawns, embrace strife!
“Protect the King!” the front row yells
Titles are hard to step down from
Eyes of a needle – should inspire some
Securing threads to pull them through
Prose to the breast for beating ones.
O'er my shoulder Mother has cried
“Leaders, lead from the front!”
An art of war lesson that came from the top.
Treading the truth while locked in this day
He has a steed and we have shoes
Always we are moving thrice as much?!
Noble indeed, with reins in hand
Along the line in powerful trots
To shore up stern resolve
Then straight the back with gear
Signal flag-bearers to face Earthly fears.
The mane of fond steed,surely fine
Yet, buried beneath a boney cage
Your heart, it beats like every man
Moving you to do great things!
While you pretend your eyes don't see
Others must flow like poetry
Not treasure but paper - then placed at your feet
Backing away with nothing but pen.
Titles became words believed too much
Can others inspire to see it such
When you kiss your precious youth, look right, I do the same
But mine must dance a different tune
Those silent cords of other truths
Whose fates are written more deep?
Looking down, these muddy shoes
Never looked so fine
I am holding a place for you on the line
And should you drop your polished blade
Be sure you will have mine.
“Ascension”
The days in flesh shall suffer me
Mired in trial of faith
With hopes that pure, prevent loss
Ascension to the Lord.
Seated stare in which we toil
When glaring high above
Earthly eyes as beckoned dreams
Most are left unfilled.
Heads that bow in humble prayer
Sense the souls untrue
That snatch each breath
For heart to beat
As hands begin commune.
Defend faith and fallen flight
Indict this hindered course
As lash peels back, darkened twin
Revoking ties of binding.
Each day a test to better self
Symmetry is the goal
So strides once shaken steady out
And speak of things bestowed.
~2004~
The days in flesh shall suffer me
Mired in trial of faith
With hopes that pure, prevent loss
Ascension to the Lord.
Seated stare in which we toil
When glaring high above
Earthly eyes as beckoned dreams
Most are left unfilled.
Heads that bow in humble prayer
Sense the souls untrue
That snatch each breath
For heart to beat
As hands begin commune.
Defend faith and fallen flight
Indict this hindered course
As lash peels back, darkened twin
Revoking ties of binding.
Each day a test to better self
Symmetry is the goal
So strides once shaken steady out
And speak of things bestowed.
~2004~
Softball season is officially over. How will I ever occupy my free time? I was guided into reading a book by a coworker. "This book will change your life!" I immediately thought this may a bit of an overreaching statement. Unbeknownst to me, until I picked it up at the library, this tome of 1000 pages, was laughing at me.
Yes, perhaps it will change me, like time. I can feel myself aging looking at it. Ironically, two other associates, are also reading it. Oddly, this book was inked in 2010. Of course I didn't know this until reading the copyright and book dedication while sitting across from another coworker that just arrived to eat - who's name happened to match. If only life could be more amusing.
So, Brandon Sanderson - this book better change my life.
http://www.amazon.com/gp/aw/d/0765365278?pc_redir=1406791278&robot_redir=1
Off to find a shardblade and perhaps more - kenosis.
Yes, perhaps it will change me, like time. I can feel myself aging looking at it. Ironically, two other associates, are also reading it. Oddly, this book was inked in 2010. Of course I didn't know this until reading the copyright and book dedication while sitting across from another coworker that just arrived to eat - who's name happened to match. If only life could be more amusing.
So, Brandon Sanderson - this book better change my life.
http://www.amazon.com/gp/aw/d/0765365278?pc_redir=1406791278&robot_redir=1
Off to find a shardblade and perhaps more - kenosis.
“Dialog With Heart”
Heartbeat.......
Do you feel me as I feel you
Or do you sense my clutching hold
A boney-cage to guard your press
An abode bestowed until, the rest?
Do you sense the in and out of inspirations
Catch and release, the play
Me feeding you breath
While beneath, you feed me what's left?
What about my feet striking pavement
Undulations, sent racing upward along the frame
Like mysteriously miniaturized earthquakes
If only fully able to understand?
Are you capable of love, pulsing therein
Conceived someplace else - still further North
Where lightning fires across invisible bridges
Or forms on peripheries
Where before words, must first be thought
To bring them into being?
Can you feel my presence
Secreted into the stream that keeps us both alive
Arising from formless then straight to spark-gaps
Or is telos merely tailing its own manifestations
Through time and space, each layer of
Striation, as you, only grew more complex?
Even while sitting here harping thoughts, mostly alone
It remains hard to accept I no longer occupy
The exact place where I still sit, in transit
As gravity's silken threads and milking-ways
Move to capture truths in things, secretly.
Flash from the past:
At 53:40 Kerry says: "Two guys in NY that also talked about crystalline beings" Called Jotins?
Hey, 'Two guys', time erases all memory?
Last edited by Bard on Mon Sep 08, 2014 5:10 pm; edited 2 times in total
At 53:40 Kerry says: "Two guys in NY that also talked about crystalline beings" Called Jotins?
Hey, 'Two guys', time erases all memory?
Last edited by Bard on Mon Sep 08, 2014 5:10 pm; edited 2 times in total
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» The scariest character in all fiction
» Uanon's Majikal Misery Tour "it's all smiles on the magic school bus"
» What Music Are You Listening To ?
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» Baudrillardian hauntology - what are some haunting truths to our reality?