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A complexity dressed in simplicity, a translucent view of darkness, a living form of enigma, a soul of stories to unravel, yours truly.
Poems
jake aller Mar 2019
cosmic dreams and nightmares
jake aller
Mar 2019
World According to Cosmos Updates March 3, 2019
Note: I am taking a two week trip to Vietnam and will update my blog when I return with my reflections on my trip, updated publications etc.
Cosmic Dreams and Nightmares
I don't dream dreams. I dream movies complete with action, music, food, smells everything. In this one I had a vision of a possible future. it was so vivid, almost as if I were watching the hearing take place.
Three stories
Dream Girl (true story)
General Zod (flash fiction
Sam Adams Vs. the Social Cleansing Board
Six Poems
Morphing Images from Hellish Nightmare
Endless Movie
Worlds within Worlds Lost in Hell
Rafting to Hell
Satanic Torture
Micro Stories
Don’t Go Jogging in the Middle of the Night
Don’t touch this button!
Don’t open the door
Don’t go to the theater tonight stay home with me
Don’t go to Dallas I have a bad feeling about the trip
Dream Girl
Cheating Death 100 Times
Guardian Angel
Medical Mystery
SLA Hit List
Dream Girl – A true Story – reprinted from Dreams and the Unexplainable
You know you’re in love when you can’t fall asleep because reality is finally better than your dreams.
Author Unknown
The dreams started when I was a senior at Berkeley High School in 1974. About a month before I graduated, I fell asleep in a physics class after lunch and had the first dream:
A beautiful Asian woman was standing next to me, talking in a strange language. She was stunning—the most beautiful girl I had ever seen. She was in her early twenties, with long black hair, and piercing black eyes. She had the look of royalty. She looked at me and then disappeared, beamed out of my dream like in Star Trek. I fell out of my chair screaming, “Who are you?” She did not answer.
About a month went by, and then I started having the dream repeatedly. Always the same pattern.
Early morning, she would stand next to me talking. I would ask who she was, and she would disappear. She was the most beautiful, alluring woman I had ever seen.
I was struck speechless every time I had the dream.
I had the dream every month during the eight years during which I went to college and served in the Peace Corps. In fact, when I joined the Peace Corps, I had to decide whether to go Korea or Thailand. The night before I had to submit my decision, I had the dream again and it made me sure that she was in Korea waiting for me.
After the Peace Corps, I still hadn’t met my dream woman. I got a job working for the U.S. Army as an instructor and stayed in Korea. I kept having the dream, until I had the very last one:
She was standing next to me, speaking to me in Korean, but I finally understood her. She said, “Don’t worry, we will be together soon.”
Why was that the last time I had the dream? Because the very next night, the girl in my dream got off the bus in front of me. She went on to the base with an acquaintance of mine, a fellow teacher, and they went to see a movie. I saw her and found the courage to speak with her.
We exchanged phone numbers and agreed to meet that weekend.
The next night, she was waiting for me as I entered the Army base to teach a class. She told me she was a college senior and she had something to tell me. I signed her on to the base and left her at the library to study while I taught, and then we went out for coffee after class. She told me she was madly in love with me, and that I was the man for her. I told her not to worry as I felt the same.
That weekend, we met Saturday and Sunday and hung out all day. On Sunday night, I proposed to her. It was only three days after we had met, but for me it felt like we had met eight years ago. I had been waiting all my life for her to walk out of my dreams and into my life, and here she was.
Her mother did not want her to marry a foreigner. One day, about a month after we met, she invited me to meet her parents. I brought a bottle of Jack Daniels for her father and drank the entire bottle with him. He approved of me, but her mother still had reservations. After a Buddhist priest told her my future wife and I were a perfect astrological combination, she agreed, and we planned our wedding.
The wedding was a media sensation in South Korea. My wife explained it to me years later. At the time, I was overwhelmed just by the fact that we were getting married and I didn’t fully understand how unusual this was. My wife was of the old royal clan, distant relatives to the former kings of Korea. In the clan’s history, only two people had ever married foreigners: my wife, and Rhee Syngman, who was the first President of South Korea. My father, who was a former Undersecretary of Labor, came out for the wedding, which fueled even more media interest. Our marriage defied the stereotypical Korean-foreign marriage where the women married some hapless GI just to escape poverty and immigrate to the U.S. We were the first foreign/Korean couple to get married at a Korean Army base. Over 1,000 people came to the wedding, and my father was interviewed on the morning news programs.
This all happened thirty-seven years ago, (45 years since the first dream) and I am still married to the girl in my dreams. Now in my dreams she watches over me when we are apart.
General Zod Conquers the World
SETI and the search for extraterrestrial life goes on overdrive when scientists report what appears to be radio and television broadcasts from a planet eight light years from earth, the same planet as the Vulcans came from in the Star Trek universe. The programs show a world where dinosaur-like creatures are running the world and there appears to be a civil war. Over the next six months, the world is transfixed watching the alien broadcasts which are translated in English via a supercomputer program. In the broadcast, a nuclear war has occurred. The surviving party regains absolute control and announces the formation of the Galactic Empire. General Zod is the First Emperor. They have discovered Earth as well. The aliens launch a crash project to develop interstellar travel so they can come to earth and conquer the earth.
The revelations that there is an external threat to the planet causes the United Nations to get together with the help of the United States and Russia another space powers, they put together Space defense International organization and also invigorates efforts to make the UN a real Planetary government including finally conquering climate change.
But it was too late. General Zod’s son arrives to take over the earth. He makes a broadcast saying that they were liberating Earth in the name of the Galactic Empire and that resistance would be futile.
They land at the White House and when President Trump comes out to greet them,
General Zod cuts off his head, and then cuts off the heads of all the staffers as they come out White House. After an hour of unimaginable horrors, including mass rapes, blowing up the Pentagon and the CIA, General Zod announces that he had taken over the world.
Life will continue as before as long as people behave and follow the rules they would be fine Resistance to the new empire will be met with instant death. Life in the Empire is not a democracy. They would not tolerate Freedom of speech, and Freedom of Press, and Freedom of Assembly And the freedom to oppose the State. The state is everything. As long as humans remember that they would be just fine. They took over the United States because it was the biggest country in the world. And that his forces will take over the rest of the world but in the next couple weeks. If people on earth accept the new order, their safety would be guaranteed. Companies would be taken over by Galactic Empire companies, and everybody would have to learn Galactic standard. Within one year older languages will be banned.
Sam Adams Vs. the Social Cleansing Board
the summons
Sam Adams was worried. He could not sleep. He got up at 4 am and wrote in his journal and tried to cope with the dread that was overwhelming him. He had received the summons yesterday that he was to report to the social cleansing board for a review on whether he would allow to continue to be on the automatic permit list or would be referred for final status determination. Sam was a retired Federal worker trying to live on dwindling savings.
Sam had Alzheimer’s and was rapidly depleting his life’s savings. Two years before he had been released from prison, one of millions of ex political prisoners. His crime? Authoring anti-government poems just before the beginning of the Christian States of America, right after the second civil war. Unfortunately for him and his millions of ex-prisoners, his side lost the war. He wanted to flee to the United Provinces and settle down in California but lacked money to move. And getting a job at his age, with Alzheimer’s and his political rating was proving difficult at best.
All of which added up to a 90 percent probability his last days were approaching.
Under the new rules imposed by the Christian republican party in the newly established Christian states, all citizens over the age of 18 were on the permitted list if they met all of the following criteria. He tried to think why he was being referred to the board. Perhaps it was because of the recent crackdown on social deviancy. Millions of homosexuals, transgenered people, atheists, drug users, alcoholics, and non-religious people had been rounded up and eliminated according to the rumors. Perhaps someone had fingered him as a possible deviant. He fit the stereotype, no children, known drug user, known alcohol user, suspect politically, atheist and now Alzheimer’s patient. And he was not racially pure having some black blood, some Asian blood and some Jewish blood. And he had married across the racial divide which was now illegal.
The story was that if you flipped and named names you would sometimes be spared for now, and if your info was correct, you could be rewarded. Of course, those whom you flipped were not too fortunate. That was probably the story or someone could have heard that he was an ex political prisoner, or simply that he had Alzheimer’s’.
He had no children. And he was a secret atheist and had been involved with the dissent movement and had spent five years as a political prisoner at the start of the Christian Revolution. He was determined to make a stand and denounce the whole rotten system before the board although that would probably seal his fate.
As an Alzheimer’s patient he could no longer work. His wife had died the year before while he was in prison after she had been deported to her native Korea. She left him some assets but he had little idea how to manage his finances and he was behind in his rent and had received an eviction notice which had probably triggered the visit by the social cleansing staff who recommend a final status determination. But it was just as likely he was on the list because someone flipped on him.
He also did not make it last time when they came for him at midnight. Always at midnight the story goes.
The soldiers came took him away from his wife and locked him up for two years. They deported his wife whom he heard had died shortly afterwards. He spend two years at hard labor in the dessert near Las Vegas and was released into Las Vegas.
Las Vegas was a different town now that the casinos had left town. All that was left were back office operations, and underground ***** and *** operations and underground casinos. It was a hot bed of political dissent and there was an underground railroad to California, which was not part of the Christian states. Sam had been preparing to leave which was a crime and perhaps that is why he was on the list.
The hearing would be at 10 am. He was meeting his lawyer at the hearing board but his lawyer was not too optimistic.
the Permit Criteria
The basic criteria for being on the permit list were:
For Males
Age 18 to age 70
White race
Married to a white woman with children
Must be either working, in school full time, serving in military duty, or working in prison if convicted of a crime.
Homelessness was not allowed. If unemployed and or homeless, would be referred to social cleansing department unless one had a relative who was willing to take care of your needs.
Since there were no pensions or social security anymore and no government provided health care, one must have sufficient assets through one’s work, or savings or through one’s relatives to provide for one ‘s needs. If not you would be sent to the social cleansing board for final status determination.
For Females
Same basic rules applied but if one were married, and had children one would be on the permitted list, if children are older, if spouse’s income is sufficient one would be on the list.
If single or divorced, and homeless one would also be subject to social cleansing unless one’s relatives would willing to sponsor you. Since there were no pensions or social security anymore and no government provided health care, one must have sufficient assets through one’s work, or savings or through one’s relatives to provide for one ‘s needs. If not you would be sent to the social cleansing board for final status determination.
For Aged People
Additional requirements for the age you were expected to take care of your basic needs through employment and savings and the help of relatives. If you were evicted for non-payment of rent, or judged to not have sufficient assets left to sustain your basic needs including medical care, you would be referred for final status determination.
For all people additional requirements applied.
****** deviancy, drug use, alcohol use, gambling, *** outside of marriage, homosexuality would result in immediate referral to the social cleansing board as all were banned conduct that could result in final termination. Being a member of a prohibited religious class could also be grounds for referral as would a pattern of not attending Christian services. Finally, if one had been arrested for political crimes one would be marked forever.
<h2>Sam's Rating</h2>
One had a government social rating. Sam knew that his rating was a D meaning that the government would be watching him all the time, and it would be difficult to get a job. Only the A’s and B’s were guaranteed to be on the permit list.
To be a A you had be to a true believer, had to be white, had to attend church on a regular basis, and had to be employed naturally.
To be a B same thing but you could be a B if you were a minority, or had engaged in alcohol or drug use under the old rules.
C meant that there was something wrong with your background, you were an atheist, you were a minority etc.
D mean that you were a serious threat to the regime.
E meant that you would be terminated.
F met you were terminated as it met Failure to survive, and family members of F were also labeled F as they were usually terminated at the same time.
Being associated with banned political movements, including reading banned materials could also lead one to being referred to the social cleansing board as all were grounds for either termination or criminal prosecution if under the age of 70.
The board has three choices - granted temporary status extension, referral for termination, or referral to criminal prosecution.
The termination would be carried out quickly. There would be an optional funeral at your Church, then the execution through the method of your choice - firing squad, beheading, electric chair, or gas. The default was gas where you were put in a room with up to ten other people and put to sleep.
Afterwards your body would be cremated in an electricity generating plant with the ashes turned into fertilizer products. There were no burials allowed unless one was rich enough and connected enough to request a burial exception. Most people did not qualify.
the Hearing
The hearing started. The presiding Judge, Judge Miller was a stern face white man in his 70’s and a true believer. He was sent to Las Vegas to clean it up as Las Vegas was the wild west, a hot bed of dissent, illegal drug use, illegal prostitution and illegal casinos. It was also near several political prisons so many ex cons lived there.
The Judge was the chairman of the Nevada state committee that did not exist and was a senior official in the Federal committee that did not exist that brought together government, business and church leaders to coordinate government policies and that secretly ran the Christian States of America.
Probably a score of A thought Sam.
The judge announced that he had reviewed Sam’s file and was shocked that Sam had escaped final termination. He said that the previous board had erred in simply sending him to prison. He should have been eradicated as a social evil, as a cancer that needs to be removed from the pure body politics. Sam and his ilk sickened him. Sam was a free thinker, an atheist, a mix race mongrel, married to a non-white and was therefore guilty of crimes against the white race which was a crime. The Judge was determined to see justice done.
He asked Sam a series of questions. Sam’s answers sealed his fate.
Sam, what is your occupation?
None for now.
You realize that under the law you must be working, in service, in school or in prison?
I can’t find a job due to my age, my Alzheimer’s; and my political record.
That’s irrelevant. You are just a lousy atheist *******. You deserve no sympathy. And have none from me.
Are you white?
No, I am mixed race, part native, part Asian, part black.
I see you were married to a non-white and had no children. Good for you we would not want to see more mongrel children. Such children should be eliminated at birth in my opinion and will be starting next month when we begin enforcing the racial purity laws.
What was your crime? Let’s see reading prohibited writings, keeping a journal, publishing an anti-government blog, authoring anti-government poems and stories. You served two years at hard labor?
Yes
Do you still write?
Yes, everyday but I no longer publish on line.
Good. No one would want to read that trash anyway.
Do you go to church?
No
Do you believe in God?
No, I do not believe in an imaginary man in the sky.
One more anti-religious statement from you will result in an immediate ruling of termination.
Do you drink?
If I can find it yes
Do you gamble
Yes, when I can
Do you support the Christian Republican Party and the Christian States of America?
No, I do not.
Okay, I have enough for a ruling. Sam Adams, you are hereby sentence to termination. Tomorrow morning at 7 am you will be turned into electricity and fertilizer. Take him away.
Next please.
At midnight there was a knock at the door. A black man appeared and said he was a friend and he was being smuggled to California. Sam rejoiced and went with his new friend and reached SF in the morning, escaping death for the 23rd time in his life.
the End
Poetic Nightmares
Morphing Images from a Hellish Nightmare
Note: From a real nightmare End Note
I am in a room
Drinking at a party
And smoking ****
Watching people all around me
Change into hideous creatures
Monsters from the deepest depths of hell
Everyone in the room
Has been transformed except me
The Chief of them all
Wears a Trumpian mask
Complete with orange hair
Half human half pig
His deputy
Wears the face of Putin
But his body
Half human, half horse: if
The other creatures wear masks
Many of them wear
Green Pepe the alt-right
Symbolic frog masks
And have T-shirts
Bearing alt right slogans
And **** symbols
And as they prance about
They chant alt. Right slogans
And neo-**** chants
Jews will not Replace us
And the rest of these creatures
Are hideous ugly beasts
With only a vestige of humanity left
And these monsters are engaged
In all sorts of foul evil deeds
****** violence death
All around
And non-stop
violent drug-fueled ******
As these creatures
Half human half monsters
Half male, half female creatures
Snort coke, *******, speed
Smoke **** and drink ***** shots
Scotch, bourbon and beer
The Trumpian Pig leads the charge
Starts engaging in ****** with Putin
Who chases after people
Cutting off their heads with his sword
They turn on to their fellow creatures
****** and killing each other
and eating their fellow creatures
All night long
Then they attack me
Screaming
Jews will not replace us
And I wake up
Screaming
As the sun comes up
Just another nightmare
The Endless Movie
Watching the TV coverage
Of the great government shut down
Of 2018-2019
I am reminded of a movie
As I fall asleep
Listening to the TV
Blather on and on
About what it all means
Mr. Natural pops up
And screams
"It don’t mean s….
“Dude, the endless movie
Is about to begin”!
A middle-aged white man
Down on his proverbial luck
Just been fired
Replaced by a foreign worker
Or a robot
Or just fired
Because he was no longer
Deemed useful
To the masters of the universe
If he was lucky
He'd be given a watch
And an IOU worthless pension
And the man wanders into a restaurant
Pulls out a gun
Eats his breakfast
After the official breakfast hour
Puts on a Pepe the green frog mask
Drops acid, Snorts speed
Drinks a shot of *****
And coffee smokes a joint
Snorts ******* for good measure
and smokes a cigarette
And walks outside
steals a bus at gun point
Filled with passengers
He tells them
They are hostages
And he puts on his vest
With the dead man switch
Next to the bomb
He announces
Via tweet
He is going to take the bus
To the proverbial *** of gold
Hidden deep in a cave
And when he got there
He would release the hostages
And disappear into the mine
And never be found again
And as the bus careens around the mountain
At 100 miles an hour
The dude sprouts out
Conspiracy after conspiracy theory
About Obama the Muslim communist
secret gay working with George Soros
the Jewish money people
in league with the shapeshifting lizards
and Mueller is one of them
they are all after him
because he knows the deal
And the passengers are transfixed
Half hoping, he would make it
Half hoping, he would be blown away
And as the bus careens out of control
With the wheels falling off
And the cliff looming ahead
You realize we are all doomed
Worlds Within Worlds Lost in Inner Space
A man woke up one day
Lost in inner space
Went so far down
The proverbial rabbit hole
That he did not know
Where he was
Nor what time it was
Nor when it was
As he stared out
At a bewildering world
A world lost in inner space
Deep down in his dreams
Filled with nightmarishly real
Monsters, demons and ghostly apparitions
He saw them and began running
Running running running
With the hell hounds behind him
Leading him to the edge
of the pits of hell itself
abandon all hope
ye who enter here
the sign read
above the entrance to the pit
and there was a devil standing there
armed with a clipboard
and a computer spreadsheet
Satan was the ultimate bureaucrat
Name barked the devil
Date of Birth ?
Date of Death?
Don’t know? That won’t do at all
Hmm
Car accident due to drunk driving
And you killed a child
Bad on you
But here in hell
The punishment fits the crime
And the devil laughed
Joined in by the hell hounds
And other nightmare creatures
A bell ran out
In the purple crystalline sky
And slowly the worlds receded
And he found himself alive
In his room
And vowed
That today
Was the day
He would quit drinking
Quit taking drugs
And quit chasing strange woman
And having wild libertine ***
He picked up the phone
It was Satan’s aid
Be careful what you vow
We are listening
If you fulfil your vows
You might find yourself
Escaping life in Hell
It is up to you to choose
And the man got dressed
Went to work
Thinking deep thoughts
And drove off a cliff
And back down the endless
Worlds within worlds
Satanic Torture
I find myself
In a dark room
Strapped to a bed
The light turns on
The large TV comes on
A smiling image
Of Satan fills the TV
He is dressed
In a conservative business suit
Looks like he came
Out of a corporate
board meeting
surrounded by demonic aides
who constantly shove papers
at him
He looks up from his lap top
And smiles
A deadly so insincere smile
His voice booms out
Welcome to Hell
My satanic slaves
I am Satan
Your new master
Each of you
Has been sentenced
To an eternity of torture
And the punishment
Must fit the crime
So, for you
Mr. Jake Cosmos Aller
Failed aspiring poet
And novelist
Your torture
Is to be strapped
To that bed
Unable to move
As you are filled
With the need
To **** and ****
But you cannot move
And your skin
Is crawling with bugs
And itchy
as Hell so to speak
and you are so sleepy
but you cannot sleep
the TV will play
endless repeats
Of some of the worst TV
and movie shows
ever produced
Starting with my favorite
A Series of Unfortunate Events
Featuring your favor annoying little girl
Carmetta! Singing for you forever
As you are the ultimate cake sniffer
Welcome to Hell
Rafting Towards Hell
I woke up
To find myself
Rafting down a river
I looked up
At the cliffs
Towering above
the roaring torrent
and see the dark demons
of my terrible nightmares
chasing the boat
firing flaming arrows
and I see werewolves
goblins, ghosts and monsters
running along the river bed
screaming obscenities
as they chase me
to my doom
and I see the waterfall ahead
and see my pending doom
as I rush over the edge
of reason
Micro Stories
53 word stories regarding unheeded warnings
Don’t Go Jogging in the Middle of the Night
It all started with a jog in the middle of the night. Despite my wife’s warning don’t go jogging in the middle of the night. Broke me heal in a million pieces, 14 operations ensured, mutant MDR Staff almost killed me, almost lost the leg. . should have listened to her warning.
Don’t touch this button!
Don’t touch this button the former President said. I said, what this button? And that led to the launching of nuclear weapons, going to defon three, and world war 3 with millions of people dead end of civilization moment. Should not have touched the red button.
Don’t open the door
When you find yourself running for your life chased by demons from hell and backed into a corner in a burning house filled with flames and are about to die in a million horrible ways you remembered that they warned you not to open door number three in this crazy reality TV show.
Don’t go to the theater tonight stay home with me
Mary Todd Lincoln had a vicious headache and was not in the mood to go out. The President though ignored her wishes and told her that he had to go to the theater that night to show the world everything was okay now the war was ending. Should have listened to her.
Don’t go to Dallas I have a bad feeling about the trip
Jackie was known for her moods and her premonitions. Something the President found both amusing an annoying. She told him that she a vision of death waiting for him in Dallas that day. The President dismissed her foolishness as he put it and went to Dallas to meet his fate.
true love story.
In 1974 I had the first dream. While sleeping in a boring class, I saw a beautiful Asian woman standing at me speaking a foreign language. I fell out of chair yelling who are you? I began having the same dream month after month for eight years. One day I realized she was in Korea so I went there in the Peace Corps to meet her. In 1982 I had the last dream. She said don’t worry we meet soon. That night she walked off a bus, out of the dream and into my life. We’ve been married 37 years.
Cheating Death 22 Times
Also, a true story.
I have cheated death 22 times in my life. I was born a preemie, almost died at birth, and had all the childhood illness at once. In 1979 I came down with Typhoid fever in Korea in the Peace Corps. In 1991 almost got hit by a train. In 1996-1997 had 14 operations due to a mutant drug resistant staph infection, almost died several times. In 1997 I had an acute stomach ailment that almost killed me, due to excessive antibiotic usage, if I had waited 30 minutes more would have been dead. And had dengue in 2010.
Guardian Angel Saves My Life
Another true story
In 1990, I was teaching ESL in Korea. My wife and I drove to the East Coast of Korea for a weekend away. She was in the US Army then. As we drove towards Sorak mountain, I was filled with the need to get off the road right then. I had a premonition of doom, so did my wife. We got off to drive around another park returned a few minutes later and saw a 25 car pileup. We would have been dead if we had not listened to that inner voice telling us get off now.
Medical Mystery
Another true story
Back in 1996, when I was in the hospital fighting a mutant staph infection after a disastrous jogging accident that led to 14 operations, the internal medicine doctor said that there was something else going on. He finally discovered that I had a rare parasite, a tape worm of sorts that remained inert, its only becomes active if you take steroids then it blows up like a basketball killing you instantly. Six months later I had to take steroids due to frozen shoulder syndrome, and if I had not gotten rid of it, I would have died a medical mystery.
