Sunday, December 6, 2015
Certifiably Complications
Sure things have been hard, life is full of certifiably complications. The anesthesia of living inject or implants no cure. but leaves the scars of argument. Even with reducing sensation and feeling the surgery of our souls has not better techniques than time. Words are more the cosmetic surgery, planned were there are too few choices. They say laughter can cure many illnesses, restore our health, a cure is firmly inserted to make us fuller. For me the years have been more the way of performing the emergency evacuation of a everyday procedure. I am marked, not on my skin but wounded and scared, the damaged the same. Like all people, shipwrecked, we learn to assimilate and write the saga. The rite and ritually of a folklore, under a rigidly controlled system, consume and incorporate. Even under a system of abuse and control, the homeless live and learn, the traditional myths of a thousands years. I have been preserved, if not in clay or stone as some fossilized dinosaur in my mind.
The extra some de facto notion of a counter burden. I learned about the new paradigm of prejudice and oppression by burden of debts. Art and what is governed between urgent issues and freedom, is discriminatory. Keep down by the heavily weight, oppressed intimidation for thinking, no defense
Today The Bright-Eyed Artist
Today I'm a bright-eyed Artist, or that is what it says on my Passport, retired person Artist. More the symbols of assumptions, symbols are enhancement or distractions, as extrinsic as the art work itself. The kindred notion of symbolic art, reflected as the Unicorn Tapestries or Dali's drooping watches. But Art like Artist living in the Bosch's Garden of Delights, are more the symbolic styles of life and subject matter. Allusions of Irish Landscapes and the still-life, only we confine ourselves as example, as purely abstract or decorative. Words are symbolize or non-symbolic, they represent matter and no matter, if that matters at all. The classification dilemma, according to the external use and extraneous picture, we reference the obvious, the vocabulary aesthetic and artistic significance that is the character of human focused attention at any given distracting moment in time. Yes, in the end we are concentrated on the insistence of the pure symbolized conclusion of time as art and art as time.
Time as the string of words, stands for itself: Time, applies to itself among other rhythm's or reading point the adjustment assigned. Time and space, represents nothing, a unicorn on the tapestry, a Bosch's painting, but outside the symbols, symbols that symbolize do not lie entirely of time.
Being representational involves no representation of anything outside of them, who can object to that?
So, my life is more the Abstract expressionist representational world, more the pure of it.
Working for a quick trip, the work out, with great emotion, and that represents a need and goal as the possible.
The Winter And The Clear-Eyed Boy
The winter, the clear-eyed boy feels more confident in his abilities, within the human trenches of diversity. How to live, as if there could be a right way, potentially all roads could be the wrong one, or limitless in ones effort. Pouring-out some personal account , just one more practice in the art of epigraph, if not a tombstone . Like all Tombstones, that are made to last, in the end the earth will reclaim.
Human experience, the accounts add up, as the parts of a conversation, a generated commentary, messy, frustrated and often awkward attempt at glory. Building a mountain, one pebble at a time, at the end an old man seats on top of it and looks out at his own end, a refection on the present moment, as all moments in time. The ant hill and microcosm of the mountain tops, at the top of the ant hill the Ant is accretive, the man only forgotten and changed, evolved as his life has taken different turns.
The great landslide, only a pebble falling, or the sky opens and the raindrops come in accumulative songs, prolific productions.
Cold nights, are accumulative, if not prolific in perspective, a landslide of cold, a foundational metaphor of connectivity resources. The weather is recounting the experiences, sustenance and ritual, struggle mirrored in geographical shared sense of community of mind. The pebbles, only ideas, fragments spilled over, histories illustrated at a coffeeshop, the self-portrait depicted by free will.
The bitter battle, a life always too short, and fought with small and uncertain successes, life is shamefully limited, in a dramatically insulting way so often. Ant-hills and Mountain tops, Ants or Humans dependent on the perspective, a point of view and order.
Cold nights or antediluvian survival, a study in rocking life imparted by tides of great Gods, that drop from the sky, transparent, you rise your head for the event, and plunge back into the ensuing landslides.
Sunday, October 19, 2014
Art Work to Review : New
New ART works, always interesting to see something come from nothing. Sometimes there is a surprise in store. The image tells a story so often, about feeling or just a new view of everyday objects.
The meal, with friends, offering a bird to sing, the conversation is open and alone both warm and
cool.
The meal, with friends, offering a bird to sing, the conversation is open and alone both warm and
cool.
Wednesday, October 1, 2014
Seem like it has been some time for that I have written down if not typed on the keyboard of time.
Many things are happening in my life, as in most lives happen can not be helped.
No matter what I do, doing is what I be doing, in a matter of word or speech. The Schedule
of days and hours or moment of time, takes me from here and there, mostly here not so ofter there.
Art and Writing become a system of thinking, the visual and the visual communication system of words. Words are visual for to be sure of this as fact. My last working ART work is more the story,
but no less the visual of expression.
No a titled work, but more a feeling of time a PLAYROOM in days gone by or timeless days, the reflection of space and action of the human mind can open up the Pandora's Box or the window
of imagination.
Many things are happening in my life, as in most lives happen can not be helped.
No matter what I do, doing is what I be doing, in a matter of word or speech. The Schedule
of days and hours or moment of time, takes me from here and there, mostly here not so ofter there.
Art and Writing become a system of thinking, the visual and the visual communication system of words. Words are visual for to be sure of this as fact. My last working ART work is more the story,
but no less the visual of expression.
of imagination.
Tuesday, August 12, 2014
Monday, October 14, 2013
Stolen
On August 3, 2013 my computer was stolen as I was working in the local University Library.
This was an act of planned intent, the reason was pure and simple, to take advantage of my
creative work, to steal my work, to stop my work. I am still working, still online working as
an activists and researcher. The Artist continues on --- more to come
Tuesday, July 30, 2013
The Night Angles
The Night Angels are standing like solitary mountains, as hard forms transplanted during the day. They are vanished like dreams, lost within degrees of bias.
The one shipped principles of Angles, like all visions is as Hurried Principles; The thoughts swept like sand in white foam, for our final words are measured in space.
Only the whip-lash of days end, this bring the Dark Angles to the night, to put back the broken pieces that have fell on the grounds of our longings, our possessions, our life.
Thoughts silvery, shower of hail, words of images seemed to brood in the air, benevolence of a myriad child, slowly stood in darkness, fish with hook, hook with fish-measured.
Music of our days, frightful as the serpents touch unheeded, faded in the sunset, watcher of the skies. Theories sprouted in daylight die merged, conquered in bent positions.
Sunshine deep falls from the heart, as butterflies might rest, the Sun's snowdrift starts than ends as the world wavers, the circle of dreams-measured.
The Night Angles seemed like a thing of stone, the bitter tears flows like streams of blood, tolling of bells upon indefinite stacks of souls.
Fate, the voice rings night as a bugle call, pierced the uproar like arrows, reflection of a our vile future is now promised vision, carries passengers-measured.
The sun writes in red-gold, as blue blackness lies in our white moon. The terrible past day is afar, our dream gliding behind us as freight.
Ideas as project tattered books, breaks like colorful birds to air, strange night skies, as luminary silver pages of a thousand tears, falls to earth as others inspirations.
In Time Night Angels brilliancy harden, as the sky gleamed stars, than fade to mist, solid air around me, roaring ocean of day is here, on board I have traveled.
The Night Angles crush by the earth into a million pieces, in the silvery morning of broken glass, sheeted phantoms of day are now being measured.
Sunday, May 12, 2013
Dashiell Hammet
Looking over the Subject of interest for the week, reading some Dashiell Hammett.
