Natures in Conflict/Eyes Shut: Starlight

(An inarticulate war cry, justifications and arguments for attack.)

            Sensation the overriding liable, extorting all victims prospect, courting each angle into every collision. Petals struggle open to blossom, each stem pushed through the ground, leaning their partners into facing the dew. Playing for playmates’ sakes, wearing colors suited for mourning, and shaking off obvious company alone. Did anyone feel the clouds fear dawn, turn briefly toward another, demand silence conform response?  

(An evening flower bed brimming with morning glories.)

We know our consorts, their famished needs, fainting toward the east. Wanted these bodies under control, told these drops are not tears, afraid rain will pummel us to the ground. Vessels, once questioned, felled with their contents, spilling to the west. Without any feeling, deaf though sounds are only gusts of air, without maps, light, magnet or compass. 

(An exploding battlefield collecting spent shells, lifeless bodies.)

Time is to erase our questions, insert chaotic discussions, or we’re cursing the charcoal taste of our selves evaporating slightly with rain. Every strike softens as it lands, begs petals to ask while shimmering, each stem trembling. An unknowing, mute orchestra blessed in constant intrigue, struggling to speak. First drop deduces reprimand, second annunciates our will, then more confuses any coherent wish.

(An array of tiny pools spilling over with nectar.)

Tears are assigned to build, formed by their edges, and encouraged to drop when their departure isn’t noticed. Soil was forced apart and tilled, spines trickling thin waterfalls into pools between cracks on leaves. Wind brushes us against each other, we occasionally spasm, and are moved to weep. These feet we can’t see, roots spreading in hopes to find interaction, have us convinced the others exist. 

(An opening in the sky widens to Valhalla, itchy trigger-fingers.)

Once upon a burial, then repeated for the decay of your remains, the sky gathers our rage. Rumors fail reverie, presence is each body’s longing to collapse and lose our petals to the door. Seasons last until they become spells, fade into visions no one can recount, and are replaced by discord. Spades for emptying and filling decanters with honor, grudges hold long enough to never reconcile, our lives to yours. 

(An un-seasonal cold spell accompanied by storms.)

New chore to remove the dead, dig holes to the appropriate depth, estimate the next rainfall.

Starlight: Eyes Shut


This was posted to setup my poet’s protest, which is at the “3 Cries for Help” series of poems that follow this one. If you arrived here from elsewhere, please see the home page to know what you’re getting into, and be well.

Ethical Guidelines – 3 Cries for Help

Only in the interest of funding extended exclusively to young generations representing the current world’s owners.

In spite of the economic landscape, as steeped as it is in the denial of opportunity.

Does sex make the man.


To explain further: Further information available after the less than 3 page post. About seven total pages.

Scientific Guidelines – 3 Cries for Help

Only in the interest of funding extended exclusively to young generations representing the current world’s owners.

In spite of the economic landscape, as steeped as it is in the denial of opportunity.

Is how mass becomes matter the only question physics must answer.


To explain further:

Economic Guidelines – 3 Cries for Help

Only in the interest of funding extended exclusively to young generations representing the current world’s owners.

In spite of the economic landscape, as steeped as it is in the denial of opportunity.

Is a valuation standard required for currency.


To explain further: (Whole twentysomething page report on the problems of currency valuation after the poem there.)

Medical Guidelines – 3 Cries for Help

Only in the interest of funding extended exclusively to young generations representing the current world’s owners.

In spite of the economic landscape, as steeped as it is in the denial of opportunity.

Are vaccines required in the immunological response.


Here’s a brief expansion on the issues involved:

Climate Guidelines – 3 Cries for Help

Only in the interest of funding extended exclusively to young generations representing the current world’s owners.

In spite of the economic landscape, as steeped as it is in the denial of opportunity.

Is carbon dioxide the poisonous gas in our atmosphere.


Because education standards have fallen so drastically, this one could use more explanation; it is as if the fact that the carbon of carbon dioxide, produced by plants and trees in particular is being taught wrong. Sunlight degrades the carbon of the carbon dioxide, and the process releases breathable oxygen.

-As an aside, a moronic school, set to ruin knowledge of these facts are undereducated marijuana growers, who know pumping carbon dioxide into their grow ops increases yield. This is because plants sense the CO(2) as if it is being emitted by other plants, and study after study proves that plants thrive when they are at least convinced, they are around other thriving plants.

Technically it can be said then, if omitting the carbon falling in sunlight step, that plants produce oxygen, and apparently the carbon part (which has become subject to larger commercial concerns than the expanding marijuana market) may as well be obfuscated in the branding that generated phrases like “The Carbon Problem”, “Your Carbon Footprint”, or the general idea that people are damaging the environment because they too add carbon dioxide to the air when they exhale.

The rest of the issue is manmade engines in the billions producing carbon monoxide (CO – not a popular comment, but science deals with fact). Each particle of carbon monoxide has its carbon degraded in sunlight, it leaves a single atom of oxygen, but it and its carbon come from oil burn and petroleum-running engines. The carbon is dirty, and the single oxygen atoms sticky enough to steal O(2) from the air, and form ozone, or O(3), that hovers above every populated-enough city, causing warming, because the planet constantly absorbs heat energy from the sun and releases it into the air – this is why on hot days in hot climates especially, it may feel nearly as warm as day in the couple of hours after the sun sets – this heat is rising at all times, and it hits the population centers’ manmade ozone layers, which reflect it back to the Earth.

That’s heat energy, and by any standard of the unadulterated biosphere, it would rise into far cooler expanses of the upper atmosphere, basically preventing the planet from freezing from the top of its air downward.

So, the question becomes, where is the interest-related funding?

Is it the trees and plants, themselves?

Or is it the oil and automotive industry, when it is documented that the latter used false science to delay the inclusion of the catalytic converter (CO-reducing technology) in the requirements for car production, for right about 40 years?

From a New Gnostic Work

About 7 total pages. Section is from the opening of the second part of the conceptual presentation / novel called [White Elephant Sale]. To provide context, this piece begins with a small bit from the opening of the first project. This is all just formatted as a blog post. Enjoy.

Statement of Warning T

            Knowledge of the unified field in the hands of people who account for gravity, sentience, and the intent of sentience without classifying the behavior of sentience as right or wrong compels us to this work. Following text is an unflinching account of people struggling to define:

What exactly is going on; who is in control?

How far have the ones in charge gone with Physics?

What are their plans? And,

What can be done about it?

It is unfit for all ages, making direct display of how bad things literally could be while developing a narrative to provide a composited “big picture” appraisal that, fitting the tone, must be covertly communicated and shared exclusively among concerned parties. Asking to know what impact these full implications, the facts beyond measure have, and expecting to be taken by the hand and coddled into understanding is a delusion readers must abandon.

With steadfast refusal to assess the nature and scope of the problem – what with everyone citing needs of personal lives and their interests – we have arrived here, the untenable position.      

(Decuun is pronounced Dee – Koon) -Start of [white elephant sale]2y

Decuun Processing Conduit Readout

Type: Neurological Display

Class: Intelligent by Design

          Images & Libelous Content :

          All visual signal through brown to umber fields first develops children at playground – and at fault biologically proven in signal – children somehow hidden in darkness, in crawling positions, sudden picture infant [not naked].

Then boys and girls old enough and tall enough to ride the public park merry-go-round, trapped on hands and knees under its spinning metal platform, moving fast enough to move the dark air above them, shadow air swirling across the backs of children moving close to ground, somehow ducking in crawl, inching under the veracity of the increasing speeding spin of the metal ceiling, in deep black without light, sudden picture of a tower overtaking the horizon (rectangle monolith – more grey than black).

