Grateful Dead

I thank all of you who have posted on this forum. It's great to see all the flowers of creativity. Interstate Samhain Blues The rolling view from the car window mimicks the clicking of an antiquated sixteen millimeter motion picture movie projector. It's playing a bizarre B-rated horror flick dreamed up by a weaning neophyte from the jack-o-lantern's teat. An all saints chorus of cirrus and sun sprays Segrada Familia magentas of flame that melts the crystalline vapor of an Itascan morning flowing into the Mother American river. [yes, I know. It's a road song like BTW :)] The barren cornmeal soil forgotten by the harvest, yet familiar to summer's ghosts expose tricks and treats to the hard pressed rock candy, salt water taffy of the earth. They're wearing yesterday's masks, hiding in homes all saccharin bloated on waxy candy corn dreams, and trying to atone for the sins loaded with artificial colors of red, white and blue. Yellow dye no. 5 stains the road east with it's jaundice justice. The second half of electricity's sigh is the pentagram spokesman, a skilled vetriloquist of warfare might. America has become a puppeteer who's lost control of the marionette, a Potomac Pinocchio of Bush, Cheney, Powell, Rumsfeld and Rice. (poem c. 2005) Yellow dye no. 5 stains the road east with it's callous cowardice. An alternating current of citizen thought should mold marzipan martyrs from America's backwaters. If not, the blistered sun will be eclipsed in crude blackness, bloodened with a viscosity similar to the caramel upon the golden apple that hides the razor blade we all must swallow. The eye of the hawk performs helixes on the heartland horizon. It zeros-in on the military snake bleeding from the apple's blade and soaking in Eden's perpetual rain. Lazarus is walking, adorned with bandages to cover Hades' transgressions and the lacerations of Cerberus' rage. Lazarus is talking of a reversal in fortune. In three days we'll be dead, sans ascension. The desert storm troopers are painting their own Hieronymus Bosch imitation. "War on!", is an erroneous Bush insinuation. Soldier sacrifice bloats the U.S. economy with artificial colors of truth, might and heady delusions of prosperity that even Mark Twain coudn't fathom. Hannibal waits with elephant bombs to whitewash our faces and brainwash our Huckleberry dreams of lollipop rivers and Pollyanna prairies. The American dream is an illusion of exclusion from the rest of the world. Globilization is the world's affliction of the American predatory zombie engulfing anything with a pulse. The sarcophogus is empty, so the indigenous shamans are concocting potions of protection from the top-of-the-food chain mummy who believes wisdom is in the brain. Bottlenecked in Coca-Cola corporations our cheetah capitalism is on a sorghum grass safari, soon to climb a tree and die a slow, molasses death. The technological spider has spun it's web and forgotten about the agrarian barn that's shelters it's lattice haunt. The road reels on, and as I exit the heartland passed the Arch and the river Styx, I see Charon's ferry churning south. The sign reads 'no vacancy'. All is ready to engorge the Mardi Gras meat of debauchery and sin. I shiver my last polar chill and feel the chemotherapy fever of the ever closer latitude of cancer. The tropics warm with leucocytic power. A hurricane is no longer just a drink you order in the French Quarter. Mother Nature's archery rivals that of the new rising Orion. I cover my eyes. The veil is too thin. The dependence upon Earth's black death, and the subsequent wars to establish pallbearer status, has made the corpse bride of the widwower soldier all to familiar with her own death. When her man comes home as a letter shroud in the army lieutenants' words of solace, describing her as a newborn daughter of America, she touches her belly knowing more than he says. The Liberty Bell's crack is the cause of it's own ineffectiveness. Our Graceland is no longer a new frontier of mountains and valleys carved of glacial melt and thrusting magma. We have exhausted the wilderness paradise. It rivals the ruin of ancient Memphis, choked with barbed wire fences and bled dry with concrete needles that replace Earth's plasma with embalming fluid of unknown consequences. Until our streams of consciousness can set new courses toward oceanic thoughts with tsunami magnitudes, we'll be stuck on the Land Between the Lakes surrounding doldrum marshes of methane, peat and rotting carcasses. Our media heroes and technological warriors are dressed in camouflage and performing marches for the lofty feats that democracy promises. The tug of war of the two-headed snake, in lands of asbestos dust, suffocates tolerance like a creeping radon death. America's AC/DC, worldwide, iridescent glow sits in a spinning limbo, like the dark side of the moon, when viewed from Olympus Mons. Shadowed in the harvest moon, pumpkin-hued light, a feared new Tartarus, just a part of our collective consciousness and a synaptic firing of the new world brain reaches Mars upon Mercury's wings. On the war planet of the celestial pantheon, A false idolotry of a mysterious god suffices alien criterion and a new, foreign religion is born, adding to the hodge-podge of public opinion. Alas, my metaphoric muse just makes me another minion of our current controversy, another Mary Shelly fantasy reiterating the spiral energy of life immemorial. The saints and souls wearing masks of science and ritual or mystery and chaos are singing the same chant from behind the veil of Cronus and Christ. They're dethroning the old with knowing grace, celebrating the monarch of chrysalis faith and dancing a jig of universal taste. As the clock strikes midnight on a new day, month, year and century our ancestors are urging us to plant a golden apple tree worthy of Atalanta's ruse by Aphrodite. *I know it's a bit long, but I hope you all enjoyed it. ......And there were days I know when all we ever wanted was to learn and love and grow.