What can one say about the writings of Samuel Dashiell Hammet, The Sam Spade detective novelist, screenwriter and much more?. Hammet was born and died, like most
people of course, the interesting parts fall between the two points. The interesting parts in ones life are sometimes what we have left behind. Dashiell Hammet left behind more than
a few interesting stories and within them character. Nick and Nora his Thin Man characters living in a world of crime, guns, dark corners and foggy nights. A writing style of American language made of tough talking detectives who believes it' bad business to let a partner's killer go free. Hammett studies the character, gives them realistic words coming out of there cigaret hanging mouths, that breathed life exiling out.
He had style, mean streets with realism and authenticity. The odd assortment of character, based on people whom he met. He wrote such classic lines as:
" He felt like somebody had taken the lid off life and let him see the works."
"My way of learning is to heave a wild and unpredictable monkey wrench into the machinery."
“Who shot him?” I asked. The grey man scratched the back of his neck and said, “Somebody with a gun.”
In the end we all want to escape to a some other place, a world of both realism and unreal events. The mixture of facts and detection all within the dreamworld, Hammett's world
What can one say about the writings of Samuel Dashiell Hammet, The Sam Spade detective novelist, screenwriter and much more?. Hammet was born and died, like most
people of course, the interesting parts fall between the two points. The interesting parts in ones life are sometimes what we have left behind. Dashiell Hammet left behind more than
a few interesting stories and within them character. Nick and Nora his Thin Man characters living in a world of crime, guns, dark corners and foggy nights. A writing style of American language made of tough talking detectives who believes it' bad business to let a partner's killer go free. Hammett studies the character, gives them realistic words coming out of there cigaret hanging mouths, that breathed life exiling out.
He had style, mean streets with realism and authenticity. The odd assortment of character, based on people whom he met. He wrote such classic lines as:
" He felt like somebody had taken the lid off life and let him see the works."
"My way of learning is to heave a wild and unpredictable monkey wrench into the machinery."
“Who shot him?” I asked. The grey man scratched the back of his neck and said, “Somebody with a gun.”
In the end we all want to escape to a some other place, a world of both realism and unreal events. The mixture of facts and detection all within the dreamworld, Hammett's world
Saturday, May 4, 2013
The Red Channels
Welcome, this is my first post under my Twitter "Subject of interest" for the weekend:
The Red Channels-
Often overlooked, the graylist, like the Blacklist of the Hollywood community became targets as their jobs and outlooks, because of national politics.
The HUAC (House Un-American Activities Committee) Other than the Targeted Hollywood industry professionals, named as communist before this Committee, there was the unnamed. The graylist contained names, as screenwriter Howard Koch, actor Marsha Hunt and musician Pete Seeger.
As the Blacklist was created in 1947, and the Hollywood 10 cited for contempt, the Motion Picture Association, give a statement. MPA- forthwith will dichage or suspend with out compensation and not re-employ any of the ten, until acquitted, and declared under oath not to be a Communist.
The greater role of the MPA and affiliates is not to knowing employ a Communist or party member, or likewise group member.
The blacklist was only the 10, initially in 1950 this list had grown to people who appeared before the the Committee and did not cooperate and those that were now identified by others, by people who now refused to "name names".
The graylist became loss of employment because of political affiliation.
Red Channels was one that singled out elements in Hollywood, often with little real
incriminating evidence, published their names than circulate. Their names on this smear publication made one effectively graylisted.
Like the Hollywood 10, the graylisted could appear before the Committee to clear their name from affiliation with the 10.
Maybe the real representational change becomes more the vilified as the Communist threat and the view of art and the artist over politics.
A persons reputation is that persons view created by media and politics.
Pete Seeger is, after all is said and has been done to his reputation is nothing less than a cultural icon. Being a cultural icon does cast a view on the subject of reputation.
The graylist with the name Marsha Virginia Hunt, asked to denounce her activities by the Committee, refused. Nothing more than her support for liberal ideals and her name in the publication of Red Channels, afterwards work became not so easy to come by.
The processes of stereotyping and labeling a person, adversely affected consequences
do spread through simple association. The Panic moving in a community goes beyond consequence. As a Gay spots figure could have consequences, that of sponsorship and advertisers who pull sponsorship. Activist can not control widespread indiscriminate stigma. Association do cause individuals to be punished by affiliation, under suspicion.
Once a person is labeled others see them as dangerous as abnormal and try not to be labeled or named themselves.
To be stigmatized by moral panic, targeted for discrimination and for public deliberation by pure association, even casual association has a experience social divide.
As norms and conformity is maintained by stigma and that association, by otherwise law-abiding citizens who are now characterized as "devils" and evil deviants.
The norms is sustained when the high becomes the low, the pubic acclaim is stricken from the records, enforcing social norms on people with subversive ideologies.
The witches of Salem and the Red Scare, form the conservative politicians who created the stereotyped communist as un-patriotic and danger to the dominant groups.
The Witch hunts and blacklist that created the stigma to enforce the norm, became the danger to American society.
To create public fear, by moral panics with intent to damaged employment prospects, as mechanism for punishment, this affects us all.
Reference: Red Channels List
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hollywood_blacklist#The_Red_Channels_list
The Red Channels-
Often overlooked, the graylist, like the Blacklist of the Hollywood community became targets as their jobs and outlooks, because of national politics.
The HUAC (House Un-American Activities Committee) Other than the Targeted Hollywood industry professionals, named as communist before this Committee, there was the unnamed. The graylist contained names, as screenwriter Howard Koch, actor Marsha Hunt and musician Pete Seeger.
As the Blacklist was created in 1947, and the Hollywood 10 cited for contempt, the Motion Picture Association, give a statement. MPA- forthwith will dichage or suspend with out compensation and not re-employ any of the ten, until acquitted, and declared under oath not to be a Communist.
The greater role of the MPA and affiliates is not to knowing employ a Communist or party member, or likewise group member.
The blacklist was only the 10, initially in 1950 this list had grown to people who appeared before the the Committee and did not cooperate and those that were now identified by others, by people who now refused to "name names".
The graylist became loss of employment because of political affiliation.
Red Channels was one that singled out elements in Hollywood, often with little real
incriminating evidence, published their names than circulate. Their names on this smear publication made one effectively graylisted.
Like the Hollywood 10, the graylisted could appear before the Committee to clear their name from affiliation with the 10.
Maybe the real representational change becomes more the vilified as the Communist threat and the view of art and the artist over politics.
A persons reputation is that persons view created by media and politics.
Pete Seeger is, after all is said and has been done to his reputation is nothing less than a cultural icon. Being a cultural icon does cast a view on the subject of reputation.
The graylist with the name Marsha Virginia Hunt, asked to denounce her activities by the Committee, refused. Nothing more than her support for liberal ideals and her name in the publication of Red Channels, afterwards work became not so easy to come by.
The processes of stereotyping and labeling a person, adversely affected consequences
do spread through simple association. The Panic moving in a community goes beyond consequence. As a Gay spots figure could have consequences, that of sponsorship and advertisers who pull sponsorship. Activist can not control widespread indiscriminate stigma. Association do cause individuals to be punished by affiliation, under suspicion.
Once a person is labeled others see them as dangerous as abnormal and try not to be labeled or named themselves.
To be stigmatized by moral panic, targeted for discrimination and for public deliberation by pure association, even casual association has a experience social divide.
As norms and conformity is maintained by stigma and that association, by otherwise law-abiding citizens who are now characterized as "devils" and evil deviants.
The norms is sustained when the high becomes the low, the pubic acclaim is stricken from the records, enforcing social norms on people with subversive ideologies.
The witches of Salem and the Red Scare, form the conservative politicians who created the stereotyped communist as un-patriotic and danger to the dominant groups.
The Witch hunts and blacklist that created the stigma to enforce the norm, became the danger to American society.
To create public fear, by moral panics with intent to damaged employment prospects, as mechanism for punishment, this affects us all.