Boys and girls ducking under moving air in darkness over them, air moving hidden in dark particle light, falling and turning under the metal spinning merry-go-round ceiling [ideal of monstrosity] unseen children in low crawl moving toward where the ride is fixed to the Earth. To maybe find silence in its noise and violent sun-drenched metal spinning above, providing its own source of heat, showering in waves down on the backs of boy and girl heads, sudden addition of enough light to make them out, sudden image of bright heating orange overtaking metal walls through tempered glass.

Prognosis: Pathways tapped were aligned more to biochemical activity than the neurological drivers biological current can source. Subject not parent, has had less than ten relationships in their life, and is clearly set in the mode of tasking their own brains with matters with which they have no responsible concern.

Case Closed and Archived: *-

Processing Conduit Readouts – The voice within the masses that corporations and constitutionally elected governments have every right to serve is now heard. Brought to you by Decuun.


Statement of Warning Q

            The directing and assembling of all people into one lived amalgam of the subject and servant class no matter the integrity of the individual, using unseen, unconscious and subconscious forces, to the end of making the owners of the systems of governance godlike lords among peasants is treason.

Decuun Processing Conduit Readout

Type: Integrated Cognitive and Physical Display

Class: Intelligent by Design

          Images & Libelous Content :

Visual signal develops to one internal visage rendered in fragments of focus; looking downward to the right to a phone screen, ghostly white light pales her forearm at the wrist, suddenly against the backdrop of nighttime car interior [superimposed glow of alone].

She awakes hours later.

          Peripherals recorded in signal reflected through plaster surfacing off the sheet metal framing of the entrance to the dining hall:

She is in sweats without makeup [inattentive but reminiscent of bed] she nearly shuffles her feet as she crosses the open room and she looks up in glances to where windows meet high ceilings (abiding underserved aspirations and unsustainable goals).

Prognosis: Subject is on the other side of years spent missing social cues that are only conveyed with nonverbal communications. Their life will be lived in a coed world with no valid identification to their sex other than their bodies.

          Case Closed and Archived: +”


1(4) Catastrophic Exposure

            Billable conclusions precipitate organizational fronts, the self-cutting population is somehow needed to offset the public’s release of commercial demons – always travelling in secret in sheets of an inner skin through the listener and assimilating the viewer with certainty – or treasuries are allocated to budget only after they accord to Decuun bylaws, that grant fifty percent of what is brought in through congressional graft to every constitutionally elected official, that is to be paid out over the course of their careers in service – good morning, I knew you whispers empty-head sex slave – only after the legislative proceeds from each bill make it into a general slush fund – you should have switched her into compulsory, Sir – no one gets their hands dirty – now someone is going to pay for that and no one gets their hands dirty.

It’s best you vacate the premises, Sir.

            My country in thin fabric suits of the finest wool – flanked by rail thin cohorts of sexual drive – move policy in pants – because where a bill starts is sacred – after all, the blood spills – children ought to learn that early and constrict with the trends – not against them – in rotundas and under domes – with 5000-dollar shoes on marble.

            Inside the rot of teeth my country tis of thee for whom – for them, fortified with intelligence – for one hundred forty royal-sanctioned landowners packed into a barn to begin a new measured promise – Lucifer and Satan in congress in silver with gold running in strands through its artifice – in late 18th century candle and torch light, in romance with the new and upcoming iron; that advanced – but it was the birth of a country, uniting in quiet torrid modalities the u and the s, united for the Arian sanguine.

            Bavaria is their front. Their lords of darkness churning black death rotting with special interest so long it carbonized flesh, stretching endless between what seem like invisible columns spinning in place, through its own world, apart from the haunted corridor dominance by the US of the Arian for the states united to detriment, forced Bavarian dependence for all time – voice of a civilization turn on the ovens – and its sexy grueling death scenes, a dark room lit by one bulb whose girls naked tortured beg and scream into thick shadow to men off camera – the onyx bones through the Earth Bavarian infrastructure – the sounds of gunshot – for all age – world concealing the invisible spools stretching rotting fields of putrid flesh taut in torture, twisted from skeletons in one complete tear, one brutal turn somehow comported their awareness with the flesh of their bodies absent structure into terrifying strewn-out anguish.