SLA Hit List
True story
Back in 1974 my father was a local politician in Berkeley, California who was on the SLA’***** list as “an enemy of the people, a fascist insect that needed to be killed”. His crime? As President of the community college district, he began requiring IDS for students and staff to combat campus crime at the local community colleges. We had 24/7 police coverage for a while. One morning I saluted my father, “good morning fascist insect”. My father, being of Germanic stock did not like the joke as jokes are alien to the German DNA.
the End
Note: I am taking a two week trip to Vietnam and will update my blog when I return with my reflections on my trip, updated publications etc.
Cosmic Dreams and Nightmares
I don't dream dreams. I dream movies complete with action, music, food, smells everything. In this one I had a vision of a possible future. it was so vivid, almost as if I were watching the hearing take place.
Three stories
Dream Girl (true story)
General Zod (flash fiction
Sam Adams Vs. the Social Cleansing Board
Six Poems
Morphing Images from Hellish Nightmare
Endless Movie
Worlds within Worlds Lost in Hell
Rafting to Hell
Satanic Torture
Micro Stories
Don’t Go Jogging in the Middle of the Night
Don’t touch this button!
Don’t open the door
Don’t go to the theater tonight stay home with me
Don’t go to Dallas I have a bad feeling about the trip
Dream Girl
Cheating Death 100 Times
Guardian Angel
Medical Mystery
SLA Hit List
Dream Girl – A true Story – reprinted from Dreams and the Unexplainable
You know you’re in love when you can’t fall asleep because reality is finally better than your dreams.
Author Unknown
The dreams started when I was a senior at Berkeley High School in 1974. About a month before I graduated, I fell asleep in a physics class after lunch and had the first dream:
A beautiful Asian woman was standing next to me, talking in a strange language. She was stunning—the most beautiful girl I had ever seen. She was in her early twenties, with long black hair, and piercing black eyes. She had the look of royalty. She looked at me and then disappeared, beamed out of my dream like in Star Trek. I fell out of my chair screaming, “Who are you?” She did not answer.
About a month went by, and then I started having the dream repeatedly. Always the same pattern.
Early morning, she would stand next to me talking. I would ask who she was, and she would disappear. She was the most beautiful, alluring woman I had ever seen.
I was struck speechless every time I had the dream.
I had the dream every month during the eight years during which I went to college and served in the Peace Corps. In fact, when I joined the Peace Corps, I had to decide whether to go Korea or Thailand. The night before I had to submit my decision, I had the dream again and it made me sure that she was in Korea waiting for me.
After the Peace Corps, I still hadn’t met my dream woman. I got a job working for the U.S. Army as an instructor and stayed in Korea. I kept having the dream, until I had the very last one:
She was standing next to me, speaking to me in Korean, but I finally understood her. She said, “Don’t worry, we will be together soon.”
Why was that the last time I had the dream? Because the very next night, the girl in my dream got off the bus in front of me. She went on to the base with an acquaintance of mine, a fellow teacher, and they went to see a movie. I saw her and found the courage to speak with her.
We exchanged phone numbers and agreed to meet that weekend.
The next night, she was waiting for me as I entered the Army base to teach a class. She told me she was a college senior and she had something to tell me. I signed her on to the base and left her at the library to study while I taught, and then we went out for coffee after class. She told me she was madly in love with me, and that I was the man for her. I told her not to worry as I felt the same.
That weekend, we met Saturday and Sunday and hung out all day. On Sunday night, I proposed to her. It was only three days after we had met, but for me it felt like we had met eight years ago. I had been waiting all my life for her to walk out of my dreams and into my life, and here she was.
Her mother did not want her to marry a foreigner. One day, about a month after we met, she invited me to meet her parents. I brought a bottle of Jack Daniels for her father and drank the entire bottle with him. He approved of me, but her mother still had reservations. After a Buddhist priest told her my future wife and I were a perfect astrological combination, she agreed, and we planned our wedding.
The wedding was a media sensation in South Korea. My wife explained it to me years later. At the time, I was overwhelmed just by the fact that we were getting married and I didn’t fully understand how unusual this was. My wife was of the old royal clan, distant relatives to the former kings of Korea. In the clan’s history, only two people had ever married foreigners: my wife, and Rhee Syngman, who was the first President of South Korea. My father, who was a former Undersecretary of Labor, came out for the wedding, which fueled even more media interest. Our marriage defied the stereotypical Korean-foreign marriage where the women married some hapless GI just to escape poverty and immigrate to the U.S. We were the first foreign/Korean couple to get married at a Korean Army base. Over 1,000 people came to the wedding, and my father was interviewed on the morning news programs.
This all happened thirty-seven years ago, (45 years since the first dream) and I am still married to the girl in my dreams. Now in my dreams she watches over me when we are apart.
General Zod Conquers the World
SETI and the search for extraterrestrial life goes on overdrive when scientists report what appears to be radio and television broadcasts from a planet eight light years from earth, the same planet as the Vulcans came from in the Star Trek universe. The programs show a world where dinosaur-like creatures are running the world and there appears to be a civil war. Over the next six months, the world is transfixed watching the alien broadcasts which are translated in English via a supercomputer program. In the broadcast, a nuclear war has occurred. The surviving party regains absolute control and announces the formation of the Galactic Empire. General Zod is the First Emperor. They have discovered Earth as well. The aliens launch a crash project to develop interstellar travel so they can come to earth and conquer the earth.
The revelations that there is an external threat to the planet causes the United Nations to get together with the help of the United States and Russia another space powers, they put together Space defense International organization and also invigorates efforts to make the UN a real Planetary government including finally conquering climate change.
But it was too late. General Zod’s son arrives to take over the earth. He makes a broadcast saying that they were liberating Earth in the name of the Galactic Empire and that resistance would be futile.
They land at the White House and when President Trump comes out to greet them,
General Zod cuts off his head, and then cuts off the heads of all the staffers as they come out White House. After an hour of unimaginable horrors, including mass rapes, blowing up the Pentagon and the CIA, General Zod announces that he had taken over the world.
Life will continue as before as long as people behave and follow the rules they would be fine Resistance to the new empire will be met with instant death. Life in the Empire is not a democracy. They would not tolerate Freedom of speech, and Freedom of Press, and Freedom of Assembly And the freedom to oppose the State. The state is everything. As long as humans remember that they would be just fine. They took over the United States because it was the biggest country in the world. And that his forces will take over the rest of the world but in the next couple weeks. If people on earth accept the new order, their safety would be guaranteed. Companies would be taken over by Galactic Empire companies, and everybody would have to learn Galactic standard. Within one year older languages will be banned.
Sam Adams Vs. the Social Cleansing Board
the summons
Sam Adams was worried. He could not sleep. He got up at 4 am and wrote in his journal and tried to cope with the dread that was overwhelming him. He had received the summons yesterday that he was to report to the social cleansing board for a review on whether he would allow to continue to be on the automatic permit list or would be referred for final status determination. Sam was a retired Federal worker trying to live on dwindling savings.
Sam had Alzheimer’s and was rapidly depleting his life’s savings. Two years before he had been released from prison, one of millions of ex political prisoners. His crime? Authoring anti-government poems just before the beginning of the Christian States of America, right after the second civil war. Unfortunately for him and his millions of ex-prisoners, his side lost the war. He wanted to flee to the United Provinces and settle down in California but lacked money to move. And getting a job at his age, with Alzheimer’s and his political rating was proving difficult at best.
All of which added up to a 90 percent probability his last days were approaching.
Under the new rules imposed by the Christian republican party in the newly established Christian states, all citizens over the age of 18 were on the permitted list if they met all of the following criteria. He tried to think why he was being referred to the board. Perhaps it was because of the recent crackdown on social deviancy. Millions of homosexuals, transgenered people, atheists, drug users, alcoholics, and non-religious people had been rounded up and eliminated according to the rumors. Perhaps someone had fingered him as a possible deviant. He fit the stereotype, no children, known drug user, known alcohol user, suspect politically, atheist and now Alzheimer’s patient. And he was not racially pure having some black blood, some Asian blood and some Jewish blood. And he had married across the racial divide which was now illegal.
The story was that if you flipped and named names you would sometimes be spared for now, and if your info was correct, you could be rewarded. Of course, those whom you flipped were not too fortunate. That was probably the story or someone could have heard that he was an ex political prisoner, or simply that he had Alzheimer’s’.
He had no children. And he was a secret atheist and had been involved with the dissent movement and had spent five years as a political prisoner at the start of the Christian Revolution. He was determined to make a stand and denounce the whole rotten system before the board although that would probably seal his fate.
As an Alzheimer’s patient he could no longer work. His wife had died the year before while he was in prison after she had been deported to her native Korea. She left him some assets but he had little idea how to manage his finances and he was behind in his rent and had received an eviction notice which had probably triggered the visit by the social cleansing staff who recommend a final status determination. But it was just as likely he was on the list because someone flipped on him.
He also did not make it last time when they came for him at midnight. Always at midnight the story goes.
The soldiers came took him away from his wife and locked him up for two years. They deported his wife whom he heard had died shortly afterwards. He spend two years at hard labor in the dessert near Las Vegas and was released into Las Vegas.
Las Vegas was a different town now that the casinos had left town. All that was left were back office operations, and underground ***** and *** operations and underground casinos. It was a hot bed of political dissent and there was an underground railroad to California, which was not part of the Christian states. Sam had been preparing to leave which was a crime and perhaps that is why he was on the list.
The hearing would be at 10 am. He was meeting his lawyer at the hearing board but his lawyer was not too optimistic.
the Permit Criteria
The basic criteria for being on the permit list were:
For Males
Age 18 to age 70
White race
Married to a white woman with children
Must be either working, in school full time, serving in military duty, or working in prison if convicted of a crime.
Homelessness was not allowed. If unemployed and or homeless, would be referred to social cleansing department unless one had a relative who was willing to take care of your needs.
Since there were no pensions or social security anymore and no government provided health care, one must have sufficient assets through one’s work, or savings or through one’s relatives to provide for one ‘s needs. If not you would be sent to the social cleansing board for final status determination.
For Females
Same basic rules applied but if one were married, and had children one would be on the permitted list, if children are older, if spouse’s income is sufficient one would be on the list.
If single or divorced, and homeless one would also be subject to social cleansing unless one’s relatives would willing to sponsor you. Since there were no pensions or social security anymore and no government provided health care, one must have sufficient assets through one’s work, or savings or through one’s relatives to provide for one ‘s needs. If not you would be sent to the social cleansing board for final status determination.
For Aged People
Additional requirements for the age you were expected to take care of your basic needs through employment and savings and the help of relatives. If you were evicted for non-payment of rent, or judged to not have sufficient assets left to sustain your basic needs including medical care, you would be referred for final status determination.
For all people additional requirements applied.
****** deviancy, drug use, alcohol use, gambling, *** outside of marriage, homosexuality would result in immediate referral to the social cleansing board as all were banned conduct that could result in final termination. Being a member of a prohibited religious class could also be grounds for referral as would a pattern of not attending Christian services. Finally, if one had been arrested for political crimes one would be marked forever.
<h2>Sam's Rating</h2>
One had a government social rating. Sam knew that his rating was a D meaning that the government would be watching him all the time, and it would be difficult to get a job. Only the A’s and B’s were guaranteed to be on the permit list.
To be a A you had be to a true believer, had to be white, had to attend church on a regular basis, and had to be employed naturally.
To be a B same thing but you could be a B if you were a minority, or had engaged in alcohol or drug use under the old rules.
C meant that there was something wrong with your background, you were an atheist, you were a minority etc.
D mean that you were a serious threat to the regime.
E meant that you would be terminated.
F met you were terminated as it met Failure to survive, and family members of F were also labeled F as they were usually terminated at the same time.
Being associated with banned political movements, including reading banned materials could also lead one to being referred to the social cleansing board as all were grounds for either termination or criminal prosecution if under the age of 70.
The board has three choices - granted temporary status extension, referral for termination, or referral to criminal prosecution.
The termination would be carried out quickly. There would be an optional funeral at your Church, then the execution through the method of your choice - firing squad, beheading, electric chair, or gas. The default was gas where you were put in a room with up to ten other people and put to sleep.
Afterwards your body would be cremated in an electricity generating plant with the ashes turned into fertilizer products. There were no burials allowed unless one was rich enough and connected enough to request a burial exception. Most people did not qualify.
the Hearing
The hearing started. The presiding Judge, Judge Miller was a stern face white man in his 70’s and a true believer. He was sent to Las Vegas to clean it up as Las Vegas was the wild west, a hot bed of dissent, illegal drug use, illegal prostitution and illegal casinos. It was also near several political prisons so many ex cons lived there.
The Judge was the chairman of the Nevada state committee that did not exist and was a senior official in the Federal committee that did not exist that brought together government, business and church leaders to coordinate government policies and that secretly ran the Christian States of America.
Probably a score of A thought Sam.
The judge announced that he had reviewed Sam’s file and was shocked that Sam had escaped final termination. He said that the previous board had erred in simply sending him to prison. He should have been eradicated as a social evil, as a cancer that needs to be removed from the pure body politics. Sam and his ilk sickened him. Sam was a free thinker, an atheist, a mix race mongrel, married to a non-white and was therefore guilty of crimes against the white race which was a crime. The Judge was determined to see justice done.
He asked Sam a series of questions. Sam’s answers sealed his fate.
Sam, what is your occupation?
None for now.
You realize that under the law you must be working, in service, in school or in prison?
I can’t find a job due to my age, my Alzheimer’s; and my political record.
That’s irrelevant. You are just a lousy atheist *******. You deserve no sympathy. And have none from me.
Are you white?
No, I am mixed race, part native, part Asian, part black.
I see you were married to a non-white and had no children. Good for you we would not want to see more mongrel children. Such children should be eliminated at birth in my opinion and will be starting next month when we begin enforcing the racial purity laws.
What was your crime? Let’s see reading prohibited writings, keeping a journal, publishing an anti-government blog, authoring anti-government poems and stories. You served two years at hard labor?
Yes
Do you still write?
Yes, everyday but I no longer publish on line.
Good. No one would want to read that trash anyway.
Do you go to church?
No
Do you believe in God?
No, I do not believe in an imaginary man in the sky.
One more anti-religious statement from you will result in an immediate ruling of termination.
Do you drink?
If I can find it yes
Do you gamble
Yes, when I can
Do you support the Christian Republican Party and the Christian States of America?
No, I do not.
Okay, I have enough for a ruling. Sam Adams, you are hereby sentence to termination. Tomorrow morning at 7 am you will be turned into electricity and fertilizer. Take him away.
Next please.
At midnight there was a knock at the door. A black man appeared and said he was a friend and he was being smuggled to California. Sam rejoiced and went with his new friend and reached SF in the morning, escaping death for the 23rd time in his life.
the End
Poetic Nightmares
Morphing Images from a Hellish Nightmare
Note: From a real nightmare End Note
I am in a room
Drinking at a party
And smoking ****
Watching people all around me
Change into hideous creatures
Monsters from the deepest depths of hell
Everyone in the room
Has been transformed except me
The Chief of them all
Wears a Trumpian mask
Complete with orange hair
Half human half pig
His deputy
Wears the face of Putin
But his body
Half human, half horse: if
The other creatures wear masks
Many of them wear
Green Pepe the alt-right
Symbolic frog masks
And have T-shirts
Bearing alt right slogans
And **** symbols
And as they prance about
They chant alt. Right slogans
And neo-**** chants
Jews will not Replace us
And the rest of these creatures
Are hideous ugly beasts
With only a vestige of humanity left
And these monsters are engaged
In all sorts of foul evil deeds
****** violence death
All around
And non-stop
violent drug-fueled ******
As these creatures
Half human half monsters
Half male, half female creatures
Snort coke, *******, speed
Smoke **** and drink ***** shots
Scotch, bourbon and beer
The Trumpian Pig leads the charge
Starts engaging in ****** with Putin
Who chases after people
Cutting off their heads with his sword
They turn on to their fellow creatures
****** and killing each other
and eating their fellow creatures
All night long
Then they attack me
Screaming
Jews will not replace us
And I wake up
Screaming
As the sun comes up
Just another nightmare
The Endless Movie
Watching the TV coverage
Of the great government shut down
Of 2018-2019
I am reminded of a movie
As I fall asleep
Listening to the TV
Blather on and on
About what it all means
Mr. Natural pops up
And screams
"It don’t mean s….
“Dude, the endless movie
Is about to begin”!
A middle-aged white man
Down on his proverbial luck
Just been fired
Replaced by a foreign worker
Or a robot
Or just fired
Because he was no longer
Deemed useful
To the masters of the universe
If he was lucky
He'd be given a watch
And an IOU worthless pension
And the man wanders into a restaurant
Pulls out a gun
Eats his breakfast
After the official breakfast hour
Puts on a Pepe the green frog mask
Drops acid, Snorts speed
Drinks a shot of *****
And coffee smokes a joint
Snorts ******* for good measure
and smokes a cigarette
And walks outside
steals a bus at gun point
Filled with passengers
He tells them
They are hostages
And he puts on his vest
With the dead man switch
Next to the bomb
He announces
Via tweet
He is going to take the bus
To the proverbial *** of gold
Hidden deep in a cave
And when he got there
He would release the hostages
And disappear into the mine
And never be found again
And as the bus careens around the mountain
At 100 miles an hour
The dude sprouts out
Conspiracy after conspiracy theory
About Obama the Muslim communist
secret gay working with George Soros
the Jewish money people
in league with the shapeshifting lizards
and Mueller is one of them
they are all after him
because he knows the deal
And the passengers are transfixed
Half hoping, he would make it
Half hoping, he would be blown away
And as the bus careens out of control
With the wheels falling off
And the cliff looming ahead
You realize we are all doomed
Worlds Within Worlds Lost in Inner Space
A man woke up one day
Lost in inner space
Went so far down
The proverbial rabbit hole
That he did not know
Where he was
Nor what time it was
Nor when it was
As he stared out
At a bewildering world
A world lost in inner space
Deep down in his dreams
Filled with nightmarishly real
Monsters, demons and ghostly apparitions
He saw them and began running
Running running running
With the hell hounds behind him
Leading him to the edge
of the pits of hell itself
abandon all hope
ye who enter here
the sign read
above the entrance to the pit
and there was a devil standing there
armed with a clipboard
and a computer spreadsheet
Satan was the ultimate bureaucrat
Name barked the devil
Date of Birth ?
Date of Death?
Don’t know? That won’t do at all
Hmm
Car accident due to drunk driving
And you killed a child
Bad on you
But here in hell
The punishment fits the crime
And the devil laughed
Joined in by the hell hounds
And other nightmare creatures
A bell ran out
In the purple crystalline sky
And slowly the worlds receded
And he found himself alive
In his room
And vowed
That today
Was the day
He would quit drinking
Quit taking drugs
And quit chasing strange woman
And having wild libertine ***
He picked up the phone
It was Satan’s aid
Be careful what you vow
We are listening
If you fulfil your vows
You might find yourself
Escaping life in Hell
It is up to you to choose
And the man got dressed
Went to work
Thinking deep thoughts
And drove off a cliff
And back down the endless
Worlds within worlds
Satanic Torture
I find myself
In a dark room
Strapped to a bed
The light turns on
The large TV comes on
A smiling image
Of Satan fills the TV
He is dressed
In a conservative business suit
Looks like he came
Out of a corporate
board meeting
surrounded by demonic aides
who constantly shove papers
at him
He looks up from his lap top
And smiles
A deadly so insincere smile
His voice booms out
Welcome to Hell
My satanic slaves
I am Satan
Your new master
Each of you
Has been sentenced
To an eternity of torture
And the punishment
Must fit the crime
So, for you
Mr. Jake Cosmos Aller
Failed aspiring poet
And novelist
Your torture
Is to be strapped
To that bed
Unable to move
As you are filled
With the need
To **** and ****
But you cannot move
And your skin
Is crawling with bugs
And itchy
as Hell so to speak
and you are so sleepy
but you cannot sleep
the TV will play
endless repeats
Of some of the worst TV
and movie shows
ever produced
Starting with my favorite
A Series of Unfortunate Events
Featuring your favor annoying little girl
Carmetta! Singing for you forever
As you are the ultimate cake sniffer
Welcome to Hell
Rafting Towards Hell
I woke up
To find myself
Rafting down a river
I looked up
At the cliffs
Towering above
the roaring torrent
and see the dark demons
of my terrible nightmares
chasing the boat
firing flaming arrows
and I see werewolves
goblins, ghosts and monsters
running along the river bed
screaming obscenities
as they chase me
to my doom
and I see the waterfall ahead
and see my pending doom
as I rush over the edge
of reason
Micro Stories
53 word stories regarding unheeded warnings
Don’t Go Jogging in the Middle of the Night
It all started with a jog in the middle of the night. Despite my wife’s warning don’t go jogging in the middle of the night. Broke me heal in a million pieces, 14 operations ensured, mutant MDR Staff almost killed me, almost lost the leg. . should have listened to her warning.
Don’t touch this button!
Don’t touch this button the former President said. I said, what this button? And that led to the launching of nuclear weapons, going to defon three, and world war 3 with millions of people dead end of civilization moment. Should not have touched the red button.
Don’t open the door
When you find yourself running for your life chased by demons from hell and backed into a corner in a burning house filled with flames and are about to die in a million horrible ways you remembered that they warned you not to open door number three in this crazy reality TV show.
Don’t go to the theater tonight stay home with me
Mary Todd Lincoln had a vicious headache and was not in the mood to go out. The President though ignored her wishes and told her that he had to go to the theater that night to show the world everything was okay now the war was ending. Should have listened to her.
Don’t go to Dallas I have a bad feeling about the trip
Jackie was known for her moods and her premonitions. Something the President found both amusing an annoying. She told him that she a vision of death waiting for him in Dallas that day. The President dismissed her foolishness as he put it and went to Dallas to meet his fate.
true love story.
In 1974 I had the first dream. While sleeping in a boring class, I saw a beautiful Asian woman standing at me speaking a foreign language. I fell out of chair yelling who are you? I began having the same dream month after month for eight years. One day I realized she was in Korea so I went there in the Peace Corps to meet her. In 1982 I had the last dream. She said don’t worry we meet soon. That night she walked off a bus, out of the dream and into my life. We’ve been married 37 years.
Cheating Death 22 Times
Also, a true story.
I have cheated death 22 times in my life. I was born a preemie, almost died at birth, and had all the childhood illness at once. In 1979 I came down with Typhoid fever in Korea in the Peace Corps. In 1991 almost got hit by a train. In 1996-1997 had 14 operations due to a mutant drug resistant staph infection, almost died several times. In 1997 I had an acute stomach ailment that almost killed me, due to excessive antibiotic usage, if I had waited 30 minutes more would have been dead. And had dengue in 2010.
Guardian Angel Saves My Life
Another true story
In 1990, I was teaching ESL in Korea. My wife and I drove to the East Coast of Korea for a weekend away. She was in the US Army then. As we drove towards Sorak mountain, I was filled with the need to get off the road right then. I had a premonition of doom, so did my wife. We got off to drive around another park returned a few minutes later and saw a 25 car pileup. We would have been dead if we had not listened to that inner voice telling us get off now.