Reference: Red Channels List
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hollywood_blacklist#The_Red_Channels_list
Thursday, April 25, 2013
Abstraction
The night of apocalyptic vision, arrested development for a aspiring genius just to ascribed productiveness, long assembled arguments
Life is one awkward dilemma at best, this axiomatic truth, battered witticism, bravely vanquished in the dark of night, a brooding peace
A cataclysmic element ceaselessly remarked, as ghostly apparitions, gladiatorial exercises that give citation and allusion for night
rippled and maimed, crises and struggles a critical crime and misdemeanor to be crowned and sceptered as in life deep and subtle conduct
One momentous pause moody silence no multitudinous mundane importance. Lost in murky recesses hands in a neighboring mists nerveless hands
this a numbed stillness lost in makeshift occasional flights of olive grayness oratorical displays. With painstaking paroxysmal outburst
I feel sometimes like all meda is no more than predatory writers just a pregnant hint. Preliminary assumption are prepossessing appearance
The mind is like a lonely wild summer sky with incessant play of fireworks as thin faint songs when the wind wearily sighs a clap of thunder
Today like an angel's wings opened into a furnace, motionless and fierce as fires to collapse as if by enchantment perfume and pure as prayer
Moving more like some great express train, roaring, flashing, on a track of pure and endless light, only to be a knight worn by conflict
Daisies rest in hamlets as if jeweled objects, high and radiant an oceans with dark gentle sounds of stillness landscaped
Today like an angel's wings opened into a furnace, motionless fierce fires to collapse as if by enchantment and pure as prayer
What seraphic shadowy abstraction resting on a shore-less sea,solid knowledge knows no substance, solemn soulless mechanism.
Life is one awkward dilemma at best, this axiomatic truth, battered witticism, bravely vanquished in the dark of night, a brooding peace
A cataclysmic element ceaselessly remarked, as ghostly apparitions, gladiatorial exercises that give citation and allusion for night
rippled and maimed, crises and struggles a critical crime and misdemeanor to be crowned and sceptered as in life deep and subtle conduct
One momentous pause moody silence no multitudinous mundane importance. Lost in murky recesses hands in a neighboring mists nerveless hands
this a numbed stillness lost in makeshift occasional flights of olive grayness oratorical displays. With painstaking paroxysmal outburst
I feel sometimes like all meda is no more than predatory writers just a pregnant hint. Preliminary assumption are prepossessing appearance
The mind is like a lonely wild summer sky with incessant play of fireworks as thin faint songs when the wind wearily sighs a clap of thunder
Today like an angel's wings opened into a furnace, motionless and fierce as fires to collapse as if by enchantment perfume and pure as prayer
Moving more like some great express train, roaring, flashing, on a track of pure and endless light, only to be a knight worn by conflict
Daisies rest in hamlets as if jeweled objects, high and radiant an oceans with dark gentle sounds of stillness landscaped
Today like an angel's wings opened into a furnace, motionless fierce fires to collapse as if by enchantment and pure as prayer
What seraphic shadowy abstraction resting on a shore-less sea,solid knowledge knows no substance, solemn soulless mechanism.
Monday, March 25, 2013
"Magic Barriers"
Magic goes straight to the area of truth, with a sense of sullen grimness, half choked, flushed red face of morning
Talk to me Rain-glowing without life, scattered impulses gather me, passionate acts, our traditions rise
Friends are open green hills, simple grace of importance, a friend with shoulders this rose morning
Half choked friends suffocated in convictions, hardened resolves friends are the recesses of memories hills
The past, shifted friends on adroit grounds, accosted ideals, lampooned with cherished prejudices in bowed submissions
My haunted mind friends, unearthly burden; a place for chill trepidation, drank colorless care friend
Desperate resolve of spirit friend, we conversed in fluency and nothing passed, only desperation
The walls have resolve , the universe- to a fundamental nothingness, as some human defect detected in some hollow moons rings
Ironic words, flung-flushed out to some intolerably wind, the silence becomes given stare of difference rebounds
Looking at day-dreams, how I give my eyes to the demons of false glory and simple success, the same demon who rules too often
Eyes with the gift of deep dark silences, eagle in his tracks trade eyes, acted in honors delicacy, sudden dreams we give
Admiring visions dark silence comes, as friend loathsome listened in gazed intent, protestations held and than replies went
Magics argumentative vague acceptance, only a smile only a smile, a smile into silence
Wednesday, March 6, 2013
Dribbling Words
Words dribbling down dissolve into nothingness or into a death; dragged by the pursuit of servitude , so electrifying...
I wonder at this elevated precedent, what will fade into insignificance or flower? forced into action, for there is insight into truth
For me, I have never been addicted to flattery and keep to the adherence of this principle that is, to aspire to life or attempt to believe in life
Than the question of what is blind to demonstrations? proof of the process or argument for the proposition: show me how it works
What is the contribution to knowledge? The constrained oblivion we all have in common to humanity? our claim to perpetuity, than ?
I must state that being devoted to ideals have driven me to despair and seems at times to be doomed to a destruction
Life is an empowered act or more that some platitude given in extravagance. I have seen the intolerable truth of society, as invocation...
One can be oblivious to criticism or reason and still be opposed to innovation, that is to pander to prejudice and scorn
So-- I am left to conjecture obedience to conscience; this is my recourse to falsehood and repugnant to what will pass as justice to eternity
My life is a danger of deliberation allied with economy also some degree of exactness to be blinded with tears or teargas than burned with indignation
Compatible with freedom is not a consistent tradition of sorrow--for
Art is sometimes inconsistent with beauty more often kindle with enthusiasm than mingled with curious intoxicated processes
I wonder at this elevated precedent, what will fade into insignificance or flower? forced into action, for there is insight into truth
For me, I have never been addicted to flattery and keep to the adherence of this principle that is, to aspire to life or attempt to believe in life
Than the question of what is blind to demonstrations? proof of the process or argument for the proposition: show me how it works
What is the contribution to knowledge? The constrained oblivion we all have in common to humanity? our claim to perpetuity, than ?
I must state that being devoted to ideals have driven me to despair and seems at times to be doomed to a destruction
Life is an empowered act or more that some platitude given in extravagance. I have seen the intolerable truth of society, as invocation...
One can be oblivious to criticism or reason and still be opposed to innovation, that is to pander to prejudice and scorn
So-- I am left to conjecture obedience to conscience; this is my recourse to falsehood and repugnant to what will pass as justice to eternity
My life is a danger of deliberation allied with economy also some degree of exactness to be blinded with tears or teargas than burned with indignation
Compatible with freedom is not a consistent tradition of sorrow--for
Art is sometimes inconsistent with beauty more often kindle with enthusiasm than mingled with curious intoxicated processes
Monday, January 28, 2013
Willing Wings To Cherish
Willing Wings To Cherish
Apocalyptic tales- our stories like a beast it bites, benignant eyes of flickering candles in gray minds kisses the heart and dies-
The job of anyone, the burnt out, like clouds in the silent heaven, the chains lengthens behind it drags-on, life is the substance of children at play
The trees that are stag's antlers, the same that fixed the stars and altered there values to silver and dust, as to truths so perfect
The souls of men like the walls of great seas live there life like creatures in walls of pain they up cast wings of the souls of light uplifting to stony peaks
The souls startled into astonishment deprive themselves forever and forever are assumed to last as our illustrations, proof so briefly
We who are assembly have sentiments, for the rest not the foregoing of the wall of time now constituted memory to compare the moments
There was a wall of digression; one of the outcast, the outset of time to state our inquiry of that moment or notion so solemn assured within us
In the walls we are not deceived, our interest are things- our moments bearing and attempting to the point of question of being
Opinions like hunger being persuaded by special matters, speaking to our minds holding hands, no one can say speaking but invocations bidden
Walls openings and possibilities deserves, stones for admitting and here arise no further- wings emotions pass over head
The words willing come form the walls from my own experiences, I can at least say, the willing wings to cherish the hope and promise
by Timothy Dougherty
Apocalyptic tales- our stories like a beast it bites, benignant eyes of flickering candles in gray minds kisses the heart and dies-
The job of anyone, the burnt out, like clouds in the silent heaven, the chains lengthens behind it drags-on, life is the substance of children at play
The trees that are stag's antlers, the same that fixed the stars and altered there values to silver and dust, as to truths so perfect
The souls of men like the walls of great seas live there life like creatures in walls of pain they up cast wings of the souls of light uplifting to stony peaks