            They were people but they’re empty demons now gone. There would come to be fifty states, what with five meaning death and every zero a way in – Decuun archival system decoded – United States of America forces separate the skin from the internal content. White American backbone isolated the agency of performance in the citizen’s solid jelly filling and arranged it, now foreign hands maneuver.

Spontaneous needs to augment per case will be constant, and language inherent in legislative process prohibits open target civilian. It will forever boil down to seasons in session.

            Vision is of the eyes – but through a secret method strewn – because of two fingers on the five-year old’s head – noted – sight retards outward in thin plasma strings, white cornea and strands of vibrant blue iris threads through the broken surface of the black pupil, pushing miniscule deep night columns invisibly outward into air – pupil surfaces break in protrusions – physical and unknown to common man – sight travels its own corridors – through the interiors of dark town-cars – arriving at plain house brothels – blame it on the navigation – we brought the chip manufacturing home – praise in lingerie. 

Chaos demands form, form informs chaos structured into prefabrications, amassed of all substance – en toto – nothing primordial, everything beyond comprehension sustaining the limited view. Group has decoded a cryptex inside the Nova Express trilogy by William S. Burroughs. Agreed upon in silence, a type of quiet built from moments of misplaced awe, nothing of true magnitude, what the crowd deems appropriate, standing out is lonely. Group recognizes low likelihood the codes will be believed. Submitting that man is forced into a collective that interprets each person at three constructed levels of a forced-upon psyche, both Williams and Burroughs technically did not have to know they were writing a code – it would serve as evidence for what Group leaders have called the Eternal promise. Outside in a hurricane, built forth from torrential upheavals quieted to physicality, the constant demand to be engaged marginalized like a young green leaf freshly ripped from a tree battered into rocks of the tide break, every calculation articulates the plea, the broken, prostrated beg,

“Please, leave us the bay.”

“Your invitation, please”

Inside the reception hall everyone’s pockets are empty, and in the coat check, all the pockets empty, except for tips to the valet, controlled convulsions on display, their every motion, every interest, the donned importance inside their laughter, and uneasiness in each hand extended to prospective partners. As the Burroughs code is completely presented at its conclusion in the third book of the trilogy, The Ticket that Exploded, only portions of this section of the code will be communicated. Worn down corridors of flesh throughways inside arms, carrying electric signals of such duration the toll of repetitive usage dries out the fibers, what an easy smile, what a somber jest, give me reason, commission a newborn’s purpose. Burroughs makes it clear the reader should note commas in sections throughout the work, by writing several lines one after another that clearly omit commas. A coordination of focal, directed bodily seizures accounts for all this, it is the world of the distinguished, in these everyone’s included but not invited, creating the separations, the unacknowledged chasms of difficult to reconcile shortcomings in the chests of the unacknowledged, breaking men to wails upon their gale force dismissal.

It’s not easily noticed, whole being accommodated to subroutines of conformity, lost to its application spread throughout the crowd, each awaits their contribution’s recognition, it’s as easily ignored as a raging ocean twenty feet from double-paned glass. Before continuing, background on the source of the code is assumed to be that of an outcast scion who descended from the relative wealth of the Burroughs typewriter company. As no confirmation of this can be found and it is customary to fabricate the upbringings of people who bring creative content to market, no further comment on his upbringing is needed. Hits like low grumbling echoes of windows forced to reverberate, the pressure braced and dispersed through glass, those waves carry wind to the edifices, these guests, too loud to hear the portend, this wind and all its concerted effort carries water toward the hushed, mumbling attendants, the toast about to begin.

“We didn’t work long for this, but we worked hard.”

Tears well among the throng of well-dressed sycophants shifting in their gowns, women adorn the brightest shining men, stepping boldly with hollow legs, top heavy, brain heavy, secretly affirming self-worth through exchanged nods and glares. As having access to the market at the levels Burroughs achieved secretly always ties back to Satanism and, as it is recognized that involvement in Satanism is not chosen in those who are born into it – it is not chosen by most of the talent the industry discovers – as much as it is forced, many sections of the Burroughs code would seem to indicate that he secretly harbors hopes that someone or some force outside the machine of Satansist-owned commerce is actively intervening on the behalf of general decency. Chills sink into the space each body occupies, sliding into them, entering through gaps between their cells, outside storm temperatures coming to ground in elongated forms of low-pressure cold air nestling into their spines. Decuun marches on and there is no evidence that Burroughs’ pleas for aid, if that’s what they were, have ever been heeded.

Worth is measured quarterly in every hollow individual, only made whole through common definition, solid forms built solely through passive concord, unspoken agreements pushing poses and encouraging wind tunnels overtake their optic nerves. Following the code established by omitted commas, on page ten is the line “You attempted to be God that is to intervene and failed utterly . . .” italicized word in the original. The sky isn’t hiding stars. Nazis are known to spread the belief that the Arian man is God, taking this with the nihilism common to soldiers in Nazi ranks – which foreign intelligence previously assigned as meeting internal needs to psychologically place the horrors they were expected to commit – it is likely Nazi science itself has at its main tenet, that because all of physics is manipulated to the Arian’s favor, the Nazi scientist can make man God. They’re swallowed in the light the guests have acclimated to, with its invisible ceiling blending into opaque atmosphere, unseen blackness hovering intermingled in cloud.

Unheard raindrops ping on an atrium ceiling, underneath it all, the scene and its attendants forced into their custom compartments, the shell game, hope you find a filled-out suit instead of a solid specter, hope there’s warmth in shared proximity. Nazism has been proven to be a cover. Its leadership are Satanists and from their view, Nazism itself (was) a sex and death cult. Not this nagging sense you’re riding atop a rushing current, clinging for dear life through violent rapids, need to keep smiling, complimenting accessory choices, want the position furthest from the windows, if you’re too close their deep growl is guttural, physical, and it detracts from the toastmaster. The Burroughs code would suggest that Nazis were then and have always been Satanists in reserve, existing as an intra-dimensional para military force. In total sense, in absolutes realized in the throes of death, all storms are orchestrated by the continent-sized eye of a perpetual hurricane at the earth’s pole, perchance to glimpse the monstrosity upon your release, the hidden hope something will welcome you upon exit.

            Universal head chieftain adjures over oval offices and their minions, clawing at blazers to expose silk lining, but only in dreams because it doesn’t fit the decorum, the phantom cardboard partitions dictating behavior, making the enforced silence palatable, the professional diligent acceptance. Para military as operating under contained skies filled with stolen atmosphere, unseen and seventy-two degrees at all times, air conditioned, clouds stolen for their hydrogen and oxygen, to make realms where pretty blonde boys all grown up can play with machines to intra-dimensional affect. Practicing submission and glorifying ascendancy, pretending to listen while waiting for the current patron’s arrival, the real head of the line, the bonafide feedbag attendant. Intra dimensional means through dimensions, inter dimensional means two or more separate dimensions that may interact; it does not mean they do.

Two rooms, one on Earth we could all walk into, one in its own dimension; we say inter dimensional to account for the two positions. Where the schedules are made, out of more circular offices, the one storm’s eye swirling the ground of all air, hoping enough gets stolen from lungs, plotting enough cause for decay so newer, less substantial and ever subservient eyes build. If the word intra-dimensional is used, it indicates dynamics as they are arranged in one dimension are pushing in some way into another dimension – because the two dimensions are linked to impact one another. Electric ghosts project through flesh as they substantiate gradually over every interface with any multimedia device, through silent signals riding soft static, form informs chaos fallen into place along nerves embedded in flesh, see the glowing electric blue washed into a faint white medium leaning out of the torsos of every citizen.  

The living ghosts, it’s more than metaphor, it’s the applied mechanics of an unknown science, it is calculated metaphysics accomplished for far more than monetary profit. An interpretation lending itself to a global view of how a life in Satanism is lived, is found in the Burroughs code by following exclusively the italicized words on pages leading up to page ten: bottom of page 8 repeated, “This is a weapon . . an enemy weapon”; on page nine, again, only words in italics on the whole page and clearly befitting the context, esprit de corps, which is taken to mean comradery, on page ten, first words in italics are non-organization, and the next italicized word on that page is intervene. Keep them corralled, force their smiles, time, order, file their protracted death, prognosticate on how much the ruling class can earn in the duration, bet the futures market, amortize interest on the loans people secured to secure their graves.

[“First pages-addenda”] %-

DoWn By ThE sHoReS oF tHe ShAnKy BaNkY

wHeRe ThE bUlLfRoGs JuMp FrOm AcHe To LaNkY


Sprinkle Shakedown

Ha, you thought you’d get me- Heh-heh, you thought you’d get me

Your overcoats and badges don’t make you monsters

You can’t push me. I won’t move.


Bibliography (for both books): Williams, William Carlos. The Embodiment of Knowledge. New York: New Directions Publishing Corporation, 1974. Print.

Burroughs, S. William. The Ticket that Exploded. New York: Grove Press, 1992. Print.

If you’d like to consider purchasing the first novel, it is $6 per download, with unlimited prints, and there is one picture included that is not the cover. Following link takes you to the book in the cart, because that one features the cover and a one sentence description. Note: were this book to hit the general market, its style would be received as something akin to what W.S. Burroughs did in his Nova Express Trilogy. For example, though I am its one author, its content is written by ‘the group’.

New Gnostic Poetry

Five pages

Emboldened and Intoxicated

     Time quakes the rattled nerves that lie disrupted in connection, floating in fraying pieces under the surface, that become light and heavy in stringy expanses to contain steadily defeated urges, connecting to sinew and straightening out as they toughen up, becoming coarse, stretching into the tendons that hold a person who has gone liquid to their skeleton.

     Cattle in spaces just beneath the future leather, or man’s neurological tissues strewn to full pertinence in blurring vision - in those times that you need to remain upright, when something else shifts you in whatever direction more than you move - leather and sun and skin with sweet tinges and bitter scents rising through the pores, for every day settled in dismissed recollection.

Learned from Time Spent Watching Demons

     Shuffling their forms apart from shade in concealed movements, remaining coupled to the absence of light, strands of shadows grow out of their screened seas tendrils dithering in pieces to panting soot and elongating into ephemeral fibers, spiraling forward as they tighten themselves into twining. 
     Then the blackened cordage slips around the victim's throat unnoticed.


     Pestering conclusions surround then the empty closes in, it takes a person like they’re being swallowed by the boundaries of their own selves, which suddenly have become an open shaft with slick walls and no way to climb out.

     Falling, colliding and thinning with air and sinking through current, being dispersed along the bottom of the sky.

But still on the ground.

Parts of a Tree

Fell out from inside the ridges of the bark in dark long strands of half bodies, contaminated my clothes.

(And slept on the branch on my belly, awoke with the woodened patterns of thick waving vertical bars pressing into one side of my face.)

Fell out of dreams rooted deep enough to reach moist soil, startled at the distant sounds of birds excited to eat insects flying at sunset.

Personality Testing Character

Fell the tree-line if you expect release.

     The open expanse is just past the appropriate act, but the bible is full of those types of quandaries, and that’s the only good book.

Time your exits by how the surprise shortening of your availability registers after you’re gone.

     Few catch all the atmospheric shadows, massive and draping their forms downward, superimposed and dimming in ghostly visual echoes, collapsing to Earth like a shared and lonely secret, that take the sky and anything that could be called oversight in the first place.

Still, it requires a special typecast.

     A peculiar but indispensable mold, built in the specific ways every act committed commiserates with memory, holds in its crevices and concave regimenting structures the feeling of having your every question answered. 

It tempts the target to remain in place, and for the entire time they are held in thrall, their forms shift.

Standards of the Industry (Players Included)

     Beaten into them with trembling persistence then cored out and left a husk, training the deviant debutante and functioning ensemble, learning the personable, absent and wandering the ephemeral self, but vision mining out both corners of their eyes, always - so they never see anything coming. 
     Dailies and stock ticker streams are interchangeable if you’re high enough up in the building, as are the screens, just shut your eyes. There is nothing they can’t control.
     Does the sickening travel through the shades of the digital colors in the projections?
     Tune in at 8 to decide?
     They worked hard enough to deliver:

     Cuddle up to heated up dismal sweats in under 22 minutes and it’ll make the cut.

Nightly Broadcast

     Deterring the answer in favor of the warning on the packaging, wrapping up in the freezing that makes stuttering impossible to avoid, but that’s concealed in the studio monitors, and the voice of the broken like lateral icicles eviscerates as cold as the air is piercing…

To put things into a format that is welcoming enough, considerate enough, and after a style that leaves nothing resolved but feels authoritarian, as the standard. It keeps them tuning in.

Once Cornered

     There is no one near but the air becomes crowded with terrible silent wretches pushing into a personal sub-reality, one that perhaps only the pineal can perceive directly, and the impact of sensing ribbons of intricate lifeforms creates its own effect. Standing tall, then dissipating as your person, into the channels their total populations create.

     It is marked by a sudden clenching throughout the body, as if you’re being seized upon within yourself, it is overcoming, but there's no one near.

Principles of Radar

     It was in their dreams to never see that target write again.

     Silent and anxious twitches in their faces, their minds racing, guessing words, huddled in the closet of a room, for insulation and to concentrate a pseudonym for character out of the lot of them; something they can take turns using for disguise as they move through shadows to commit all the acts light fails to complete.

     It’s matter and exposure - not “a” then of - it’s critical mass fast dissolve simply because enough time was given. Thus, their interest to never hear from those types again, from the patients and those lost in the crevices of a scratched surface, and all those articulating their numbers into homogeneity then disappearing into the quiet signal-fed masses.

     Grey skies are clouds that seem matted if you’re living under the same stormfront long enough, maybe in the span of a week, then the sky may as well become floor for the spectacle you’ve just created - looking at the world that way.

Or, was that the silent removed orchestration coopting a lived perspective - aching not to haunt? Built of death just the same, with decay the result of its approach.

Or is it the living who fuel it, those versed in everything light fails to complete?

Building Systems - The Importance of Leaving Things Out

     Rattling its self together or piecemeal degrading apart at the edges, in mists acquiring thickness selectively, as interest, as if by amortization with physical repercussions, a thing built - ethereal, or as on paper - from the latter grew servants, their bodies like scales, their spirits housed in each drying out, waiting to be shed reptile fleck of the different skin they all share, while something more literal about that is known by the former.

     -One statement can make hierarchical mysteries, make you feel like you’re acknowledged by the encoded definition only they found in the reading; from their passages these pages will acquire nuance, learning new ways to encourage yield and no one will be the wiser…

A Discontinued Anthropological Study

     To build within what was only figments of structure without letting their brains solidify the perpetration (the artificial edifice is as invisible as vapor before cloud - like a mist one can sense but not see), because from there the cages can take shape, they are internal, and as they close in their interior dimensions shift, accommodating whatever walls peculiar to each victim are already in place:

“The underlying motive, the cohesion we enliven, works as spirit only gaining body, only levelling potential to affect changes in the lesser deserving by the actions of our fellows.”

     Actions in potentia are defined by the sanguine caliber of victims, in the specific ways how each one missed the mark flows from their fading corpses - their eyes betraying the shine of hope as they go, vacating their purpose white-grey cloudy and it’s a shame.

     This outlook grows from the relatively fertile ground in their psyches that exists between forgotten streams of conversations with their elders; while they transpired they couched the corridors of the recipient’s thoughts with obvious conclusions everyone else will have to pay for, and that sounds like an obtuse entry to understanding, but this culture are the fully sighted, leading one another, generation after generation down pitch-black corridors.

Time You Came ‘Round

     Felt closer and less, the warmth drenched the air in summers and falls, in evenings when the bitterness of the rinds only came out if you chewed down to the white parts, because it was quiet and even then, only when the days lasted into nights - for that time of year when day-end heat makes its own physical echoes to take over the spine, in secret with difference, then the moisture of dim light built as the sun set earlier, day by day matriculating to dark particle oceans afloat in pitch black by six - it was all remembrance in clouds of soot when we met.

Notes for the Conversationalist

     Danger lies in collapsible, languid and profane propositions, and in corridors of communication trafficked by the treacherous but determined, by the lacking but sinister; people shake inwardly at an empty prospect, at the potential spirit of an embrace too constricting to utter a sound - at the hypothetical horror of an earnest offering that falls short, and they choose the posturing over the presentation - the glimmer playing across a span of broken glass over the drink they may as well have enjoyed.

     There was a presence near, from it a fury was occasionally betrayed by a swell of indifference, it grew covertly tempestuous in its vision and spectacle then by mere proximity it threatened to engulf me, until I was alone.  

Accounts of the Academic Transaction Whose Receipt is the Destroyed World

No one ever decided to simply make the math up, but the equations were ignored enough for interpretations to win out over end-quotients.

-If that’s even an applicable term, because the founders of the school would not approve the lexicon to be used until they had been granted sole approval rights.

     Then everything was said to be shifting but nothing was adrift, no changes on the horizon, so we checked, all of it was still as anchored to nothing as it ever was - a storm swell that doesn’t start by mimicking the ocean, a scream from an open mouth whose air was stolen - and the whole process was only designed to build consensus?

     An apparent strategy we learned we have all been stuck in since the most apparent big bang, and this, again, did not match the equations that the founders made clear we would never be sanctioned to correct, so we went silent.

There is no opposition.
Hell or heaven is building.
(And not the lie their kind believes makes them one in the same.)

No one’s checking on your personal choice and if they’re smart, they haven’t even given your life or where you’ll end up a single thought. That’s how bad it got.

Air Conditioning

If you missed the ending someone close by will claim to have seen it, and this keeps everything safe, things go subtle in distinctions over a duration that peddles your thoughts to your brain, but you feel it like a block of melting ice is filling the hold where your brain should be -

Like chilled frozen dripping insides and content are your makeup.

While faces seem to work in concert, keeping it all still.

What is following?

Nothing warmed like the invisible panels we’ve maintained, the hauntingly thin partitions directing onlookers without notice.

With casual glances an unspoken language we pretend we’re fluent in carries the evening (everywhere all the time) while the words, their roots and source constructs were designed by another hand people can’t seem to let go of, that threatens to strengthen or crumble the hidden walls we keep at its whim.

Preceding was some of the newest work from the upcoming collection, The Eyes Shut: Starlight Pages. Here is an Eyes Shut: Starlight poem:

Preface – Unifying Physics

The essay “Preface – Unifying Physics” is a free download, though please consider the below before downloading.


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Gnostic texts associated to the five main traditions of the world have been always first offered for free, without the expectation of donations. Though donations have fueled Gnostic causes for quite some time and orders of Gnostics have since built publishing operations to better support the integrity of the tradition to which their order is associated.

This work constitutes a singular Gnostic Advance that demands the establishment of an Academic Gnosis, and just as the works of Gnosis founding the five great traditions of the world, the donated support individual Gnostics received always relied upon recognition that having people living as a Gnostics answers a need in the world at large that proves its own worth – if the Gnostic works offered by the individual sufficiently make their case, then the cause for support became apparent.


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From the opening: The goal of a gnostic work is to make gnosis available, the term gnosis is generally accepted to mean knowledge, in this equivalence the difference in terms defines an implied depth of comprehension, as well as it references the method and practices used to attain the comprehension. To properly frame works in this fashion requires a sound and incontrovertible definition:

Knowledge is direct observation independent of emotion-based apprehension and the vicissitudes of intellect.