We love you too!

I hate you more than I hate my enemiesI hate you more than I hate my opponents I hate you more than I hate my adversary I hate you more than I hate my rivals I HATE YOU BUT..... WHY I STILL LOVE YOU? ________ :- )

I looked at life as I was walking down the trailSearching for the Secret that would finally lift the veil Through the pines, to a ridge out in the sun The river down below me said "Be forever young" And as the wind blows through the trees It whispers there's a world that is still free The eagle cries, and suddenly you see Ain't that the way it's supposed to be

Watercolor glint, intricate as the Vespers templateLiberates its aspect of daylight. Cerulean particle, solitude Orb at stationary form. Mind to mind, the simplest of light enveloped the purest of silence. The mystic anomaly dissolves its ethereal obstacle. Stubborn illumine interacts alongside the paradigm of our illuminant characteristics. Ah actualization, perpetual focal point, neutral projection. Suffused disappearance in the distance, guided through a charged ion of transformation. Incessant after-fade, what's left to be rearranged ? For this transparent hint, invisible clue, redeemed in a great sense of nothingness. Drift, harmonious nuance, epoch of the light, recoiling cerulean fury. Innate presence, hidden in a delicate rain, resolved to be as a tears' Individualized sense of oneness, as if time itself, returns unto it's original form. Elysian ever present, plays hide and seek amongst two sparrows. Integrated similarities, cultivated common ground. Here forth acknowledging the inner spirit's beginnings, the outer soul's continuation.

blintzes sparkle inside twined marshalled cabinetssprinkles and frosting coupled with barbed sugar disasters municipalities fail in the clutch of the drip one for the agents and the scribes portals into frozen shark-muscled wings no trails to dessert nothing to follow | Wait until the veil is shredded, then reveal it |

wow, peakin that strikes deep chords with-in,very nice and thx! and jerseyswartz, i like the way you think and write, pleeze more spewing forth of taloned word thrusted towards au THO r I zed op PRESS i ON of the mindnumb instant gratification masses swaying in front of the i got mine now i want yours ticks feeding on the underbelly of the beast we call home... well said, well spoken peace

Obedience holds a twisted cross of self righteous interpretation.Think small it fits your personality. Those who have nothing to offer the public dialog, confuse the revisionist. Forsaken advisors, seduced by the beauty of the beast Are being taking advantage of by those who oversee their own worst enemy. Remaining afraid of what can’t be manipulated. Guaranteed minimal transparency, the mediators randomness lacks warmth. Regrets are individual, not political. Shaking hands with their evil twin, aggressively reasoning their sense of priority. Denied the access to prove a professional responsibility Rationalize a changing world, they openly offer servitude That's despised for the wrong indication, while honored for the wrong warning. Desperate technology, a broken map, tributes of oil Impersonal percent of citizen influence hangs on a popsicle stick crucifix. Martyr's master a difficult opportunity to pacify innate abstracts of being By living the way of those who must. Prove themselves- By rebelling against the terms of this nations court appointed theocracy.

JerseySchwartz!********************************** Don't part with your illusions. When they are gone, you will still exist, but you have ceased to live. Samuel Clemens

Endangering the worlds supplyLavish carpetbaggers exploit loopholes, their actions are backed by real bullets. Shoot the messenger, god died for you so you can now again die for it. The trailer park monarch of skin head shampoo Feels commercially betrayed by the failed expectations of rebellious imports. Organizing the common protest for a free lunch, picking over the bones of a lower degree of public response. Lets get complicated, politicalizing the policy. A freewill condition is naturally pious with enough authority to satirize the tragic. Capitol turmoil, Dixie privilege, harmful as the wrong law. Negative news, lets do noise, that's a violation of patriot commitment? The basic world condition, the neighborhood pipeline, eminent domain. In the year of martial law it's all about maintaining the infrastructure. Without warning or indication the nation changed. The madmen's dress rehearsal is a matinee at the empire museum. Titan crusade plays off of contemporary fears The physiognomy of weaponry Fills the country with voter apprehension. Puppets pull their own strings, their secrets are used against them. Primeval warriors are again the cruelest, forever praying with attitude. Global unemployment, underground economy, a subcultures industrial ghetto. They turn their the children over to the institution, then turn their family over to the reconditioning. Who controls the images, the illegal expressions, the state of the art is the art of the state. The updated monopoly game has a hotel on ground zero. Offering the oppressed only more oppression Presidential wealth diminishes the ordinary, while denigrating the common.