Medical Mystery
Another true story
Back in 1996, when I was in the hospital fighting a mutant staph infection after a disastrous jogging accident that led to 14 operations, the internal medicine doctor said that there was something else going on. He finally discovered that I had a rare parasite, a tape worm of sorts that remained inert, its only becomes active if you take steroids then it blows up like a basketball killing you instantly. Six months later I had to take steroids due to frozen shoulder syndrome, and if I had not gotten rid of it, I would have died a medical mystery.
SLA Hit List
True story
Back in 1974 my father was a local politician in Berkeley, California who was on the SLA’***** list as “an enemy of the people, a fascist insect that needed to be killed”. His crime? As President of the community college district, he began requiring IDS for students and staff to combat campus crime at the local community colleges. We had 24/7 police coverage for a while. One morning I saluted my father, “good morning fascist insect”. My father, being of Germanic stock did not like the joke as jokes are alien to the German DNA.
the End
based on dreams and nightmares
Xoaquín Oznian Jul 2020
Read All About It!
Xoaquín Oznian
Jul 2020
Back in the day when I first started writing poetry
I was writing just to pass the time
Because at the time things weren't all too great
and the pressure came crumbling
What I wanted and hoped to gain from it was always there
In the subconscious of my mind
Though back then I wasn't thinking of it
Because like many others I was just writing
To relieve myself of years of emotional pain/abuse
What I really wanted from writing poetry
Wasn't just to write and never share with the world
Wasn't just to revel within fits of insecurity and manipulation
What I wanted from writing poetry was fame
That's what it's always been about for me
Though as I stated earlier I didn't know it at the time
But it was always the fame, the power, the popularity, the respect,
The admiration, the love etc...
And in my opinion poetry did bring me a small amount of it though to others it may seem like a bit of a larger slice of it but compared to other poets I really wasn't doing **** lol but yet I received numerous accolades.
MyPoetryForum Top 50 Poems Of 2013 By Rating
#13. "+ America Walking -"
#45. "Passing Clouds"
MyPoetryForum Top 50 Poems Of 2012 By Rating
#12. "Wonderwicked"
#13. "Download"
#14. "Evergreen Suite"
#15. "Pixel Juliet"
#16. "Coffee Fashion"
#28. "Vanilla Amour"
MyPoetryForum Top 50 Poems Of 2011 By Rating
#28. "When Two Poets Fall In Love Pt. 4"
MyPoetryForum Top 50 Poems Of 2010 By Rating
#41. "7 Years"
#50 "Extraordinary"
MyPoetryForum Top 50 Poems Of 2009 By Rating
#5. "Spontaneous Desires"
#13. "A Thousand Words Of Beauty Pt. 1"
Today's Writing February 2011 Black History Month Writer Of The Month (Prior to defunction)
People in different parts of the world using my poems in their videos, in their photo captions, on their blogs.
Poetry featured in a few anthologies etc...
Wrote and published my own poetry books
Ran my own poetry club at my local library
Hell, I even had subscriptions to about five different poetry/writing magazines at once with my subscription to POETRY magazine spanning nine years because I would by a ******* subscription every paycheck so I would never have to worry about renewing.
I pretty much got what I desired but then I suddenly woke up and realized that I yes I do truly and badly want the fame but I want to obtain it through another medium.
Poetry isn't my passion.
Music is my passion.
So stop ******* asking me if I'm still writing poetry!
I don't and I don't ******* desire to write!
*******!
I was writing just to pass the time
Because at the time things weren't all too great
and the pressure came crumbling
What I wanted and hoped to gain from it was always there
In the subconscious of my mind
Though back then I wasn't thinking of it
Because like many others I was just writing
To relieve myself of years of emotional pain/abuse
What I really wanted from writing poetry
Wasn't just to write and never share with the world
Wasn't just to revel within fits of insecurity and manipulation
What I wanted from writing poetry was fame
That's what it's always been about for me
Though as I stated earlier I didn't know it at the time
But it was always the fame, the power, the popularity, the respect,
The admiration, the love etc...
And in my opinion poetry did bring me a small amount of it though to others it may seem like a bit of a larger slice of it but compared to other poets I really wasn't doing **** lol but yet I received numerous accolades.
MyPoetryForum Top 50 Poems Of 2013 By Rating
#13. "+ America Walking -"
#45. "Passing Clouds"
MyPoetryForum Top 50 Poems Of 2012 By Rating
#12. "Wonderwicked"
#13. "Download"
#14. "Evergreen Suite"
#15. "Pixel Juliet"
#16. "Coffee Fashion"
#28. "Vanilla Amour"
MyPoetryForum Top 50 Poems Of 2011 By Rating
#28. "When Two Poets Fall In Love Pt. 4"
MyPoetryForum Top 50 Poems Of 2010 By Rating
#41. "7 Years"
#50 "Extraordinary"
MyPoetryForum Top 50 Poems Of 2009 By Rating
#5. "Spontaneous Desires"
#13. "A Thousand Words Of Beauty Pt. 1"
Today's Writing February 2011 Black History Month Writer Of The Month (Prior to defunction)
People in different parts of the world using my poems in their videos, in their photo captions, on their blogs.
Poetry featured in a few anthologies etc...
Wrote and published my own poetry books
Ran my own poetry club at my local library
Hell, I even had subscriptions to about five different poetry/writing magazines at once with my subscription to POETRY magazine spanning nine years because I would by a ******* subscription every paycheck so I would never have to worry about renewing.
I pretty much got what I desired but then I suddenly woke up and realized that I yes I do truly and badly want the fame but I want to obtain it through another medium.
Poetry isn't my passion.
Music is my passion.
So stop ******* asking me if I'm still writing poetry!
I don't and I don't ******* desire to write!
*******!
Mateuš Conrad Nov 2016
Macbeth
Mateuš Conrad
Nov 2016
before i pull this one out of my *** (again - listen, these words are not coming from either head or heart, it's best to pull them from the bowels, a gut-wrenching-feeling is more potent than that "something" that "something" delusional pulled from a clenched heart... as far as i know, the brain is incapable of emotions, it doesn't understand them, and since it doesn't understand them: it ridicules them)... which brings me to point:
(a) perhaps the idea of a soul is out-dated... why wouldn't it be, 21g worth of breath does not equal a soul... hence the autopsy of man, each detail studied seperately, the cardiologist knows the heart, the neurologist the brain etc., but some items work in a solipsistic mode... the heart is robotic, automaton pump queen (and not the kind of pump you'd get from Shveeden) - thump thump thump! come to think of it, most of our bodies are robotic, automated... lucky for me: i don't have to think about the heart doing what it does, it just per se does it... i'm not even sure i'm gifted with the a.i. brain functions... but there's an underlying principle that governs all of these items... some call it the self... i prefer: the Σ ultimatum... some would call it soul... but there has to be something akin to the Σ ultimatum that allows me to become detached from this body, while at the same time be bound to it: high blood pressure, heart attack on the horizon... take the high blood pressure pills... ****... what was (b)? oh... yes...
(b) i'm sorry, virginity doesn't cut it for me, lucky me that it was isabella of grenoble that allowed me to move aside from: god, prior to losing my virginity.... roxette: do you feel excited, you're still the one (shanaia twain), fade to black - metallica... i was such a romantic before i lost this dreaded curse... i was a romantic... 19th century style romanticism... but you really can see past this sort of romanticism unless you haven't ******... these days the right complains about cultural marxism: plenty of things to complain about... it makes as much sense as a pickle in a dollop of custard... or cooking with pale indian ale to make a stew: bad idea... wine, brandy, cider? fine... beer? terrible idea to cook with... but unless you haven't lost your virginity, you can't see what cultural marxism chose as its opponent: cultural darwinism... you know how little you hear about darwinism outside of the english speaking world? zero to none, yes, it's an accepted fact, but this fact does not permeate outside of the fact per se, the fact contains itself and the whole subsequent narrative because subconsciously stored... no other people than the people who found it ensure there are subplot proof statements of a reconfirmation of the validity... the whole social science bogus trap of rating people on looks... contradicting the meritocracy of that old Socratic saying: let me be as beautiful on the inside as on the outside... if you haven't ******: you're still the same old romantic i was at puberty... once you ****... well... cultural marxism dwarfs... yes yes it's there... so? but at the same time you can at least appreciate seeing the antithesis: cultural darwinism... the romantic needs to die the most carnal death via experience... all my ideals were shattered, this perfection of woman... i very much liked the idea / not even the ideal of a woman... but when the idea fizzled out and there was no ideal to begin with... i saw cultural darwinism for the very first time and... it was as ugly as cultural marxism so heavily criticized by the conservative right of the west... so... i decided to walk the middle ground, ignoring both sides (of the argument).
(c) i wouldn't have come up with a point see, unless my favorite square schematic didn't pop into my mind, Kantian, as ever: the best philosophy is the antithesis of English pragmatism and overt-politicisation, so it has to be German, ergo? i will not explain these terms, i figured: if i nail a decent example to fit each category, that's enough: since you can then visualize the concept via the example:
analytical a priori synthetic a priori
there's a need to throw learning
a ball at to throw a ball
a target at a target once
the need has been
established...
synthetic a posteriori analytical a posteriori
there's a need to perfecting to throw
throw a ball at a ball at a target
a target, in order
to perfect this need...
baseball... cricket...
at least: that's how i define knowledge of something
simple without having to use mathematics
that Kant used to explain... 2 + 2 = 4...
mathematics isn't exactly a man's best friend
at explaining philosophy...
you write philosophy that alligns itself
to mathematics... no wonder: moths in books...
yawns, unfinished works...
i found that sports work just as well
as mathematics... and you have the already
primitive objects to work with...
rather than pseudo-objects: i.e. numbers...
the abstracts of perception: i'm actually 6ft2...
not 6ft1... karolína plíšková is 6ft1...
as noted when watching her today...
i'll admit, i'm always a bit shaky when it comes
to this sqaure, whether it's over-simplified,
notably the top left corner: analytical a priori,
i'm always of a mindset that wants to associated
this definition with: analytical a- priori...
i.e. borrowing from atheism:
to analyse something without there
being a prior to example...
analysis without a prior example...
i guess that's the mojo of science... the driving force...
back to sports... bow and arrow...
tools: target...
whether a bow and arrow and a deer
to begin with...
or a hand and ball and a wicket to end with...
there's a need to throw
a ball at a target...
and cricket was the precursor of
baseball, but prior to cricket?
there was archery...
and prior to archery...
there was forever a fundamental need,
e.g. to go from point X to point Z...
see... as much as Kant wanted...
numbers don't really solve the "problem"
of explaining something: algebra would be
better suited... x + y = z...
with numbers either hovering
above, or below (in the instance of chemistry's
subscript)...
talking of squares... sūdoku...
well, if at any time the french were to receive a hard-on
in terms of inventing something,
the english: rugby, cricket, football, tennis...
the french really did read some of the hebrew
qabbalah literature, as i am doing...
magic squares...
the secular version of this puzzle
first appeared on july 6, 1895 (the modern version)...
it came to us from India and China...
again... why do western cultural darwinists
always tell our genesis from
the perspective of: "out of Africa"?
aren't there elephants in India?
i will not believe i originated in Africa,
i'm not an "out of Africa" sorry state of
incompetence... i place my origins in
the sub-continent... at least that's where my
current language originates from...
the great migration across the Siberian tundra,
rather than some African savannah...
after all the Bangladeshi and the Sri Lankans
(the tear of India) resemble burnt cinnamon
in tone, some even as dark skinned as
east africans...
if the germanic people want to stick to
the "out of Africa" narrative (notably the English):
let them have it... i place my origins in
India...
never mind, now i'll write a name's dropping
history of how july 6th, 1895 happened...
the "magic" squares...
from either India or China (chess from India)...
moschopulus of contantinople
introduced them (the "magic" squares)
in the early 1400s... apparently ancient qabbalists
had knowledge of them
(so... a trip well spent)...
rabbi joseph tzayah (1505 - 1573)
magnum opus: responsa...
rabbi joseph castro: avkat rokhel...
tzayah in jerusalem wrote his major work
Evven HaShoham (the onyx stone) - 1538 -
a year later the book: tzeror ha-chaim discussing
the Talmud: he never really bothered about
the Zohar...
the hebrai word for "letters": otiot...
divided into two:
tav aleph (a line of aleph)
and tav yod (a line of yod)...
one is to never concentrate
upon the keter within the realm of the sefirot...
hence the matisyahu expression:
king without a crown...
one example of a "magic" square
later dictated into a 9 x 9 newspaper puzzle?
2 9 4
7 5 3
6 1 8 (up down across = 15...
my date of birth? 15th may 1986,
no coincidence, just stating an oblivion's
worth of a "point)... 15 x 3 = 45...
and that's about as significant as any
insignificance can be...
album of choice?
old horn tooth - from the ghost grey depths...
and without even associating the arabs
to the hebrai practice of gamatria,
i once inquired an old pakistani (who tried to convert me)
what: Alif, Lam, Meem
implied in the opening of the al-baqarah sutra
implied?
he replied: god knew...
so i thought, you don't know what
alif (letter) what lam (letter) and meem (also a letter)
means? you have to search for god
for the answers? good look making me into
a proselyte... mind you:
if the jews abhor proselytes,
while the muslims are so so oh so *******
welcoming... isn't that a tad bit suspicious?
how can a muslim convert me
when he can't explain to me what
alif lam and meem implies at the opening
of al-baqarah?!
let's play some hijāʾī order game...
and the three letters...
28 letters in total...
alif (28), lam (6), meem (5)...
i'm not even going to go into the gamatria
mental gymnsastics related to any
"significance"...
point was made upon the question being
asked... if a muslim tries to covert you...
and he can't explain to you
the significance of alif lam meem at the beginning
of al-baqarah... they're letters...
well... how is he going to explain to you
what's bothersome about those letters
to begin with? ALM... does that imply: zakat?!
to give alms? zakat being one of the pillars
of islam?
**** me... i haven't even converted
and it would appear: i know more than the person
who tried to convert me!
.i. Yuri Gagarin and the yo-yo
if ever the potency of a "keyboard crusader"
existed, it's now -
i can dangle a mouse above a bear-trap
and tell an elephant of a phobia concerning
mice any day of the week,
when in fact i'm talking about
a mousetrap: nothing more.
hence the exaggeration in the imagery
comparison:
or it begins with a story told in the 20th
century:
when women put down their mascara
brushes, men put down their swords:
never mind the voice in the wilderness:
mind the voice in the crowd -
there's absolutely no reason to speculate
urbanity and tribal environments without
addressing, or regressing the crowd,
or as i like to call it: what Nietzsche said,
minus the Wake... but now inclusive of the wake
and the Bacchus cult of fun fun fun.
the Wake in condor terms?
we congregate praying for something to die...
i don't pretend to be whatever
that sachet of concrete-Cartesian labels entitles me
too: for the most part
people say 'i am' without a thought to
govern the rain shaman telling you what thought
is required to 'be', oh, a very old ontological
stipend: you need people to experience a collectivisation,
a herding, a "bound together" sort of mentality
before the critic arrives and says: well, that's not
what i'm really about.
a bit like the **** firs, mouth second
debacle...
but what heart they had, our predecessors!
what heart!
they'd wage war over a woman,
a Helen,
would you wage a war against
the feminist version of Helen these days?
would you pluck a Scottish thistle over an English rose?
true: you might be a bishop
and of lesser rank... but would you wage a war
over the women of these days?
my **** is in a pickle jar anyway! we have become
a *** of a species unburdened by an obligation...
finally! we can become eternal bachelors
sort of ******* that we're here, and hear less and less
of sayings about the "things that matter".
you know what vile? really really vile?
oh i know my contemporaries when i bother to
hear them talk, oddly enough never bother when they
think, i'm quiet content with a Godot stage of
a park bench and an old man as my company,
i know Douglas Murray,
i know the wild-eyed Icke,
but a thing that concerns me is why: the safety room
parallel to the leftist thesis of offensive speech
was put in play when a discussion took off
concerning feminism, between milo yiannopoulus
and julie bindel - that's like saying:
ask a pederast to talk for a heterosexual man
with a woman safe-space...
no one wants to hear
the heterosexual side of the argument....
you'll sooner see heterosexual intellects have their
marriages come undone then get paired with either
side of the argument...
little richard is in the pickle jar anyway,
and he's not coming out...
it's a bit like ****** for dummies....
hence i have to succumb to violence without
the glory, tongue waggling blah blah
when i'd gladly take a weapon and shove it into
a shattered cranium bone: had i the ****** chance to
do so!
no heterosexual is taken seriously:
and won't be:
of a woman to be like a rosy cushion on which
i can lay my head after the darkly toils of
roofing, or laying bricks, or excavating the sewers...
no! let the Chinese do that:
the basic argument of slavery, although imported
therefore ****** ******* fine.
cryogenic fathers,
pickled *****: where's the middle in all of this?
a coconut just fell from the Boddhi tree:
money! and those that defend it,
don't know squat about the tribalism of squatters!
but hey! they have the ****** stage!
i have a bench when someone approaches me
and talk, doing the best thing possible:
knitting opinions -
i don't want the truth of opinions: i want a sweater,
or a pair of socks! that's metaphor for something
different altogether.
keyboard crusader? really? can i ask you for
directions to the high street, in every single town
across the country? i can't find one!
no one hears a heterosexual argument
on the various topics: because there isn't one -
as of the end of the 20th century,
working classes in the west striving to ensure
there is something mundane to do during the day
and kick back with the family in the evening
are the "inferior" neanderthals: who
haven't jacked into discovering a 3D reality
of what's otherwise a 2D computer screen and
aren't hooked on #crack;
honestly, so much debating ought to be opera,
and so much opera ought to be debating -
ah: that famous tingle of utopian paradoxes
never in duality, but always in dichotomy.
keyboard crusader?
really? i thought people were always moaning
about how many emails they receive:
and never a single postcard from, say,
someplace like Venice?
it's still early days,
and already we're brewing enough
cliches to replace all known nouns in
the surrogate mother that's the dictionary
of our completed version of a soul -
if ever to be experienced upon meeting the omni-vocabulary;
jigsaws, i know my idiosyncratic version
of events, he says photosynthesis within parameters
of photon deconstruction of hydrogen;
'cos' it's sub; d'uh! i say god i say this perfected
version of nearing telepathy - you say god i hope you
don't mean satan's clause - great anagram to frighten
children with: the Babushka surprise of a Pumpkin head
laughing it's way toward: how easy life would be
if we had all that time to think it through as being hard,
rather than that mortal fleetingness in both thought
and body.
ii. Macbeth
it really dawned on me, when i was watching the film
Macbeth (2015) -
there was an eeriness to it, a near perfection
of Shakespeare on screen...
honestly? i'd rather read Kant early on in life
while i have the vigour, and leave old age to Shakespeare...
but it truly was eerie all over the place.
i do recall seeing Romeo + Juliet
and reading the script, and imagining the fallacy
of word for word translation from theatre to cinema
of the script: the narrator a news channel anchor,
and everything said, word, for, word.
that film with DiCaprio as Romeo and Claire Danes
as Juliet - it just felt itchy, uncomfortable -
Shakespeare, word for word, on screen?!
(surprise, then astonishment, not !? or astonishment,
then the surprise, because: it didn't really work);
and it didn't! you can't adapt Shakespeare to the screen
and put everything in! i noticed it at that ******
generous scene in Macbeth concerning the battle
of Ellon... so i was like like... this isn't typescript...
(and thank **** it isn't) -
you can't depict Shakespeare word for word,
to be honest, Macbeth (2015) is the only worthy
translation of Macbeth (the text) into Macbeth (the movie);
all this scientific exactness in previous examples
like Romeo + Juliet, the Merchant of Venice
and a Midsummer's Night Dream don't work,
it's their precision making,
a theatre cast can take it, but a cinema going crowd,
with all these cutting and copying and repasting
succinct moments? it doesn't work!
maybe because there's no actual narrator in the staged
examples? narrator as a necessary character understudy:
surely Puck and the news anchor are there:
don't know about the Shylock scenario...
but these screen adaptations didn't work for me,
too rigid, too formal... in the case of Macbeth?
finally! the long awaited piquant version of Shakespeare:
all that matters, and the rest is thrown into
poetic technique: imagery, metaphor,
everything that's necessary can be given grammar
as image and not word!
want an example? from the text...
the Royal Shakespeare
from the text of Professor Delius
and introduction by f. j. Furnivall, ll.d.
vol. v (special edition)
Cassell & Company, Ltd.
sure, it feels like a Roman Polanski moment
akin to the 9th Gate scenic affair of a bibliophile
fetishist, and it is:
... (the only enemy of enso poetry
is the bladder) ...
well the screen play first:
banquo: what are these?
macbeth: live you? or are you aught
that man may question?
speak if you can - what are you?
1st witch: macbeth! hail to thee
thane of Glamis!
2nd witch: macbeth... hail to thee,
thane of Cawdor!
3rd witch: all hail Macbeth! that shalt be king in-after.
but such disparity, such **** as if once
of Lucretia, then of the authority,
for i have before me the original composition:
which is not worth cinema -
nonetheless, a **** takes place:
an assortment for the abdication of a king:
or as ever suggested: the wrong footed path:
never was tossing a coin in a gamble
that of tossing a crown into the air
for a court jester to appear less amusing
and more scolding.
act i, scene iii: post the battle of ellon...
if ever the refusal to give up Greek myth,
then Macbeth's witches
and Perseus' Graeae -
or naturalise a myth:
like you might not naturalise a strengthened
economy.... canonise the nation
with Elgin Marbles - Elgin: less than
what's said to be the exfoliation of the Aegean -
a municipality somewhere in Scotland:
west of Aberdeen, on the Northern Sea's
battering of the coast...
but word for word? or how to write Shakespeare
into cinema?
herr zensor must come into play -
you have to bypass imagery in poetic tongue
and relay it with actual images, a direly needed
necessity:
just after the three witches arrive,
enter Macbeth and Bonquo...
Macb. so foul and fair a day i have not seen.
Ban. how far is't call'd to Fores? - what are these,
so wither'd and so wild in their attire,
that look not like th' inhabitants o' the earth,
and yet are on 't?
live you? or are you aught that man may
question?
(how word for word, but the words
waggle from a different tongue, namely that of
Macbeth, and not that of Banquo, hence
italicised).
continuing:
you seem to understand me,
by each at once her choppy finger laying upon her
skinny lips: - you should be women, and yet your
beards forbid me to interpret that you are so.
Macb. speak, if you can - what are you?
the witches. all hail, Macbeth!
hail to thee, thane of Glamis!
all hail, Macbeth! hail to thee, thane
of Cawdor!
all hail, Macbeth! that shalt be king hereafter.
so does he really belong on the psychoanalytic
couch? is he really that necessarily wonton of talk?