The souls startled into astonishment deprive themselves forever and forever are assumed to last as our illustrations, proof so briefly
We who are assembly have sentiments, for the rest not the foregoing of the wall of time now constituted memory to compare the moments
There was a wall of digression; one of the outcast, the outset of time to state our inquiry of that moment or notion so solemn assured within us
In the walls we are not deceived, our interest are things- our moments bearing and attempting to the point of question of being
Opinions like hunger being persuaded by special matters, speaking to our minds holding hands, no one can say speaking but invocations bidden
Walls openings and possibilities deserves, stones for admitting and here arise no further- wings emotions pass over head
The words willing come form the walls from my own experiences, I can at least say, the willing wings to cherish the hope and promise
by Timothy Dougherty
Sunday, December 9, 2012
The Unremembered Winter
The unremembered winter, he the unrelaxing, unremitting toil, that frosty soul of thoughts. Gloom dwelt like ambitious fires
Winter nights deepened in every breath of air, far into the night. Sleep unfolds like white birds give chill breath of winter
Winter dreams of poets like music, swift winter's broken billows on an unseen shore darking sounds like breakers sound no more
As the year ends, looking back it has been a year for you to think on-much in life that teach us
Like angels wings winter hands turning Heaven's breath, mute and blind faded eyes lost moons deep in some enchanted forest
Monday, August 27, 2012
Frozen River
Frozen River
Frozen time
Magic moments ...
Magic to go straight to the area, with a sense of size and sullen grimness, being half choked with the flush of morning
Talk to me Rain so glowing and without life the scattered impulses you gather me, passionate act, our traditions
Friends are open with green hills of simple grace and sense of importance, a friend with shoulders and her rose morning
Half choked friends suffocated in their convictions and hardened resolves, friends are the recesses of our memory
The past as the shifted friends on adroit grounds, accosted ideas and ideals, lampooned with cherished prejudices and bowed submissions
My mind is haunted with friends the unearthly burden of life or just a place for chill trepidation, friends drank of naught colorless care
It is often with desperate resolve of spirit, we conversed in fluency and nothing passed, only desperation
The walls have resolve and the universe to a fundamental nothingness, as if some human defect has been detected in some hollow moons rings
So ironic words, flung and flushed out to some untolerably wind, as the silence becomes intolerably given stare of diffidence rebounds
Looking at some day-dreams, how I give my eyes to the demons of false glory and simple wanton success, the same demon who rules too often
Eyes with the gift of deep, dark silences the eagle in his tracks and trade eyes, acted in honor and delicacy, sudden dreams we give
With admining vision the dark silence comes, as friend losthsome and listened in gazed intent as protestations held and than replies went
In life the argumental vague acceptance, only a smile only a smile, a smile
Frozen time
Magic moments ...
Magic to go straight to the area, with a sense of size and sullen grimness, being half choked with the flush of morning
Talk to me Rain so glowing and without life the scattered impulses you gather me, passionate act, our traditions
Friends are open with green hills of simple grace and sense of importance, a friend with shoulders and her rose morning
Half choked friends suffocated in their convictions and hardened resolves, friends are the recesses of our memory
The past as the shifted friends on adroit grounds, accosted ideas and ideals, lampooned with cherished prejudices and bowed submissions
My mind is haunted with friends the unearthly burden of life or just a place for chill trepidation, friends drank of naught colorless care
It is often with desperate resolve of spirit, we conversed in fluency and nothing passed, only desperation
The walls have resolve and the universe to a fundamental nothingness, as if some human defect has been detected in some hollow moons rings
So ironic words, flung and flushed out to some untolerably wind, as the silence becomes intolerably given stare of diffidence rebounds
Looking at some day-dreams, how I give my eyes to the demons of false glory and simple wanton success, the same demon who rules too often
Eyes with the gift of deep, dark silences the eagle in his tracks and trade eyes, acted in honor and delicacy, sudden dreams we give
With admining vision the dark silence comes, as friend losthsome and listened in gazed intent as protestations held and than replies went
In life the argumental vague acceptance, only a smile only a smile, a smile
Wednesday, June 27, 2012
Humanity Must Rule
Humanity must rule as operative principle for social justice and to reduce inequality for services and products. Virtue.
