not the future, please!

Never knowing the future
Is like not knowing the past.

Both are up and down, gone,
here and there.

Little words for the big–
BIG mystery that we should let be:

The future, and the past.

Mystery is the diet between too many words spoken,


Birth Certificate – Oh Shit.

Never expected that one.  Baby boom, after world wars, never expected it.   Oh, Shit

The date really never escaped me either, I didn’t know, I know now.  But I didn’t know I wasn’t a real American.  I didn’t know I wasn’t a real citizen.  I know now.  I think I know now.

John Trudell – An Identity Crisis As Human Beings


Watch the whole thing; it’s great!  Some of it is wishy-washy, the energy parts (for me), but it’s great!

Echoes of Heidegger: “Earth, Sky, Divinities, Mortals.”

“They have replaced thinking with believing.”  “Our thoughts, our thinks, are a different type of sound.”  -Trudell

“Saying and speaking are not identical whenever something is said.  Saying and speaking are not identical.  One can speak, speak endlessly, and it may all say nothing.  As opposed to that, one can be silent, not speak at all, and in not speaking, say a great deal.”  -Heidegger

“What is most thought-provoking, what gives us to think, is then not anything that we determine, not anything that only we are instituting, only we are proposing.  According to our assertion, what of itself gives us most to think, what is most thought-provoking, is this—that we are still not thinking.”  -Heidegger.

But I Am American

social security

Matil A. Jorna was stopped trying to enter the country after a long trip to the Czech Republic.  She was strip searched, and she protested.  To no avail.  The people working at the TSA inappropriately grabbed her at one point, and she recoiled, in shock; her shock was taken as evidence against her, and she had no recourse to complain.  “I don’t like having my vagina rubbed by government officials,” she stated to a reporter, after the event.

Events sometimes get lost in time.  Such was the case with Matil’s.  You will not find her story in the New York Times or the Washington Post.  These are daily occurrences, and we are only made aware of them through statistics about how often people get searched, or how often certain groups of people get searched.   But this was there, at one point.  Gone, now.

This story is lost.  But it is remembered.

This is my tribute.


Hints are strong scents,
Hidden, invisible and
Deep.  Riding air or
Sometimes hiding

Hearts don’t speak;
They cry.  We listen to
Calls and see gestures.
Guessing and feeling
What lies beyond.

All we have are hints, and like
Bloodhounds moving quickly
Through underbrush and bobbing cattails,
We follow a secret trail under the noonday sun.

Logic and belief

Logic will make a start:
Learn logic and never lose your way
Nor get criss-crossed by unproven, unspoken beliefs.

Learn logic, my friend, my friend.
Thought-machines whirring and then later
High sounding words form,
Fomenting–nobody will understand.

Learn logic and die a little;
Learn more and live a little;
Learn words and only then
Will the mad masses disbelieve what you say.

Disregard them.

You have learned to kill things first:
Parse the parts and learn the whole.

Learn logic: no soul.
Study and dissect.
No soul exists that can’t be dissected into
Parts as innumerable as the stars.

Synapses, brightly burning;
Sociology, a bright building;
Neurons, that’s it. Just it, nothing more.

Nobody needs to learn more;
Contentment is a blessing.

Blessing is the not-knowing of all what the
Present-time says, and, seeing it,
Just using it.

Forget your past.

Here you are.


Cars spot-on move along
Setup by those–the past.
Never think about that.

Grain elevators scarred
White in places whether painted or just diseased;
You decide the disrepair or just general unease.

Citygrids undulating skipping passing
Weaving playing cat’s cradle on some grand scale–

Balancing hands and twine,
String’s fingers setup by those above–but not too far up
Up and only down the block.

Unlike God, you can talk to these people.

Like God, they won’t talk back.

%d bloggers like this: