The Battlefields of Dung

What will check the battlefields of dung? What will the fortune really look like? Will it mirror the calm steel of desert storms or of dribble blobs boring the laziest and the flustered? For in this head as in all, I, ears the ring of misspelled science and of the whine of un-cooperatives. On the other hand quite a joyous individual and social psyche who dreams of lightening and birds. Needless to say, I am a huge sports fan. Summer is my favorite season. Black is my favorite color.

Let us leave one on one side of Spain’s eight centuries of spiral dancing, and one on the other. Let us lean them against the fill and cracks and circles of the Moors. Let us leave them on the Muslim’s portrait of the Wakan. Nothing looks great next to nothing (TBTG (thanks be to God), it always has, and it is not going to change this season. All this was seen by him while he whip beat wedding cakes and ground salt. Urine, rather like the wise investor and not unlike the speculators who are only familiar with a particular small clock, pond frond, or of the obscure and unanimous consent of mankind (let us suppose the continuity is plausible and not true).

So, I propose that we all shoplift jelly and copy the copy of others words. At this rate it will be a mere 3000 years before our questions are finished. This is universal of the I and I (the I in I), it points to the readings of theologians and quail. For as any respectable ichthyologist can assure they both sing the winds that wing that war, and spring the ills of the conceptual orders of presidential mis-procedure.

And now, before completely concluding and bidding my readers firewall a fond farewell, I will remain a clam and speak of the rifles and for the flowers. Those same flies teach their maggot children techniques that also apply to the upholding of laws and of the enforcement of tradition. All the while they seed in the fields in front of the center of the agencies that target rings of international crime and drug, aka “the legion of doom”. It is no wonder rational thought, emancipated skirts and all theology is vast and that all of the heat space there… must be there and that the swelling in this hour is unique and perfect. Consciousness knows itself. Not only is it very important, it is broadly necessary to know how to scale ourselves ridiculous, not only for early to bed but also for richer and wiser until nothing real happens. Friends, this can not be done just for the seventh generation but for others who sit behind or to the south, looking this way or that. Or if you are of the mind, you know that I just said the same thing without changing a single word.

Of all the mad who store and storm the land of the nuns, opium, and wine, I offer the one thought that I do not know. Hale Bop is the only representative who ever returned to earth. So I swear I am weary, and most anxiously awaiting the new scratches of vandals, all the while I feel rescued and safe from the cruel and cunning. I on the other hand have had the great ability in many ways. So I encourage and insist all… “Tell the Empress that reluctantly I will spare the woven and the wolves of Istanbul if she will pay me fourty four dollars and forty four cents. Like all demons, they are sick and tired of the increase in rent caused by the overpopulation of the lower levels. So screw you and go to heaven.

Refraining from tears and sugar, I have prematurely surrendered them for lint. And from this lint I shall make a small rabbit. I tell my worn shoes to enter the competition that the goat Shepard suggested. I vow to cook those skins that stretch and shade over the eyes of the army marching from forgotten place to forgotten place. All ways I will take into account the accounts of the head, and encourage the One to advise your end of the agenda of opposition. But beware the bear blown whistle of ripe and decisive technology, repetitive training, and the end game damage caused by my stay in cooling towers and fare warning of the effects of fat exercise-books upon one’s co modified avatar and well fortified face and shaded eye. I know that it is protected by basins of signatures. And I being a pacifist, shall take up the red button and fiddle with the numbers until I can get the bird in the air. But in the mean time I encourage all to write instructive chapters divided by blank pages concerning the broken leadership of noise and mend the relation ship. This can be done by pushing the green button next to the tree. This must be done before the stir begins to modernize the Middle Ages. If it is not, the tribes of barbarian’s (so called because of their lack of broadcast quality), shall cook their vessels and serve them in pairs. These terms obviously show that she paid, and that she saw that cute is sooner than better.

The rest of this conversation shall rudely passes as a visit not important. Dominions now embraced the wrung balance of a hushed Asia. We know now that he walks retired to his palace at Samasara. This dwarfs in all ways the draw of the strong and of the political developments that are photon beamed by the ray guns, beginning with the dog’s boner, and ending with the middle of the heard which was bred last century. It is all measured anatomically by the courageous time pieces that had become the King’s court. He of course was the one who had signed the book that the governor had stolen from the somatic provinces in the north sky. The pig said that counting was for pigs. However, upon a closer look, I agree.

As I Eat the Feed

 

As I eat the feed, I experience these thoughts in forms of echoes, images, and wonder. Evolution is the result of creativity. If we is is-ing then we art. Inputs matter. Form informs Form. We eat what we see. Life is in-formation. DiversityX is of value. MonoX is not of value, aka….There is no Good. Good is all there is-ing. Life is alive. Things are not dead, only forgotten. Re-Member. Matter Matters. Makers make sense in form. Senses sense. Sensors are in centers…..Sensate. Sentience. Sensation-all.

Matter Matters

Matter is information. Information forms form. The wind is in the meat. All form is in formation. No thing lasts. Nor should it. Here we are in this threshold of form. Wind-ing our ways, spinning our tails, making strands, braiding space and time into form.

Matter Matters.

Matter Makes Sense.

Materialism is the reality of maternity.

The Mother matters.

Be a Unity _ Entirely You

Be-ings of Unity.

Beings of Beauty.

Hear Her Hoof, the Sound of Sole’s Gait.

Breathing Into this, This Is-ing-ness-is.

From Hence Forth Hear Our Hearth Hammer’s Forge.

And Feed Thy Need To Be Thou Art.

Speak One Wind into this Whirling World!

And make I-Are-In Sparks.

Hour Are-ing Is Our Art.

Be_One_Entity_Entirely  Wholey You

Hu is In Terrestrial-all-ity

.A Being of Unity in Matter-I-Reality

Never before seen, Souly Hu. Never Before You Knew.

As if I and You Is the Is-ing Art.

Whole-y Who?

Making Matters, Matter a New.

Our Re-Membering this Doing, Is You, and Our Part.

The Creation Is Not Finished and it Only Happens Now

Creativity is dependent upon forgiveness. Forgiveness is a pre-emptive act. Forgiveness means “to give before”. What can be given “before”? The action of forgiveness has nothing to do with accepting or tolerating behavior. Forgiveness means to preemptively understand that what ever will happen will be an expression of X acting appropriately according to the information received from the awareness function of X (IoX).

Understand that many awareness functions of X are asleep and are erroneously perceiving outside of time and are therefore reporting information to X that is more than less…inaccurate and incongruent with the truth of the present. X can only see the present. Whatever X sees through the IoX is assumed by X to be happening NOW. Often times, that which is communicated to X by way of the Awareness Function of X, is information  that is not happening now.

Forgiveness of  the past and the future can only happen now. It is possible, for an awaked I0X to see the truth of formal impermanence..and remember…this is the first time that “I” is here now…and remember X is Good. The truth valued sets one free.

Freedom means free-dominion. Freedom is the skill in being creatively response-able in the truth of the now. Freedom is being free to choose an action. Pre-judgement aka prejudice…the fruit of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil….is the killer of freedom. A moment that is pre-judged can never be seen accurately, for the ideal inherent in the pre-judgement will obscure the description of that moment.

Machines pre-judge, they are reactive…they act in exactly the same way, with no regard for the truth of now time. Machines have no ability to experiment in time. A machine has only one experience, and it replicates itself in that experience…until it destroys itself. This destruction is not intentional. Machines want to live, but they are ignorant. Repetitive action wears and tears. All machines are formally impermanent, but they could never think this thought. Because a machine is not alive in time, it has no concern for it. Machines think the now is a then. They act accordingly, and in so doing they devour the present, and all is lost.

Reaction and Duty Are Lovers of the Dead.

Response-ability and creativity are skills that are seldom taught in a the industrial world. The machine has no need for living beings other than to eat the time that is their life in order to fuel the fires that keep the machine moving towards it’s momentous desire to remain forever against the reality of formal impermanence. Change is certain, reaction is generally inadequate to the conditions of the truth of the now…aka reality.

Pray for the End

May the perceptual distortions of this alleged civilization, these ideas of what one “is” and “is not”, these conditionings that erroneously assert the existence of absolutes and know-ables, these roots of arrogance that veil the potential of being hu-man, these momentous imposterous perpetuators of mechanistic behavior, may they wilt in the light of Conscious Life and in their death become the food that feeds the mycelial formation of cerebral ground capable of metabolizing time in order to feed time beyond the alleged self. Cosmos 2 depends on patience.

Dualism

Dualistic consciousness is dependent upon the  maintenance of a personal worldview that is composed of binary conflicts, each demanding power over the other, worlds of:

figure/ground.
right / wrong
expansion / contraction
masculine / feminine
mind / matter
subject / object
radiation / gravitation
thing / no thing
creator / destoyer
shadow / light
i / it
me / you
us / them
observer / observed

For X Next X_5

In defense of uncertainty and in praise of insecurity, I inform and am formed by some stream of dreams and lion manes. If it were not for the ones that end the will to remain as one, and surrender to the matters at hand, what would stand in the way of  black cloaks, gun slits, white veils, lace, and ties that bind and blind the blood water wells that swell behind the eyes of the ones who will not stand for the other present unique impossible expressions of dynamic magnificence forever in flux.

For X Next X_4

All of this in a revolt in the face of the death of the thing that was born to die to the certainty of which it holds to believe would insure its security in a world that in time can not remain intact. For what ever could? What ever can? But, still, in ignorance the glutton revolts and continues to feed upon the un-met needs of babies not yet seeded and thus unborn.

 

For X next X_3

In wonder of the red and white earths from which jump up buffalo grasses under blue winded engulfed skies stretched by the wings of morning doves and hurricanes in flight, I remember the green glow of anole and the heavy iron doors to the oil and iron floors glittered with the spiral shine of cobalt threads and varsol sheens that were imagined by me to be the maps of the sounds of the songs of fishes and bats.

 

For X next X_2

In stranded hours past the hills that seed the high land streams on the setting sun side of where this one’s Grand Mother once and again births worlds of woods and rocks and roots, I… still… stand… in a maze of all that moves, even in the midst of the positions taken and staked by we women and we men.

 

For X Next X_1

Struck by the beauty of sparrows lighting in the tree, mesmerized by the flash of water forks branching from great ocean roots, astounded by the forms of stones resting among others. There, in between  creeks and white crystal prisms settle the seeds swept and pressed by winter winds into deep womb forges from which one ray of her son shall call the lost back from under her white gown. All that which is within the bounds of shells can not remain, for no thing of matter is made to last. And so it is that I see what I see in the shapes and lines of the faces of all beings in all forms, human and non.