This means the services of our society, that of property, labor and education we exchange by taxation must be our balance and economics.
Equalizing our economic conditions as well as our possessions. This as pure economic reforms for political, economic, and social equality.
Justice must be the center of economic equality for our social reforms. Rights for Labor and its division, equalizing wage and product.
We have the right for political equality, in this we must create economic equality. We need to have equality between interest and service.
All people have Capacities, born equal created inequality only by circumstance of society. We have natural capcity and skills as individuals.
The capitalist exploiter are the agents of corruption and of servitude, parasites and social public functionaries. Liberty and Equality.
When we have one quality of citizens, not the distinction of caste system of capitalist and laborers the enslaved serfs of inequality.
When we have political equality there will be no economic inequality. This is the realization of inequality within our society..
Intellectual inequality is political inequality and this being economic inquality of the human condition. Economic inequality is political.
But what is Inequality? Economic, Social or psychological or physical, this being distinguished form the mind. Idea that races are unequal.
The is a matter of control to stop people form being united, for this is true power. All people are born equal in essence, in dignity.
To make the smallest whole the quality of being united into one, unreduced unbroken. The Equality of Liberty exits in Unity as independence.
There is a very important relationship, concerning the Ideas of Liberty that is Unity. Two connected concepts, within social equality.
This means the services of our society, that of property, labor and education we exchange by taxation must be our balance and economics.
Equalizing our economic conditions as well as our possessions. This as pure economic reforms for political, economic, and social equality.
Justice must be the center of economic equality for our social reforms. Rights for Labor and its division, equalizing wage and product.
We have the right for political equality, in this we must create economic equality. We need to have equality between interest and service.
All people have Capacities, born equal created inequality only by circumstance of society. We have natural capcity and skills as individuals.
The capitalist exploiter are the agents of corruption and of servitude, parasites and social public functionaries. Liberty and Equality.
When we have one quality of citizens, not the distinction of caste system of capitalist and laborers the enslaved serfs of inequality.
When we have political equality there will be no economic inequality. This is the realization of inequality within our society..
Intellectual inequality is political inequality and this being economic inquality of the human condition. Economic inequality is political.
But what is Inequality? Economic, Social or psychological or physical, this being distinguished form the mind. Idea that races are unequal.
The is a matter of control to stop people form being united, for this is true power. All people are born equal in essence, in dignity.
To make the smallest whole the quality of being united into one, unreduced unbroken. The Equality of Liberty exits in Unity as independence.
There is a very important relationship, concerning the Ideas of Liberty that is Unity. Two connected concepts, within social equality.
Underdone Fragment
The world is on display with all the distortions and diversity, a fine line of domain and imagination, the drama of action, it's easy access
Thinking is one element of passion and emotion, we give elevation to the mind, the compulsion of truth and enigma of purpose vision essence
Art is the extremity of expression, the fabric of fact, one more spoon at the feast of reason and depths of suffering, like a vice curiosity
Vision is the avowal of poverty, fettered toil, like any other choice, in the end a collocation of words, exquisite words but only words
A the table we eat more scholarly curiosity, feeding of choice, touches of intrusive passion flushed with suffusion, we are rich in reverie
The eating ends, and the memory formless rhetoric, underdone fragments and rigid fugitives, only abstractions are real on Christmas morning
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