Cawdor v. Gondor - it's an ongoing narrative.
but is he in need of a couch?
what sort of talk is talk when
in fact the only talk that's need to be said is the talk
of man's sexualised naturalisation for strife,
and here: as if knocking on a door:
you want to simply hear the onomatopoeia of
the Kabbalah in a woman gasping for breath
while puny Jewish boys under strict rabbinical
studies study?
mama, take this badge from me,
i can't use it, anymore,
it's getting dark, too dark to see,
feels like i'm knockin' on heaven's door -
my big mouth and man as a piston
Ferrari acrobat
(even the soundtrack is a shrill, a strangulation
variant of higher pitch of the bagpipes -
not that braveheart ****** of whisking out
a song like for the love of a princess addition to:
and can i have a madonna to boot too?
it's piercing, a whale sonar above refrigerator
white noise hum for the new age Buddha -
and that's because all the poetry has been excavated
to suit cinema: not theatre).
and this is the first adaptation of Shakespeare i actually
could stomach...
the genius was in how Macbeth spoke the lines
of Bonqua - so the character didn't start smacking
the narrative ****** in terms of solipsism:
even Shakespeare can be attacked on this front...
if in the movie Banqua said all that was in
the typescript: the film wouldn't have worked...
i don't know what the big deal is with Lady Macbeth:
i thought that in the olden days
Macbeth suggested to King Duncan that:
can i leave the warring if you **** my wife?
i can go on the contract that you **** my wife
and i stop serving you?
first impressions: strange English.
well, i'm sure she's important as it might be said:
within the programme of Orthodoxy,
but never catholic (metadoxy) tradition of
saying: way hey! ensnare the mare in a funfair!
and play the game: pin the tale on the donkey!
heads or tails? it looks pretty damnable
in the first place: as all honesty hogs to pout and
***** a hoggish sneeze out of the story.
iii. shaken, not stirred
and indeed, how many a times
did not a neon blossom sprout,
thinking it might rattle an oratory
with an oak in autumn, and behold
a swarm of leaves descend -
not out of passing ease,
but out of wishful thinking
that some indentation might be made:
with whom the hands of will reside,
and yet: to no gratifying effect,
to whatever atomic-centralisation
dream, be that ego or be it hydrogen
(lending hands: so too
electric or thus negative, neutral and
thus proto) - shake foundation
and give a revising repertoire of
the covering dust humanity
that once made famous: never
again to learn the humility of the start;
to whatever centric dream that
does not waver in demands of orientation,
be it father (sun), son (shadow)
or the holy spirit (night) -
make them earn! be obscure!
or simply say: in the community
of the stated congregation:
i find all to be as night,
and safer that plague the father:
i am not akin to the shadow:
but the shadow in mirror.
so, a centric dream that does not
waver in demands for orientation,
has ever or will be enthroned in man's
heart as the stability of Sabbath's demands
for less, oh so much less to agitate with!
as too, when the ancient appliances
were adorned by countless demands of
mimic, so too our modern
fibbles are to stage a usurping of
such things demanded and their mimic;
for with such disclosure does all fate
of anewed become burdened in what
history could be: shaken,
rather than simply a stirring of the void,
nothing more than the unburdening
of sweetening a cup of coffee, of that and
the layers: or bitter at the top, drank
through toward the sedimented sweetness -
and all that: hoping i could have retained
that silver spoon lodged in my ***
when i first met her and thought about
consolidating marriage: so fresh, eager prune
of the flesh embodiment as first
watered ash, then entombed in marble
and the eternal... ah
but it was all just the faintest of dreams;
so lumberjack sleep ensued,
as did a kindred worth ethic:
we are a long way from Eden...
there is but the idyll of the absurd fruition of
albreit macht frei... or a redefinement of
such stakes as: what occupies our days?
if not war, if not disease,
if not the Chinese... what does, occupy our days?
(a) perhaps the idea of a soul is out-dated... why wouldn't it be, 21g worth of breath does not equal a soul... hence the autopsy of man, each detail studied seperately, the cardiologist knows the heart, the neurologist the brain etc., but some items work in a solipsistic mode... the heart is robotic, automaton pump queen (and not the kind of pump you'd get from Shveeden) - thump thump thump! come to think of it, most of our bodies are robotic, automated... lucky for me: i don't have to think about the heart doing what it does, it just per se does it... i'm not even sure i'm gifted with the a.i. brain functions... but there's an underlying principle that governs all of these items... some call it the self... i prefer: the Σ ultimatum... some would call it soul... but there has to be something akin to the Σ ultimatum that allows me to become detached from this body, while at the same time be bound to it: high blood pressure, heart attack on the horizon... take the high blood pressure pills... ****... what was (b)? oh... yes...
(b) i'm sorry, virginity doesn't cut it for me, lucky me that it was isabella of grenoble that allowed me to move aside from: god, prior to losing my virginity.... roxette: do you feel excited, you're still the one (shanaia twain), fade to black - metallica... i was such a romantic before i lost this dreaded curse... i was a romantic... 19th century style romanticism... but you really can see past this sort of romanticism unless you haven't ******... these days the right complains about cultural marxism: plenty of things to complain about... it makes as much sense as a pickle in a dollop of custard... or cooking with pale indian ale to make a stew: bad idea... wine, brandy, cider? fine... beer? terrible idea to cook with... but unless you haven't lost your virginity, you can't see what cultural marxism chose as its opponent: cultural darwinism... you know how little you hear about darwinism outside of the english speaking world? zero to none, yes, it's an accepted fact, but this fact does not permeate outside of the fact per se, the fact contains itself and the whole subsequent narrative because subconsciously stored... no other people than the people who found it ensure there are subplot proof statements of a reconfirmation of the validity... the whole social science bogus trap of rating people on looks... contradicting the meritocracy of that old Socratic saying: let me be as beautiful on the inside as on the outside... if you haven't ******: you're still the same old romantic i was at puberty... once you ****... well... cultural marxism dwarfs... yes yes it's there... so? but at the same time you can at least appreciate seeing the antithesis: cultural darwinism... the romantic needs to die the most carnal death via experience... all my ideals were shattered, this perfection of woman... i very much liked the idea / not even the ideal of a woman... but when the idea fizzled out and there was no ideal to begin with... i saw cultural darwinism for the very first time and... it was as ugly as cultural marxism so heavily criticized by the conservative right of the west... so... i decided to walk the middle ground, ignoring both sides (of the argument).
(c) i wouldn't have come up with a point see, unless my favorite square schematic didn't pop into my mind, Kantian, as ever: the best philosophy is the antithesis of English pragmatism and overt-politicisation, so it has to be German, ergo? i will not explain these terms, i figured: if i nail a decent example to fit each category, that's enough: since you can then visualize the concept via the example:
analytical a priori synthetic a priori
there's a need to throw learning
a ball at to throw a ball
a target at a target once
the need has been
established...
synthetic a posteriori analytical a posteriori
there's a need to perfecting to throw
throw a ball at a ball at a target
a target, in order
to perfect this need...
baseball... cricket...
at least: that's how i define knowledge of something
simple without having to use mathematics
that Kant used to explain... 2 + 2 = 4...
mathematics isn't exactly a man's best friend
at explaining philosophy...
you write philosophy that alligns itself
to mathematics... no wonder: moths in books...
yawns, unfinished works...
i found that sports work just as well
as mathematics... and you have the already
primitive objects to work with...
rather than pseudo-objects: i.e. numbers...
the abstracts of perception: i'm actually 6ft2...
not 6ft1... karolína plíšková is 6ft1...
as noted when watching her today...
i'll admit, i'm always a bit shaky when it comes
to this sqaure, whether it's over-simplified,
notably the top left corner: analytical a priori,
i'm always of a mindset that wants to associated
this definition with: analytical a- priori...
i.e. borrowing from atheism:
to analyse something without there
being a prior to example...
analysis without a prior example...
i guess that's the mojo of science... the driving force...
back to sports... bow and arrow...
tools: target...
whether a bow and arrow and a deer
to begin with...
or a hand and ball and a wicket to end with...
there's a need to throw
a ball at a target...
and cricket was the precursor of
baseball, but prior to cricket?
there was archery...
and prior to archery...
there was forever a fundamental need,
e.g. to go from point X to point Z...
see... as much as Kant wanted...
numbers don't really solve the "problem"
of explaining something: algebra would be
better suited... x + y = z...
with numbers either hovering
above, or below (in the instance of chemistry's
subscript)...
talking of squares... sūdoku...
well, if at any time the french were to receive a hard-on
in terms of inventing something,
the english: rugby, cricket, football, tennis...
the french really did read some of the hebrew
qabbalah literature, as i am doing...
magic squares...
the secular version of this puzzle
first appeared on july 6, 1895 (the modern version)...
it came to us from India and China...
again... why do western cultural darwinists
always tell our genesis from
the perspective of: "out of Africa"?
aren't there elephants in India?
i will not believe i originated in Africa,
i'm not an "out of Africa" sorry state of
incompetence... i place my origins in
the sub-continent... at least that's where my
current language originates from...
the great migration across the Siberian tundra,
rather than some African savannah...
after all the Bangladeshi and the Sri Lankans
(the tear of India) resemble burnt cinnamon
in tone, some even as dark skinned as
east africans...
if the germanic people want to stick to
the "out of Africa" narrative (notably the English):
let them have it... i place my origins in
India...
never mind, now i'll write a name's dropping
history of how july 6th, 1895 happened...
the "magic" squares...
from either India or China (chess from India)...
moschopulus of contantinople
introduced them (the "magic" squares)
in the early 1400s... apparently ancient qabbalists
had knowledge of them
(so... a trip well spent)...
rabbi joseph tzayah (1505 - 1573)
magnum opus: responsa...
rabbi joseph castro: avkat rokhel...
tzayah in jerusalem wrote his major work
Evven HaShoham (the onyx stone) - 1538 -
a year later the book: tzeror ha-chaim discussing
the Talmud: he never really bothered about
the Zohar...
the hebrai word for "letters": otiot...
divided into two:
tav aleph (a line of aleph)
and tav yod (a line of yod)...
one is to never concentrate
upon the keter within the realm of the sefirot...
hence the matisyahu expression:
king without a crown...
one example of a "magic" square
later dictated into a 9 x 9 newspaper puzzle?
2 9 4
7 5 3
6 1 8 (up down across = 15...
my date of birth? 15th may 1986,
no coincidence, just stating an oblivion's
worth of a "point)... 15 x 3 = 45...
and that's about as significant as any
insignificance can be...
album of choice?
old horn tooth - from the ghost grey depths...
and without even associating the arabs
to the hebrai practice of gamatria,
i once inquired an old pakistani (who tried to convert me)
what: Alif, Lam, Meem
implied in the opening of the al-baqarah sutra
implied?
he replied: god knew...
so i thought, you don't know what
alif (letter) what lam (letter) and meem (also a letter)
means? you have to search for god
for the answers? good look making me into
a proselyte... mind you:
if the jews abhor proselytes,
while the muslims are so so oh so *******
welcoming... isn't that a tad bit suspicious?
how can a muslim convert me
when he can't explain to me what
alif lam and meem implies at the opening
of al-baqarah?!
let's play some hijāʾī order game...
and the three letters...
28 letters in total...
alif (28), lam (6), meem (5)...
i'm not even going to go into the gamatria
mental gymnsastics related to any
"significance"...
point was made upon the question being
asked... if a muslim tries to covert you...
and he can't explain to you
the significance of alif lam meem at the beginning
of al-baqarah... they're letters...
well... how is he going to explain to you
what's bothersome about those letters
to begin with? ALM... does that imply: zakat?!
to give alms? zakat being one of the pillars
of islam?
**** me... i haven't even converted
and it would appear: i know more than the person
who tried to convert me!
.i. Yuri Gagarin and the yo-yo
if ever the potency of a "keyboard crusader"
existed, it's now -
i can dangle a mouse above a bear-trap
and tell an elephant of a phobia concerning
mice any day of the week,
when in fact i'm talking about
a mousetrap: nothing more.
hence the exaggeration in the imagery
comparison:
or it begins with a story told in the 20th
century:
when women put down their mascara
brushes, men put down their swords:
never mind the voice in the wilderness:
mind the voice in the crowd -
there's absolutely no reason to speculate
urbanity and tribal environments without
addressing, or regressing the crowd,
or as i like to call it: what Nietzsche said,
minus the Wake... but now inclusive of the wake
and the Bacchus cult of fun fun fun.
the Wake in condor terms?
we congregate praying for something to die...
i don't pretend to be whatever
that sachet of concrete-Cartesian labels entitles me
too: for the most part
people say 'i am' without a thought to
govern the rain shaman telling you what thought
is required to 'be', oh, a very old ontological
stipend: you need people to experience a collectivisation,
a herding, a "bound together" sort of mentality
before the critic arrives and says: well, that's not
what i'm really about.
a bit like the **** firs, mouth second
debacle...
but what heart they had, our predecessors!
what heart!
they'd wage war over a woman,
a Helen,
would you wage a war against
the feminist version of Helen these days?
would you pluck a Scottish thistle over an English rose?
true: you might be a bishop
and of lesser rank... but would you wage a war
over the women of these days?
my **** is in a pickle jar anyway! we have become
a *** of a species unburdened by an obligation...
finally! we can become eternal bachelors
sort of ******* that we're here, and hear less and less
of sayings about the "things that matter".
you know what vile? really really vile?
oh i know my contemporaries when i bother to
hear them talk, oddly enough never bother when they
think, i'm quiet content with a Godot stage of
a park bench and an old man as my company,
i know Douglas Murray,
i know the wild-eyed Icke,
but a thing that concerns me is why: the safety room
parallel to the leftist thesis of offensive speech
was put in play when a discussion took off
concerning feminism, between milo yiannopoulus
and julie bindel - that's like saying:
ask a pederast to talk for a heterosexual man
with a woman safe-space...
no one wants to hear
the heterosexual side of the argument....
you'll sooner see heterosexual intellects have their
marriages come undone then get paired with either
side of the argument...
little richard is in the pickle jar anyway,
and he's not coming out...
it's a bit like ****** for dummies....
hence i have to succumb to violence without
the glory, tongue waggling blah blah
when i'd gladly take a weapon and shove it into
a shattered cranium bone: had i the ****** chance to
do so!
no heterosexual is taken seriously:
and won't be:
of a woman to be like a rosy cushion on which
i can lay my head after the darkly toils of
roofing, or laying bricks, or excavating the sewers...
no! let the Chinese do that:
the basic argument of slavery, although imported
therefore ****** ******* fine.
cryogenic fathers,
pickled *****: where's the middle in all of this?
a coconut just fell from the Boddhi tree:
money! and those that defend it,
don't know squat about the tribalism of squatters!
but hey! they have the ****** stage!
i have a bench when someone approaches me
and talk, doing the best thing possible:
knitting opinions -
i don't want the truth of opinions: i want a sweater,
or a pair of socks! that's metaphor for something
different altogether.
keyboard crusader? really? can i ask you for
directions to the high street, in every single town
across the country? i can't find one!
no one hears a heterosexual argument
on the various topics: because there isn't one -
as of the end of the 20th century,
working classes in the west striving to ensure
there is something mundane to do during the day
and kick back with the family in the evening
are the "inferior" neanderthals: who
haven't jacked into discovering a 3D reality
of what's otherwise a 2D computer screen and
aren't hooked on #crack;
honestly, so much debating ought to be opera,
and so much opera ought to be debating -
ah: that famous tingle of utopian paradoxes
never in duality, but always in dichotomy.
keyboard crusader?
really? i thought people were always moaning
about how many emails they receive:
and never a single postcard from, say,
someplace like Venice?
it's still early days,
and already we're brewing enough
cliches to replace all known nouns in
the surrogate mother that's the dictionary
of our completed version of a soul -
if ever to be experienced upon meeting the omni-vocabulary;
jigsaws, i know my idiosyncratic version
of events, he says photosynthesis within parameters
of photon deconstruction of hydrogen;
'cos' it's sub; d'uh! i say god i say this perfected
version of nearing telepathy - you say god i hope you
don't mean satan's clause - great anagram to frighten
children with: the Babushka surprise of a Pumpkin head
laughing it's way toward: how easy life would be
if we had all that time to think it through as being hard,
rather than that mortal fleetingness in both thought
and body.
ii. Macbeth
it really dawned on me, when i was watching the film
Macbeth (2015) -
there was an eeriness to it, a near perfection
of Shakespeare on screen...
honestly? i'd rather read Kant early on in life
while i have the vigour, and leave old age to Shakespeare...
but it truly was eerie all over the place.
i do recall seeing Romeo + Juliet
and reading the script, and imagining the fallacy
of word for word translation from theatre to cinema
of the script: the narrator a news channel anchor,
and everything said, word, for, word.
that film with DiCaprio as Romeo and Claire Danes
as Juliet - it just felt itchy, uncomfortable -
Shakespeare, word for word, on screen?!
(surprise, then astonishment, not !? or astonishment,
then the surprise, because: it didn't really work);
and it didn't! you can't adapt Shakespeare to the screen
and put everything in! i noticed it at that ******
generous scene in Macbeth concerning the battle
of Ellon... so i was like like... this isn't typescript...
(and thank **** it isn't) -
you can't depict Shakespeare word for word,
to be honest, Macbeth (2015) is the only worthy
translation of Macbeth (the text) into Macbeth (the movie);
all this scientific exactness in previous examples
like Romeo + Juliet, the Merchant of Venice
and a Midsummer's Night Dream don't work,
it's their precision making,
a theatre cast can take it, but a cinema going crowd,
with all these cutting and copying and repasting
succinct moments? it doesn't work!
maybe because there's no actual narrator in the staged
examples? narrator as a necessary character understudy:
surely Puck and the news anchor are there:
don't know about the Shylock scenario...
but these screen adaptations didn't work for me,
too rigid, too formal... in the case of Macbeth?
finally! the long awaited piquant version of Shakespeare:
all that matters, and the rest is thrown into
poetic technique: imagery, metaphor,
everything that's necessary can be given grammar
as image and not word!
want an example? from the text...
the Royal Shakespeare
from the text of Professor Delius
and introduction by f. j. Furnivall, ll.d.
vol. v (special edition)
Cassell & Company, Ltd.
sure, it feels like a Roman Polanski moment
akin to the 9th Gate scenic affair of a bibliophile
fetishist, and it is:
... (the only enemy of enso poetry
is the bladder) ...
well the screen play first:
banquo: what are these?
macbeth: live you? or are you aught
that man may question?
speak if you can - what are you?
1st witch: macbeth! hail to thee
thane of Glamis!
2nd witch: macbeth... hail to thee,
thane of Cawdor!
3rd witch: all hail Macbeth! that shalt be king in-after.
but such disparity, such **** as if once
of Lucretia, then of the authority,
for i have before me the original composition:
which is not worth cinema -
nonetheless, a **** takes place:
an assortment for the abdication of a king:
or as ever suggested: the wrong footed path:
never was tossing a coin in a gamble
that of tossing a crown into the air
for a court jester to appear less amusing
and more scolding.
act i, scene iii: post the battle of ellon...
if ever the refusal to give up Greek myth,
then Macbeth's witches
and Perseus' Graeae -
or naturalise a myth:
like you might not naturalise a strengthened
economy.... canonise the nation
with Elgin Marbles - Elgin: less than
what's said to be the exfoliation of the Aegean -
a municipality somewhere in Scotland:
west of Aberdeen, on the Northern Sea's
battering of the coast...
but word for word? or how to write Shakespeare
into cinema?
herr zensor must come into play -
you have to bypass imagery in poetic tongue
and relay it with actual images, a direly needed
necessity:
just after the three witches arrive,
enter Macbeth and Bonquo...
Macb. so foul and fair a day i have not seen.
Ban. how far is't call'd to Fores? - what are these,
so wither'd and so wild in their attire,
that look not like th' inhabitants o' the earth,
and yet are on 't?
live you? or are you aught that man may
question?
(how word for word, but the words
waggle from a different tongue, namely that of
Macbeth, and not that of Banquo, hence
italicised).
continuing:
you seem to understand me,
by each at once her choppy finger laying upon her
skinny lips: - you should be women, and yet your
beards forbid me to interpret that you are so.
Macb. speak, if you can - what are you?
the witches. all hail, Macbeth!
hail to thee, thane of Glamis!
all hail, Macbeth! hail to thee, thane
of Cawdor!
all hail, Macbeth! that shalt be king hereafter.
so does he really belong on the psychoanalytic
couch? is he really that necessarily wonton of talk?
Cawdor v. Gondor - it's an ongoing narrative.
but is he in need of a couch?
what sort of talk is talk when
in fact the only talk that's need to be said is the talk
of man's sexualised naturalisation for strife,
and here: as if knocking on a door:
you want to simply hear the onomatopoeia of
the Kabbalah in a woman gasping for breath
while puny Jewish boys under strict rabbinical
studies study?
mama, take this badge from me,
i can't use it, anymore,
it's getting dark, too dark to see,
feels like i'm knockin' on heaven's door -
my big mouth and man as a piston
Ferrari acrobat
(even the soundtrack is a shrill, a strangulation
variant of higher pitch of the bagpipes -
not that braveheart ****** of whisking out
a song like for the love of a princess addition to:
and can i have a madonna to boot too?
it's piercing, a whale sonar above refrigerator
white noise hum for the new age Buddha -
and that's because all the poetry has been excavated
to suit cinema: not theatre).
and this is the first adaptation of Shakespeare i actually
could stomach...
the genius was in how Macbeth spoke the lines
of Bonqua - so the character didn't start smacking
the narrative ****** in terms of solipsism:
even Shakespeare can be attacked on this front...
if in the movie Banqua said all that was in
the typescript: the film wouldn't have worked...
i don't know what the big deal is with Lady Macbeth:
i thought that in the olden days
Macbeth suggested to King Duncan that:
can i leave the warring if you **** my wife?
i can go on the contract that you **** my wife
and i stop serving you?
first impressions: strange English.
well, i'm sure she's important as it might be said:
within the programme of Orthodoxy,
but never catholic (metadoxy) tradition of
saying: way hey! ensnare the mare in a funfair!
and play the game: pin the tale on the donkey!
heads or tails? it looks pretty damnable
in the first place: as all honesty hogs to pout and
***** a hoggish sneeze out of the story.
iii. shaken, not stirred
and indeed, how many a times
did not a neon blossom sprout,
thinking it might rattle an oratory
with an oak in autumn, and behold
a swarm of leaves descend -
not out of passing ease,
but out of wishful thinking
that some indentation might be made:
with whom the hands of will reside,
and yet: to no gratifying effect,
to whatever atomic-centralisation
dream, be that ego or be it hydrogen
(lending hands: so too
electric or thus negative, neutral and
thus proto) - shake foundation
and give a revising repertoire of
the covering dust humanity
that once made famous: never
again to learn the humility of the start;
to whatever centric dream that
does not waver in demands of orientation,
be it father (sun), son (shadow)
or the holy spirit (night) -
make them earn! be obscure!
or simply say: in the community
of the stated congregation:
i find all to be as night,
and safer that plague the father:
i am not akin to the shadow:
but the shadow in mirror.
so, a centric dream that does not
waver in demands for orientation,
has ever or will be enthroned in man's
heart as the stability of Sabbath's demands
for less, oh so much less to agitate with!
as too, when the ancient appliances
were adorned by countless demands of
mimic, so too our modern
fibbles are to stage a usurping of
such things demanded and their mimic;
for with such disclosure does all fate
of anewed become burdened in what
history could be: shaken,
rather than simply a stirring of the void,
nothing more than the unburdening
of sweetening a cup of coffee, of that and
the layers: or bitter at the top, drank
through toward the sedimented sweetness -
and all that: hoping i could have retained
that silver spoon lodged in my ***
when i first met her and thought about
consolidating marriage: so fresh, eager prune
of the flesh embodiment as first
watered ash, then entombed in marble
and the eternal... ah
but it was all just the faintest of dreams;
so lumberjack sleep ensued,
as did a kindred worth ethic:
we are a long way from Eden...
there is but the idyll of the absurd fruition of
albreit macht frei... or a redefinement of
such stakes as: what occupies our days?
if not war, if not disease,
if not the Chinese... what does, occupy our days?